#It’s life or death and maybe it’s love or maybe something more

[packsvlog]

✶ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ❜ 𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙎𝙀 𝘿𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙈𝙎 𝙊𝙁 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙀𓈒𓈒𓈒ㅤׂㅤ

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Nanami is not the same man as before. It’s not easy to wake up from nightmares without your husband to comfort you. It’s not easy to live in a house where his presence is constant and also avoidant, questioning your sanity and his existence.

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: fck gege.

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: angst with happy ending, after shibuya, reader has panic attacks, quick description of blood and death, trigger of mahito for one second, reader gender is not mentioned, reader skips one meal. english is not my first language.

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2112

You have always been a good partner to your husband, in fact you succeed at being Kento’s perfect match. You understood him ever since your first met each-other at Jujutsu high, where you shared classes and, eventually, many kisses.

The first thing most people realize about your husband is his individuality, the need he has for personal space. You have always gave it to him, even when Nanami didn’t realized he was turning bitter, you reached for his arm and would bring him somewhere calm and let him be, only returning in a few hours to a happy man eager to devour your attention — and maybe you as well.

After the Shibuya incident, you came home after Nanami, as per his odd request through your friend Shoko. When you reached your house in a hurry, your student, Itadori Yuuji, was there, sitting on your sofa with puffy eyes.

“He…” Yuuji chocked on air before breathing deeply. “He says he wants some time. Something happened.”

For the first time in your life, you wanted to disrespect your husband’s needs and commands. You craved Nanami from the moment you separated at Shibuya and it had been two long weeks without any details. Sadly, you knew you were the only one out of the loop.

“Yuuji, what happened to him?” You sat next to boy and felt your eyes burning, Itadori seemed to have aged so much. “What happened to you?”

“I-I’ll be fine! I swear.” Yuuji reached for your hand and you gave it to him, he squeezed it fast, as if he was drowning in his feelings and needed to reach the shore, in this case, you. “But he made me promise to not tell you what happened to him. I’m sorry y/l/n sensei.”

“It’s okay, honey.” It was not, but how could you tell that to Yuuji?

You opened your arms and not a second later, the teenager was hugging you, his unhinged breathing turned into hiccups and loud cries, there was nothing you could do but hug him tighter and silently cry with him.

That night, Yuuji slept in your couch. And for many more days after that he kept you company. Not exactly only for you, Nanami still avoided your presence, he kept himself in the guest room, fortunately for him there was a bathroom there.

That first night at dinner, you made Yuuji send Nanami’s his pajamas, his toothbrush and his dinner. The boy knocked and introduced himself, it didn’t take long for Kento to unlock the door. You wanted to keep an eye and hope to catch a glimpse of your husband, but you valued him more than anything, so you turned your back when the door started to open.

Yuuji left the room half an hour later, with a plate mostly empty and a smile nearly happy.

“He says thank you.”

It’s not enough, it’s not what you want to hear. How badly you wish you were selfish, to bring that door down and take your husband to your embrace in a way that your bodies would melt against each-other. But you are good, so good, and you love him more than anything.

So you prepare the living room for Yuuji to sleep, while he takes a shower in the apartment extra bathroom before eating. You serve his plate when he comes back wearing your husband’s sweater and sleep pants. You tell him you already ate, it’s a lie he buys and you keep him company until he sleeps.

When you kiss his head goodbye and move to your bedroom, your hear pats on the floor of the guest room, but the sound stops when yours stop. That night, you pretend you don’t cry to sleep, and everyone else in the house will pretend they didn’t listened.

This routine of tip toeing and Yuuji being the mediator is tiring, but you still keeps supportive. You start to send Nanami’s clothes and food with stickers glued to them.

“I love you.”

“Please take care.”

“I’m here.”

You try to not let the tears stain the paper, but sometimes you fail and hopes that Kento himself will tear that door down and come get you. You miss his touch like sinners misses heaven. But, as always dutiful, you put your head down and go back to bed.

The dreams have shifted. From dreaming with black spaces, you now wake up in panic, feeling dreadful that maybe your nightmares are right: Nanami is dead, there is no one on the other side of the door but your pathetic imagination hanging on the thread of hope. And that’s how Yuuji finds you, sprinting to your bedroom Itadori catches you in his arms like you had done the first night, you keep crying and chocking on air, trying to not disturb Nanami.

“He is alive, right?” You ask Yuuji when you can finally open your eyes. He seems petrified at your question. You know he is disturbed by that, but a tiny thought cross your mind wandering, maybe Itadori is shocked you learned the truth on your own.

“Yes, he is.” Is not enough of an answer, your mind tells you he is lying, but you believe Yuji for your sake and his, and maybe Kento’s.

A small, yet aggravating part of you knows that if Nanami died, most likely everyone would avoid telling you for as long as they could. Ever so pure and gentle, so charming and lovable, many of your friends have an ideia the spiral of depression you would go to, and only Nanami can calm you down.

You try to push those thoughts away, and you let Yuuji sleep in your bed while you go prepare some tea. When passing the guest bedroom, you let your hand rest on the wood of the door, tempted to knock or punch it down, you don’t know. But you keep still, in the silence, waiting for a sound to prove you he is there, he has always been there. You hear shuffling after more minutes and hope that is enough for your turmoil.

After that night, the dreams have turned more and more realistic, some times you reach the guest room and find nothing that could show you Nanami was there once. A few days ago you had a dream that Yuuji would be in there alone, eating your food and pretending it was Kento.

Itadori was the only person who knew the constant rise and danger of your nightmares, every night the teen would wake up and lay in your bed telling you it was just a dream, Nanami is alive and he misses you so much, but he would avoid your eyes whenever you questioned when would you see your husband again.

Unfortunately for you, after a month of this, Yuuji had to return to his school. The boy wanted to stay for your sake and Nanami’s, but you promised him that everything would be fine. It was another lie, this time Itadori didn’t believe you, but what choice did he had? He hugged you tight before going away, leaving you inside the apartment feeling alone.

It was almost dinner time when Yuuji had to go, you knew Nanami wouldn’t let you inside the guest room, but you also knew he had to eat. You prepared his food and chose comfortable pajamas you had bought before Shibuya, letting all sitting on the floor, you knocked the door.

“Hi. Uhm, there’s food here and… and also your pajamas, I… I’m going to sleep so you don’t have to worry about opening the door with me here.” But you wish he would. “Please eat. I love you.”

Nanami doesn’t say it back.

You try to avoid sleep by watching the TV on your room, or reading a book setting on your husband’s cabinet besides his side of the bed. It’s a boring book, but you pretend is him reading to you, and unfortunately, that sends you into slumber.

The nightmares usually starts and ends the same way, but this time when you reach the room, there is blood everywhere. An intense amount that drowns your feet and choke you with the metallic smell. You try to keep your eyes on the floor, only to get caught in a trap when your head is lifted by a long hand covered in stitches, before you can see the person, they move to your back and grabbing your hair push you to the ground to the origin off all the blood — laying on the floor is your husband with a large wound on his chest, your hands are all over him, bringing his blood from the floor and trying to return to his wound as if that could help. You cry desperately while Nanami keeps stoic, dead.

You wake up falling from your bed, in a mirage of dreams and reality, you confuse your carpet as Nanami’s blood and at that you cry louder. You respect your husband’s wishes, but you run out of the room to beg for his comfort, even his voice could calm you right now.

When you reached Nanami’s door you look down and gasp, falling to your knees with shaking shoulders, you cry louder. His food and pijama is still there, untouched. Kento never opened the door, was he even there this whole time? Was Yuuji lying to you?

You keep crying as you move the plate to the side and grab the sweater, pushing your head to the floor to caress it to your cheek, feeling your heart breaking at the possibility that it was all a lie, he was dead.

How can life keeps moving in a world without the charm that was Nanami Kento, you honestly couldn’t find in yourself the strength to be alone in this world. He was your half, your better half.

“Please… Please, bring him back.” You cry loud again, banging your head on the floor hoping to stop existing for a moment. “Please, don’t take him from me.”

You are so occupied with your cries and pleas, that you don’t hear the sound of strong footsteps on the floor, nor you hear the door opening so fast it breaks from the hinges. But you feel the strong arms around you in a second, like a protective cage, you sense Nanami’s love for you in that embrace. You stay with your eyes closed, smelling him and head on his chest, still crying desperately.

“Please, be real.” You beg one last time, before sensing his lips on your face.

“I’m here, I’ve always been here. I’m so sorry, I went to sleep hours ago, I’m sorry I didn’t hear you sooner.” Nanami’s voice is hoarse and you open your eyes, shifting your face to look at him, Nanami tenses. “I’m not the same anymore, my love.”

He is not lying, sadly. Half of his face and, you could bet body, is burned. Tinted red and pink, his skin seems sore and sensitive. His left eye is hidden behind white gauze. Kento is scared, you can sense his trembling fingers digging into your skin, under your pajama. You know how exposed he most be feeling right now.

“I’m sorry.” He repeats the mantra quietly. “I wanted to be with you the moment I woke up from the hospital. But… As you can see, I’m not myself anymore.”

“You are.” You reach your hand, the one with your beautiful wedding ring, and caress his face. “You still are my love, my husband, my Kento.” With your thumb, you clean the tears that fall from his eye. “I love you so much, and you are alive, you are everything I have ever wanted and everything I’ll always need.”

“I love you.” He kisses you, lifting you in an easy motion, before moving you both to your room, where he lays with you on top of him. “I’m doing treatment with Shoko for the burning whenever you go to sleep or buy groceries, she comes here. I was trying to control the damage. It was much worse before, I didn’t want you to see it.”

“I wish you would have told me, Ken. I’m your spouse, the one person who understand you the most. I wanted to be there for you.”

“You were.” Nanami raises his hand, showing you his wedding band. “And in my heart. You have always been with me.”

“And I’ll always will be.” You kiss him again. “Always by your side.”

“Always, my love.”

And for the first time, when sleep reached you, you accept it with open arms, allowing the nightmares to creep away and be met by warm breezes and soothing waves. The next morning, waking up by Nanami’s side and admiring his face, so pretty you knew that it had never been more handsome, you kissed him awake and told him of your idea to get away for some time, and maybe, just maybe, take Yuuji with you two.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento angst #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk nanami #jujutsu nanami #nanami fluff #nanami angst #jjk x y/n #nanami x y/n #gege when i catch you gege

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Fury for the Living (1) | Yandere Ghost Detective

Cypher is a prodigy detective 

Officially on the police force now he’s been a raging force for unraveling piles of cold cases across the country

He was truly a talented man

Alas aspiring detectives and veterans in the field can only speculate what gives him such amazing insight in every case

They’d never guess what the ace up his sleeve is 

One of the sole factors other than his prodigious charm that made him the amazing detective he was

He could see ghosts

Apparitions, yokais, curses—you name it

Thanks to their undead input Cypher’s been able to piece together a case with nothing but a single clue

It’s his thing

It didn’t matter if he wasn’t exactly moved by justice

Or that he often hated that he had to speak with ghosts often

There was nowhere he could really go that didn’t have ghosts and the undead chatting and whining in his ear

Except for one place

An abandoned and rotted mansion in a restricted area in the forest

Or it was 

Until he found you

“Hm, I didn’t know anyone was still coming here.”

He outwardly groaned, facepalming as he prepared for your desperate plea to be help with their ‘unfinished business’

But you didn’t 

You smiled at him before skipping back up the stairs and through the wall

For a while, he’s just glad you didn’t bother him longer going back to reading his book

But then he’s pulling at his hair as the feeling he’s been ignoring hits him full force

“So what happened to you?”

“Huh?”

“Tch, look I’ve been comin’ here every day and you never say a word. I’m tired of you being polite. Just tell me already.”

“I…actually don’t know…”

“What.” 

“I just remember waking up and being….free. I don’t remember much else.”

It isn’t odd that the undead don’t remember

But not caring about it is another

For once he’s intrigued, so after a while he pries a first name out of you 

Then he begins his search 

Finding all the records about your life or death is completely scrubbed

“I don’t know that’s awfully weird ain't it?”

Similar to him, the prodigy police chief has no idea as well

Thus a weird bud of excitement blooms 

“I’m going to solve your case!”

“Uh okay, if that makes you happy.”

So he visits so much more often 

Having to talk to you about your past 

A past you don’t remember

So he elects to bring whatever he thinks might interest you

Along with taking note of what’s in the dilapidated manor

Rotten books, old gaming systems, some form of music, paints and pens

He gets to know you pretty well

“I think Cypher if I were alive again, I’d love to spend time with you.”

“...Really?”

“Yeah, you’re a real good friend.”

You have no idea what you do to him

He thought this newfound investigation would consume his mind like all good detectives had

But instead, he was thinking of you

Standing and walking beside him like you weren’t a ghost

Cutely tilting your head when he makes a joke you don’t understand

It sends blood rushing in places it hadn’t when he found out you could touch him

Casually tapping on his exposed shoulder to reveal a secret passageway

He used to complain to himself about how far he’d have to walk to get to his little place of paradise

But now he was complaining when the station was calling him in

“Hey (Y/n)...have you ever tried leaving the manor?”

“Mmm no.”

“Why not?”

“Never a reason to.”

“Then let’s try something new.”

He’s ecstatic when you can follow him into his car and eventually his apartment

But then he’s reminded of all the annoying nuisances that he was trying to avoid

“Hey everyone! Cypher’s all pooped out maybe we can give him a break?”

As if you were an exorcist all those ghosts seemed to understand 

Letting you organize them in the room over while Cypher locks himself into the bedroom

“You’re….amazing.”

“Oh thank you? I think you’re amazing too Cypher.”

“I don’t think you understand (Y/n)...I desperately want to marry you.”

“But Cypher you know I’m dead, right?”

