#but doesn’t matter how much time you have it’s not enough

[kamitv]

Thinking about Toji who…

Is so big in comparison to you.

He’s simply that— big. His shoulders are so broad that when he’s standing behind you, his shadow almost always casts over you. Even if you’re not exactly small yourself, this man is just fucking huge and beefy.

You’d tease him about it too and “joke” about wondering what it’s like to be put in a chokehold by him. He’d probably put you in one too if you asked nicely.

Isn’t completely broke but damn sure isn’t rich either.

He makes enough money to please you. Although his gambling is a bit of a problem, Toji tries to distract you from it by flattering you with occasional gifts that he bought using his wins.

Toji makes do with the money he has. If he’s not gambling it away, it’s 100% going to you to keep that pretty lil’ smile on your face. He’s happy you weren’t hell bent on marrying a rich man and that you accept him for who he is financially.

Has a breeding kink.

For someone who didn’t do much for his children, he was very determined to fuck you full of his cum after seeing how you sweet-talked some little girl on the street. Something about such a small interaction drove him crazy later that night.

Your legs would he dangling over his big shoulders, body folded exactly how he wants you, pussy sopping with every harsh thrust of his hips as he buried his thick cock inside you over and over again— listening to the way you babble his name and watching how your jaw hangs open, eyes rolled back with drool dripping down your chin.

Fuck, you’re a complete mess but he loves it. Especially with the way your cunt spasms around his dick every time he starts talking to you. Toji would have his face hovered right over yours so every breath is shared and the sex is beyond intimate.

Saying things like, “Gonna let me stuff this pretty pussy full of me, huh?” “Yeah? Y’like the sound of that, baby?” “Want me t’make you a mommy? Hm?”

To which you’d just nod along, not against the idea in the slightest but too fucked out to truly respond. Toji would groan at your agreement, heavy balls slapping against your skin whilst his cock splits you open. Huffing an almost desperate, “Uhuh… You’ll look s’pretty walkin’ around with my kid, ma’.”

Is infatuated with your ass.

Toji almost feels as though he shouldn’t go twenty-four hours without feeling your ass at least once. The way the fat fits and molds into his palm perfectly, how soft you are, and the way it’s every movement captivates his attention like a baby with a sensory video is quite amusing.

Even if you didn’t think you had the fattest ass in the world, Toji believes otherwise. He doesn’t care if you nearly fall over every time he slaps your ass as he walks by, hearing the loud smack that follows and the squeal of surprise that leaves your lips makes him happy.

One time, he found you lying on your stomach and saw that as the perfect opportunity to lay his head against your ass, the rest of his body weight rested against your legs and leaving you immobile.

It never really matters what you’re wearing either, he knows what’s under all those clothes so he’ll compliment you on how your ass looks in anything. Though, he will admit that seeing your ass in a tight dress makes his cock spring up.

Would never admit it but is often needy for you.

If you ever call him such a thing, he’ll curse you out while fucking you dumb— claiming to show you just how “needy” he is for you.

He hates when you catch faint pitches in his groans or moans, especially while you’re kissing him. His neck is so damn sensitive, more-so right under his jawline, so whenever your lips and tongue swipe against that area, his throat would vibrate with a deep groan. And fuck if you’re sitting on top of him, steadily rocking your hips against him, you may catch him slipping and he might just whine-

Not that he’ll ever admit he did or does.

Hates when you ignore him.

And you know he hates it too so that’s exactly why you do it.

After any argument, you just go quiet and start giving him those annoying little mhm’s or uhuh’s, clearly not paying attention to a word he’s saying.

Sometimes you ignore him on accident though, not that it changes how much he hates it. It’s usually when you’re working on something or trying to focus and he’ll come talking to you only to receive silence in response as everything he’d just said goes through one ear and out the other.

Typically, he fixes this problem by getting really close to you and talking right against your ear, forcing you to hear every word he’s saying and smiling at the way you find his lips ticklish against your skin.

Forgets important dates sometimes.

He once forgot your anniversary with him and you put him on sex ban for a month. To you, it should’ve been longer but Toji tried his best to make up for his forgetfulness during that month.

Forgot Megumi’s birthday but was happy to have you there to remind him. Again, you scolded him and he promised to work on it.

Doesn’t bother getting jealous.

The fuck is he getting jealous for? You’re his woman. Any man that looks at you doesn’t disturb Toji’s peace, he knows you’ll never leave him (he tells you that you’d be dumb to do so).

If he ever caught someone flirting with you, he’d casually walk up to you and shower you in lewd kisses and touches just to scare the person off. Toji will walk up mid-conversation and grab a firm hold of your jaw, tugging you toward him just to press his lips against yours. After which, he’s dragging his kisses down to your neck, moving a hand to your waist and the other to your ass, silently telling others to fuck off through his touches alone.

Would kill for you.

This should be obvious too. Taking some’s life for you is no different than his job— even though you don’t know much about it…

He may not tell you he’d murder someone for you but if you seemed distressed enough by someone’s presence, Toji will have them dealt with. You’d later ask “Hey, what happened to…” Only to hear that they got into some “strange accident”. But in reality, your lover had disposed of them.

Cherishes you in his own way.

He doesn’t say anything too sappy to you but he does have his ways of showing his love for you.

Toji has a tendency to stare at you, admiring your features and wondering how or why the hell you still put up with him. You’re so perfect in his eyes that sometimes he thinks you deserve someone better and less forgetful or violent.

And yet, every time he comes home— you’re there with that sexy smile of yours and gentle voice that drives him crazy.

Pet names with Toji slip off of his tongue naturally. “You look s’pretty today, doll.” “Love you too, pretty girl.” “I like your hair like that, ma. Looks nice.” “C’mon, don’t be mad at me baby, I can buy you more snacks…”

Loves fucking you from behind.

He’s always bending you over some surface or pressing you against some wall. While, yes, he loves that pretty face of yours, he also loves pressin’ it against the bed as his drills his fat cock inside you.

Toji likes watching the way your ass bounces back against him. He loves looking at the arch in your back, watching your nails scratch and scrape at the sheets, and staring at the way your pussy messily spreads around his cock— such a pretty white ring of cum forming at his base.

He’ll get the whole scene even messier too, spitting down where you’re connected, making his cock slip in and out of you faster so he can fuck deeper. Oh how he loves smacking your ass til’ it’s left with marks, gripping onto your cheeks and just toying with you while he fucks you to tears and incoherent cries.

Then he’s teasing you, “C’mon, throw that ass back on me, girl.” “There ya goo, such a good slut f’me, aren’tcha?” “Uhuh, take my cock baby, jus’ like that.” “Look back at me, lemme see those tears, doll.” “Mhm, feels s’good, huh?” “Oh fuuuck, don’t stop. Keep… Keep movin’ those fuckin’ hips baby, doin’ so good f’me.”

Doesn’t mind listening to you ramble.

You’re a talker, that’s for damn sure. In the beginning of the relationship, he thought he’d grow to hate how much you talk but he actually loves it.

When you talk about your day or any drama that’s happened, he’s happily sitting there listening to every word. Hell, sometimes Toji even makes sassy comments, “Girl, you need better friends.” “You told her off? Type shit.”

And if you pay attention close enough, you may notice how he’s picked up on things you say and started saying them himself. Whatever phrases you often use, you’d catch him using from time to time & you think it’s just the cutest thing in the world.

Would lose his mind if you ever called him Daddy.

You did it one time as a joke and you nearly got pregnant the same night.

A/N: Not proofread— apologies for errors. This is for those that requested! Lastly, UHM HELLO THANK Y’ALL FOR 3K FOLLOWERS HERE? ^.^ y’all are so sweet I’m gonna eat you guys.

#jjk smut #jjk #jjk x you #anime smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji zenin #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #toji x y/n #toji fluff #toji angst #jjk x you smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #smut #fushiguro toji x reader #jjk fluff #jjksmut #jjk angst

[gibberishfangirl]

WIND BREAKER | how they hug you

Synopsis ✰ head cannons about how the boys hug

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ sfw! just cute innocent content of the boys being affectionate

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

❀ such a shy boy who doesn’t know how to react to affection

❀ you have to be patient with him as it takes him a long time to get use your affectionate nature

❀ he doesn’t know where to even put his hands while you have yours wrapped around his neck

❀ he is a very blushing mess as you pull him down closer to you

❀ eventually he settles with putting one arm around your waist

❀ he’s too nervous to wrap both arms around you scared that he might be too strong or isn’t good enough for you

❀ he’s incredibly insecure because he thinks he’s not good at hugging or physical touch

❀ you always reassure him, “don’t worry saku~ i love your warmth” as you give a small peck to his cheek

❀ once he gets used to the affection he gets more comfortable with wrapping both arms around your waist and squeezing you a little

❀ he actually thinks you’re a good hugger, he feels loved whenever you embrace him or kiss him

❀ consider yourself his only exception to affection

❀ alexa play the only exception by Paramore !

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

❀ the best hugger you’ve ever met

❀ his touch is so sweet and soft

❀ wraps both arms around you as he picks you up and spins you around

❀ loves to hear you giggle as he spins you it puts the biggest smile on his face

❀ he radiates so much body warmth you can stay with your face buried against his chest forever

❀ he never pulls away first

❀ he’ll always wait until your ready to let go

❀ will plant multiple kisses on the very top of your head

❀ sometimes he’ll sway the both of you side to side if the hug lasts a while

❀ doesn’t care to hug you in front anyone, he won’t get shy

❀ the rest of the boys cringe with jealousy or disgust at your guys affection

❀ “you’re so cute.” he smiles as you look up at him from your embrace

❀ will always be a little sad whenever you do let go

❀ you’re his favorite person to hug and in general

Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

❀ the most gentle hugger on earth

❀ he has the softest hands

❀ he always hugs you with both arms and holds you close but not too tightly

❀ he gives you small kisses on each one of your cheeks before planting one on your lips

❀ always makes sure to kiss you every time you hug him

❀ rubs your back with his soft hands

❀ if your embrace lasts for awhile he’ll play with your hair

❀ always ruffles your hair or pats your head after you leave his embrace

❀ will also always pull you back into him after you let go

❀ he can never get enough of your hugs

❀ if he could always have you wrapped around his arms he would

❀ hugs are pretty rare between the two of you since your PDA never goes more than hand holding

❀ Sakura always grumbles at the two of you being affectionate while Nirei thinks it’s sweet

❀ “ugh, get a room.” you two always hear Sakura say if he catches you two in a kiss

❀ Suo has a talent for always ignoring pesky remarks

Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

❀ his hugs actually depend on who’s around

❀ in front of others his hug is very minimal

❀ the minimal hugs consist of a small side hug

❀ however, he will always kiss your temple no matter what

❀ he wants to ensure that you know he loves you even if he isn’t publicly showing it in a physical manner

❀ in private he bear hugs you

❀ literally squeezes you so tightly and doesn’t want to let go

❀ he’s secretly very affectionate and craves your touch

❀ consider this man borderline touch starved

❀ feeling your warmth whenever he’s sad or upset is one of the best ways to comfort him

❀ if he hugs you while you’re both sitting down please make sure to play with his hair

❀ he loves feeling your hands run through his hair as you embrace him

❀ sometimes he gets the urge to just lay his head on your chest and let you take care of him forever

❀ gets super shy if anyone else sees him in a vulnerable state

❀ “what are you guys doing?” expect him to get super read and start stammering an amount of excuses

❀ all you can do is smile at his cute shyness

❀ being affectionate is a vulnerable intimate experience for him

❀ takes every hug you give him to heart

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

❀ gives the most protective yet softest hugs on earth

❀ he doesn’t like physical touch too often

❀ your the only person he’s ever affectionate towards (despite choji in some cases)

❀ he has a very irrational fear of breaking you

❀ doesn’t ever hug you too tightly because he’s fully convinced he will break your bones

❀ you barely even reach his lower chest since he’s so freakishly tall

❀ he protectively cups the back of your head with one hand during your hugs

❀ he wraps his other arm around your waist and holds you against him closely

❀ will gently rub your back during his embrace

❀ he’ll usually rest his chin on the very top of your head

❀ if he feels really nice he’ll give you a bunch of soft forehead kisses

❀ if your sad he’ll whisper sweet nothings into your ear

❀ “i missed you”

❀ if someone happens to walk in during the moment he will scare them away with one look

❀ no one dares to ever tease him about you if they happen to see how nice he can be towards you

❀ the hugs happen somewhat in private as there’s usually no one around the two of you when you go to embrace him

❀ doesn’t even hug Choji back, he pushes Choji off of him 8/10 times so once Choji finds out he hugs you he’s very butthurt

❀ Choji becomes your arch nemesis for this reason as you’re “stealing” his best friend

Choji Tomiyama ᡣ𐭩

❀ this mf BEAR HUGS

❀ watch ur back seriously

❀ he will attack you at any moment even if you’re not expecting it

❀ embraces you with the tightest squeeze

❀ expect him to hug you with both arms as he borderline strangles you

❀ he will break you

❀ actually isn’t afraid to break you either, be careful he says he’ll just make up for it by taking care of you in the hospital

❀ take it as a threat and a promise

❀ do not be surprise if he actually jumps on you

❀ “(y/n)!!!” he’ll scream as he literally darts in your direction full speed and jumps on you with a monkey tight grip

❀ Togame always scolds him about how he should be nicer/more gentle with his own girlfriend

❀ “Choji remember she’s a girl you can’t attack her like you do every other guy” wise words said by Jo Togame

❀ you’ll have to pry him off of you

❀ has an actual death grip on you

❀ even Togame struggles to pull him off of you and that’s saying a lot

❀ Togame literally has to grab the boy with both hands and pry him off of you

❀ he acts as if he’ll die if the hug ends

❀ whines when you don’t want to hug him or once you finally get him off

❀ “I thought you loved me (y/n)” he’ll sulk in a corner alone

#divider by v6que #sakura haruka #sakura haruka x reader #hajime umemiya #hajime umemiya x reader #hayato suo #suo hayato x reader #nirei akihiko #nirei akihiko x reader #jo togame #jo togame x reader #choji tomiyama #choji tomiyama x reader #wind breaker

[lizardkingeliot]

The thing is tho... okay.