“I can easily change that to be with you.”

“Cypher don’t!” 

Now he’s got to fight himself about solving this case

If he gets to the bottom of your death, he’d lose you

So he might stall a bit 

At least until he finds a small bit of evidence pointing to your death from a murder

“You were…murdered?!”

“Was I? That sucks.”

You’re right it sucks

And now Cypher’s motivated with one thing

Revenge

How dare some dirtbag kill you before he got to meet you?!

Put you in any amount of pain when you so easily are the light of his?! 

He vows that whosever is the cause of your death will pay greatly 

And he’s willing to put everything on the line to solve your case

I think I smell a series coming out of this 🖤🖤🖤🖤

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere harem #yandere original character #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere male x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere ghost detective #yandere ghost detective x reader #yandere original characters #yandere x ghost reader

[flowercrowngods]

🤍🌷 @stevesbipanic and @the-winged-doe asked to see ugly unpolished unrefined words, soo—

cw & tags: past major character death, grief, attempted time-travel fix-it(s), eddie&robin besties || potential wip

Eddie takes a long drag of his cigarette, the biting hot smoke hitting the back of his throat and clawing its way into his lungs, going as deep as he allows and leaving a permanent mark that brings neither relief nor calmness tonight. His fingers shake where they’re pressed to his lips, but the rest of him is unmoving where he sits on the front porch of their new trailer. 

It’s quiet out here. It’s always quiet in Hawkins these days, the city a fucking ghosttown. 

And he knows it’s not because of the one they lost. He knows it’s not because of him. But still the emptiness is stark and the silence oppressivem more so than it ever has been. 

Everyone still looks for him, months later. Dustin still begins to speak, cutting himself off mid-sentence, and Robin still stands with enough space to either side, like she expects him to just show up and invade her space like the home he made for himself in there. 

And somewhere among all that is Eddie. With his very own history. Or, non-history, as it turns out. But history and non-history leave wounds alike, and the memories feel just as real. A small mercy, at the end of the day, for them to feel real when they’re all he has left anymore. 

He takes another drag, not quite exhaling before he obliterates the cigarette and fishes for a new one before the butt even hits the ground. 

Fumbling with the lighter in his pocket, he only gets as far as placing the butt between his lips before a hand snakes into his field of vision to snag it from his mouth. 

“Hey,” he complains halfheartedly but makes no attempt at getting it back, watching instead as Robin comes up to sit beside him, grimacing at the stink of tobacco that must be heavy around him. 

“You’re disgusting,” she says with no real heat behind her words.

Eddie shrugs, because yeah, sure. He’s been called worse things. Robin’s called him worse things. This is her being nice. Her complaininig about his incessant smoking is nothing new. What is new is what she does next, placing the cigarette between her own lips and reaching for the light he’s been holding in a loose grip since she arrived. 

She starts coughing immediately, pulling a face at the disgusting feeling of smoke in her lungs and tobacco on her tongue. But she keeps going. Eddie can only watch in surprise and mild horror. 

“These things’ll kill you,” he says then in an echo of her usual sentiment, aware that he sounds as bewildered as he feels. 

“Well,” Robin says, aiming for casual, but quickly interrupted by a wheeze and a cough that’s almost adorable. “Let them try.” 

Eddie huffs, a pale little smile lingering on his lips as he leans back against the stairs behind him, resting his weight on his forearm to watch her. There is something captivating about her. Eddie always wonders what it is, wants to study her forever. 

Maybe it’s only the lingering traces of Everything Steve Harrington that clings to her every breath, her every move, her every fucking cell, with how much he was a part of her and she of him. Maybe it’s their shared grief that has made Eddie fall a bit in love with her and with the way the moonlight catches in her hair and in the smoke wafting from her cigarette. 

But somehow he refuses to believe that all he loves about her is merely the memory of Steve. 

Robin, in turn, is kind enough to let him stare. Kind enough to let him find out what it is between them. If this friendship is more than a misguided projection of grief and mourning and trauma; more than co-dependence and the obsessive will to keep this one person in your life. This one person who understands. 

After a while of Robin just holding the cigarette between her fingers, becuase no matter how strong her will to self destruct, she never quite got it right with the smoking, Eddie snatches it back before it goes to waste completely. As if pulled in by a string attached to his hollowed out chest, Robin leans back and into him in one smooth motion. It’s too calculated, though, and Eddie can feel how much she sags once she doesn’t have to hold herself up anymore. 

He’ll hold her. It’s fine. She gets to rest if she wants to. God knows she needs it. 

The night is warm for mid-September, but still Robin shakes against him. Eddie holds her closer. 

Silence settles over them, and it’s not an easy one. Silence is never easy anymore, especially with them. He feels so deeply hollow that even the silence echoes in there, creating an ever-present, uncomfortable thrumming of apprehension and anxiety within him. A certain sense of doom, one that can’t quite decide if it’s only an echo itself. 

“I wanna stop time,” Robin says at last, the cigarette long dead between Eddie’s fingers, but he somehow can’t bring himself to flick it away. “I don’t want tomorrow.” 

I don’t ever want a new day. I don’t ever want another tomorrow. I just want Steve. 

They ring in his head still, another echo that only hollows him out further every time it reaches him — Robin, overcome with hysterical grief, screaming and crying, curled up on that hospital floor, her cries quieting down and making Eddie wish she would be loud again, because the quiet was what killed him. The quiet, the whispered words, the declarations that tomorrow could go fuck itself if it came without Steve made him wish, irrationally, desperately, that their roles were reversed. That he could have died and Steve could have lived, and Robin would never have to wish tomorrow never came. 

He’s not entirely sure if she remembers the words, too. If she even said them in this world. 

So he takes a deep breath, breathes away memories and non-histories, feels the heavy weight of his guitar pick hanging around his neck, resting on the scarred flesh of his chest, and tries not to think of the one string left on his acoustic guitar. Tries not to think of his one last attempt. One last try. 

“I know,” he tells her. “Me neither.” 

He peers over her head, lifting his left wrist to check his watch. Ten minutes until midnight. Ten minutes until Steve’s birthday. 

“It’s not tomorrow yet,” he tries lamely, and Robin huffs — the sound wet and bitter and hopeless, making Eddie’s eyes sting. 

“It’s always fucking tomorrow,” she rasps, her voice flat and wavering, and Eddie knows her well enough to know she’s about to cry. And she knows him well enough to do it. 

“I know,” he says again, and reaches for his necklace through his shirt. One more attempt. One more try. One more chance. His eyes burn. 

She turns to him after taking a moment to compose herself, peering up at him through her lashes. 

“Tell me again?” 

His heart falls, the tense apprehension vanishing from the air, bur quickly replaced by something a lot more heavy. Something that looks and smells and feels like grief. 

They both know he’ll do anything she asks. He can’t really bear saying not to her. And not about this, anyway — she’s the only one who knows. 

She’s the one who should have had the chance. 

“Which part?” he asks, holding a new cigarette out for her to light it. She does, and the both follow the flame of the lighter Robin always keeps in her pocket these days. 

She leans forward and takes a drag. Eddie lets her. 

“All of them.“

Eddie sighs, pain welling up inside him, and he closes his eyes against the night sky. “Robbie,” he pleads, but he doesn’t finish his plea. He’ll do it. He’ll do anything she asks. 

But before he starts recounting the tales of how he almost saved Steve Harrington, he finds himself saying something he never thought he’d tell her. 

“There’s one more.” The words hang in the air, and Robin doesn’t react. Has no idea what’s coming; what he’s about to tell her. The guitar pick is heavy on the necklace around his throat. “There’s one more try. One more chance. I’m… I have one more—“ 

He can’t even finish the sentence. Can’t bring himself to say it, lest it all be jinxed forever. He doesn’t want to hope. Wants to carry this weight for all eternity and never think about all those times he failed to save someone he was never meant to save at all. People like Eddie, they’re not made to save anyone. Hell, they can’t even save themselves. 

Steve was supposed to be the one doing the saving. 

And he did. God, he fucking did. But he was never supposed to— 

Cold fingers wrap around his own as Robin fits their hands together. 

“I hate you a little bit for telling me.” 

Eddie nods, trying to focus on the cold hand and the nicotine in his lungs, trying not to let panic and grief and guilt and the heavy weight of one more chance win. “I know.” 

“Hey, Eddie?” Robin says after a while, the silence stretching on, and it’s almost midnight now. “Can you— Would you do something for me?” 

He turns his head, flicking the butt of his cigarette out into the darkness beyond them. “What’s that?” 

“Don’t— Don’t try to, to save him. Don’t— Just… Just maybe, could you celebrate his birthday with him? Make sure he knows he’s… God, make sure he knows he’s loved? Last year, no one really made time on his birthday and we just moved it backwards but God, could you— It’s almost midnight, and—“ 

“Robbie,” Eddie interrupts her, his voice hoarse and wavering, his eyes burning with tears as he tugs her close and holds her to his chest. “You should go. Don’t you wanna…” 

But she’s shaking her head against him with a vehemence that can hardly be misunderstood. 

“No,” she cries, and it’s more of a sob than anything. “I think if I ever saw him again, I’d… I don’t know what I’d do. Burn the whole fucking world to the ground for him or some shit, I can’t— I’d probably just cry all the time and that wouldn’t be helpful, really.” There’s a weak, wet laugh that bubbles out of both of them, and Eddie’s wiping at Robin’s face, drying the tears and making way for new ones to fall. 

“I’d light a fire for you,” Eddie says, the same weak smile on his lips that Robin meets him with now. “Nineteen fucking fires, you hear me?” 

She laughs again, then buries her face in his neck in a way that never quite fit. In a way that Eddie always knew was supposed to be someone else’s neck. 

But he’s not here anymore. And Eddie can’t get him back. No matter how much he aches for it, no matter how much he learned over and over and over again how easy it is to love Steve Harrington and how hard, how fucking impossible it is to lose him. Over and over and over again. 

And to live without him. This one fucking time they all get. It’s not fair. 

And now Robin is asking him to go back one more time and make sure that Steve knows— That he knows. 

Somehow the thought of that feels nobler than any attempt to save him, to bring him back; to rewrite history from a lonely boy’s perspective and hope that no one else is reading along. 

It feels right, too. Fundamentally and suddenly, and with such an intensity that Eddie knows the decision has been made the second he started telling her. 

Still he hesitates. Robin’s sobs have calmed down, and Eddie’s hand finds its way into her hair. 

“Do you really mean it?” 

She nods.

He nods, too, but slower. Like he’s trying to sway himself. Which way, he doesn’t know. 

“Make him happy.” 

“Okay,” he decides after a while, feeling hollow and desperate, but feeling purpose burning underneath his skin again. “One last time.” 

He unwinds his arms from around her and heads inside to grab his acoustic guitar. The last remaining string, badly untuned because he never dared to touch it, stares back at him in both mockery and invitation. A dare. A chance. A promise. 

Outside, Robin is waiting for him, looking anxious. Eddie wants to hug her. He doesn’t, only tightens his grip around the guitar’s neck. 

“Listen, Eddie, if this is goodbye or something—“ 

“It’s a birthday party, Robsie,” he interrupts her, aiming for light, aiming for brave. “I’m coming back right here.” 

“I know,” she rushes to say, taking a step toward him and wringing her hands. It’s endearing. It’s genuine. Eddie really is a little in love with her. “But, y’know, you don’t mess with time, and I don’t know what all you already changed before and I don’t wanna know but… If this is goodbye, if something happens, I just wanna tell you that I’m gonna miss you. And that I think you’re really cool. And that Steve’s— he’s really missing out, okay. Okay?” 

Eddie breathes, taking in her words and letting them soak into his body, his every last fibre. 

“Okay,” he smiles. “Thank you. You’re… I’m kind of in love with you, Robin Buckley. So there had better be no change in the universe, ‘cause that would really suck.” 

They smile at each other, Eddie with his guitar and Robin with her lighter, and somehow this feels like a deja-vu. The antithesis to a moment forever burned into his memory.

Make him pay. 

Make him happy. 

Eddie tugs on his necklace and plays the string before he can think about it too hard; before he can decide otherwise. 

Distantly, he hears the church bells announcing midnight as the world around him fades. 

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @cryptic-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @bookworm0690 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

#steddie #steddie fic #eddie & robin #eddie munson #robin buckley #robin and eddie are grieving besties now #me writing another story about death and the inability to grieve?? it’s more likely than you think #this one probably doesn’t make sense yet because they’re both refusing to think about what’s real or think about anything at all #so past present and future need time to develop above the damaged psyche of two entirely too young adults #so bear with me and give us time #anyway i’m posting this despite its unpolished ugliness bc this is as good as it gets #if i were anything like my self this would be a 7k study but as it turns out writing about grief is exhausting #(hi taglist gang i hope it was okay to tag you for entirely too raw a draft for anyone to lay eyes on lmao 🤍)

[deathbxnny]

Woooo, congrats on 1k followers, sure has been a ride, huh?

Now, with requests back open, it's time time for the sequel to my Arle request!

Okay so, like I said in that ask I sent a while ago, this one takes place in the same "continuity" as the angsty af Arle request you did last req period. This one takes place some time after that story, and is less angsty in this case (but there's definitely still some here).

Here, similarily to the last request, the "Mother" of the House is staying in... let's say Fontaine, tending to one of the injured children (could be some rando kid, or maybe it's one of the Fontaine trio) after a mission. Unlike last time though, it's looking as though the child will pull through, that "Mother" won't have to bury another of her kids!

Bad news tho, the people responsible for the child's injuries are coming around to finish what they started. Arle, who's handling business elsewhere, catches wind of this and makes haste to help her wife.

Little did those who came to finish the child realize what danger they're in. Because you see, fem!reader is a former child of the House of Hearth. Not just that, she's the wife of a Harbinger. Normally she doesn't engage in violence, but these people Hage intentions of ending her child's life, and she simply cannot let that slide.

And so, Arle arrives just in time to bare witness to her s/o going absolutely John Wick (does she kill anyone with a pencil? That's up to you 🤭) on the bandits who dared to cross her not once, but twice.

(Part one)

Ohoho.... I absolutely love this, dear Anon, and I'm hoping you'll love my spin on this as well!! Although I have to admit that I gave it a bit of a mellow end, instead of the "John Wick" type of ending, mainly because I found it more fitting with what I was going for... but anyhow, thank you so much for this request, I was definitely looking forward to it, hehe!!<33

Content: Some gore, Near character death, mentions of near fatal injuries/wounds, blood, mentions of grief/child loss, Reader snapping, violence, assassination attempts, Reader is referred to as "Mother", heavy angst, hurt/comfort, kind of a good ending for once?, stitches

Reader uses she/her pronouns here!!

((Not proofread))

The last one standing had crimson palms. (Arlecchino x Fem!Reader)

"I... I wish to..." "Shh... not another word, child... don't you dare say it." Your hands were stained red once more, pressing down on another gashing, deep wound, sweat running down your forehead as everyone around you attempted to stop the bleeding. You didn't want him to see what had become of him, one hand resting over his teary eyes to stop your heart from shattering any further. You wished she was here, your dearest wife, who had to choose this week of all the others to leave the country for a short business trip.

And today was supposed to be a good day. One filled with the laughter of children and the smell of grilled sausages and steaks coming from the garden. You were trying to have a little festival together to celebrate the start of warmer months. But the atmosphere had now become suffocating with the smell of sharp iron and sweat instead, the gentle warmth now scorching hot, exhausting, and grinding you down to the bone. However, you couldn't let go of him now. You couldn't let him die. You refused to give up on him, especially. You refused to let him become another buried angel.

His hand pressed against yours weakly, his breaths deep, pathetic gasps for air, as he tried telling you something important through broken cries. "Mother... Mother, please, you have to listen to me." He coughed out, blood staining his lips, as his other hand reached out blindly to grasp onto the fabric of your once white sundress. You furrowed your brows against the darkness of the room, light only filtering in through the moon outside and the shaky hands of Lynette trying to keep a lantern steady so her twin could keep patching his younger brother up.

"What is it, Freminet?" You indulged him, trying to keep him awake at all costs. His voice was hoarse, raspy, once silky blonde hair now sticking to his forehead as he gulped dryly to collect his thoughts.

"They are coming for us, mother... and you are next."

Lyney gave you a look, one filled with an undefined emotion he only ever had when it came to your protection. If you didn't know better, you would've been terrified at how similar he was becoming to his father. "Those assassins we encountered during our mission, Mother... they weren't ordinary ones, to say the least." He muttered to you, his mind replaying the moment one of them struck his brother, who was just trying to protect them out of pure instinct. He was brave, despite the shyness he often portrayed.

"How so?" You wiped away the sweat on your forehead, nose wrinkling when another member of the house handed you a medkit before they disappeared into the shadows again. "They... knew us by name. Every single one of us. And then-" You waved over Lynette to stand in your place whilst her twin spoke, so you could unpack the needed supplies for the upcoming "operation" you had to conduct on your son. You've become a near professional over the years. Something else you didn't choose to do nor want to be.

"-They uttered your name. We... believe that they are trying to weaken Father. And you are that weakness they are seeking, Mother.-" "-They've come to finish the job. We... we need to evacuate everyone.. we need to hide her.-" Lynette hushed Freminet quickly, as she pressed some cloth into his mouth. With a glance downwards to his wound, she determined that it would definitely hurt horribly to stitch him up... but he'd live. For the first time in weeks, someone would live. She closed her eyes to hide those tears that threatened to spill in relief.

You stared at the three of them for a moment before you simply proceeded with placing the first few stitches into the boy's wound wordlessly. He writhed in pain, his fingernails digging into the mattress below whilst his screams and cries were muffled by the cloth. Lyney and Lynette were trying to hold him down, their bodies wincing involuntarily at every sharp breath or movement from their brother. Your expression was meanwhile unreadable, hands moving automatically until you cut the string and were done with your little procedure. It's as if your mind completely fazed out, only driven by the need to fix and protect, keep everyone alive no matter what.

"Lyney." The young man hesitantly met your gaze, his body shaking when his brother fell limply into the bed again, his breathing heavy and uneven. "Evacuate everyone into the upper floors and then come back to watch over Freminet." You said, quick to wipe your hands with a nearby towel nearly coldly, but Lyney knew that look in your eyes. You were sick of it and would take it all into your own hands if your wife couldn't. "Mother, you can't just-" "-Lynette, use the backdoor and let this bird free." You tapped the golden cage on the nightstand with your fingers, the little sparrow chirping curiously. It was a messenger bird, one specifically designed to catch your wife's attention and bring her home instantly when things got out of control.

But you weren't using it for it's purpose tonight. No, everything was completely under control here... you just needed her to come back home to stop you once you're done.

"Mother-" A sharp look made him quickly reconsider what he was about to say, a hand pressing against his chest whilst he bowed. "... we're on it." Lyney muttered, signaling Lynette to love with him, which she did after grabbing the bird cage. Their paths split at the stairs, the girl practically descending them two steps at a time, which got the attention of their fellow bretheren immideatly. "Everyone! Get into the attic or your rooms at once! Mother's orders, so get moving! Barricade your doors and don't open them up to anyone! This is an absolute emergency!" Everyone jumped when they heard the usually playful magicians voice bark out orders harshly, automatically getting the job done as everyone filed up the stairs to do as he said.

Lyney pushed through the crowd to continue looking for stray children who may not have heard him. His heart was racing against his ribcage, sweat dripping off his forehead he could only barely wipe off with a handkerchief he accidentally dropped when someone bumped into him. But your orders were clear in his mind and kept him steady. He knew that he and most, if not all, other kids of the house could take care of themselves just fine... but this was something beyond their means. Something usually only Father got to handle.

By the time he finally got back to his brothers room, you had left it behind, nowhere to be found, and yet the injured boy had a simple blanket covering his shivering form now, dressed in clean clothes and resting on perfectly white bedsheets. Lyney waited by the door, his hand gripping the handle tightly, as he listened to his sisters familiar steps running towards him. He let her in, eyes glancing around the dim hallway one more time before he tipped his hat down and shut the wooden entrance again.

The only sound heard for a moment after was the chirping of a bird in the dead of night until deafening silence filtered in once more.

---

The house of Hearth was never still and unmoving, not even in the darkest parts of the day. The late hours were the busiest, filled with agents and children alike walking in and out of it's doors under the cover of shadows to complete their given tasks and missions. The iron, bloody scent left behind by their previous endeavors, their hushed words to eachother as they passed by, the movement of paper being hidden under floorboards, some given to you with proud looks for approval, as you stayed up with them until the first rays of the sun danced in your eyes... it was never calm, never quiet. Yet the intruders didn't question it. They didn't even think twice to enter the house, the open birdcage. They mistook the silence and stillness for safety.

The first assasin stepped in through the picked lock of a backdoor entrance, his cautious eyes trying to catch any looming danger that may cause them trouble. Yet with nothing in sight, he waved over the rest of his three little friends right into your humble home. "Okay, you know the plan... kill as many of those little rats as you can." "And what about the Mother?" One of them asked, his hair clumsily hidden under a makeshift hood, a dirty grin on his lips in anticipation.

"Can I get rid of her? It won't be much of a struggle, I'm sure. She's just a measly housewife anyway." "Heard she's a pretty thing, though." A round of chuckles filled the kitchen before the first shrugged. "Do what you want. We just have to be done by dawn... let's split up in two groups, then. Just in case." The men agreed, one group making their way upwards, whilst the other searched the ground floors.

The darkness was inviting, the silence emitting a false sense of safety that made the intruders let their guards down, unaware of your form slinking after them. You were calm and collected, eyes dull, the dim moonlight not catching in them anymore. A mother's rage was a dangerous, unpredictable one. Filled with the need to make those who hurt her children suffer, she'd advance even through the most perilous paths for the sake of glory, revenge.

Unbeknownst to anyone, you had put two and two together a long time ago. These intruders, who belonged to a foreign enemy faction, were the cause of many of your children's deaths. They were the reason as to why you had to hear them cry out that odd wish so often. They had dared to enter your territory tonight to take away the rest of the family you had worked so hard for to have. You worked so hard to be a good mother. You bled, you cried, you slaughtered your way here. You became a "mother" one could be proud of. And on this fateful night, you'd prove your worth and pride to even Celestia above you with their screams that will reach far and wide. Your hand gripped a silver dagger, one originally gifted to you by your wife, as you blew out a lantern in one of the hallways, plunging everyone into further darkness that was far from warm.

It was ice cold.

---

"Wait outside." Arlecchino gave the Fatui agents a sharp, warning look, her clawed fingers tight around the Scythe as she entered the still, quiet building she called home. Her eyes glanced around carefully, noting immideatly that the danger that lurked in the dark was familiar. The bird on her shoulder chirped, reminding her of why she had come here in the first place. The meeting she had was cut short by it flying through the window, the call for help loud and clear. She had simply walked out then, her priority always having been you and the house, although it still made her wonder why exactly everything seemed so... unusually silent. Did Lyney and the other children deal with the threat already? If so... where were you?

Her keen ears picked up movement in the living room nearby, which made her calmly make her way over to it's entrance. With a raise of a brow, she stopped when she stepped into a puddle of blood. It seems like her suspicions were partially correct... althkugh who it was that took care of the intruders certainly came as a surprise.

"... You came." Your voice made the tension in her shoulders cease, eyes flickering to your form seated infront of the fireplace. The orange light cascaded across the dark room, the four mangled bodies laying at the bottom of your favorite lavish loveseat being a testament to your victory, and yet you remained still as a statue, back turned to her to observe the flames instead.

"You called." Arlecchino replied after taking in the situation, the sound of her heeled shoe echoing off the walls, as she approached you carefully. Her clawed hand grabbed onto your shoulder, head tilting to look at the side of your head. Your eyes were cold, not even the scorching warmth of the fire melting them. You were unreadable, hands bloody, and yet still so tightly gripping onto the dagger like your life depended on it. And despite that, you were still breathtaking to the woman.

"Are... you alright, my dove?" She asked, a genuine tone in her voice that was only ever reserved for you. The tears in your eyes burned when you finally looked up at her with a pained expression. You weren't like her. You couldn't just kill and be as proud as you hoped to be. You raised your hands towards her, bloody palms raised towards the gods the way they often were when you pleaded for help and forgiveness for the death of your children. You didn't need to say anything anymore, as she pressed a hand to your cheek with an acknowledging nod.

She wasn't good at comfort, nor did she ever try to be. A father didn't comfort his children in her eyes. No, a father simply led them to glory, and that's it. But that didn't mean that she was a bad wife, too. She sat down next to you, uncaring of the bloody mess that surrounded you, when she pulled you close to press your foreheads together. It was a way to silently show her support. She was there for you and understood you.

"I was scared... they hurt Freminet, and I couldn't fathom losing the rest-" "-I know. Thank you for your bravery, my dove. I'll take it from here." Her words were curt and short, and most would perhaps chalk it up to indifference. But when she held you close like this, gently rubbed your back and promised to take care of you only she knew how to, you found yourself being lulled back into the familiar comfort you were so used to. You knew that despite everything that happened, however, she could still not promise that this would never happen again. Your hands will always be stained crimson for as long as you were a Mother. There was no going back. There was no leaving the house.

But... you both were stuck in it together forever, weren't you?

Alrightttt... this took a while to finish, mainly due to work and me being sick again. But yeah, thank you again for the request, Anon, and I hope you liked this!!<33

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino #arlechinno genshin #genshin

[biolumien]

Saw some of your Hoshina Fics and it was stellar! Absolutely fucking amazing. You don’t know how damn happy I am to see Kaiju No.8 on my page. Your writing is phenomenal.

With that in mind, would it be possible to get another Hoshina request in? Preferably a Hurt/Comfort scenario. Maybe they’d have argued or something and they’re forced to actually confront each other’s insecurities. Because we like flawed adults going through their issues ✨together✨

If you’d like a more solidified vibe, try listening to Unsweetened Lemonade by Amélie Farren. It might give you some ideas!