Here's the thing.

AMC’s Interview with the Vampire has so effectively driven home the point that Lestat loves Louis without condition and will continue loving him to the same degree forever regardless of the passage of time and regardless of what Louis has done that sometimes it's easy to forget that, like... Louis doesn't actually know that. Sometimes I'm really just like what do you MEAN Louis de Pointe du Lac doesn't know he's Lestat de Lioncourt's heartbeat now and forever Louis de Pointe du Lac do you even watch the SHOW.

Anyway. I don't know what I'm trying to say here but I think it's something about the romantic angst of it all. The way Lestat is going to be forced to betray Claudia and Louis in Paris during the trial leaving Louis with the belief that Lestat doesn't want him. He will view this as a rejection and this is the reason why he is going to spend the next 77 years of his life with Armand. This is why he couldn't just reach out to Lestat post-Paris and try to work things out. I’m not saying anything new here, I know. Most of us have worked this out already. It took me a while to get there yesterday when I was digesting the episode because, like I said, Lestat’s love is so obvious it’s easy to forget Louis really doesn’t know. But listen….

Louis is deeply unwell in 1973 San Francisco. When Lestat asks him why he’s ill all I can think right now is… well. Because he doesn’t have you. Even before he walked into the sun he was ill because he doesn’t have you. Ill in New Orleans after the deed was done. Ill in Paris and sustaining himself with memories so vivid it was like Lestat was there in the room. Ill in San Francisco when Armand could have ended it all by relaying Lestat's words to Louis, and didn't. Ill in Dubai searching the well of memory trying to find his way back to something like sanity again...

But listen. Sam Reid said Lestat very much thinks Louis is dead after 1973. This tracks. It fits very neatly with the ~theme. With what this season is trying to do wrt the romantic angst of it all. Maybe Lestat is still locked up in a dungeon or underground somewhere sleeping, maybe he isn't. Maybe he's rotting away in New Orleans, wrecked with grief, thinking about walking out and greeting the sun every morning when it rises and he's reminded Louis is gone. I guess we'll find out soon enough…

But listen. There's not some great conclusion I'm trying to arrive at with this post. I'm just spinning my wheels thinking about how delicious the tropes on this show truly are. To separate a love like that, to have Louis believe Lestat doesn't want him and have Lestat believe that Louis is dead. Well, friends... that sounds like a recipe for a grand reunion to me. And maybe what I'm trying to do with this post is toss another coin in the wishing well of a potential season 3. Because you can't have a love story like this that is destined to end in a reunion only to come back the next season to pretend it doesn't matter. I don't know. Maybe you can. But I really hope they don't. I really hope when they come back together at the end of this nightmare, when Lestat is finally permitted to have a voice of his own, that voice will be echoing through the halls of their home, because he'll be telling his story to Louis.

#interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire spoilers #loustat #otp: all my love belongs to you #iwtv meta #sort of lol #my brain is just this and nothing else im sorry

[riordanness]

i wish you would — [p.jackson]

wordcount: 0.9K

warnings: nightmare mention

requested: no

I hesitate for a second before I knock on his door. I don’t want to wake him, but I’ve come this far already, and I know deep down he won’t mind.

I knock, and there’s a clattering sound inside the Poseidon cabin, like Percy has tripped over a chair or something on his way to the door.

The door swings open, and there he stands, in flannel pyjama pants and a navy blue hoodie. His dark hair is messed up, and he looks both alert and half asleep.

“Y/n, hey,” he says. “It’s the middle of the night. What happened?”

I shrug one shoulder, suddenly nervous. Which is ridiculous. Percy is my best friend. Why am I nervous to talk to him?

“I’m sorry,” I apologise. “I had a really bad nightmare and—“

I don’t get the time to finish. Percy immediately pulls me inside and closes his door, and then envelopes me in a hug. I melt instantly into his familiar embrace, burying my face in his hoodie. He smells like sea salt and oreos.

“Hey, trouble?” he asks softly.

I pull my head away from the hug, leaning back just enough to look into his eyes. “Yeah?” I kind of whisper in response.

“What was your nightmare about?”

I take a second to answer. “You. Being in pain. I don’t really know why or what was happening to you but I knew you weren’t okay at all and it was somehow my fault. And…” My voice doesn’t have the strength to continue.

Percy’s sea green eyes are so full of differing emotions I can’t even tell them all apart. “Y/n,” he says quietly, and the sadness in his voice makes my heart break. “You don’t need to worry about me, you know.”

“I know,” I try to protest weakly, “but—“

“No buts,” he shushes me, his index finger on my mouth. “Just hush, trouble.” He unravels his arms from the hug, takes my hand by the fingers, and leads me to his bunk. “Sleep in here tonight, okay?”

“With you?” I mean to think it, but I’m sleepy enough that my brain sends the words through my mouth instead.

Percy kind of coughs and kind of laughs at the same time. “Yeah, with me. If that’s, like, okay with you and everything. I just figured it would help.”

“Yes. Yes yes, it would help,” I say quickly, smiling finally.

“Okay.” Percy grins.

Once I’m comfortably in his arms and under his navy blue sheets, my head on his chest and my fingers intertwined with the strings on his hoodie, I finally relax. I’m warm all through, and I don’t know if it’s because of Percy… or because of Percy.

“Hey, Perce?” I whisper into the darkness.

“Yeah?” he whispers back, just as quiet.

“You know how sometimes people fall in love, and they don’t even know it at all?”

“Like Silena and Beckendorf?”

“Yeah,” I laugh. “Like them. And like—“

“If you’re gonna say Katie and Travis, I’ve already bet twenty bucks on them getting together by the end of this summer.”

“Percy, shush, I’m trying to say something important,” I whack him gently on the chest. “But yeah, they’re totally and a hundred percent in love. Like, the rivals-to-lovers thing they’ve got going on is so cute.”

“Personally I like best-friends-to-lovers a lot more,” Percy admits softly, and I go quiet.

“Me too.”

Even though it’s pitch dark in his cabin right now, I can feel his smile.

“Hey, trouble?”

“Why do you call me that?” I ask, instead of answering.

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer,” I protest.

“That is totally an answer. You asked a question and I answered it. That makes it an answer.”

I roll my eyes, then remember he can’t see me. “Well, I want an actual answer.”

“Okay.” He reaches up and ruffles my hair, and instead of shoving his hand away like I usually would, I let him. “I call you trouble because no matter how much you try to be good and perfect and sweet all the time, trouble always finds you, and that’s adorable funny.”

I roll my eyes again. “Oh really,” I say flatly.

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

There’s silence for long enough for me to wonder if Percy has fallen asleep, and then he speaks again.

“So, trouble,” he says.

“Mhm?”

“You know I’m like, in love with you.”

I take a moment to even process that. “Huh?”

���I’m in love with you, trouble.” The arm that’s around me is suddenly a little tense. “Have been for a while. Uh, hopefully you don’t find that weird. Sorry.”

“Percy,” I half laugh. “I’m in love with you too, idiot.”

“Oh. Wait. Really? You are?”

“Of course.” Even though it’s dark, I know his face better than anyone’s, and I sit up just enough to kiss him. If it’s even possible, I get even more warm. “And just for the record, I like best-friends-to-lovers best too.”

#percy jackson #pjo #fanfiction #fanfic #walker scobell #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x me #perseus jackson #book percy #percy jackson fanfiction #book percy jackson

[yourlocaltreesimp]

May I ask Wild with a reader who got hit by Ganon's malice on the final fight and gets infected (like, veins turning purple, pale and clammy skin, drained energy and etc) pretty please?

In flesh, blood and bone.

Omg i’ve literally been obsessed with this since you sent this in!! Finally got around to it (after a while, admittedly) but I hope you enjoy!

Tw: Description of decomposition and gore.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

The cyclical war of good and evil had taken its toll down the timeline. Dues were paid in blood and flesh. Link knew this. He knew this very, very well. It was hard to ignore given the fact of it was branded into his skin. Time and time again, life through life he can understand his place. He was a means to an end in the eyes of many. He was a saviour to the others.

He was a Hero.

Even if sometimes he really wishes he weren’t.

He knew that he was unlikely to finish things. But perhaps with enough blood, with enough effort, with enough pain he could bring an end to things.

He’d paid in flesh. As many of the victims of the calamity did.

He was covered in scars, gained both prior and post the guardian ending his life for the first time. But make no mistake, it was not the matter of the scar that bothered him. The uneven texture in his skin wasn’t uncanny after a while. Skin was just skin. He didn’t feel much like himself anyway, so it wasn’t like it mattered. It wasn't the flush of blood or streaks of uncanny colour that bothered him. Well that’s not to say they never did. The looks he got while walking through villages were less than enjoyable, but you quelled that. One soft, loving glance and the whole world doesn’t matter. Let alone their hostility.

It was perhaps the sight of you now that made him hate his scar.

It was the reminder of what it meant.

The mold. The rot. The decomposition.

Malice, as the people called it.

And Oh how he hated it.

He was not usually so squeamish. The squelch of a dying monster or the marr of an unmoving corpse had never really bothered him. Not when it was his purpose.

The former was the before stages of the rot. It was just spilled blood. It was just body. Of course it wasn’t really living persay, but it was close enough that all he had to do was ignore the glassy eyes and he was fine. The latter was when the rot was already over. The bones were picked clean, the blood and flesh returned to the earth to start anew. Bones would always just be bone.

It was the inbetween that really, really began to bother him.

It was tender flesh melting and oozing. It was soft tissue becoming home to fungi. It was the body no longer being a body but not quite bone. It was You laboured to breath, the wind a hollow whistle in your lungs. It was how your eyes fluttered, bloodshot. It was how your tears were cold against your feverish skin, the salty beads puss filled and gorey. It was how your skin was pale and patchy in places, flushed pigmented and unhealthily purple in others. Your skin was sunken and sagged. It was how your skin was plump and pushed awkwardly against your bones.

The malice seeped through your blood. It pushed through your injuries, webbing over your skin and casting roots into muscles.

And all he could do was weep.

He was utterly useless.

He sat by your bedside for weeks as Purah tried her hardest to fix you.

He kept staring down at you, replaying everything. It should’ve been him. You should’ve never been there. He could do nothing but watch as that disgusting thing whittled you down to nothing. Malice clinging to your skin; you screamed. A noise of such absolute agony he nearly dropped the mastersword where he stood.

He knew the dues were paid in blood. In body. In bone.

But why did it have to be you?

#linked universe #legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #link x reader #linked universe x reader #link x you #x reader #lu wildxreader #lu wild #botw!link #botw linkxreader #botw link #firreplies #fir’s library

[riminiscensce]

WEDDING DAY

CHARACTER … neuvillette

SYNOPSIS … neuvillette starts to learn more about wedding ceremonies all because of you

NOTES … my last post about this man wasn’t enough

CONTENTS … sfw , angst , you’re called as bride , not entirely proofread

Word count … 1491

Neuvillette doesn’t know much when it comes to wedding customs.