I hope you have a wonderful day ahead of you!! :DD

notes: thank you so much for ur kind words ;-;; wahh... i love angst,... and functional relationships.... which is why i always write relationships on the verge of collapse... also thank you for the song rec!

hemming and hawing

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader theres a bit of drinking, but nothing extreme. word count: 1834

hoshina isn’t really good at communicating. for being the vice captain of a squadron of elite soldiers, where communication was often the difference between life and death–he’s really fucking bad at communication–or at least, the kind that requires you to be personal with other people.

he’s been ignoring you for days.

you’re not even sure why, at this point. you’d thought whatever relationship you were kindling was going fine, right? you weren’t exactly sure where the two of you stood, but you liked each other plenty, right? right? 

right?

so why was hoshina ignoring you? why did he sit so far away, make constant excuses to get up and leave? what the fuck was wrong with him? every time you’d grabbed him to talk–oftentimes having to physically hold him by the arm, because he’d often keep trying to walk away from you–he’d respond with one-word answers, not quite looking at you. you’d sit at your desk, so restless that your leg would bang against the underside of the table just wondering what the fuck was wrong with him. 

were his feelings a fluke?

hell, were yours?

what the fuck had you done wrong?

had you done something wrong? had you overstepped a boundary somewhere? but then again, how could you have? how could you have overstepped a boundary if he never made clear what his boundaries were? were you insane? what the fuck were you doing? or maybe the better question to ask is was soshiro hoshina worth this amount of hemming and hawing? was it worth it to lose your mind over his stupid face, when you saw him laugh at something okonogi said, or exchange quips with ashiro? was it worth it, when you knew he used to make the same faces towards you, used to look at you with something like measured affection behind his eyes–

you slam your head so hard against your desk that you can feel it starting to bruise.

no. no matter what, you were losing your mind over soshiro hoshina, damn him! damn him!

it keeps going on like this for a couple days–you try to talk to hoshina, he shrugs you off faster than any competent sentence you could possibly string together can form, and he leaves. the rest of the third division seems to notice, too–you’ve noticed twice in a row okonogi giving you a worried look. it wasn’t a hidden secret or anything that you and hoshina got along quite well, so if even okonogi was giving you a weird look…

you’d shrug, simply, give her a smile, and ignore the raging tire fire burning under your skin.

the next time you get a moment with hoshina is during a celebration party following a successful mission. you pour yourself a healthy glass of the strongest alcohol you can manage, and chug down the entire thing in one gulp, wiping your mouth inelegantly with your sleeve. and then out of the corner of your eye–

hoshina’s watching you with a half-interested look–a look more interested and engaged with you than any other time in the past few weeks–and you think the sight of that makes you angrier–so unbelievably angry, paired with new fire from alcohol underneath. 

you turn to grab hoshina by the collar, glaring up at him–

“hey, now,” hoshina says with a light laugh. “had a little too much to drink, darling?”

darling.

oh, this fucking jackass–you think you almost see red, your teeth grinding together, and you can almost feel your lips peeling back in the facsimile of a snarl. 

“you don’t get to call me that,” you whisper, voice shaking with anger, “not after you’ve fucking blown me off for weeks, soshiro.”

hoshina’s crimson eyes open a little more, staring down at you, right where your hand tightens against his shirt. you’re lucky that the hubbub of the party is keeping everyone from staring at you, which you’re furtively grateful for. you think, that maybe you see hurt reflected in his eyes, but that’s fucking ridiculous. why does he deserve to hurt? he’s the one who fucking blew you off, who didn’t talk to you for weeks despite the two of you clearly reciprocating feelings. what did he have to hurt over? 

“i’m sorry,” hoshina mutters, and he leans forward–

“don’t fucking TOUCH me!”

your voice is louder than you’d like, and that gets a couple eyes on you.

your face feels red, and you drop hoshina’s shirt. hoshina’s eyes are still watching you, his gaze unreadable for a moment before he turns to the eyes watching you, a warm smile–a clear facade, loud and clear to you, but imperceptible to most others. you know hoshina, now–you’d watched him, studied him with intensity. he couldn’t hide from you, even if he wanted to. which made the fact he’d spent weeks ignoring you more infuriating–which made this current facade, a pretending thing–so much more infuriating.

“sorry, everyone,” hoshina says. “seems like our lovely engineer here might’ve had a little too much to drink. come on, i’ll walk you back.” he looks back down at you.

his eyes have that same strange hurt still reflected in his eyes.

something about it tears your heart across unevenly. 

“okay,” you say stupidly, and you let hoshina handle your body, swing your arm over his shoulder as he pulls you up. 

the walk back sobers you up just enough–enough to realize that you’re absolutely fucking mortified–did you seriously grab him? but the better question was why didn’t he stop you? why had he just let you yell at him? why had he looked at you like that, with hurt and something like pity in his eyes? and you couldn’t even figure out what you were more mad at–

could he have done it because he thought he deserved it? 

hoshina opens up the door to your dormitory, letting you make your way to your bed. you slumped down, pressing your back against where your bed met the wall. 

“i’ll leave you alone,” hoshina murmurs. “get some rest.”

you’re angry again, upon hearing him say that. how could a guy like him push your buttons so easily? 

“so you’re just going to leave again?” you snap. “how the fuck is that fair? that’s all you’ve been fucking doing, leaving me even though all i want is to talk.  i thought you liked me!”

you hate how your voice cracks at the end, and you raise up your legs to hug them to your chest. “i thought you fucking liked me,” you whisper. “and you won’t let me talk to you, won’t let me get close–what the fuck was the point of saying you loved me if this is what you’re going to do? it’d be so much less cruel to break my heat, just say no…”

hoshina’s silent.

way too silent.

“i’m sorry,” hoshina says, and he leans down, drops on the bed next to you–the bed sags beneath his weight, and he raises a hand to touch where your hand hugs your knees to your chest–but you move away. you hate the way you almost relish in the way he seems hurt, but he places his hand between the two of you, a mediating bridge. “you can hit me, if you want.”

“what?”

you stare at him, your gaze incredulous. 

hoshina’s gaze is painfully soft, mixed with that strange pity. as if he deserves this.

“i’d deserve it,” hoshina murmurs. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m not going to hit you!” you say. “what would the point of that be? to prove yourself that you don’t deserve love? to prove to yourself you weren’t good enough? even though this is all your fault–”

hoshina’s gaze flickers at your words.

“that’s it, isn’t it? all part of your weird complex where you deny yourself things that you want!” you lean forward, reaching out to grasp him by the shirt. “so i was just fucking collateral damage to you?” you tumble for a moment, pushing him flat onto his back. he looks up at you, his lips parted for a moment. you feel your grip shaking for a moment, and your vision grows blurry– your eyes burn with tears as you shake. “i told you i knew what i wanted, you fucking idiot! i wanted you! i still want you!”

through blurred vision, you can see your tears dripping onto hoshina’s face–and hoshina just watches.

“i don’t care if you don’t think you’re not good enough,” you say through a choked sob. “you’ve always been more than good enough to me. do you get that? no, actually. you didn’t–because if you did you would have just talked to me like a normal fucking person!” you laugh desperately, crazily, almost–you feel fucking crazed. “and i’ve been driving myself mad! because of you!”

hoshina raises a hand to touch your cheek.

“take some fucking responsibility,” you rasp, tugging at his shirt. “take some responsibility for this! for what you’ve done to me!”

what a horrible thing love was.

your heart feels like it’s on fire, burned and scorched earth.

“i’m sorry,” hoshina repeats, simply. “you’re right.”

he leans up to press his forehead against yours, and you tremble.

“i was scared,” hoshina whispers. “that the things i’d said to kafka and the others–that you’d never know when you’d lose the people you love–that it’d come true. i was determined to shut myself out–make myself unknown again. i couldn’t–cross the boundary. to let myself have love. or anything like it. not from you.”

he sighs, gently nudging you to let him up. he leans close to you, presses his head against the wall to watch you. his gaze–this exact gaze, you’ve missed it. missed the way he watched you, with brimming fondness–and yet here you can see so clearly that there’s desperate pain in his eyes–bubbling and brimming just underneath the surface.

“i was struck by how much i wanted it. love. you. all of this. and i was scared because it could all just disappear so quickly,” hoshina continues. his hand touches your face, and you let that calloused touch, the familiar touch against your cheekbone, the bridge of your nose, your upper lip. “i didn’t–want to lose it. so i figured i could’ve just been happy with a little.”

“you fucking idiot,” you whisper in venomous response.

“yeah.” hoshina doesn’t deny it.

“i’ll give it to you,” you respond. “love. no matter how much you think you don’t deserve it. you don’t even have to ask.”

when hoshina looks at you again, he seems almost fractured at the possibility of it.

“i know,” he murmurs. 

“i love you,” you say, and your voice trembles for a moment. “you fucking awful piece of shit.”

hoshina laughs weakly.

“i deserve that,” he murmurs. “but i love you. i promise i do.”

you shake your head. 

“i know that,” you say. you reach out a hand to touch his face, and you can feel the smile forming on his face.

“okay,” he murmurs. “okay.”

#kaiju no 8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #x reader #kn8 x reader #i projected a little bit of #some conversations ive had #with my exes onto hoshina. but its alright #hoshinas got that “i dont like talking about my problems and because i never communicate i make everyone else overthink” rizz you understan

[munsonsmixtapes]

Something dark... maybe like Eddie lived but was displaced by the Gov... and like 5 years later you find him.. in a little hole in the wall and maybe a little angst.. maybe a little smut maybe a little longing.. falling back together etc.. idk Something freaky fresh 🤪

Okay, I love this idea! But I’m going to change it a little if you don’t mind!

Eddie x fem!reader

cw: MDNI (18+) unprotected sex (please don’t do this) fingering, angst, grief, whole lot of hurt/comfort

It had been five years since Eddie had passed away down to the day. It was a day that was one of the hardest of the year for you. It felt like it had just happened and the emotional wounds were still fresh, still exposed and you were hurting more than ever.

You had been going to therapy ever since, but the nightmares never stopped even though they were less frequent. You could still feel Steve pulling you away from Eddie while you watched his lifeless body lay there, covered in blood. You felt his hand let go of yours and the life left his eyes. You screamed his name over and over, but he never responded. He was officially dead.

The funeral was rough. The very few people who showed up sobbed the entire time and you all huddled together, vowing that you would be there for each other. And you were. You all had dinner together almost every night and it was pretty much the only thing you looked forward to in your life.

Every single year on the anniversary of Eddie’s death, you went to his favorite bar that was a few towns over and ordered his favorite drink to honor him. It was your own little tradition and everyone knew not to bother you while you spent the day by yourself while you mourned your dead boyfriend who very much should have been alive.

What you didn’t know what that Eddie was very much alive. After he had escaped the Upside Down, he had somehow stumbled upon a hospital that had nursed him back to health. He had no idea what had happened to everyone, so he decided that he wouldn’t call anyone and go into hiding to avoid the police no matter how much he wanted to see if you were okay.

He ended up heading to the town with the bar that he loved, knowing that he was far enough away from home that no one would recognize him. It was a win-win all around. But he missed you. He missed you so fucking much that he could hardly stand it and he felt so guilty for not contacting you and telling you the truth.

So, he dealt with it the only way he how. He drank away his problems. He’d go to the bar every day and order margarita after margarita and throw them back like they were water. Maybe it wasn’t the best coping mechanism, but it was the only way he knew how to deal with the pain.

You sat on your favorite stool and ordered a margarita, holding back your tears as you waited for your drink. You lowered your head so no one could see your face and your drink was set in front of you along with a plate of mozzarella sticks. You looked up at the bartender and he gave you a wink as he pushed the plate towards you.

“On the house. You look like you could use something comforting.” The nice gesture made you tear up even more. You weren’t hungry, but you felt like it would have been rude not to eat them, especially since he wasn’t going to make you pay for them.

“Thanks,” you smiled weakly. You took one of the sticks from the plate and took a bit despite your nausea and ate until the plate was empty. You hadn’t eaten anything that day because your grief had been taking up your thoughts.

“Of course,” he nodded then turned to take care of the customer who was sitting a couple of stools away from you. You turned to look at them and did a double take, absolutely sure that your mind was playing tricks on you. There was no way that your dead boyfriend was sitting right there. It wasn’t possible.

You were sure that you were hallucinating. The guy looked like Eddie but it couldn’t be him. You missed Eddie so much that you were imagining him to make yourself feel better. Maybe if you reached out to touch him, you could confirm that it really wasn’t him. You just wanted to be sure so you could put it out of your mind and put your curiosity to rest.

You tried to get off your stool, but the whole thing ended up toppling to the floor, taking you with it. The loud sound of it hitting the hard wood made everyone turn to you. You weren’t sure why, but your ears were ringing. You couldn’t hear anything but muffled voices as everyone in the bar hovered over you to see if you were okay.

“I’m good, I’m good,” you assured them as you sat up, actually telling the truth this time. Your arm hurt a little, but other than that, you were okay. You didn’t even care anyway, the man making his way towards the front of the crowd being the only thing on your mind.

Once they confirmed you were okay, everyone dispersed and went back to their tables, leaving you and the stranger alone. He was looking at you with wide eyes like he couldn’t believe you were there and your expression matched his. His eyes were watery as he reached up to touch your face, his thumbs wiping away your own tears.

“I knew it was you,” you told him, throwing yourself into his arms and he was quick to catch you, wrapping them around your waist tightly. You sobbed in each other’s arms for what felt like a while then pulled away, your lips attaching to his in a messy kiss. You tasted something salty and realized that it was the tears that you had both cried but that didn’t stop you from breaking apart until you both needed to catch your breath.

He took you by the hand and led you outside and down the block to an apartment building so the two of you could have some privacy. Part of you felt like you were in a very surreal dream but feeling his hand in yours made you realize that he was actually there. Right in front of you.

As happy as you were that he was alive, he had lied to you. For five years you thought he was dead and he had failed to contact you even though you were his fucking girlfriend. He had told you had he loved you in the Upside Down when he was dying in your arms, but apparently it wasn’t a lot since he had kept something like that from you.

He pulled you over to the elevator and pressed the button that would take the two of you up to his apartment. The doors opened not too long after and he pulled you inside, his lips attaching to yours once again. You felt a pit in your stomach and pushed him away, causing him to hit the wall.

“Still like it rough, huh?” He asked, his lips chasing yours, but you kept your hand on his chest, keeping him against the wall. Tears welled up in your eyes again and Eddie’s face softened, the lust completely gone from them. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? You lied to me, Eddie. You’ve been alive this whole time and didn’t even think to contact me?”

“I was trying to protect you. I knew that the police would be after me if I came back to you. I know it was selfish and I’m sorry, so sorry, baby.” That made sense to you, but it didn’t make you feel any better. Did he think that you would tell anyone? Because you wouldn’t have. Not if he didn’t want you to. He had your full trust. Always.

“You still could have called me. I could have hid you just as well.” Eddie knew that and he wanted it so bad, but as time went on, the guilt was too much to bear and he couldn’t stand to see the look on your face when you found out that he was actually alive. The look you were giving him right now.

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry. You have no fucking idea.” His hands cradled your face and you let him wipe your tears away. “You can say anything you want to me right now and I won’t blame you. I’m a fucking dick-”

“You’re not a dick, Eddie. You were just doing what you thought was right. And as mad as I am right now, I’m just so fucking grateful that you’re alive.” You pulled him in for a kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him as close to you as possible. The elevator doors opened and Eddie grabbed onto the backs of your thighs and lifted, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist. His hands held onto them as he carried you to his apartment, only breaking your kiss to fish his keys out of his wallet. Once the door was unlocked, he slammed it closed with his leg then attached his lips to yours once more.

You licked into his mouth as he set you down on the kitchen counter, neither one of you able to make it to his room. Your pants and underwear were off in a flash and Eddie spread your legs open to get a good look at your sopping wet cunt. You were nervous because you hadn’t shaved, but he didn’t seem to give a single fuck about that.

“Glad to know I can still get you so fucking wet,” he chuckled. “You’re soaked.”

“And desperate,” you replied breathlessly. If he didn’t do something right then, you were going to have to take care of it yourself. “Haven’t fucked anyone in five years.”

“Me neither, sweetheart. Gonna need to open you up, huh?”

“Eddie, hurry,” you urged and as soon as the words left your mouth, he shoved his fingers inside your cunt. “Oh,” you moaned, realizing just how much you missed the feeling. Your fingers didn’t do the job nearly as well as Eddie’s.

“Fuck, angel, you’re so tight,” he commented as his fingers pumped in and out of you. “Gonna be good as new when I’m done with you.”

“So good,” you whined, leaning your head back, your eyes closing in pleasure as Eddie fucked his fingers in and out of you.

“Don’t go dumb on me now, angel,” he urged. “Haven’t even gotten inside of you yet.” His fingers moved harder and faster inside of you and you came undone at the feeling, forgetting just how good it felt to have him do that sort of thing to you.

“Need your cock, Eddie.”

“Don’t have any condoms.” That was the least of your worries. You needed him right then.

“I don’t care. I haven’t fucked anyone and neither have you and I’m still on birth control. So let’s do this.”

“Still needy for me, huh? Some things never change.”

“Eddie, hurry up before I care of it myself.” Your eyes bored into his and he got rid of his jeans and boxers, his dick springing free. It was bigger than you remembered and you wondered if it would even fit.

He lined himself up with your cunt and pounded into you, his lips meeting yours in a filthy kiss, his tongue scraping against yours as he continued to pound into you. You moaned into his mouth and the sound was just as delicious as he remembered. His lips moved to your neck as he hips bucked against yours so his mouth wasn’t muffling the sounds falling from your lips.

“Feel so good, baby. Still know how to take me so well,” he whined. “God, you’re so hot.”

Your back arched as he moved faster, his dick hitting just the right spot to make you melt. You were already reaching your orgasm and he had barely even done anything. Your vision went hazy from absolute euphoria he kept going and his moans were doing wonders for your already sopping wet pussy.

“Look so hot taking my cock, baby. Guess I’ve still got it.”

“Eddie, I think I’m gonna-” you finally reached your climax and felt embarrassed that it was so quick, but Eddie was not long after you, his body leaning over yours as he reached his own peak.

“Guess I did too,” he chucked, as he wiped the sweat from your forehead. “Did so well, sweetheart,” he praised as he pressed his lips to yours. “And again, I’m so sorry.”

“We can work through it,” you rubbed your thumb along his cheek. “I know it’s still daylight, but can we please go to bed?”

“Sure we can, sweetheart.” He picked you up and carried you to the bathroom to clean the both of you up and once you were all done, you both got into the bed and got the best sleep of your life because you both were finally reunited. And there was no way that Eddie was going to let you go ever again.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff

[the-great-fusilli]

I’m all for delusion and shipping characters that don’t canonically end up together BUT… I will never get behind Zutara.

Maybe it’s because I don’t take colonization and eithnic clensing lightly, or maybe it’s because I disagree with the “Katara is like Aang’s mom” statement. Either way they should not be end game. People often bring up how Zuko helped Katara release a lot of pent up emotions concerning her mother’s death and who killed her, but the Fire Nation (his people) were responsible for that death. And up until that specific arc Zuko was upholding the beliefs of those people.

“Zuko doesn’t need Katara to be his mother like Aang and the rest of the group do, they’re on equal footing.” Except Aang and the rest of the group don’t need Katara to be mother either. People just view Katara as a maternal character because of her personality and that’s the only role they’ll acknowledge her having in the group. Katara’s mother showed her a love so deep and protective that she died so Katara could live, so of course the trauma of losing her mother in that way at such a young age would cause her to take on the role her mother had. Whether it be because of obligation, or simply because that’s all she knew.

Aang and the other characters have also experienced a lot of trauma, but Aang was raised by monks. He doesn’t need a mother figure because he’s never experienced gender roles in the way the other characters have. His idea of a family is being shaped as the show progresses because aside form Monk Gyatso, they are the first family he’s had. He’s curious, fun-loving and light hearted because that’s how Monk Gyatso raised him to be, not because he’s an irresponsible little 12 yr old without a mother. His people were eradicated, so Katara doesn’t raise Aang she guides him through grieving the loss of his people. A loss she knows all too well.

Toph is blind and her family is overly protective. They don’t give her the space or freedom to be her own person or earth bend. Another experience that Katara knows all too well. Her grandmother never let her leave the southern water tribe or water bend so she gives Toph the same thing she gives Aang. Sokka is Katara’s brother… he also experienced the loss of their mother except Sokka is a boy. He’s been made painfully aware of gender roles because he watched their father leave to fight in the war instead of staying to help him and Katara. He decided he needed to be more like his Father instead of his mother. So all the responsibility of taking care of the both of them fell on Katara.

Katara and Zuko are not on “equal footing” before he leaves the Fire Nation. He’s a prince from the Nation that has been inflicting pain on her family, her people and the world for 100 years…(he literally calls my good sis “water tribe peasant” meaning at some point he believed she was inferior because he had royal blood.) He has changed now of course and I love both Zuko and Katara, but them being end game makes no sense to me.

Aang and Katara to me are like 2 halves that make a whole. I’ve believed they were soulmates since the moment she broke him out of that Iceberg. She felt a higher calling, not only to be a water bender fighting for her people, but also to be apart of something bigger than herself and have the freedom to do so. It is not a coincidence that in the moment where she feels her biggest emotions and showcase her strongest bending at that time in her life, she broke THE Avatar out of an iceberg he had been in for 100 years. It was FATE. Katara helps Aang grieve, gives him a family, teaches him water bending and teaches him that the world may be counting on him, but the amount of death and pain he sees is not his fault. Aang helps Katara finally step into her full potential, he gives her the things she’s been longing for… freedom, fun, a chance to master water bending and put an end to the war. Some of Aang’s own words were “Why would i choose cosmic energy over Katara?” He had an opportunity to master the avatar state land directly in his lap, but instead he chose her.

IM TEAM KAANG TIL I DIE

Also I think personality wise Zuko and Katara are too much alike for my liking. They’re both sassy as hell, sarcastic, stubborn momma’s babies, who resent their fathers a lil and went through hell for a couple years because of their siblings (+ losing their moms.) In some ways they ARE opposites (especially their bending & colors,) and i agree they have character development arcs that fit together like puzzle pieces…BUT they are more alike than they are opposite. I don’t have a problem with people who just like to see them together but pls stop with the justifications bc no.

#katara #avatar aang #aang #atla #kaang #zuko #prince zuko #toph beifong #atla sokka #avatar the last airbender #ships

[nalyra-dreaming]

Looking at what we’ve seen so far and what has been revealed and teased in interviews I have a few DM predictions/thoughts. Would love to hear yours and @cbrownjc opinions! First some observations:

1. Louis attacking Daniel in the 70’s, his and Armand’s fight (the clip of Armand repeating Lestat’s name), Armand’s ’Gentleman Death’ speech, biting of Daniel - all seems to occur during the same night/24 hours, as they are wearing the same clothes. All clips so far from the 70’s seem to take place during the same day(s). Could be intentional, a way of obscuring as much as possible or alternatively a lot of S02E05 will take place during the same few days in the 70’s.

2. The scene in S02E02 of Louis and Armand talking about the ’young men’ is framed in such a way as to imply that Daniel might have been one of these men. Additionally at least one review has talked about there being a ’couple/third’ dynamic in the show (as well as a hunter/prey dynamic and more). However as screeners have so far only seen episodes 1-6, this could be based on speculation/good(?) story literacy rather than on what has actually happened explicitly in the show thus far. Or this dynamic comes into play before/during Daniel’s first interview with Louis.

3. In an interview with the Nerdist EB answered when asked if viewers will see anything of Daniel and Armand’s complex relationship this season: ”We’re going to have to leave that to your imagination because there is a lot coming. But I guarantee there will be some cool stuff happening by the end of the second season”. And also: ”But, it’s also going to be heavy. There’s going to be a lot of heaviness.”

4. Taking into considerations what we know about Armand’s tragic and horrific back story, AZ’s comments about Armand, about Armand’s relationship with Louis and his fascination with Daniel (which starts at the original interview) we know that Armand is desperate to be loved (and love), that he needs/craves control (fully understandable) but also wants to be loved and seen for everything that he is (which implies a need to relinquish control and be vulnerable).

Taking all these aspects together I’m going to guess that Daniel might have hooked up with Louis at his and Armand’s flat before the interview started. After revealing thet he is in fact a vampire Daniel is told ”Don’t be afraid, start the tape” (heard in the trailer) and the interview commences. Daniel fascinates Armand during the interview. More precisely the way he is able to understand and connect with Louis is something that Armand finds intriguing. Daniel will however push too far, asking to become a vampire - as well as possibly reveal something about Louis’ narrative which causes Louis to attack him (“You don’t understand the meaning of your own story!”). Armand will save his life, probably at first plan to get rid of him through his ’Gentleman Death’ spiel but will change his mind and at some point let him go. The DM chase will possibly begin. Perhaps S02E05 will end with Daniel, after having been locked up for a few horrifying days, being let go. Meaning that the chase and the beginning of the romantic relationship between Daniel and Armand could be revealed in the season finale (if the show does the chase). Armand clearly truly loves Louis, and I think that Louis loves Armand, but there is some resentment and bitterness between them due to the events in Paris + Lestat. The fight therefore, motivated in part by Louis still talking/thinking about Lestat, might result in a temporary separation, during which Armand first chases and later falls for Daniel. Maybe Louis and Armand reconcile and Daniel become their ”third” for a while. Or Armand is separately in a relationship with Daniel, Louis probably has awareness of them but might lack insight into the depth of the relationship. If Louis and Armand separate for a while it’s possible that when they reconcile Armand ”let’s go” of Daniel. Possibly motivated by his need to not lose Louis (this could be what the couple/third dynamic is referring to, the fact that there’s an understanding between Louis and Armand to not get too close to the ’young men’ they engage with). So Armand could’ve been motivated by a fear of losing Louis - and just by his love and care of Louis, who he also in addition probably felt needs him after Claudia’s death.

Another factor could also be that Daniel wanted to be turned. Armand not wanting to turn Daniel could be because he believes vampirism is a curse or because this would entail a loss of control over Daniel/their relationship which Armand psychologically couldn’t cope with. Possibly he didn’t trust enough in Daniel’s love of him (giving the Alice comment more personal context). So Armand adjusts Daniel’s and Louis’ memories, the latter’s possibly with a certain level of consent - so that Louis can cope with what happened in Paris/the trial/Claudia’s resentment(?). This kind of breakup between Armand and Daniel, and the reasoning behind it could explain what the ’heaviness’ is referring to. Since it has nothing to do with a lack of love but rather with insecurity. A part of the heaviness from Daniel’s side could also be that as he is someone dealing with internalized homophobia, he felt truly seen and free with Armand and from Armand’s side Daniel’s ability and willingness to connect and not judge and love Armand set him free, and made him feel accepted. I’m very invested in the DM relationship, but I’m a worried that their relationship will nearly not be salvageable after all revelations. The heaviness comment concerns me. Adjusting someone’s memories to such an extent and in a way is an incredible violation, and perhaps more importantly, in a way, Armand chose Louis over Daniel. And that is a difficult hurdle to get over, even if Armand’s motivations were understandable. I’m happy to be wrong here though. I’m also fascinated by the idea of what’s next in Daniel’s and Armand’s dynamic. I don’t believe it’s Marius who’s behind Daniel’s blocked memories, simply because it feels like the show is going to use episode five to reveal through Daniel’s trauma in San Francisco the extent of Armand’s ‘Mind Gift’. As revealed in the trailer, Louis will have a moment of revelation where he realises that he is missing memories. Him and Daniel are seated at the same table with the same clothes in that scene as in the scene where Daniel tells Louis that he wants to remember for his own sake what happened in San Francisco. And for a causal viewers’ sake it makes sense to show the extent of the Mind Gift as well as Armand’s propensity to use it before we arrive at the finale (and the trial). It could be pretty good foreshadowing. I do think that Armand is not going to be revealed to simply be a moustache-twirling villain and manipulator behind it all - again I think a certain amount of memory manipulation might be somewhat consensual as Louis at some point will be almost crushed by Claudia’s death.

I’m honestly happy to be wrong about a lot of this - and I certainly don’t think I’m right about everything. It should go without saying that a lot of this is me synthesising speculation I’ve read on Tumblr and online. But I’ve just thought about this for a while and would love to hear your (and others who would like to comment) thoughts on it. So sorry for long post!!! Thank you! Love coming to your and @cbrownjc blogs and reading speculation! Also - plz don’t feel obliged to respond or comment on everything!

Hey!!