Throughout the past years he remained in Fontaine as the Chief Justice, he had never attended a ceremony wherein people vow their amour for the one whom they devote their love to. It wasn’t like he never received an invitation for an occasion as such, he just never had the time nor the knowledge on how to.

The closest Neuvillette got to a marriage was a few that regarded an offensive case that he had come upon to adjudge in court. Not really a flattering way to introduce the concept to him.

But ever since you’ve been engaged, Neuvillette always found himself ogling at the perfectly sized ring around your finger. How can he not? It always glistened so beautifully underneath any light’s dazing glare, it was hard not to look at it when you were the one now in possession of it. Neuvillette always feels a sense of wistfulness whenever his eyes catch it, a poignant smile following after.

He is truly happy, he tells himself that.

The engagement was an open window of opportunity for Neuvillette to learn more about this custom, no longer looking at it from the perspective of crimes and judgment, but more on a sentimental view.

Neuvillette knows weddings are a big deal, especially in a city filled with romantic concepts of culture and history. From the charmingly expensive wedding closet, to the tasteful selection of cookery that was specifically made for such a matter, it was something the people of Fontaine always enjoyed preparing for.

Expectedly, many people will also attend. Not only your friends and family, but most likely some people who have worked in the Palais Mermonia with Neuvillette. You and him have known each other for a long time, the people were curious how a wedding with the Chief Justice’s aide will turn out. For what sounded like a mere canard, it started to become true.

Then Neuvillette caught you while you were carefully folding shut an envelope in your hands, soon sharing it to the melusines just outside of his office. The wedding was one of the things that stayed in the melusines’ mind throughout the week. He can’t help but smile at your gesture, welcoming the melusines he cares for, he didn’t even need to tell you about it. The friendly bunch always expressed their excitement whenever they would pass by Neuvillette.

Then one of them gave him the envelope you made, his eyes carefully scattering over the soft trails of elegantly trailed ink once the paper inside had been unfolded. It was kept simple yet opulent, something Neuvillette realized that he really liked. He wonders if you made it specifically for his own preference, likely not, perhaps it was just the standard way of arranging an invitation for wedding ceremonies; Neuvillette didn’t know.

He decided to keep a copy of it in his office, something to be kept as a reminder for when he has the time to reminisce in rue in the future.

The next thing Neuvillette knew about was the buffet. A wide selection of delicacies of the city and even of other regions. It was him who joined you on the day when you were to meet with a chef about your own preference for the food. You sat beside him in a lavish room with two servings of pastries on the glossy table.

For most of the time, it was you who mostly decided. Neuvillette didn’t want to influence much on it, though he gives his own opinion whenever you would kindly ask him what he personally thinks.

Neuvillette found himself to be amused whenever you’d have such a difficult time picking on which would end up on the wedding. You didn’t have the heart to pick only a few when there were many choices to choose from on the table. That was when Neuvillette suggested picking everything.

At first, he thought he must have done something wrong when your face of shock made itself apparent to him. But it wasn’t until you expressed your bashfulness at this, considering that it was Neuvillette paying for the food. In the end, he insisted, treating this as one last gift from him before the wedding.

The next thing he heard you were going to check upon was your wedding gown. That time, Neuvillette didn’t come with you to the tailor, he figured that your dress was something to save for the actual occasion itself.

After you left, Neuvillette was left to muddle over his own attire for the ceremony. What should he wear? It would have to be something equally as attractive as your gown, though not as much as he doesn’t want to be the main focus of the wedding. That should be you.

Then the day finally came.

It wasn’t until then that Neuvillette found out that the bride and the groom were to not see each other before the actual ceremony started. It was Furina who told him that, as well as the melusines who kindly helped him get ready for the event. That morning, Neuvillette finds himself unable to see you.

When he was getting ready, that was when Neuvillette learned a lot more about weddings. How the order of people would be lined up, who comes after who, certain roles like bridesmaids and ring bearers. In a way, he took the time to learn about it as much as possible that time, maybe because he has already decided this would be the last time he’d entangle himself with a custom like this.

“You look extra fancy today, Monsieur Neuvillette!” One of the melusines greeted him, they were already making their way to the front entrance. “We’re so happy for the bride! You must be really happy too!” Yes, he truly is.

A few family and friends of yours greeted him by the entrance, surprised and honored courtesies were exchanged. You still haven't arrived yet, perhaps only after everybody is inside will you get there. Other guests started to greet him politely, expressing how his presence in this wedding was one that many of the people will forever remember. Though Neuvillette thinks this was rather an exaggeration.

Then the music inside the venue started to play, it was something Neuvillette liked as well. He realized that you must have taken his suggestion on having the venue yo be indoors rather than outside. Everyone knows how unpredictable Fontaine’s weather can be, this helps a lot. He likes it this way as well, not just because of his own preference, but for convenience’s sake.

He wouldn’t want to ruin the wedding with heavy rain coming down, befalling on every corner of the land. As much as Neuvillette doesn’t want it to happen, he can’t help but feel a forlorn as the corner of his eyes catches the other attendees. He could feel a pensive bubble building up in his chest, wanting to escape through his throat in a form of a quiet cry.

Then you arrived. That was when Neuvillette could feel how misty his eyes had become. But no tears fell, rather it was rain. This continued as you walked down the aisle with a bundle of flowers native to Fontaine. He was thankful that the music was able to cover the heavy pounding of the rain outside, relief also washed through him when he realized no eyes would fall on his figure; every attention was on you.

The wedding vows and the slipping of newlywed rings was something that passed by so fast in his eyes, though in reality, Neuvillette didn’t intend to pay full attention to it. But he felt like he needed to watch you promise your everlasting love. He felt like he needed to as your friend. At the same time, he desperately didn’t want to feel like a weep would break out anytime he would breathe.

Before he knew it, it was finally time to take pictures. An image to be kept for whenever you would reminisce in revelry in the future.

He heard the shuffling of your family and friends around, he was also included in by the other guests and the melusines. He even wonders if he’s proper enough to be suited for a wedding picture. Neuvillette smiles before the bright flash of the camera flickered before the sound of the device snapping.

Finally, it was time for the bride and the groom to take their own picture.

Neuvillette smiles. Something he found odd considering he wasn’t included in the picture this time.

What was the sound of the camera snapping and the people cheering, only the sound of heavy rain was what Neuvillette could hear during that time. What was accompanied by a whimsical ballad of the piano’s romantic notes, only a tearing sonance befriended Neuvillette. It was neither a longing breath nor a regretful grieve, it was only something that the heart could make.

rimi’s notes

haven’t posted in a while because I was focusing on my senku fic omg but like I just had this idea for neuvi and wanted to write it

tbh i started to drop genshin and hsr and focused on my other hobbies so that’s also why 😭

hearts / reblogs / follows are very much appreciated !

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader

[uglygreenjacket]

Do I think Ochako and Izuku will end up together as we end the manga? Probably.

Does it change a single thing for me as a BKDK shipper? Absolutely not.

I’m not deluded enough to think bkdk will become canon. This is a classic Shonen manga. Japan isn’t that progressive. But I’m sorry, you can’t tell me Horikoshi didn’t know what he was doing with the volume 37 cover. You can’t tell me Horikoshi didn’t know what he was doing with that Jump GIGA cover.

Does he ship them? I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like it. A lot of times it feels like it. Katsuki getting stabbed to save Izuku. Izuku losing control of blackwhip whenever someone speaks ill of Katsuki. Katsuki nearly killing himself to get to Izuku when he can barely move (MULTIPLE times). Shigaraki going after Katsuki because he’s the most important person to Izuku. Katsuki CRYING over Izuku’s lost quirk in the hospital. The list goes on and on.

And with that being said, honestly, it’s no wonder so many ship them. Their relationship is so much more fleshed out than the Izuku x Ochako relationship could ever hope to be at this point. Even if the entirety of the epilogue is IzuOcha confessing, it still doesn’t erase the entirety of what’s happened between Katsuki and Izuku. Horikoshi isn’t great at writing well-rounded female characters, at least in this story, and I think this also contributes to the sheer number of BKDK shippers. It’s so much easier to ship two fleshed out characters. Add in a rivals/enemy dynamic and you have the the makings of many of the most popular M/M Shonen ships.

And I understand people’s issues with the BKDK, though past a lot of homophobia and a refusal to acknowledge people (especially teenagers) have a great capacity for change, I’m not sure where the intense hatred of it comes from.

I loves these characters. I love this ship for so many reasons. And if IzuOcha becomes canon that won’t change. If anything, my resolve that BKDK should be canon will only be strengthened.

I’m not under the illusion that I’m adding anything new to this discourse. The shipping wars will continue no matter how the story ends. But I don’t think BKDKs should be blamed for coming to a conclusion the story has, up until this point, so clearly led us to.

#bkdk #bnha bkdk #mha bkdk #bakudeku #mha spoilers #bnha spoilers #bnha #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugou #izuku midoriya #shipping #just my thoughts #don’t come for me #I don’t hate izuocha #just dont think there’s much there beyond blushing

[brilliantblasphemer]

ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴅᴏɢ'ꜱ ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴛɪᴏɴ

gender-neutral reader | no use of y/n | ghost and reader are lowkey toxic and decidedly a bit weird | cw: violence (minor), implied rough sex, no communication, unreasonable amount of em-dashes used

[i]

It’s a tale as old as time—he comes home and only feels comfortable enough to lay down to die in your presence. Docile with snarling teeth, like something sick waiting to be put down. You will not hold him when his body succumbs to injury. You will not pet his ears and dirty blonde hair in comfort. Instead you tug on it when his mouth isn’t greedy enough, when he needs to be eased into using his hands for something other than violence.

(His devotion will be the death of him, but it will not win him yours.)

You’d liked the routine at first, no matter how cruel—he’d return, sometimes together with you, and you would keep him from dying. It made you feel important, wanted. For a while that was enough, an exchange of mutual interest.

Now he comes home, and every time you find that you are overcome with longing for something you have never encountered.

(An end?)

(… no. Oh god, no.)

You are Sisyphus pushing the rock up a hill, and soon enough his blood is on your hands; his blood which trickles down his pale torso red-hot and much too fast and knocks the air right out of your lungs.

He’s bleeding out over your bathroom sink, and you are helpless against the implication that there will come a day when it does not stop, when all of your needles and gauze will be rendered utterly useless.

Your hand only shakes sometimes, but each time you apologise profusely to Simon, who does not realise you say it for your sake rather than his. Deflection comes easily to you both—which does not mean your heart doesn’t squeeze together in agony a little more when he dismisses your pain with a quip.

“’s not like I was a beauty to begin with.”

“Yeah, well, if I’ve gotta bury you, I’d at least want my handywork to look nice from the coffin,” you joke back weakly, not apologising for the shake in your voice.

“That’s a fuckin’ waste then, love, don’ you think?,” he laughs, and the tightness in his baritone raises the hairs on your arm.

“Really? You don’t want people to gush over how wonderful your burial was, with an open casket and all that bullshit?”

“Won’t ‘ave one,” he shrugs, much too casual for your taste and it has you halting in threading your needle through shredded skin.

“Why not?”

Simond hesitates to answer, and you are almost glad that he doesn’t. Think the painkillers might have finally kicked in, but when he does speak again, it is clear and cut, matter of fact in a manner that causes you to freeze.

“’cause I’ll be cremated, sittin’ in a right pretty tin above your bed,” he sounds almost proud of the sentiment, “Recon I’d be more useful that way.”

You wish you didn’t ask. The bile in your throat is easier to swallow down than the objective truth—there is no version of him that would give up on his life for you; just as there is no version of you that could make him.

So you scoff, tell him: “What the fuck makes you think I’ll keep it?”

If Simon sees right through you, he musters the rare amount of grace not to mention it.

Later, when the painkillers do kick in, you excuse yourself from your own bed to retch into the kitchen sink. Tears obscure your vision as your hands shake too much to find purchase on the counter. You spit bitter bile into the stainless-steel basin and you forget to wash it off the sides before crawling back under sheets too warm for the season.

Fear has made a home in your ribcage for some time now, occupying a space that once held Simon and before him had never been considered empty anyway.

You hold him through the night and ride him in the morning, his face obscured by the crook of your neck, and nothing changes.

The rock rolls back into the valley; the story remains as it always does—his blood on your hands; his blood trickling down his pale torso red-hot and much too fast.

(You want to tell him you are sacred of the ending, but you don’t. He wishes you would.)

[ii]

The sink is thoroughly scrubbed by the time Simon wakes up. Still a little dopey, his eyes crinkle against the mid-day light flooding your kitchen. It’s a good look on him, the repose still lingering in his shoulders.