So. I think episode 5 will be the horrific parts of the DM arc. I do think that Daniel went up with Louis to that apartment and maybe something happened, but I think it was mostly about the interview at that point. I don’t think Daniel became their “third” right away, but I DO think that Daniel became that over time (which I think is not something I expect to see in episode 5 - IF we get to see that we will see it in a later episode I think).

I… am not sure Armand is fascinated by Daniel during the interview. In fact I think THAT will play out like in the book, namely Daniel being told to run (a true hunt across the globe). But yes, Daniel pushed too far in the interview, and Louis will attack him - and Armand will save him in that moment - but I do not think for Daniel’s sake, but for LOUIS’ sake. Because Armand likely knows that Louis would not really want to kill Daniel then.

Armand does love Louis. He betrays his coven for him! But… he goes about it in the only way he knows how, and that is not how Louis nor Lestat need to be loved. And he is so desperate to have and keep that love he does anything to keep it - unfortunately. (Luckily for him Daniel is the counterpart to that desire to love.)

I … don’t think that Louis will be “away” during the chase and the aftermath (resulting in Armand and Louis actually being together for so long) because I think… I think the Louis prior to SF is a different one after SF, namely in Dubai. The Louis in Dubai is more settled, tempered, but still spiraling. The Louis in that bar in SF? Is trying to numb himself, eaten alive by guilt, seeking out substance users to get high. So … something happened between Paris and modern day Dubai, and SF seems to be it - especially if the hints we got re this episode being THAT KIND of episode hold true (and I mean it’s episode 5, right^^). So, we’ll see. But I expect gutter punches.

Daniel… will want to be turned, yes. And I think it has already been hinted with the “Alice said no” that Daniel will ask Armand at some point as well - and that it will be driven by love - but Armand did not trust that love enough to turn him.

The thing about Armand is… that he is Armand. He is not a moustache-twirling villain!!! But he goes about things in his coven-master mentality, making decisions for others, using his gifts as he sees fit.

That is canon behavior. That does not make him a big caricature villain!

But he does canonically influence Louis, makes him do things. Louis, in s3 has already commented on that. And he lets the coven kill Claudia.

He is doing that not to be evil - but he is doing this to keep the ones he loves, and he does it to protect his own heart, which is very understandable, imho. In the only way he knows how.

And, unfortunately, he does not love Claudia.

#Anonymous #ask nalyra #iwtv s2 #iwtv #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire s2 #amc interview with the vampire #louis de pointe du lac #armand #loumand #the devil's minion #daniel molloy #devil's minion

[ysrjune]

hi! i know you don't usually write for clay, so feel free to delete this if you want. but, if youre up for it, I'd love to see inpatient!clay beresford x inpatient!reader (maybe also w heart condition i have one and i just think it would be cute). and like maybe they both have surgery on the same day or smth soft of them comforting each other through this or smth idk i just need patient!reader w clay so bad 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 ( if u like angst also im not against one of them dying at the end)

My Baby

i’m so sorry that I replied to this so late, but hey.. at least I responded, right 🥰⁉️ thank you for your ask <3

summary ✦ clay and reader have heart surgery the same day, and they comfort each other.

“We’ll be okay.” Clay runs his fingers through your hair in hopes it will calm you down. your surgery was less than a few hours away, and you were scared. what if the doctors do something wrong that ends up in death for you or clay.. or both. Clay was your everything, and you couldn't bare to lose him.

“You don't know that for sure.” she sighed, looking up at Clay to say something else, but he beat her to it. “Yes I do. what kind of hospital hires doctors that don't know how to be doctors.” he was just trying to make you feel better. he knew there were always risks in any situation for surgery. “After this, we're gonna be fine, sweetie. more than fine.” he kissed your cheek. “we'll start our own family and be happy the rest of our lives without being scared of randomly dying on the spot.”

Clay was always better with coming to peace with his condition, so much so that it didn't bother him to make jokes about randomly dying on the spot. you, on the other hand, were really scared of dying and not being able to fulfill a good enough life. you wanted to have fun, find a suitable husband to raise a family with, and be the best wife & mother you could be. so, the thought of death being able to take you out of nowhere was terrifying.

“clay, dont say that. It's not funny.” you look down to his chest. “I just.. want us to live the life we deserve.”, “and we will. I'm telling you, baby, nothing bad is gonna happen, you'll see.” he placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

—

the time finally came, and you were being pushed on the hospital beds to the surgery rooms. Clay held your hand the whole way there since his bed was next to yours. “I love you, clay. with all my weak heart has to give.” he wanted to burst into tears. this could he the last time you see each other. as much as he didn't wanna think about it, he did. his beautiful angel being taken away from him or him being taken away from you, ending up in not giving you the life you wanted with him. still, he put a smile on and looked at your wedding ring, then his. “I love you too, y/n. I'll never stop loving you.” even the nurses who were pushing your beds wanted to cry.

“if anything happens, you were the one for me, baby. the only one. the girl of my dreams.” he gives the softest half smile as you're close to parting ways to different rooms. “I'll see you out of surgery, honey.” you respond, kissing your fingers and placing it on his hand. he shed a tear and nodded as you split ways.

—

things were going great for the first half of everything that the doctors did. but then something went wrong.. very wrong. the heart wasnt receiving enough blood flow. the doctors didn't even notice until it was too late. how could they break the news? after the nurses told them about how all you two wanted was to stay here on earth with each other and raise a baby of your own. that didn't matter anymore. you were dead.

Clay woke up from surgery, his mother and a couple of friends by his bed. his first instinct was to look over to the bed next to him so he could see you. nothing. the bed was empty. it made his still fragile heart begin to beat fast in worry. “where is she?” he looked to his mother with teary eyes. “where is my wife?” his voice cracked. he was staring to cry. did you make it? please, God, he hoped you made it and you were just put in a different room.

All his mother and friends did was frown at him, crying as well. Clay sucked in air and started to cry. sniffling while shaking his head, he still kept looking to the bed. “No, no, no. this wasn't how it was supposed to go. youre all lying.” his cries were heartbreaking. “Mom?” he switched his gaze to her, hoping it was all a lie.. a dream.. a hallucination. anything but the truth.

“I'm sorry, Clay.” that was it. you were officially gone. his baby was gone. not just you, but the baby he could have given you. the baby he could love and see you through the eyes of your child.

Clay never emotionally recovered from that. he never dated either. never even dared to stare or flirt with another woman. all he ever did was work, drink, visit your grave, and go to bed. occasionally visit some friends and family, but that was it. his life was never the same without you. he kept all your things. he sprayed your signature perfume on your pillow thst he cuddled with to just pretend you were still there with him.

Clay Beresford was absolutely miserable for the rest of his life without you.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

taglist: @anakinstwinklebunny @heartsforanakin @anisscarletstarlet @sockiess @erosmutt @rottencandyblood @radiantvader @freezerbride95 @starsfortaylor 🎀

#june replies ౨ৎ #clay beresford x you #clay beresford angst #awake 2007 #hayden christensen #hayden christensen fic #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen angst #hayden christensen drabble #hayden christensen blurb

[moonlit-imagines]

Broken Curse

Peter Parker x reader

warnings:

a/n: idk this was supposed to be an entirely different fic when i started but now its very different

prompt:

Peter always held himself back. Everyone could see it. Everyone except him.

All those wasted opportunities because of those powers, but that’s all he thought he was good for now. He could have been so much more if he didn’t dedicate himself to Spider-Man. Right now he could be in college or working a job ehere he could make a real difference. But instead, he was living all on his lonesome in some run-down apartment, a ghost of his former self.

So now no one saw him. No one saw how much he held himself back because no one ever noticed him. In his new life, he kept to himself. No people to disappoint with his lost potential, no one noticed him anymore and maybe that was for the best.

You were in his thoughts, though. Mourned daily and nightly in regret of his mistakes. He sat there connecting all those things that went wrong. From becoming Spider-Man to an Avenger, trusting people he shouldn’t have, taking shortcuts and wasting precious time. He lost you and everyone he ever loved.

What hurt him most was seeing you from time to time, but as luck would have it, you’d managed to move into his building. A fate worse than death for Peter.

“Y/N?” He asked in the hallway without realizing. A stranger had just called to you.

“I…I’m sorry, do I know you?” You chuckled, which Peter knew was a nervous habit and you were a bit uncomfortable.

“N-No. Sorry.” He paused. “I was guessing. Not guessing your name, that’d be weird. The landlord told me about a new neighbor, I haven’t seen you yet so I was assuming that was you. Y/N, right?” Peter rambled out a reasonable lie to convince you he wasn’t a stalker. Maybe he was, he didn’t know if it counted when magic spells were involved.

“Oh. I guess that makes more sense.” You shrugged. “Yes, I’m y/n…and you are..?”

“Peter. Peter Parker.” He gave an awkward introduction. “Apartment 20.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Peter.” You told him. “I hate to cut this short, but I have to do some unpacking.” You began to walk away, but Peter was desperate to keep this going. He hadn’t spoken to you in months, and although you may not know who he is in this moment, he was the boy you fell in love with and he still loved you with all his heart.

“If, uh, you need some help moving anything, I’ll be here.” He timidly offered. You stopped in your tracks and took a moment to think.

“Actually, I could use some help with some furniture. The movers just left everything in my living room.” You explained and he smiled. “What?”

“You have a living room?” He laughed and you joined in, catching that his apartment was probably a bit smaller than your own. “I can definitely help you with all that, lead the way.” He was a bit disappointed you’d accept help from a stranger so easily, but he didn’t know that something felt familiar about him. You just felt he was trustworthy and genuine. That was it.

You’d initiated some small talk while moving the couch to the correct wall, the bed frame and mattress to the bedroom, and some shelves and tables wherever they might go, maneuvering around heaps of boxes labeled with all sorts of goofy writing. He liked the “BEDROOM BULLSHIT” box the most. But as he moved around your relatively nicer apartment, he noticed a stuffed animal that had fallen on the floor. A stuffed animal he had actually gotten for you several years ago. “Hey,” he picked the little bear up, “this was just laying on the floor. Cute.” Peter commented in some unsuspecting way.

“Oh, yeah, I can’t even remember where I got that thing. I’ve had it forever, can’t bring myself to get rid of it. It’s too cute to get rid of anyways, look at him.” You reached for the bear in his hand and when your hand connected with its soft fur, you felt an overwhelming sensation, this sickness inside as your head began spinning.

“Are you okay? Y/N?” Peter urgently asked, hesitant to make any startling movements. Your gaze jolted back to him and there was a much different look in your eyes than in the moments before. Softer.

“This can’t be real.” You mumbled. “It was you all along.”

“What?” He had no idea how to respond.

“Peter Benjamin Parker.” You spoke his full name. “I love you.”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 // @deanzboyfriend //

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #avengers #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagine

[another-random-paradise]

Hiii! I saw ur account is open to Twisted Wonderland requests and I do hope I can make one request!

Maybe a request for Mozus Trein with an S/O(ofc they’re the same age as him) that is shy and timid but was once an outgoing teenager when they were young and how the two bond now that they’re seeing each other again with both of them knowing that both of them obviously had a crush on one another since teens but separated due to familial circumstances(def didn’t inspire this by an oc of mine, hahahahahaaa-)

Thank you so much for the request!! and yeahh, many of my ideas are based of OC's- Since you didn't specify, I decided to write this as a short fic, since i've been wanting to write one for quite a while now, i hope that's okay!! (tbh I'm so used to writing headcanons, that if you really want to, you can also read this as headcanons) Hope you enjoy :) Also, i refuse to take Treins girl dad privilege's so i simply turned his marriage into an arranged one-

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Trein and Childhood crush!Reader reconnecting after years apart

Characters: Mozus Trein

Format: Short Fic (972 words)

Warnings: None that i can think of

Trein was rummaging through some old stuff, with his wife's death a few years ago, he decided to declutter, when he stumbled upon an old box. An old box, filled with memories of his time as a teenager. Many of them included pictures of the two of you, how could they not, when he used to spend most of his time wishing he could spend every waking moment with you. Trein has always been an orderly person, perhaps that's why he loved you, you and your outgoing personality, never shying away from anything. If he was completely honest, he still does, and there is nothing he regrets more, than not marrying you.

He still remembers the day like it was yesterday, when his parents told him he was to be married, to a woman he didn't even know, once they were both eighteen, how it broke his heart. Of course, it had to be the same day he planned to finally confess to you. So, when you met him at your favorite spot, instead of a carefully planned speech about his feeling, one he knows he would have messed up anyways at the sight of your smile, he blurted out that he's engaged. He had never felt more pain, than as he watched your heart break, seeing the pain in your eyes. He only wishes that you were able to see how it hurt him too. And the two of you coming from a generation before phones existed made it hard to stay connected, so, in the end you lost sight of each other. Oh, how he wished he could have rebelled against his parents, he still wishes he did, but he always followed the rules his parents set, believing they only wanted the best for him, so how was he supposed to just stop? He is truly happy with his life, there is nothing he loves more than his daughters, and yet to this day, you have never left his heart. To this day, it wishes it were you with who he lived this life.

And it seems that his wishes were heard for once, as the doorbell rings. He is confused at first, the person at the door seems familiar to him, he just can't quite pin point it, at least not until the familiar stranger speaks-

"Long time no see, Mozus"

No matter how much you've changed over the years, the way you speak his name as you smile at him is something that remained the same, something that he could never forget. He invited you inside, the shock of seeing you so long painted clearly on his face. The two of you sit down at the coffee table, as he hands you your drink. He has many questions, and he can only assume you do too. It doesn't take long before you two are talking as openly as you did when you were younger, reminiscing about the older days, discussing what each of you did during your time apart; he tells much about his lovely daughters, talking about each of them as if they're a piece of art, before asking what you did during your time away. He noticed rather quickly that you spoke much quieter than when you were young, holding yourself back during stories instead of making them as big as can be, where he wouldn't have gotten a word in when you were young, he was now leading the conversation. But he couldn't say that he minded, it was only normal to change with age, and he's afraid his aged body wouldn't be able to handle the adventures attitude you had as a child; the change is welcomed with open arms, just as you welcomed everything that changed about him. The conversation lasts well into the night, it is already dark out when the two of you finally become tired. Being the gentleman that he is, and always was, he invites you to stay the night, perhaps even a few more if you have travelled from afar to meet him. As he goes to sleep, he feels a warmth he hasn't felt in years.