(You note, immediately, that it is just as unfamiliar. Terrifyingly so. There is no good reason for you to know him like this—even less for you not to. You feels like an intruder in your own home.)

The cup of coffee you hand him has already gone cold.

[iii]

“Wouldn’t even get my urn, would you?”

(War never leaves his shadow; he tears through the silence with the precision of a trained killer. Grabs an end and pulls. You try to wish for something, but he is too fast.)

The tea in your mug has been steeped for too long, the bitterness provoking you to partake in Simon’s attempt at casual cruelty, “Suppose I wouldn’t.”

A grunt emits lazily from the back of his throat. The acknowledgement is all you need to set your cup down on the table and wonder how the fuck you even ended up here. It makes your skin crawl, the way he so carelessly picks your concern apart.

(An attempt to ease your worried mind, you try to not lose sight of that, but it is so ill-mannered and deluded that it creates a sting in your chest. Like you can’t breathe whenever he lies next to you, like you can only breathe when his death is the topic of ridicule.

No, you’ve got that wrong, surely.

As does he.)

“It’d end up with ma’ next of kin,” he adds, looking at you expectantly. His point eludes you despite it. So you add, helpfully;

“It would.”

“Want you to have it instead,” there it is.

You think that is all, that this is about his ashes on your shelf again, so you shake your head in disbelief, grin a little as irritation floods you for a short second.

“I told you: I don’t want it.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Excuse me?,” barking out a laugh, you are cut off by your throat threatening to close up, “That stupid tin belongs with your family, which clearly, I am not. So they’ll be the ones to get it.”

“Wha’ about you then?”

“I’ll be wherever they send me, and I will never hear a thing about your death unless it is by chance, and it’ll be fine.”

Droplets of spit follow the end of your sentence but you are much too fed up to be embarrassed about it. No one knows he’s spent the past year sleeping in your bed, drinking your fucking coffee. The silence festering between you like a nasty infection is more than enough proof that no one ever will know. Wide-eyed, his hands starts drawing shapes on your kitchen table.

You aren’t family, never have been. When he is gone, the only evidence that the two of you existed will be you.

Simon’s chest expands in a way that has you worried he’ll tear out his stitches all at once—sucking in air like he’s preparing to force the words out of his mouth by breath alone. You feel cruel watching him do it so intently.

(The kitchen floor is polished wood; it holds memories. You don’t want to remember him dying here.)

[iv]

“Marry me,” he says, at last. A statement, not a question, made from far behind that skull-plated monstrosity with as much detachment as any of the other pieces of conversation that you have to rip free from his massive frame.

(Spat out at your feet like he had chewed the meat of the words and decided that maybe today, you deserved the bones that even he could not swallow. He looks proud of it, too.

God, you’ve never see him without that mask.)

“Marry me,” he says, and you slap him square across the face.

[v]

You don’t see him until two days later, and he wears too much eyeblack then for you to tell whether you’d done any damage aside from scratching your hand on the cheap Halloween-aisle plastic of his mask.

The urge to stroke across his cheekbone is strong, if only to jab a finger or two into a hopefully cracked bone. The image of him writhing beneath the relentless ministrations of your hand is what you will think about later, alone. When he moves his hand to brush a stray hair from your face, you are already gone. He understands the hint. He does not honour it.

(For all his staring, he never sees you leave. Wistful thinking, perhaps.)

[vi]

He’s not menacing so much as he is just haunting.

(A dead man walking, unsure of where to go. So he lurks around, stays where he feels most comfortable, and it is not the notion of home that draws him in but the familiarity. He does not care that it means he’s simply grown docile towards his wounds. That ripping them open was always for his joy, not yours.

Bitterly, you note that you had liked this about him; in the beginning at least, when you still considered this to be kind.

This—whatever it even is; whatever it was supposed to be.)

[vii]

He corners you by chance, when you are taking your laundry to the washer with whatever strength your body can muster that late into the evening. One might call it impressive, how he moves with a kind of agility no man his size or weight should have, yet you are only agitated at his massive frame blocking your view.

“You’re overreactin’.”

The willpower it takes to bite back the mean laugh bubbling in the back of your throat should earn you at least two medals and a fucking raise. Instead, you are forced to make do with Simon towering over you.

“Apologies start with ‘I’, usually.”

“… ’m trying,” he grunts, and your eyebrows draw together almost as quickly as he admits it. He sounds pleading in your ears, disgustingly so. You distractedly wonder why he doesn’t just look for some doe-eyed rookie to fuck instead, but the genuine sparkle of hope in Simon’s eyes requires most of your focus.

(It isn’t enough; you hope he knows that.)

“Are you?”

“Mhm.”

“Don’t you think it’s a shame then? That you try, and this is the best you can do?.”

(You don’t just mean his dogshit attempt at reconvening; you hope he knows that.)

[viii]

If he wanted to threaten you into submission, into forgiving him, he’d do so outright.

(Has done it before, and the way your thighs clench reminds you that you liked it. Liked the way his hand had shoved you face first into the pillow while the other made fast work of bruising your hip. Short and hard; fingers squeezing around your throat until the lack of oxygen made you forget that his monstrosity extends beyond a rough fucking.)

But he just hovers behind you now, as if to catch your gaze by coincidence.

Look at me, it screams, please just fucking look at me.

You make it a point not to.

[ix]

“You look lovely today.”

The trick is old, but Simon refuses to learn new ones. You know how this goes by heart: he pretends to be nice to you, and you fall for the bait—not the compliment that is, but the invitation to get angry at him.

(By now you are aware that it is just a game to him. Gets rid of your scorching anger, the one he thinks is a joke anyways, to make way for his cock shoved deep inside you between dirty rags and a stinking mop.)

Your back is turned reflexively towards him to mask the expression of vitriol that flits across the planes of your face as his tone registers in your ears.

The cadence in which he talks sounds off, strained. Raw and raspy in a way you have hardly ever heard from him. Motherfucker.

He has the gall to sound tortured.

“Didn’t mean it, a’right?,” he tries again, different tactic this time, but the hope remains. You cannot recall when he had been so shy, so soft, last. Like ancient parchment about to rip. Like a bomb about to blow.

Didn’t mean what? Demanding you marry him at the off chance that his pathetic mortal remains might get a top-shelf view watching you have a wank after he perishes in some off-the-records campaign?

You don’t want to have this conversation, not when he pretends that it isn’t is fault you are in this position in the first place.

He’ll just fuck you and consider that enough of an apology. You will let him and neither of you will feel any less guilty.

(You want to scream, and cry, and tell him that he is just as hopeless as you are because how else would you even begin to describe what you feel for him if not as the dreadful absence of hope; and you don’t. There is no way out—no story in which the rock will not tumble down some other hill again, even if you manage to cross this one. His ashes are the shape of your likeness. You like to think you’ll toss them somewhere quite before they collect too much dust.

Had he asked you in the beginning, you would have said yes, doesn’t he know? You would have said yes.)

You sigh, washed out and weary to your bones.

“Move, Ghost.”

He flinches at his callsign, and you file away this memory, too, like all the ones of him recoiling from a different sensation.

You look at this sorry excuse of a man as you leave and you say nothing more.

[x]

(You know what comes next.)

[xi]

He sits at the edge of your bed with his hands uselessly dangling over his lap, waiting. His feet are planted to the ground perfectly parallel, a degree of accuracy he usually fails to exercise when he leaves his boots next to your door.

(One of the laces is flaked with rust-coloured dots. He still wears them inside the house. You’re not sure there ever was a moment when he took them off.)

Rigid back, steel-spine; the painful strain right beneath his shoulder blades doesn’t deter Ghost—your doorstep is the only place he dares lay down. Simon does not move.

[xii]

Dogs that bite get put down, and he thinks this is your way of breaking the news to him.

Given all the times he should have died in this place, Simon should have guessed sooner that you’d abandon him when it came down to it. He does not resent you for it.

He only resents you a little.

(Even dead, even dying, he still wags his tail at the noise of a key jingling before being put into a lock. It’s just the neighbour.)

[xiii]

You don’t come home that night.

(Or any other night.)

a/n: not proof-read or edited, parts of this i am not happy with but fuck it, for something that was made in almost its entirety at two in the morning this isn’t too bad. also fun fact, the numerals can be rearranged in almost any order and still make sense :) i think

#bri writes #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #cod x you #simon ghost riley x gender neutral reader #simon riley x gender neutral reader #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fanfiction #modern warfare fanfiction #simon ghost riley #simon riley call of duty #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2

[quinnylouhughesx43]

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 - 𝐥𝐡𝟒𝟑

summary: requested by @toasttt11 : “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone that makes me want to treat them like they’re royalty, like they do” in which luke yaps out about his girl to jack, luke hasn’t told his girl exactly how much he likes her, jack takes matters into his own hands.

warnings: use of y/n, couple uses of profanity, really it’s just luke being a massive s!mp for his girl so fluff fluff fluff, jack meddling (again)

word count: 2.25k

notes: thank you toast for this prompt request I had a lot of writing this!!! i didn’t think i would finish it so quickly but the tournament i was supposed to ref got cancelled so im stuck in a hotel with nothing to do but read and write… hopefully its good because i already wrote a 6 year in the future pt 2

As Luke slid the key into the lock, a warm, fuzzy feeling filled him up like a cup of his favorite grandma’s homemade hot chocolate after a long day of playing on the outdoor rink as a kid. He had just returned home from his date with a girl he had become absolutely smitten with. Her name was y/n, and she had this alluring way about her that made him feel as if he was walking on the clouds. It was in the way she laughed, how she would talk about her family, it reminded Luke of the way he talked about his family, it was the way she smiled when she talked about her favorite things. To Luke everything about her was perfect.

And now, here he was, back at his shared apartment with his middle older brother, grinning from ear to ear like an idiot. Jack, had spotted him as he was about to enter the apartment through the windows and was gingerly waiting to ask him what had him so smiley.

Luke routinely wears this tight lip, apprehensive smile but after being around her or simply just the thought of her was enough to bring out his genuine smile. “Who or what has you so giddy? You look like a child who was just told they were given unlimited access to a toy store for the next year.” Jack questioned. Scampering around their small living room to stay right on his younger brother’s heels. Attempting to insure he didn’t miss Luke’s answer. Luke didn't even need to think about it before he replied, "I’ve been seeing someone...and let’s say, if someone would have asked me what I wanted them to put together in a female, she is it. Wholly everything." He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in for Jack. Luke’s heart was still beating rapidly even after being away from y/n for half an hour now. He was truly down bad.

Jack's eyebrows raised, his mouth agape. Not believing what he just heard quite yet, "Wait, you mean you're in a relationship with someone?" He asked, trying to keep the incredulous tone out of his voice. Luke shook his head no, feeling a little self-conscious suddenly. Jack narrowed his eyebrows as if to question him why no, but didn’t just yet. Sometimes dating exclusively just doesn’t happen. "And this girl, she's...she's really special?" He prodded. Luke nodded again only a yes this time, and more confidently. "Yeah, Jack. Y/n is really special. I don't think I've ever met another girl that makes me want to treat her like she's royalty all the time, like she does." He paused, letting the words hang in the air. "I think...I think I might be falling in love with her." The silence that followed was deafening. Jack beginning to think Luke just might be serious.

Jack looked at Luke, attempting to gauge if he was serious or if he was just being his typical sarcastic self. But when he studied Luke’s eyes and noticed the sincerity shining through and the emotions held in each word he spoke that this definitely was not a joke. There was no way this was just another one of Luke's short flops either. He was serious about this girl.

For a short lived moment, Jack felt a pang of jealousy that the youngest was seemingly finding himself in a serious relationship. Only he quickly reminded himself that it wasn't like he was necessarily someone who had truly went out and tried to find himself someone special either. It also wasn't like Luke had ever been the kind to want anything that was deemed as just a good time or an easy lay. However, he also wasn’t one to talk about love, girlfriends, and all that over the top mushy stuff. Those topics were more of Quinn’s realm of interest. Jack had never thought he'd hear any of this from his younger brother. At least he didn’t expect it fresh out of his rookie year when women throw themselves at him.

Luke shifted uncomfortably, moving to sit on the couch next to Jack, emptying out his pockets onto the table, all while being under Jack's intense studying stare. "What?" He asked, not entirely sure how to react to his brother's silence. “So, you want to treat her like royalty?” Jack reiterated Luke’s previous comment. Luke nodded, feeling the heat in his cheeks intensify. Luke dropped his face into his hand for a few moments thinking how he’s going to approach his response before he spoke.