It was an early morning, when the sound of meows awoke you. It seems it didn't take long for Lucius to warm up to you either, as the tuxedo cat lets you pet him, albeit only for a few minutes, before elegantly walking of to eat breakfast. Deciding to follow suit, you get dressed and make your way to the kitchen. When you arrive, Trein is already making breakfast, wishing you a good morning, before returning his attention to the eggs. He is already dressed to a tee, you can only imagine how early he woke up. You decide to help him, carrying the finished food to the table, as you started to properly wake up. "Didn't you say you work at a college? don't you have to go to work soon?" you ask as you both sit down at the table. "Luckily, you visited me during the holidays, I have three more weeks before i need to return to work." He responded, a smile on his face. Very quickly the two of you made plans for these weeks, to reconnect.

And reconnect you did. Your plans very quickly turned into dates, as the two of you realize that neither of you ever got over your feelings. You finally do all, or rather all the things that you can do at your age, that you wanted to do as teenagers. Eventually, you even meet his daughters, who luckily seem to like you. They know their parents marriage was arranged, and seeing their father happy with you, makes them happy.

It may have taken many, many years of longing, but it seems that, in the end, fate still had a happy ending in mind for the two of you.

Very fun to write, very happy that i finally had the chance to try and write a proper fic!!

Feedback is welcomed, just be nice please :)

Hope you have a nice day/night!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #writing #mozus trein #professor trein #trein x reader #professor trein x reader #mozus trein x reader

[run-little-hero]

TW // Death threats, a little blood

“So this was your plan all along,” says Villain.

Hero has nothing to say back. The beginnings of a confession are lost somewhere in the chill of the beating rain. It’s not worth acknowledging. Villain has discovered the truth exactly as Hero planned for them to.

They continue, “Get me to trust you, let you use me, make me believe we have a common enemy.” They step forward. Their voice hides beneath the pattering rain when they utter, “How blind I’ve been.”

Hero clenches their teeth, straightening. “Correct. But it took a lot of work to get this far, so don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Villain laughs. “Course. Should’ve known there was something wrong when you suddenly began to enjoy my company.”

“I do. Truly.”

“Well, that makes it all better.”

Villain has learned Hero like a language. Their structures overlap, their consonants and vowels the same. They are threads tied together, and Villain can’t find an end between them. How is it possible to know someone’s soul so intimately and still be betrayed by them?

Hero remains silent. Villain speaks up, “What now? Do you kill me?”

Their head tilts downward minutely, something only Villain can catch, as the motion tugs a string inside them as well. “You’d do the same thing in my position. You know it’s necessary.”

“None of this was necessary, Hero.” Making me care so deeply. Maybe they’re right.

But no, what else do they have if not their hatred, however feigned? Enemies in the eyes of the people, everything in the eyes of each other. Exploitation of this relationship has brought them closer, and Hero is thankful. Mirror images, they know Villain must be as well, deep down.

A spark of anger ignites in Hero, for Villain would dismiss them so easily. “It was. Betrayal doesn’t cut so deep for people like us. We can survive it. You’ve already assessed the damage and decided it won’t kill you.”

“‘We can survive it.’” Villain’s eyes burn hot, tears creeping forth. They feel like a fuse has been lit inside them. “You think I’ll forgive you when you intend to take my life? You think I’ll forgive you while I’m bleeding out?”

“Death often puts people in the mood to forgive. Compassion is more easily repaired than mortality.”

“We’re not like other people.” Hero and Villain now stand inches apart. “How do you expect to live without me?”

Hero locks eyes with Villain. “I think that will become abundantly clear once you’re dead.”

In an instant, Villain is pressed against the nearest wall. Hero is crushing their windpipe.

“D-don’t,” they grunt out. “You’re suppose t-to be a hero.”

Just as Villain begins to black out, the pressure on their throat relieves itself. They’re tossed to the ground, choking on rain.

“I’m saving so many people by snuffing you out. And avenging countless others.” They glare down at Villain, and it strikes Villain that this is the first time Hero has looked so furious.

Something about it is so amusing Villain can’t help but smile. “Don’t—“ they cough, forcing the words to scratch their way out of their throat. “Don’t act like you care.”

“What?” Hero knows what Villain is getting at. They’re pulling an ugly truth out of Hero.

“You love me. For better or worse.”

“You’re a narcissist.”

“So?” They spit. “Don’t act like you care about saving anyone. This is about defeating your only weakness.”

Hero is silent. One of the best and worst parts of finding an equal is being known. Right now, there is nowhere to hide.

“I’ll still kill you,” Hero threatens.

“But do you have to?”

“Yes.”

Villain stares up at Hero, holding them hostage through eye contact. “What if I loved you back?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, maybe it should. Maybe you should reconsider your plan.”

“No,” they growl. Suddenly, Villain is knocked back against the pavement, pinned in place by the body on top of them. There’s a blade at their throat. Where did that come from?

They catch their breath. Excitement is their foremost emotion. “We can be partners. I’ll give you a life worth living. We can be together every day.”

“I know better than to make deals with villains.”

“You said we could be saved.”

Villain feels the sting of the knife cut into their skin, just slightly. Hero is shaking.

“I am saving us. I’m preserving what we have. There is no world for us out there. Not together.”

Villain finds the strength in their left hand, and reaches towards the blade at their neck. Their hand covers Hero’s trembling fingers.

“There can be. Please,” they whisper. “Aren’t we worth saving?”

—

snippet #6

#betrayal #hero x villain #hero x villan #heroes #heroes and villains #heroes x villains #spilled ink #villain x hero #villains #writeblr #writers on tumblr #angst #open ending

[crazylittlejester]

Hola! Do you have any advice an Wars’s characterisation? For example, how you feel he reacts to stress or his go to methods of connecting with people?

felt like you were the guy to ask :)

I FEEL SO HONORED IM BEING ASKED RN ALKJSLKSJS OH MY GOD

so this is all for how I personally characterize him, this is just my take on him feel free to do your own thing :)

For me, he has different levels of stress. For more minor things he’s able to just force it aside and push through whatever he’s doing, but for bigger things he gets quieter and snappier. Like ‘normal’ level of stress where he’s trying to figure out a battle plan for the chain but maybe it’s too loud and it’s hard for him to focus? He’s going to grit his teeth and power through, he’s not happy about it but he’s going to get it done. War of Eras battle planning? Late at night? He’s still trying to power through but maybe this time there are silent tears. Twilight is laying there dying and Time is preoccupied so watching out for all the others is up to him? Shockingly he’s keeping it together despite this being terrifying and extremely stressful, because in life or death situations he forces himself to be the rock for everyone else. It’s only once the real ‘stress’ is actually over that he allows himself to feel it, and with large events like that he’s quiet. He doesn’t speak as much, he looks more exhausted than he normally allows himself to appear, and when he does speak it’s very flat or a bit snappier than usual, which of course he does feel bad about, but at the time he can’t control

Either way, he doesn’t want his own stress to stop him from doing what needs to get done so he doesn’t deal with it in a healthy way. He’s suppressing it both cases, but in one he successfully files it away for later (it will of course come to bite him in the ass later down the line), and in the other case it’s overwhelming after the actual event has passed, and it’s very noticeable in his behavior (this excludes how i think he’d react in more trauma related situations)

For connecting with others, I think he struggles with it a bit. He’s definitely an extrovert, for me he’s loved talking with people his whole life, but due to everything he’s been through he cannot stop himself from mentally marking down peoples flaws and weaknesses and he feels bad about it, because here’s this person he’s trying to get closer to and his brain is like “here’s how to defeat them if they try to attack you”. He does not trust easily, and he definitely acts and presents himself a certain way towards people he doesn’t know/doesn’t know very well that is VERY different from how he presents himself around friends. I think he really connects with the others through shared experiences where the others do something kind for him they didn’t have to do, or do something to protect him. Like protecting him in a battle, or tossing him an extra fruit, or including him in little activities they’re doing, or even standing up for him in a bar. It helps him feel like maybe he can trust them. He is a kind person and he does nice things for the others in return, but he really connects with them when they’re doing something for him, because it makes him feel like he can allow himself to be closer to them

His trust cannot be earned with words, it must be earned through action and time

I also write him as a person who grew up very used to friendly, safe touch, and whose love language used to be giving hugs to show affection and care. He’s not the best with his words, and hugs used to be easier for him but because of trauma he can’t do that anymore. He has a very complicated relationship with physical touch now, and there are times where he really needs it but can’t actually handle it so he’ll sit away by himself. Over the years he’s gotten better with being able to allow himself to give out hugs or accept them, but that’s not an easy way for him to connect with people any more, so he connects with them and shows he cares through little acts. Wind ripped a hole in his tunic again? It’s fixed by morning, and Wind always just catches Warriors putting his needle and thread away. Wild’s scars are aching and he ran out of lotion somehow? There’s magically more in the bottom of his bag, and Warriors is seen walking away from it. Legend woke up from a nightmare and can’t fall asleep? Warriors will start reading his book aloud if he’s the one up on watch, and while Legend will probably never verbally thank him for it, it’s the fact that he’s able to go back to sleep within fifteen-thirty minutes that lets Warriors know it works and Legend is grateful for it

I headcanon sometimes it’s hard for him to physically connect with the others, but he shows his support and love in other little ways and connects with them that way :)

anyways sorry this took me so long to type out, I really hope it’s coherent and helpful :) and again, this is just how I personally characterize him this isn’t like, the only way to characterize him by any means, feel free to do whatever you’d like !!

#jes talks #jes ask #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu wars #warriors linked universe

[mslanna]

Raphael and his love (either unspoken affection or officially a couple) are in a battle but the opponent tries to flee and casts the spell Enemies Abound (which makes the target unable to tell friend from foe, causing them to attack anyone near them) on him and the effect ends after he has just severely injured his love. (For extra angst, maybe his love doesn't realize what happened and just chokes out a heartbreaking, "Why... ?" before collapsing against him) What does Raphael do? Does he try to save his love or go after the fleeing opponent?

(yes, I know Raphael probably wouldn't be effected by a spell like this but 🤫 that's not important)

There are many advantages to helping Omeluum study the tadpole. Survival Instinct is one. they/them Tav without body configuration angst happy end Read it on AO3

Come Back to Me

Everything went well until the second wave of enemies arrived. In the new chaos, Raphael lost sight of his little mouse and regardless of how many foes he slew, there were always more. What was worse, not only was Tav lost from sight, his own troops were suspiciously absent. Betrayal?

Tav would never. That Raphael knew. His little mouse was not only a capable general and fighter, Tav was loyal. A rare treat in the hells and an advantage few devils could boast of. To lose them in the fray was no reason for concern, usually. But this situation was anything but usual. He fought alone in an ocean of enemies.

At least many of them kept their distance. Raphael fought viciously but it would not have been enough if all enemies attacked in concert. His ferocity filled them with fear that not even their superiors could override. With fiendish glee, Raphael cleft another head and swept hellfire in a wide arc around him.

Flesh sizzled under superheated armour and screams filled the air with sweet music. Moments like these reminded Raphael why he did fight from time to time. The symphony of painful death and excruciating pain invigorated his every cell.

Another enemy approached carrying a gorgeous maul. A present for Tav maybe. They liked their weapons huge and heavy, enhanced with magic and infernal blessings. Raphael attacked and the foe parried. Instead of retaliating, they tried to wrestle his weapon away. A deadly mistake.

Raphael unbalanced the enemy with a short burst of hellfire. He heard Tav calling for him, but a quick glance around didn't reveal their figure on the field. He would find them. His little mouse needed him. But first, he turned and swiped at the foe. That maul would make a great present. A little something for being late to their call.

His opponent dropped under his heavy blow. At the same moment Tav called for him again – the urgency and pain in their voice tugged at a heart he denied having. Tav was perfect. A tool, certainly. The perfect fit for all his problems as well as all his desires. Losing them was unacceptable.

The bloody body at his feet still moved. A state easily remedied. He raised a foot, armoured for battle after Tav begged – sweetly, on their knees, until their soft lips were all swollen and glistening – for him to wear better protection. Even in the frenzy of battle Raphael stirred at the memory. One of many. One of many more to come. He'd find them soon enough and take exquisite revenge on those who dared hurt them.

A strong gust of wind pushed at him and the world tilted strangely as he set down his foot to steady himself. The ground around him was burnt, sizzling and creaking as it cooled down. His devils fought but in a wide circle around him. Not a single enemy was close. Raphael blinked.

Tav's voice reached for him again. Soft and fading it floated up from the ground. Raphael looked down and his heart stopped. Then the traitorous organ beat half out of his chest. There Tav was, on the ground before him. Their life seeped out of their body on the blood that pooled around their prone figure.

How?

It didn't matter. What did matter was their survival. His little mouse! Raphael recognised the wound as his last heavy stroke. Magic. It had to be. Him unable to discern friend and foe and Tav – of course Tav – unbelieving he wouldn't recognise them had come for him.

Raphael knelt and the battle around him sank into a silent fog. He turned Tav over with gentle hands. Tav coughed up blood but their eyes focussed on his face. Recognition bloomed and softened their features into a pained smile.