Jack took his chance and grabbed Luke’s phone. He knew his brother all toowell. He knew he would likely never be brave enough to spill out whatever confession he is about word vomit to him out again, let alone to y/n. He quickly shot off a text to her about it being from Jack, and that he was calling her but needed her to listen to the conversation, not talk to him unless he talks to her. Does Jack feel bad for tricking his baby brother and this girl? Oh definitely. But he thinks it will help him, he hopes it will at least. He’s grateful that Luke even mentioned her name.

“Yes I do want to treat her right. I don’t know her past relationships, and I’m not sure that they even matter? If it is her and I, I hope she never thinks of him or them again. I want to give her every reason to forget they ever even existed. I want to make her world be an entirely different place than it is now. Make it different. Better. Because she deserves it. So. Yeah Jack, yes, I want to be the guy who opens the door for her, who treats her like she's the most important person in the room, shit the most important person in this world. I want to make her feel special, you know?" He shrugged, looking up for the first time before meeting his brother's gaze. Thank goodness, Jack had the phone discreetly placed. Luke could continue his rambling which Jack knew by the way his eyes were glassed and his pupils dilated so large, “Go ahead, continue talking about her. You’ve stayed quiet about her for a while apparently, let’s hear it.” Jack wasn’t that interested or invested in Luke’s overtly smitten relationship but he was happy seeing his baby brother so happy.

Luke let out a small laugh, feeling the warmth spread from his chest to his fingertips. "Y/n is amazing, Jack. She's funny, and so damn smart, I am talking mom smart. I have never met anyone else as smart as mom until her, and...and the best part, get this she had no idea who I was before I introduced myself. I was just Luke to her, I wasn’t Luke Hughes, New Jersey Devil. I was just Luke again. I didn’t have to overcome some preconceived idea she already had of me. I only had to worry about the one she would form of me when we first met. She knows now that I play for the Devils, I wanted to be open about it but it was so nice to meet with out having to fight for showing someone that I am more than hockey. So for her, although it has only been a few true dates and a couple times seeing each other I want to show her that to me, she's as important as a princess." Luke paused, there was a faraway look in his eyes, as if he was imagining the moments of treating her, loving her. "She hates being paid for, but I want to give her everything she desires, needs, I don’t want to do it because I’m fortunate enough to be able to. I want to because she never puts herself first. If she’ll be with me, one day she’ll be the first in my universe.” Luke turned his to look at his older brother, hoping that he was getting through to him. He sure was. Jack was nothing short of wonderstruck.

"She's a lucky girl, you know that? To have someone like you who genuinely cares for her, who sees beyond the superficial layers and goes deep, who wants to make her feel so special." Luke nodded, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. "No. You’re wrong. I am the lucky one. I just hope she knows how I feel. I don't want to mess this up." Jack reached over and pulled Luke into him by the shoulder, a normal gesture of affection from the older brother. "Just be you, little bro. That's all you can do, seems it already worked for you. Right? Mr. Just Luke. Question is though, have you even began to tell her any of this?” Jack asked him possibly the most important question of the entire conversation.

Luke paused for a moment, his expression turning down from the previous glowing high. "Not yet. Us Hughes boys do have a track record of doing or saying dumb shit too early. I don't want to put any pressure on her to reciprocate the same feelings. I just want her to know that she makes me happy, that she's special to me. But I want her to feel it, see it in my actions, without having to say it." He sighed, resting his head back against the couch. "But I know I should tell her, right?”

Jack flashed him a smile, retracting his his arm from over his shoulders and dropping it over to pat Luke's knee. "Yeah, you should. But you've got this, little bro. You've got a good head on your shoulders, and you're being genuine. She'll see it. And if you're still worried about it, well, I'll always be here to help you. Like now.” Jack revealed that he had stolen Luke’s phone off the coffee table when he had dropped his head earlier in the conversation. Y/n listened silently hearing his verbose words he shared over their time together. Her heart palpitated a few times over things he had said specifically about her. No one had ever talked about her the way Luke did. It made her feel ways she was unsure how to put into words just yet.

A few moments of shared unutterable silence spread across the three of them when Jack had announced that y/n was on the phone and she inevitably had heard Luke’s emotional admiration for her, y/n’s voice finally broke through the speaker of the phone.

"Luke, I'm so glad you told him that. Or well both of us that.. It's just... well, you know... I am just me, a normal person. There’s no need to overplay it silly boy." Her voice was soft, almost shy like it was the night Luke and her me. Probably because Jack was listening, but there was still the hint of that playfulness that Luke had started to love. "I can't even tell you how much it means to me that you see past all of my quirky interests and...” She paused for just a split second “Can I come off speaker phone? Uhm.. I really just want Luke to hear this.” Jack handed Luke his phone with a smug I told you so look plastered on his face. “Hey, it’s just you and I now.” Luke told her, even getting up off couch to allow space between him and his nosey brother. Luke had a smile so big spread across his face. Jack couldn’t help but smile too. His baby brother was growing up on him. Y/n continued, “and most of all I like that you're just Luke for me, and that you felt comfortable enough to still tell me so quickly about your life when you could’ve kept me in the dark for however long you wanted to. You may be this hockey star, but for me you’re just Luke. I mean, I know you're amazing at hockey and all, but that doesn’t define who you are in life. You are so much more. You're funny and sweet and thoughtful, and I just... I just can't help but feel lucky that I get to spend time with you. And I hope you know that." She paused, her voice catching a little, and Luke could swear he could hear her sniffling. "So, um, yeah. I guess what I'm trying to say is... I want you to know that I feel the same way.” Luke’s face kept flushing deeper shades of red it was nearly burgundy by the time y/n was finished talking. He couldn’t form a coherent sentence without stammering entirely over his words. He pulled his phone away from his ear and opened their text thread.

“Can I come to your place? I think we should finish talking in person?”

Luke pressed send and heard her cute giggle through the phone speaker. “Yes. I’ll see you soon.” The two shared their goodbyes before hanging up the phone. “Jack. You’re dead when I get back, but thank you.” Luke said to his brother scurrying around the living room for his shirt he discarded earlier and his sneakers.

Luke grabs his keys and wallet from the bowl in the table by the door. Murmuring a goodbye to Jack and essentially leaps out the door. He has a very little talking he wants to complete and a lot of affection to start giving. Y/N is anticipating his arrival because first thing she plans on doing is nabbing a kiss from the sweetest boy on this planet. Both of them riddled with anticipation to see each other. If they turn out not to be meant for each other, then there is no way soulmates exist. Luke and y/n are two halves apart that become one when close to one another.

#luke hughes fanfiction #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes x yn #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x you #luke Hughes #lh43 #jack hughes #Jack Hughes fic #cay writes #nhl fluff #nhl fic #nj devils fics #luke hughes request #writerblr #hughes brothers fic #hockey fics #lh43 fluff #luke hughes blurb

[cupcakemolotov]

Ex's and Oh's: Part Two

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known; Minor Character Death; Magical Realism; We Make War Not Love; Post-Divorce; These Two Fools in Love; Klaus and Caroline Being Territorial; for each other; tyler is dead; kind of; Canon-Typical Violence; Violence; Murder; Werewolf!Klaus; Human!Caroline

Caroline's return to New Orleans is a little less triumphant than she'd like. There is a dead body in her trunk and a magical artifact in her passenger seat, and no matter how much she'd like too, the chances of avoiding her ex-husband are astronomically small. What, with the mate bond and all, but a girl's gotta hope.

“Caroline, why are we here?” Bonnie asked as she looked around at the familiar bar they’d once visited regularly before. Before.

Caroline looked up from her pile of beer battered fries. “I missed you?”

Bonnie gave her a look. “I missed you too, but I expected this chat to happen like, three days from now. You know, once you settled in and actually had the time to try that thing most of us do called communicating with your ex.”

“We should definitely go out again soon,” Caroline agreed with a nod. “This time with cocktails instead of beer, maybe during that dinner you could give me a list of who these mythical ex’s of yours are that you’d willing talk to. I only have the Curse on Sight bullet point list saved to my phone.”

“Caroline,” Bonnie said in fond exasperation. “You know what I mean. When you called and asked for your boxes, I was expecting to play delivery girl, not go out for an impromptu dinner. Please tell me you’re not doing this to avoid Klaus.”

“Hey,” Caroline protested as she gestured towards her food. “I’m hungry, and being hangry cannot improve this situation on any level.”

“Sure,” Bonnie drawled, “but there is no way you can convince me Klaus doesn’t have food in his house. I know how many calories werewolves consume in a day and it’s a lot.”

“He might have a house full of food, but there was nothing to eat.” Nothing she wanted. Not a single emergency bag of Doritos, no chocolate bars tucked away on a shelf, no decent cheese. The freezer hadn’t even contained a quart of emergency ice cream. She wanted to eat her feelings, and Bonnie was lucky she’d agreed to actual food instead of eating her weight in pie.

“Fine, I’ll give you that,” Bonnie allowed. “I’m not saying you owe him anything, but did you at least tell him you were going out?”

“Klaus,” Caroline said with false cheer. “Wasn’t there when I woke up, so I decided he didn’t get an opinion.”

Bonnie groaned and covered her eyes. “Haven’t you had enough rampaging werewolves today?”

“Eh,” Caroline said dismissively. “This morning was hardly a rampage, and you know it. Besides, torturing Tyler is absolutely a form of stress relief. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Probably. Bonnie was right, it would definitely piss him off that she’d left, and what she’d left him would not improve the situation. Dunking a fry into her pile of ketchup, she wrestled with the truth that she wasn’t in a mood yet to improve things.

I know a war when I see one.

Those words had haunted her as she’d fallen asleep, and had resonated in her chest when she’d woken. This felt like a war. Her own personal fight for something she wanted so badly she’d buried it under the ash and smoke of her temper, the scorched earth of her hurt. Wanted so badly and yet, no idea how to move past that anger.

Bonnie made a noise. “I knew we should have gone to Marcel’s.”

Her jaw clenched so hard, Caroline thought she could hear her teeth grinding. “No pack.”

“You can’t avoid them forever.” The words were said carefully, her best friend far too aware of that sore-point.

“Oh, I won’t,” Caroline said, flashing her teeth. “I really, really won’t.”

Thoughtfully, Bonnie relented enough to pick up her own fry. “What did Klaus tell you before he went off torture Tyler’s remains?”

Caroline shrugged. “He’s made changes, he’s the almighty ruler who rules with an iron fist, murder murder, the usual.”

I miss you.

She missed him.

Muttering something pithy, Bonnie pulled out a small bundle of herbs and dumped them on a convenient plate between them. A moment later, the familiar scent of burning sage brought a deluge of memories of ten years ago, and Caroline swallowed past the unexpected lump in her throat.

How often had she and Bonnie sat in this booth with sage burning between them, tipsy from cocktails? How many burgers had been consumed in the name of girl’s night? How often had she wished she could do this again as she sat alone in a random diner, eating pie and rapidly texting the second most important person in her life?

“Caroline,” Bonnie huffed. “You know people are straining to hear every word you say. People have been staring for the last ten minutes, there is no way the locals aren’t already gossiping.” Pointedly she glared at someone over Caroline’s shoulder.

“Nothing I said so far should be a surprise, they’ve all lived with his ego as long as I have.” Caroline said, emphasizing her words with the jab of a french fry.

Bonnie made a face in silent agreement. “I am absolutely not on team Klaus, but this separation hasn’t been easy for either of you.”

Caroline looked away for a moment, because she didn’t know how to explain the tangle in her chest, the way it’d felt like a fist when she’d woken alone in a bed that smelled just like her best dreams. Tired, bruises stiff and aching, she wanted him there and she was mad he wasn’t, and she was mad at herself for being mad about it. Showering had required that she clench her hands into fists not to sniff test everything in the shower, wanting his scent in her lungs.

“I know.” Her lips flattened. “I don’t know how to do easy anymore, Bonnie.”

“When have you ever?”

Caroline reluctantly smiled. “Klaus and I… we didn’t really have a lot of time to talk before he had to leave.” She would have been mad about that, that he’d disappeared so soon after the first time they’d seen each other in years, but she was firmly anti-zombie, so she had decided to be gracious about it. She just wasn’t sure what to do about the rest of it. What they had said. Their conversation had felt too personal, too raw to repeat out loud. “He wants me to stay.”

“Oh, he definitely wants more than that,” Bonnie muttered.

A03: Part 2

Please remember all my fanfic has been locked due to AI Bots scraping A03.

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #update

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Okay, so.

We all know Louis is an amazing leader, whom we love dearly.

(If you’re not on board with this, get on board, I guess; I’ve already written about that)

But. When and where did he get good at this? Because for as much as I, you, and he love his brothers…no.

Just no.

We do see him starting his delegation tactics pretty early—mostly with Moran. It doesn’t work out especially well because Moran is Moran and doesn’t really have any interest in having a leader that’s not William, but honestly, Louis…wasn’t the best at delegating back then.

A lot of his early leadership/delegation/control was very forceful, inelegant, and focused on small, petty things that didn’t really matter. He’s always had the ultimate vibe of, “If I want it done right, I’ll have to do it myself.” Even when it comes to Moran—if he wants Moran to actually do his chores, he has to be very active and hands on about it.

He doesn’t trust enough to lead and delegate. And this even extends to his brothers. He loves them until the sun dies, but he always questions William and his plans, even if he ultimately agrees with William’s goals and wants to support him. He doesn’t trust Albert for ages and ages and eventually accepts him as a brother after literally murdering people together, but he never relies on Albert to do anything for him. As much as he loves and trusts them, and as much as they protect him…Louis doesn’t ever ask them to handle something for him.

Louis, even very early on, was trying to get control of things because not being in control meant everything was going to go sideways. He always had input to add and questions to raise and arguments to make, and they all involved him doing more, more, more.

But when we see him after the timeskip…that’s all fallen away.

Oh, he’s still in charge and issuing the orders to everyone else. And he’s still present and involved and fairly hands on. But he’s no longer micromanaging what other people are doing. He gives them their roles, and steps back to trust them to do their jobs. When he steps in during The Adventure of the Empty Hearts, it’s not to do other people’s jobs for them. He’s making sure they have the space necessary to do their own jobs. He divides up tasks and gives himself his own tasks that keeps him from hovering over everyone else.

And the first time we see him do that?

Sherlock Holmes.

Asking Sherlock to save William was the first time Louis had to ask someone to do something he simply did not have the ability to do himself. It was the first time, “If I want it done right, I have to do it myself,” was utterly unapplicable. Louis had already tried, and he’d failed.

So he reached out to someone he knew did have the skills, and passed the task onto him, without asking for details, without hovering and micromanaging and needing to know how things were happening and why.

He simply had to trust that Sherlock Holmes, someone he didn’t even like and had no reason whatsoever to trust to care or be invested, could and would do something if he asked.

And it was the first time he had to ask for something he cared about that much. Chores, ultimately, don’t matter. The details of William’s silly Shakespeare reenactments, ultimately, don’t matter. Exactly how they follow William’s orders in Baskervilles, ultimately, doesn’t matter.

The end result does.

And Sherlock Holmes taught Louis that, because it was the only option Louis had, and it was something so desperately dear to Louis’s heart, that he wanted done right so deeply that he learned to give up control and to trust that someone else had it handled.

And so I think in many ways Sherlock Holmes was the birth of Louis as M.

Even if Louis will never, ever want to admit it.

#Louis James Moriarty #Moriarty the Patriot #Yuukoku no Moriarty

[graveyardlifeguard]

Survivors Part 4

Summary: Occurs during the events of Season 4x13 and Season 4x14.

*This is my first attempt at writing after many, many years so please go easy on me*

Warnings: Shooting, Injury, Blood

Strictly Angst with a teeny tiny bit of Fluff

Eddie Diaz x Paramedic! Reader

The next morning, Eddie and I were both feeling the effects of staying up late as we both moved around the house like drunk zombies. Carla arrives early as usual and laughs at Eddie and I before making the comment, “You both look exhausted.” As we’re getting dressed for the day, she was kind enough to make both of us mugs of coffee. I can’t remember the last time I drank a coffee so fast. Eddie was mature and sipped his correctly while he threw me funny glances when he noticed that mine was gone before we were even halfway to work.

Once at work, Eddie parked the car but before I can move to open the door, I feel his hand on my bicep to which he smoothly pulls me back towards him. A long kiss is once again initiated, which I’m not complaining about. When it’s decided that we both need to come up for air, just like last night, Eddie places a soft kiss to my forehead. Although giving me a kiss before work wasn’t unusual, there was something about this one that just felt… different. It’s not like we weren’t going to see each other for a while. We both worked in the same station, we see each other constantly, well that it is call depending I guess.

“What’s all that about cowboy? We’re both going into the same place.” I ask, still smiling at him.

He pauses before answering, staring into my eyes as though the answers to life greatest mysteries sat behind them. “I just love you so much.”

I don’t know how but the smile on my face somehow grew ten times bigger than it already was. We had this game going for years of who could say ‘I love you’ the “largest.” It was always a race to see who could say it last or the largest amount. To the moon and back, to infinity and back, etc. Usually, he won but today I wanted it to be different. So as quick as I can, I give him a quick kiss on the lips, whisper “I love you more than anything” and high tail it out of the car. I can hear him laughing and yelling behind me but that doesn’t matter. I said it last, so I won this round.

After changing into my uniform, I made sure to hide from Eddie so I can maintain my win. Shift change is done rather quickly with my nighttime relief where he reports that nothing crazy had occurred throughout the night. Hopefully, it would stay that way today. Gathering all the information I have on Sheila Leute, or whatever her name is, I make my phone call to CPS. They give me the generous offer of coming by in a few days to check on Charlie. They tell me how bogged down and short staffed they are, causing there to be a large back up on their already established cases. Fair enough, we unfortunately could relate to low staffing issues. Jumping in my CCP vehicle, I make my way towards Charlie and Sheila’s residence.

Making my way up the elevator, I feel my personal phone vibrating in my pocket. Luckily, my smart watch is connected to my phone so I can see who is calling without having to dig into my pocket. The elevator door opens up at the same time that I see that it’s Eddie who is calling. I end the call and begin to send him a voice message that I’m busy when I notice that Shiela and Charlies apartment door is already open. Walking up to the door, I find Charlie standing by the window, looking absolutely panicked. I rush into the house, quickly finding his mom on the living room floor, grasping at her throat with foam coming out of her mouth. I feel my eyes widen for a moment before I immediately get to work helping her. I hear Charlie say behind me that he had already called Eddie and that Eddie was on the way. That probably explains why Eddie was calling me. I had already told Dispatch where I was and what I was doing so the 118 had to know I was already here.

By the time I hear sirens outside, I had already placed an IV started in her right hand with a bag of Fluids running in. I luckily found a place to hang the bag before I work on ventilating her with the BVM. Charlie tells me that he put eye drops in his moms cereal and that he just wanted to see what would happen when he did it. Before I can say anything to reassure him, the door slams open even further and Captain Mehta and his crew are beside me. I can hear Eddie beginning talking to Charlie as I update Mehta and his squad about Sheila’s condition. From the kitchen, I can hear Charlie tell Eddie that he has known for a while that his mom has been putting eye drops in his food and drinks. My heart drops as I realize that Charlie knew exactly what his mom was doing to him. How she was the one that was poisoning him and making him sick. I glance towards the kitchen and lock eyes with Eddie. The realization that he knew hurts more than either of us could have realized.

“The kid’s going to need treatment too,” Buck starts, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. I guess they had figured out how Sheila was causing Charlie’s illness after I left this morning.

“Same kind of poisoning, just smaller doses. But for a really long time.”

After loading both Charlie and Sheila onto stretchers and making sure both crews were okay for the moment, I begin to pack up my gear. Thank God I had brought it up with me. As I reach down to pick up the monitor, a hand beats me to it. A familiar hand that belongs to someone I mentally and emotionally need at the moment. I once again look up and meet Eddie’s eyes. There’s a look of sympathy there that I can’t quite understand. Sure, I had a personal connection to this situation, but not as much as Eddie did. Nothing is said for a moment as I notice that Buck is still standing nearby in the kitchen, with my medical bag on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” Is all I can get out for the moment, but it seems to convey everything I want to say as both men just smile and nod at me. Moving towards the elevator, they update me on how they figured out what was causing Charlie to be sick. Eddie tells me about how he saw the eyedrops the other day while looking through the cabinets. By the time we reach the bottom floor and make our way through the lobby, Charlie and Sheila are being wheeled to their respective ambulances. My SUV is sitting out front, now surrounded by Battalion 7, Captain Mehta’s firetruck, and the two ambulances. Noticing the confused look on my face brought on by seeing Battalion 7 with no Bobby in sight, Buck laughs and tells me it was the only vehicle available. On the way to talk to Charlie, the boys place my bags in the back of my vehicle before meeting me at Charlie’s side.

“Will I see her at the hospital?” He asks me. Honestly, the question breaks my heart. Even after knowing what she was doing to him, that was still his mother and he still wanted to be around her. Eddie responds to Charlie before I can, telling him that she’s a little more sick and that she’ll have to go to a different hospital. From the other ambulance I can hear that Sheila has woken up and is now yelling for “her baby.” In all honesty, it pisses me off. How can you, for years, poison your own child yet want to call him your baby. It just didn’t make sense to me. The doors close to the ambulance with them leaving shortly after.

I let out a defeated sigh as Buck and Eddie move towards me. With Buck standing in front of me, Eddie moves to my left, something I had noticed that he had subconsciously started doing ever since he proposed. Nonetheless, I appreciated them being close to me in this moment. My mind needed them to help with the emotional toll this call had taken on me. I feel like I should’ve done more. I knew the other day that something wasn’t right and yet I bit my tongue and did nothing about it. It felt like this whole situation was my fault.

“I should’ve gotten here sooner.” I think to myself, or so I thought. Not realizing that I had said it out loud, I move my eyes away from Charlie’s ambulance and meet the concerned stares of Eddie and Buck. They both knew how I took certain things personal. A call like this with an outcome like this? Oh yeah, I was going to take it personally. Both men move to say something before Captain Mehta, unknowingly, interrupts them.

“Lieutenant, you want to ride with the kid to the hospital?”

“Yeah, that would be gre—” My sentence is cut short as a loud gunshot rings out nearby. It feels as though time stopped. Everything and everyone seems to be moving in slow motion. Looking up at Buck, my brain registers that he is now covered in blood. It’s on his face, his neck, and his shirt. Has he always been in that shirt? It’s not our uniform. Thinking of the uniform, my uniform feels wet all of a sudden. Why would my shirt be wet when it’s not raining outside? Time is still moving incredibly slow as I look towards Eddie, who now has an absolute look of terror on his face. It takes me way too long to realize why my shirt is wet and what’s causing the cold sensation to move down my body. I’ve been shot. Someone shot me. Glancing down at my shoulder, I can see the gnarly hole in uniform shirt that accompanies the new hole that has made its home in my body. My breath catches in my throat, and it feels impossible to stand upright. My knees give out on their own and I feel myself slowly drop to the ground. All at once, time seems to catch back up to me and I find myself staring across the road at Eddie and Buck. They are behind the cover of the firetruck with Mehta appearing to be holding them back. My body grows cold quickly, and my head begins to feel heavy, like it weighs thirty tons. There's a weird, wet sensation on my head and I realize that my blood is soaking through my hair, aiding the cold sensation I’m already feeling. How odd…

Lying on the cold, now blood-soaked ground, I can hear Captain Mehta yelling through the radio that there’s been shots fired. And that a Paramedic has been shot. My brain constantly reminds me, maybe to keep me conscious, that it’s me. I’ve been shot. I’m the Paramedic that’s been shot. Glancing up through blurry vision, that seems to be growing darker by the second, I can still register that Eddie and Buck are lying on the ground, yelling for me. At this point though, my hearing feels like I’m lying on the ocean floor, and they are on the shore, whispering to me. Despite my best attempts at keeping them open, I can feel my eyes shutting.

When I come to, it’s pain that has awoken me. Someone has grabbed my arm. The one will a new hole in it. “I’ve been shot,” I tell myself again and again. Maybe if I keep saying it, my brain will keep me awake. And alive. There’s someone screaming in pain. My brain doesn’t register that it’s me screaming in pain only that someone is screaming. It distracts me long enough that I realize that I might not have been the only one shot. Eddie and Buck are here too. One of them might’ve been shot. Oh God. How was I going to explain this to Christopher or Maddie that their loved one had been shot? While trying to process everything that’s going on, I realize that somehow I’m standing on my own two feet. But it’s not for long as I quickly find myself being thrown over someone’s shoulder and passed along to someone else. I feel like I’m flying as I now see that I’m in the back of the fire truck. Why am I looking up at the roof of the truck?

Items and faces blur together again for a moment and my hearing once more sounds like I’m being dunked under water. It sounds like there’s more gunfire but at this point I can’t really tell what’s going on. A face appears above me and I think it’s Eddie. It’s hard to tell as my eyes keep closing on their own. There’s a sharp tug at my shirt and my vision clears up from the jolt of pain that follows it. Eddie is leaning over me while Buck is slamming thick gauze over the new hole in my shoulder. I’ve been shot. I have been shot. This doesn’t make sense. I was just on a Wellness check call. How am shot? I’ve been shot? Eddie appears again in front of my face and this time I notice the blood covering him. My head falls to the side to check on Buck where I find that he too is blanketed in blood. Somehow though, he’s absolutely covered by it. I can see their mouths moving but I’m not hearing anything that they’re saying.