"Raphael." His name dripped with blood.

"Tav." There was so much to say, but this one word had to carry it all. Raphael reached for a healing spell but his inherent magic worked only on the infernal. His little mouse was a mortal, out of his reign and control. Out of his reach for saving.

They tried to speak again and he placed a finger over their bloodwet lips. He would save them. Had to. His gaze strayed to his forces. They pushed the enemy back and the retreat turned into a flight. His bloodlust and anger urged him to join. To rip through the enemy ranks like vengeance incarnate. But Tav lay at his feet, life leaving their broken body with every moment he hesitated.

Healing. He needed healing in whatever form. But while a guard stayed with him, his call for potions and magic was answered with apologetic looks and shuffling feet.

Tav's pack! They had to have something.

Raphael placed his torn mouse gently on the ground and rifled through their things with brutal claws. Scrolls ripped and were thrown aside, elixirs and poisons clattered against each other as they tumbled away. Whatever healing potions Tav had on them, they were used up already.

He could have brought some himself. Raphael's thoughts beat down. A little vial from his healing pool. A single scroll of revivify. But he brought nothing and this was the result.

Tav's eyes fluttered and darkening red lips moved. Raphael recognised the shape of his name. He had drawn it from those lips many a time. This was not how it ended. It could not be. He was a devil and he did not fail!

Yet Tav bled out in his arms.

There had to be something he could do. Something more than cradling the limp body to his chest and feeling Tav's blood trickle down his throat. But his mind was a blank. Swirling and grinding relentlessly but without a single complete thought. Piercing guilt mixed with boiling anger. But both were gutted by the shame of falling under a simple spell.

He had betrayed Tav's trust. Their rockfirm belief that he would know them under any circumstances. And that would cost them their life. It seemed impossible. Unthinkable. Raphael bowed his head and murmured soft assurances and gentle love into Tav's ear.

The mortal barely stirred. With each breath less air moved against Raphael's skin as he sat frozen in anguish and anger. He needed to save Tav. He couldn't move, could not let go. The world was a triumph of blood and fire. He only saw endless loss. Such a vile way to lose his precious mouse. Felled by his own hand.

He cradled his face against Tav's bloody throat and concentrated on the feeble pulse. A last sign of life that ran through his fingers like the red sands of Avernus. Stillness fell like a hammer. Nothing moved in his arms. No breath from Tav's lungs, the beating of their heart lost, the blood in their veins, little that was left, stayed.

Raphael sat motionless. His body and wings a cocoon around his heart, a body part he could not deny having any longer. It was breaking, splintering under the loss of his mouse. Tav was his. It should have been forever!

Rage reared its head. Red hot anger and the thirst to maim and destroy. But he could not move. The notion to leave Tav alone, vulnerable as they were, was unbearable. So he stayed. He curled around the centre of his life, realising it for what it had been only now that it was gone. The scream winding up through his body grew with every inch it rose up his throat.

Raphael did not care if other devils were close enough to hear his roar. Pain and defiance mingled and promised death to those who caused Tav's demise. They would not be safe anywhere. He would hunt them and he would find them and their anguish would be eternal as his.

Air full of ash and dust raked through his lungs to replenish his scream. The whole hells deserved to hear it and fear the repercussions. Yet Raphael loathed the though of letting the small body go. He pressed it against his own despite their armour grinding against his with desolate screeches. As long as he held on, Tav was still with him. As long as he didn't let go, they were his as always.

The memory of Tav's hand on his cheek wormed its way through all layers of knotted emotions. Raphael closed his eyes and revelled in it. To think he was going to miss out on the real thing for the rest of his immortal life. Suddenly, eternity was impossibly long.

"Raphael." A soft whisper. The sweetest sound in the world. His name from Tav's lips.

He lowered his head. "Tav." The name had to carry the weight of his world once more. "Come back to me."

It was a silly plea. The dead did not return for an encore. Yet he had to utter the words so his little mouse might know them wherever they had gone. Maybe a foray into the fugue plane was an appropriate interlude in the war for the hells.

A warm wind carried his name as it cooled the sweat and blood on his skin. The fragile body trembled in his grip as the devil heaved another deep breath. Raphael caught Tav's hands and placed it on their chest. He wanted them around his but there was no strength left in Tav to hold him.

Tav's lids fluttered. A vile trick of the wind. Their lips trembled, but so did their whole body in his quavering grip. Yet he could not shake the feeling that Tav moved. Slow, careful. Their hands centred on their chest and the air filled with the subtle boom of magic.

It pulled Raphael towards Tav like an inverse supernova. His mouse shone in a golden glow and their hands worked through the motions of a healing charge. The devil stared, stumped as life returned to their face. It wasn't much, but it would last them until he could dip them into his healing pool.

His thoughts circle around the miracle but found no explanation. One moment, Tav was gone and in the next, they lived. Raphael wouldn't question it. Whatever saved his mouse was a blessing. He wouldn't question it, though he might question Tav. Later. When they where whole and hale and his.

The moment Tav's eyes fluttered open, Raphael's world righted. He pressed the mortal to his body and knew only one thought: save them. He now had the time and means to keep the soft centre of his world alive.

Raphael gathered Tav to him and hellfire rose around them as he pressed his mouth down hard over their bloody lips. His house had its name for a reason. The war would wait while he bathed Tav and claimed their every last cell back from death.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #bg3 fanfiction #anon answered #writing prompt #mel writes fanfic #hurt/comfort #happy ending

[tonguepiercedanyway75]

heyyy I really love your writing! Was wondering if you could write number 12 or 13 with Ross from the smut prompts list? Tyyyy! 💕💕💕

Thank you so much anon!! I chose 13 ‘being snowed in together and fucking in front of the fireplace’

18+ MDNI

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The snowstorm has been relentless, and now you're snowed in, unable to leave as planned. You sit on the plush sofa, staring out the window at the swirling white chaos, feeling a mix of frustration and awe at the raw power of nature.

Ross has already checked your supplies and reassured you that you have enough food and firewood to last for several days if needed. Now, he kneels by the stone hearth, arranging logs and kindling with practiced ease.

You watch him as he places a blanket in front of the fire place, in his lumber jack coat, completely unbothered by the weather.

“When do you think we can hit the road?” You ask, keeping your eyes on your handsome boyfriend.

“S’ a good question, wouldn’t count on leaving anytime soon, love.”

You huff out loud, making Ross turn around to look at your pouting face, raising his eyebrows. “Hm?”

“I love this cabin, I do,” you mean it, “but it’s getting colder and I have things to do at home.”

Ross chuckles softly as he strikes a match and sets the kindling ablaze. "I know but we have to make the best out of this, can’t just drive through this massive pile of snow out there.”

The fire crackles to life, casting a golden glow that begins to fill the room with warmth. You pull your knees to your chest, trying to conserve heat, but the chill seems to seep into your bones.

“Still cold,” you complain and Ross rolls his eyes, giving you a dorky smile.

“I reckon you wait, d’you know why?” You shake your head, “ ‘cause I just lit the fire.”

“Funny,” you sound angry and you are. You’re slowly getting sick of the cold.

“C’mon now, could be worse,” he’s sitting on the blanket, his spread thighs inviting you. “Spent nearly two weeks here, can pull off another day, no?”

“I guess,” you don’t sound convinced because you’re not, but Ross is right.

Ross isn’t satisfied with your answer, he keeps looking at you, staring a hole into you and it drives you insane.

“Stop,” you say, you’re face heating up.

“What?” He asks offended, throwing his hands into the air, laughing, “you’re pissed off at everything.”

“No but you’re looking light you’re plotting something,” you huff, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck.

He grins, his eyes sparkling, “maybe I am.”

“Hmm,” you hum, resting your head on your knees.

Ross chuckles leaning back on his hands, “come on, love, you’re making this more miserable than it has to be.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not freezing to death.” You narrow your eyes at him, but his playful expression makes it hard to stay frustrated.

“Oh, I’m freezing alright,” he says, “but I’m not whining about it.”

“Whining?” You scoff.

“Yeah, whining,” his smile is widening, “anything I can do to lighten the mood?”

“Give me a kiss,” it’s almost a plead, wanting his skin on yours, radiating his warmth on to you.

He smirks, patting a spot next to him, “come here then.”

The look in Ross's eyes, the mixture of teasing and genuine affection, finally makes you cave. You crawl over to him and, instead of sitting beside him, you straddle his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck.

Before you can do anything else, his lips are on yours, soft and warm. The kiss starts slow, a gentle meeting of lips, but soon deepens, his mouth moving against yours with a hunger that surprises you.

He feels you start to melt on top of him. He looks up at you hungrily under his lashes before he's closing the distance between you again, his hands snaking up your back to pull you closer as he presses his lips firmly to yours.

You gasp at the first contact, your hands hurriedly coming up to his hair, kissing him hungrily. He tastes just like you remember and his beard tickles just the same.

He lets out a deep groan as he feels your hands in his hair, his body practically trembling under your touch as he kisses you deeply. He lets one hand slip up your spine to the back of your neck to keep you close, the other trailing down to your waist as his tongue slips forward to press hot and insistent against your bottom lip until your mouth opens for him, your tongues meeting as you tug on his hair.

“Warm me up?” you sigh, hips thrusting against his in need, making his mind go absolutely hazy and a deep groan coming from his mouth as he feels you rubbing so wantonly against him.

“Of course,” his head is tilting to trail kisses and bites down the side of your neck, humming contently when your head tilts backwards to feel more of his kisses.

His teeth are gently nipping at your skin as he moves to the sensitive spot behind your ear. You can't help but whimper, feeling his cock growing harder against you as you roll your hips against him, what makes him let out a deep groan, his head tilting back and his eyes squeezing shut as his mouth falls open around the low sound.

“Fuck,” he says gruffly, letting his hands trail up from your waist to your sides, feeling your skin through the thin fabric of your shirt. You kiss his jaw and neck. He feels like he's starting to lose his mind at the feeling of you grinding against him, his breath shuddering out in a groan as he feels his body start to shake.

"Slow down," he moans, his chest rising and falling faster and faster with the way you're moving against him. His eyes squeeze shut as he tries to keep himself together, his hands starting to clench around your sides.

“Feels too good though,” you cry out, feeling your stomach tightening at the constant rubbing of your panties against your clit. “You feel so good.”

"Yeah? feels good?" he shudders out, his eyes flickering behind his closed lids as his head falls back even further against the chair.

He suddenly holds on to your hips as tightly as he can so he can lay you on your back, rescuing himself from an embarrassing fast orgasm.

You whine at the loss of the friction, “Ross.”

“I know, love,” his lips find your neck again, rutting up into you again, “let’s do it properly hm?”

His hands find his belt and he pulls both his pants and boxers down, stroking his length in small movements.

You replace his hand with yours as he pulls your pants down as well. You both leave everything other on because it’s too cold and although the fire and the contact is helping, it wouldn’t after you would be done.

“You alright, love?”

“Yes, yes, just please,” you nod, Ross guides his cock through your folds to smear your slick before he slowly slides into you. Your head falls back as you gasped at the intrusion of his cock, the stretch just perfect.

“Don’t have to beg with me,” he keeps his pace slow at first, steadying himself with his hand resting above your head. He pushes your thighs apart and you wrap them around his waist, letting out a soft moan as you melt into the pleasure.

Ross kisses down your jaw and ghosts his lips over your collarbone. You use your legs to pull him further into you, whining when he pushes so much deeper into your cunt. "want more?”

You can’t say anything besides a breathed out ‘yes’ and he’s already holding your leg up, allowing him to fuck you even deeper. You feel every inch of Ross inside of you, as he slides in and out, repeat.

His other hand reaches down to toy with your clit, and you shudder. “Ross, so perfect fuck.”

“I’m close,” you sigh. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

“Jesus,” Ross curses, seemingly out of nowhere, but you know by now that it turns him on like crazy. His need for praise always had you curious, and using it in bed just makes you feel all the more powerful.

“Gonna cum-,” he leans in to press his lips to yours again, driving his hips into you at a punishing pace, and you’re gushing as he flicks at your clit in all the right ways. You moan as your orgasm washes over you, electrifies you, till every bone in your body feels like jelly. He lets out a groan as his hips stutter, emptying inside of you. His warmth floods into you, the coldness leaving the room completely.

“Love you,” you say, kissing him again, “love you, love you.” You repeat over which makes him laugh.

“Not so bothered now anymore,” he refers to your attitude from earlier, “I love you.”

He pulls out of you and quickly puts on his and your pants before laying down next to you, pulling you on top of him, in front of the fire.

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #the 1975 fic #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald smut #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #ross macdonald blurb #✿rossmacdonald

[leafatlaw]

flowerhusbands… to me… is just, “I’ll wait for you forever”. And Scott does no matter where when or anything Scott’s always there waiting patiently for Jimmy. Empires rats limited life, it’s always going to be them meeting, and it’s always going to be them not working out.

Ranchers to me is “I’ll go to hell with you. I’ll go to heaven with you, I’ll go anywhere with you.” They’d go anywhere together holding hands and laughing. I doubt they’d notice where they’re going, I think they’re lost.

desert duo to me is “I’ll follow you to hell and back but I swear the next time you go to hell I’m leaving you there”. Grian will never leave him. They are tied together.

#Hiiiii I’m normal about grian teasing the s5 of the #traffic smp #sparrow speaks #This so like my formal “hey I’m going to be a life series sblog for a while” post #Anygays #Ilovethemilovwthemilovwrhem #I should add on for other ships #Technically #trafficshipping #its /romantic but ofcourse can be read otherwise #All the ships in this series can be read as ambiguous #It’s something about the name of the game: #It’s life or death and maybe it’s love or maybe something more #flower husbands #desert duo #team rancher #sparrows soliloquy