My brain focuses in again. Eddie and Buck are soaked in blood. Were they shot too? Buck is still holding my shoulder with what feels like all of the strength in his body. If it didn’t hurt so much, I would crack some sort of joke with him about it. Everything blurs again and when I come to this time, they are both leaning over me, and I can finally hear what they are saying. This time, I can see the genuine fear in both of the boys eyes.

“Stay with me baby, you got to stay with us!” Eddie pleads, he can’t sit still as he keeps moving over top of me. His eyes are crazed as he looks all over the place as if he’s searching for something. Another bullet wound maybe? I’ve never seen this look in his eye and I don’t like it. I want to soothe him and tell him that I’m fine but the only thing I manage to cough out is,

“Are y’all hurt?” They look at me like I’m crazy before subconsciously looking over themselves, and each other, before answering. Buck opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. His mouth and jaw twitch to move but it’s like that’s all he can do in the moment.

“No, no, no baby we’re okay. We’re okay, okay? You’re going to be okay and we’re okay” Eddie tells me, struggling to get the words out. In the background I can hear what sounds like Mehta yelling over the radio, “…A Paramedic has been shot…It’s the Lieutenant from the 118!”

Eddie and Buck are back in my line of sight now, but it doesn’t last long. It’s almost like my body needed the reassurance that they were okay so I could rest. Their mouths are moving again, I think, there are words coming out of them. The only thing I feel like I know is that I have a hole in my shoulder, and I’ve been shot. Words are muffled and time feels like it’s slowing down again. I don’t want to die. I want to get married to Eddie Diaz. I want to spend the right of my life with him. This isn’t fair. I love him. And I know he loves me. This isn’t fair to him. Or to me. My head lolls back to the side and I feel someone’s hand straighten it back up. It’s Eddie and I can see the tears rolling down his cheeks. It’s cutting through the blood like a knife, making a clear pathway down his face. He’s talking to me and the way that I long to hear what he’s saying is unnatural. Somone is placing an oxygen mask on my face, and everything goes quiet. I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I try to look up Eddie one last time. I don’t know if this is it, but I want my last look at the world to be of my world. Eddie Diaz. I don’t know if can sense it or see the change in my eyes, but something shifts in his. Although I can’t hear him. I can somewhat see him. He looks even more panicked, more petrified and I don’t how he manages it. I’m just really tired, and cold. There’s a hole in my shoulder….and I’ve been shot. By the time the truck feels as though it’s coming to a sudden stop, I lose the battle to consciousness and slowly drift off...

#911 imagine #imagines #eddie diaz #angst #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz x reader #ryan guzman

[dadbodbuck]

several sentences sunday

from the ecologist!buck au:

The next day at work, when they’re washing the truck, Hen immediately starts picking on him. “Something happened. What happened?”

“Why does something have to have happened?” Eddie rolls his eyes, even though he knows it’s only a matter of time before he spills.

“You’ve been texting someone all day,” Hen points out, gesturing to Eddie’s pocket, where his phone is resting.

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to have friends?”

“You don’t have friends, not outside of the firehouse,” Hen rolls her eyes, “Either your Abuela’s gotten a lot more chatty when I wasn’t looking, or something happened.”

Eddie sighs. “Okay, when I tell you, you have to promise not to freak out, okay?”

“Why? Eddie, what’s—”

“Promise!” Eddie insists, “Or I won’t tell you.”

“I promise I’ll be so normal about whatever you’re about to tell me,” Hen says, in a tone of voice that means she is going to disregard that promise as soon as Eddie starts talking.

Whatever. “You remember my neighbor, Buck?”

“No,” Hen gasps, “Eddie, you dog.”

“Listen!” Eddie says defensively, “He’s—wait, why aren’t you freaking out more?”

“What, did you expect me, a lesbian, to be surprised that you hooked up with a man?” Hen raises an eyebrow at him, “My gaydar is finely tuned. With years of practice. In fact, Chimney owes me money, so if you could just repeat what you said into my phone’s microphone, that would be—”

“Henrietta, I am not recording myself saying I hooked up with my neighbor for your stupid bet,” Eddie gripes, “Besides, we agreed just to be friends after.”

“Why would you do that?” Hen asks, “Was it not… good?”

“No, it was…” Eddie says, stopping when Hen gives him a look, “What?”

“So you had absolutely mind-blowing sex with your neighbor—”

“Okay, it wasn’t mind-blowing—”

“It wasn’t?” 

Eddie doesn’t respond, just purses his lips and leans against the truck they’re supposed to be cleaning.

“That’s what I thought.”

“Okay, you know what, fuck you—”

“Wouldn’t you rather be fucking someone else?”

“That’s it!” Eddie says, pointing the spray bottle of soapy water at Hen threateningly, “One more word, Henrietta, and it’s your ass.”

“Wilson! Diaz! What is going on?” Bobby shouts from the loft. Eddie supposes their conversation had been getting a little rowdy.

“Eddie’s being mean!” Hen yells, at the same time that Eddie says, “Hen’s being nosy!”

“Just clean the truck, or I’ll have to find someone else to do it and put you two on other, separate chores!” Bobby admonishes, but he doesn’t seem that mad about it, and he walks away without further incident.

“You are a menace,” Eddie hisses, spraying the truck so Hen can wipe it down.

Hen throws her head back and laughs at him, but eventually they do get on with the truck cleaning. You know. To keep up appearances, and such.

When they’re done, and Hen tosses the rag into the laundry bin, she turns to Eddie. “I am proud of you. Regardless of how much you freaked out after your hot farmer neighbor absolutely rocked your world.”

“How did you know I freaked out?” Eddie frowns, walking with Hen to the supply closet to return the spray bottle.

Hen smiles at him and shuts the door to the supply closet. “You seemed like you would. Do you want to talk about it? Here, in private?”

Yeah. He kinda does.

“I just—I feel so bad,” Eddie groans, rubbing at his eyes, “I totally freaked out. And he thought he hurt me, and I realize now that I spent so long being a dick to him because I was attracted to him and I guess I have some shit to work through.”

“That’s a lot,” Hen says, “Did you apologize?”

“Yeah, and he apologized about thirty times for not checking in enough,” Eddie says, sighing and leaning against one of the shelves, “And then we decided maybe it would be best to be friends. So could you please do me a favor and not mention this to anyone else? Besides the fact that it’s embarrassing, I’m not… sure if I’m ready to have that conversation with anybody.”

“Conversation?” Hen asks, raising an eyebrow at Eddie.

“The one where I might be gay,” Eddie says, feeling a surge of panic in his chest. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud to someone other than Buck, and he barely counts that time because he’s still not entirely sure it happened.

Hen softens, reaching out for the junction where Eddie’s arms are crossed over his chest and squeezing. “Eddie, you know it’s okay, right?”

“Hen, I’m not homophobic, I promise, I just—”

“That’s not what I mean,” Hen says, shaking her head, “I mean, whatever happens after this is okay. If you date Buck, that’s okay. If you’re friends, that’s okay too. It’s okay if you’re gay, or bi, or if you somehow realize you’re straight, even though I sincerely doubt you are. You don’t have to decide anything now. In fact, you don’t ever have to decide.”

“I don’t?” Eddie asks, in a horribly small voice.

Hen smiles at him, fond and warm. “No, you don’t ever have to be anything other than yourself.”

#my fics #fic tag: kitchen table ecology

[simplydannie]

Previous: The Set Up || The Set Up: Rescued

A small story inspired by, and written for @grinnworld!

An accident occurred at the Rage Dome taking Veneers life. Floyd is left distraught, his colors fading. He has a chance to leave… but he has one twin left… and he can’t leave her behind.

Floyd could hear his brothers call out his name as he slid through the opening of the door. Branch and Clay could escape with the gray Trolls that released them…. He had another mission in mind… find Velvet, and get her out.

He hid under any furniture he ran into, he wasn’t going to risk getting caught, not again…. He needed to get her out, he couldn’t loose her too.

As he ran to find her, tears began to sting his eyes, his colors almost diminished… his thoughts went to what happened at the Rage Dome....

“VENEER!” Velvet had cried out as the platform he was on snapped in half. He remembered seeing her stretching out her arms in hopes she’d catch him. He remembered seeing Veneers terrified face as he fell to the depths below….

“I’m sorry Vennie…” Floyd whispered to himself as he wiped the tears away, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.”…

Voices were heard coming down the hallway. He came to a halt as he realized there was nothing to hide behind. Looking up he spotted an air vent…perfect, it was big enough for him to fit through. Using his hair, he lassoed himself up into the vent. Floyd peered down to two staff Rageons walking and talking amongst each other.

“They found him dude.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It ain’t. They found him dead. I wonder if they’re going to sue the Rage Dome for this.”

“They have too…Faulty tech lead to his death…It’s all over the news now.”

Floyd leaned his head against the walls of the vent. He tried to restrain the tears that wanted to come out. Mistress had told Velvet the truth…he was dead…but was that the entire truth? The blame was on faulty tech, but he knew it was the cunning plans of the Mistress that ultimately lead Veneer to his death. What was her gain? Why him? Was it because she couldn’t fully control him?

Whatever the matter, he had to put those thoughts aside to find Velvet. He decided to continue down the path of the vent, peering through openings till he could find the right one. He had to hurry. It would only be a matter of time before someone went back to find the Trolls gone. As Floyd ventured he heard the sound of distant footsteps…but they weren’t coming from below, they were coming from the vents. He turned to find Branch and Clay heading towards him.

“You guys followed me?”

“Of course we did! Come on we got to get out of here. We got to go find Bruce and John Dory. The Bergens didn’t have them, that means they have had to escape.” Branch said.

“No. You go. I’ll find my way to you. I have to go find Velvet.”

“The girl? Floyd, she tormented you! Used you. Abused you! Why are you going back and risking everything for her?” Clay asked.

“Because she’s family….and right now I’m all she has…” Floyd looked towards his brothers, “I’m done running out on family. I learned my lesson…I’m so sorry Bitty B.” Tears began to fill Branches eyes as he spoke, “I should have never left you like I did. You were to young, to innocent. You endured so much all alone. I should’ve been there….We all should have. I practically walked out on these kids too. Like you, they were too young and innocent, and i walked out on them. Now look.” Floyd began crying, “One of them is dead. If I had just brought them out with me like I promised, he would still be here. I can’t do that to Velvet now….” Floyd fell silent as he couldn’t get any more words across…

Breathing heavily, swallowing his tears, Branch walked up to Floyd placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked his brother in the eye, “Then go get her. We’ll know how to find you. Just please, don’t get caught again.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

Velvet sat at the foot of her bed. Her legs were curled to her chest, her face buried within her knees. The TV was on, the dreaded words were repeated over and over again….

Pop Sensation Veneer Found Dead After Rage Dome Incident. Agency and Sister Have Yet to Release Any Comments.

Pop sensation Veneer found dead….

Veneer found dead…..

Found dead…..

Dead….

The words echoed in her mind….Her brother was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. There was no closure, no goodbye, he was taken away from her just like that. Velvet buried her face again as she screamed, tears stinging her eyes. There was no comfort from anyone…She was just sent to her room to mourn alone.

Veneer would’ve come, he would’ve comforted her, he would tell her that everything would work out…that everything would be okay…But he wasn’t here to do that anymore…Just the memory of a ghost now.

“….I’m so sorry Vennie….” She cried, “I’m sorry….I love you….I never told you enough…” Her sobs grew deeper and harder as she couldn’t control herself. Then again she didn’t want to. All Velvet felt right now was hurt and pain. She pulled at her hair screaming into the air. Digging her nails into her head, she began rocking back and forth. She just wanted this nightmare to end, she wanted to see her brother walk in through that door.

“Velvet?” She heard a soft voice.

“Vennie?” She looked up towards the door…but there was no one…Only a small little Troll standing aways from her, “What happened to your colors?”

Floyd looked down at himself, “…There gone… Once I heard what happened too…” He paused, Floyd couldn’t bring himself to say it again.

An anger rushed over her, “WHOSE FAULT IS THAT! WHO WAS THE ONE WHO WAS GOING TO WALK OUT ON US! LEAVE US! WHO FLOYD?!”

“I know Vels, I know. And I am so sorry… It’s something I am going to regret for the rest of my life.” He told her.

“Get out! Go away! You’ve caused me enough pain already!” She curled herself into a tight ball, hoping that it would cause her pain and this world to vanish.

“I’m not leaving you…Not again. I’m here for you Vels.”

“I don’t need you….I need Vennie…..I want him back…I want him back so badly…I want to hear his stupid voice again, his stupid little face….I want my brother back.” Her shoulders shook as she cried again. Floyd wanted to say something…but what could he say…she didn’t trust him anymore, she didn’t want him. He walked up to her and placed a hand on her foot.

“Get away!” She attempted to kick him off.

“I’m not going anywhere. As much as you hate me, as much as you want me away. I am not leaving you…I’m not making that same mistake again…I don’t want to leave you alone Vels, I want to be here for you…Ven wouldn’t wanted you alone..”

“He wanted us to be a family. And look what happened!” She looked at him…A pink hue glowing around her eyes.

Floyd should his head, “No, don’t do this. I don’t want to loose you too. Listen to my voice and come back. Come back to me please.”

The pink glowing brighter as her feelings grew stronger, “He’s gone. He’s gone and he’s not coming back. I don’t have anyone now. Not mom, not dad, not Vennie. I’m alone…I’m alone…I don’t want to be alone.” She dug her nails into her head again, pulling at her hair as if somehow that would take this wretched pain away.

“Hey! Listen to me! You’re not alone! I’m here! I came back for you. I couldn’t flee with my brothers without you, I couldn’t.”

Pink still around her eyes, she began to rock back and forth, “…..You loved Veneer more….You always did….Of course you would….He was more open to you than I had ever been… He adored you… he was your favorite.” She closed her eyes and turned away from the Troll. “You never cared for me the way you cared for him…”

Floyd lingered in silence for a moment, could his heart break anymore? All this time, she had thought Veneer was the favorite? “Oh Velvet, no, no, no. I care for you both of you just the same! I’m sorry. I’m sorry if it seemed that way! I never intended… oh my god, I’m so sorry Velvet!” He couldn’t look at her in the eye, he felt so ashamed…He could tell she wasn’t use to this. From what the twins had spoken, their parents loved them both the same and showed it.

“I failed you Velvet…. I’m so sorry….” He began to cry, “Forgive me? Please. I will never know if Veneer forgave me, but I hope you will. I thought I was doing good… I thought you knew I loved you both..” He bent down hugging his knees crying his heart out. “I’m so sorry…”

Moments passed as he felt himself gently being lifted. He looked up to see he was now at eye level with Velvet. “I’m sorry too…” She whispered, finically looking at him in the eye, “I miss him Floyd.”

“…me too…but your not alone. I’m here for you.” As he was close, he noticed something on her lap. Velvet looked down to see what he was staring at. With a pout on her lip, she brought it out to show him.

“…it’s his stupid purple beanie…” Her lip quivered, “His stupid purple beanie he would never take off…” she held it to her heart and hugged it tight. Velvet brought the small Troll close to her, holding him tight along with Veneers old beanie… she imagined him there along with them… embracing them….a small little family again. Floyd leaned on her, extending his arms as far as he could. Hector small fingers brushed against the beanie, the last little remnant they had of Ven.

“I’m here Vels… it’s going to be okay…it’s just us now. And I got you.” He said. The grayness in his body began to go away as his color was slowly coming back… this is what he needed, “I love you Vels, always know that. I love you.”

Velvet let out a small sigh of relief at the words she heard, at the words she needed to hear. “I love you too….”

“Let’s get out of here. Let’s leave this wretched place.” Floyd exclaimed.

“No. Not yet.” Velvet sniffed wiped her eyes. “I don’t believe what the news is saying.”

“What do you mean?”

“…. This wasn’t an accident…. That bitch is going to pay.” She said with a determination crossing her eyes.

Normally Floyd wasn’t one to hear her cuss or encourage such thoughts and behavior… but this was the last straw. Mistress had gotten away with to much, she wasn’t going to get away with this. Floyd smiled looking up at Velvet.

“That’s my girl.”

#trolls 3 #trolls band together #velvet and veneer #veneer #velvet #trolls veneer #velvet and veneer trolls #velvet trolls #trolls #veneer trolls #trolls velvet #trolls au #trolls 3 velvet and veneer #trolls 3 veneer #trolls 3 velvet #trolls 3 band together #trolls floyd #trolls branch #trolls clay #velvet and veneer fanfiction #trolls fanfic #fanfics #fanfic #fanfiction

[alittlebitofloveliness]

PLEASE write more mini fics about ponyboy and curly i love them together

Hi anon! This is the first of the PaperCut asks I'm cooking up, so I hope you like it. Sorry it took so long!

****************

Curly Shepard knows he’s the hottest person alive, which is good, because he needs this to go well. 

He’s got a pair of Tim’s jeans on- they’re a bit long, but unlike his own they don’t have any stains- and he might pay for that later but right now it doesn’t matter. His muscle shirt might’ve belonged to Tim at one point or another too, but right now the important thing is that it shows off his arms. Gotta show off his gains if he’s gonna get a date for the rodeo this weekend. 

He really needs a date for the rodeo this weekend. Angela had bet him three dollars and a pack of kools he couldn’t find one and he was determined to prove her wrong. Also, he doesn’t have the scratch to spare if he loses- he’s trying to save up for a nail gun. Dally Winston told him a week ago about a guy in New York who used a modified nail gun as a weapon, and Curly wants to try it.

So, the date. He’d considered asking Catalina Perez- she’s been making eyes at him for weeks, and despite what Angela thinks he isn’t completely clueless- but he doesn’t really want to take a girl out. Girls are fine, but he’s gotta be like…nice and gentlemanly and shit and it's so boring. Besides, Angela just said he had to find a date. She didn’t say it had to be with a girl. 

There’s only one person he actually wants to ask out. Of course, Ponyboy will probably tell him to fuck off, but he tells Curly to fuck off a lot and only means it like a third of the time, so it’ll probably be fine. 

Curly flexes once more in front of the mirror (for confidence) and sticks his switchblade in his pocket. Momentarily he considers grabbing a jacket, but he didn’t spend the last three months beefing up his arms just to cover them with sleeves. Besides, it’s not that cold yet.

Angela’s in the living room with Sylvia, and he promptly decides he does not want to hear them rip him to shreds for his very cool outfit, so he climbs out his bedroom window instead. It’s good practice for gang stuff, he tells himself, because saying he doesn’t want to feel the sting of Angel’s judgemental gaze feels a lot like cowardice.

Once he’s outside he runs into a problem: he’s finally psyched himself up enough to ask Ponyboy out, but unfortunately he doesn’t have any idea where to find him.

Ok, that’s not completely true. Truth is, the guy is pretty predictable on account of his grumpy ass older brother keeping him on a leash shorter than Angel’s temper. Tim didn’t keep half so close an eye on him, and he’d done things Ponyboy probably hadn’t even dreamed of.

It wasn’t like Pony was any sort of goody two shoes. No, Curly didn’t like teacher’s pets and he liked Pony something awful. Pony just…wasn’t as dumb as him, that was all. And he had more to lose, with the state breathing down his neck and all. Curly could respect that.

He’d try the movie house first, he decided. Shit Ponkid liked movies, and anytime he went with him Ponyboy would get all pissy if he said anything about Paul Newman. (What did Pony like so much about that guy anyway? He wasn’t even that tuff looking and he talked like a soc.)

When he shows up, the movie house is empty except for a pair of socs getting handsy in the back row, so he makes his way to the library instead, hoping the old lady behind the desk has forgiven him for time he spilled Pepsi over half the books in the history section (it's not his fault ok? He got distracted.)

This time, his detective skills are as flawless as his face, and he spots a familiar head of reddish hair in the back corner near the biology section, Pony’s shoulders curled in his familiar slouch. The sight of it makes a familiar warm feeling start in his chest, like how good whiskey goes down, a feeling Angela had explained to him two days ago was ‘what a crush feels like, dumbass’ with an eye roll and a not so gentle swat on the head. Much as he hates to admit it, it’s a fairly common occurrence. He’s good at describing feelings but not naming them. Angela feels nothing, but knows what things are supposed to feel like. It works for them, even though Tim calls them weird for it. 

“Hey Ponykid!” His voice is too loud for the library and he knows it, but what’s the old bitch behind the desk gonna do? Kick him out? He could kick her ass.

Ponyboy scowls. “Shut up!” 

“You goin’ to the rodeo this weekend?” Shit. Curly had meant to build up to that, honestly he did, but Ponyboy Curtis has a way of getting him to act like a prize idiot instead of his usual cool, suave self. He hates what this crush is doing to him, and also never wants it to stop.

“No.” 

He goes back to his book. 

Rude.

“Why not?” Curly presses, leaning on the table in a way that makes his arms flex just the way he practiced. The moment is wasted though, because Pony doesn’t even glance up.

“Because.”

“Because why?” He should’ve known better than to come to the library. The only time Pony ever gets proper mad at him is this godforsaken hellhole.

“Because Angela told me you were gonna ask me out,” Pony shuts his book, a shit eating grin crossing his face, and fuck this was not part of the plan. Curly can feel his cheeks flushing and he’s not for the first time he’s glad his skin is dark enough it won’t be obvious. If Pony- or anyone else for that matter- had any idea how much he made Curly blush he’d never hear the end of it, “and she paid me a pack of kools not to say yes unless you ask again after this weekend.”

“She- she what?”

That had to be cheating. Even Tim would have to agree that was cheating, or racketeering or- or something. She was rigging their bet against him. Worse than that she’d told Ponyboy he was gonna ask him out, and now Ponyboy was prepared with his smirk and that face and whatever cologne he’s wearing which smelled so good it should probably be illegal.

“Sorry,” Ponyboy grins, not sounding sorry at all. He climbs to his feet, and Curly is suddenly acutely aware of how close they are, almost chest to chest. Pony’s maybe three inches taller, and Curly finds himself having to look up a bit into his eyes, “guess you’re gonna have to try again next week.”

Then he leans in and kisses Curly on the cheek. 

Curly’s brain melts. 

Pony must see it, because despite the slight flush on his pale cheeks, he manages to look completely smug as he turns away.

“Now fuck off, would ya Curls? I’m tryin’ to read.”

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #curly shepard #PaperCut #purly #angela shepard #tim shepard

[nsfwarros1]

do you think a limit will be reached for gortash' size? he's really losing his mobility now, is that something the either of them would want? i know health isnt a factor for them and i imagine cas would want gort as big as he could possibly get him. narratively gortash giving up his entire self to cas in the form of immobility is so interesting

hmm so the limit of Gortash’s size really is just the fact that canonically they just don’t live for long enough that he gets completely immobile even if he comes close, which is also the reason why I doubt I’ll draw him casually immobile since it’d always be an AU or an alternate timeline really. But generally saying... no Gortash doesn’t stop gaining weight it just more or less slows down due to his size. I’ve mentioned this a few times but Gortash shows his devotion to Cas in this way but at this point it’s also the fact that Gortash doesn’t know what else to give him. Like it’s very much a “Gortash is afraid of Cas slipping away if he ever manages to fuck this up” that also causes Gortash to intentionally lean into it more and even try on purpose. It’s multiple things causing this to be stronger now really, like Cas having left before and Gortash having had to experience the coldness of Cas after a fight where he just didn’t want to touch or feed Gortash like that anymore as well as Gortash slowly admitting to himself that Cas is just… greater, in a way. This never mattered to Cas really but there is something about Gortash getting over himself to the point where he needs to admit he’s just a mortal without any insane magical skill or something similar compared to Cas. so all in all he’s not really afraid to lose his mobility if it came to it

The other thing is also that the bigger Gortash gets and the more unable he is to do many things by himself the more he knows that he can trust Cas. Gortash not even really having to communicate it (because he still has a certain pride when it comes to things) but Cas knowing and doing it anyways. Things like getting around but also stuff like needing Cas to bathe him and take care of his skin or needing Cas to help him with pains etc, as much as an asshole Cas is this is never something he brought up or didn't do whatsoever

I also wanna mention that health isnt a factor yes however still only in a vitals way - he still definitely suffers from the weight physically (like his joints and other pains) but he never really cared about it because Gortash very much sees it as a necessity to keep Cas’ love, if that makes sense. Not even in a “hes gonna leave if I don’t get bigger” way thats not what I mean it’s more like a… you can’t love a devil deeply without it hurting way🤕

As for Cas, Cas doesn't know limits and Cas' jealousy and possessiveness will always outweigh whatever sane thought there might be about how he actually does enjoy things that require Gortash to be mobile, so that's just that😖

#blakemail #gortcas nsft lore #immobility #i also wanna say idk if people see it a bit different but if I say immobile I mean like genuinely bedbound