#please imagine dream waking up after this and it's just a bad nightmare that's already fading from his memory

[wyvernquill]

I only know about Anastasia through the wiki plot summary, but the parts you've posted so far of the Sandman Anastasia AU makes me excited to read more.

Read the part with the Hob and Dream interaction on the staircase and. The Angst. The potential future angst when Dream finds out what reward Hob actually asked for (assuming that's in line with the movie?) and he runs through this exact conversation in his head again! With those last words he spoke to Hob playing on repeat.

An evil part of me wants Hob to die in his efforts tying up loose ends (but succeeding) and for Dream to find out everything when it's too late to change anything. Maybe shortly after Hob's death. Or perhaps he isolates himself from the world and shows up at the inn 100 years later only to then find out the truth. Dream can never make amends and never gets closure. He settles further inside himself, putting up more walls between himself and the world. Or this is his tipping point.

Maybe Hob leaves behind a letter for him, apologizing to Dream asking not for his forgiveness but wishing him well and hoping that everything is good now that he's back to who he was. That he's happy.

Or, Hob does succeed and survive, and lives out his full life. But still dies before the 100th year meeting, that Dream shows up to.

Don't know the extent of Dream's power in the AU, if there's the Dreaming, if he can feel when a dreamer dies or not enter the Dreaming anymore. Bc in either scenario, what if he decides to never contact Hob again, but he feels Hob's death (bc he can't help but to keep tabs on Hob, despite everything), when, since Hob got his reward, !shouldn't! happen? And that's how he finds out.

BUT while that sounds tempting I'd really rather have the Angst train and the Happy Ending.

Thanks for reading my ramblings!

(Anastasia AU masterpost here!)

Thank YOU for sharing them, I enjoyed them very much! :3c

I'm very dedicated to happy endings, so don't worry, there'll be no great final tragedy... HOWEVER, I did feel tempted to write a sad little something, so I'll juuuuuust put that under the cut here....

(This is NOT CANON to the Anastasia AU - think of it as a hypothetical Bad Ending nightmare at most! Also, warning for major character death, of course.)

(I guess I'll still tag @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans and @sunshines-fabulous-legs even though it's not technically canon to the AU...)

A hundred years pass in a blink.

Dream is busy, oh yes, very busy indeed, gathering his surviving dreams and nightmares together, carving out a tiny, miserable approximation of what was once his realm to house them. The New Dreaming is not what it once was, but it is enough - and where it is not, he works harder.

(If he is busy, then there is no opportunity to think of a time where he was once humans, with human needs and wants and loves. He can banish those memories from his mind, push them under layers and layers of plans and tasks, and feel his heart grow only ever so slightly heavier with it.)

His siblings are as busy as him, all trying desperately to recover scraps of their former strength. Sometimes, he helps them if he can, other times he is simply there to lean on and to hold them if he can't.

In those hundred years, Destiny wept - once, only once, but that was already more than Dream should ever have thought possible - in front of him, Desire screamed and howled and heaped verbal abuse on him in their frustration far more frequently, and Delirium clung to him as her physical form wavered and scattered like iridescent oil on a puddle. She slipped through his arms whenever he tried to hold her in return, and that was, perhaps, the worst of it.

No word of Destruction, Despair quiet and reclusive... and Death oh so tired. The humans now walk to The Sunless Lands without her, often refuse her hand if she tries. Dream can tell how it breaks her heart, and how carefully she hides it for her siblings' comfort.

It's a difficult century for them all.

But some things get better.

They heal. They grow. They recover. Humanity loses grip of their hatred, forgets about what they once did to the Endless, or why. It will take many more centuries, perhaps millenia, to undo all the harm that has been done - but be undone it will, that much is clear even after just one hundred years.

They have hope, still and always; and they have each other, and the truly endless love they each feel for their siblings. Dream is no longer lost and alone in the cold and the snow, as he once was as Murphy. He belongs now, something he has always yearned for, and it is a precious thing indeed.

But still he-

Sometimes, he-

(Hob Gadling and his smiles, Hob Gadling and the warmth of his hands, Hob Gadling and his ever-laughing mouth.

Hob Gadling asking 'would you come' in a voice too small and afraid for him, and the tears in his eyes at Dream's response.

He remembers these, sometimes, and wishes he didn't.)

A hundred years have passed by, and something in Dream has... it has softened. Gentled. Murphy, that frightened, furious, heartbroken man, or what remains of him in Dream of the Endless - he has healed, too.

He is beginning to regret his harsh refusal, now.

Is beginning to miss Hob.

Is considering, perhaps, to forgive him, even.

(The Corinthian has never bothered Dream again, has never wreaked havoc among the humans. Hob has succeeded admirably in his task, it seems... and perhaps this is something Dream should have recalled, in his aching fury: people are almost always better than one thinks they are.)

The hundredth anniversary of their final meeting on the stairs draws near...

And on an impulse, on the centennial of that fateful day, Dream calls Matthew to him, and slips out of their safe haven in silence, telling none of his siblings where he is bound - though he suspects, from Destiny quietly watching him leave, that one at least knows.

He treads carefully in the Waking, in the human world, but few care to notice him. The Endless are a fairytale, a horror story. A hundred years have washed the truth out of the tale, and there is none of that sharp suspicion in the humans' eyes he recalls from his journey as Murphy.

He is in London in an instant, at the park where he used to feed the birds and steal purses from passersby. Down the street then, to the White Horse inn, and-

And-

The White Horse is gone.

A ruin stands in its place, closed down. The merciless grind of the gears of time have not spared it, clearly.

Dream is, briefly, at a loss. They have not specified another meeting place, and with his diminished powers it is... difficult, even for one such as him, to find a singular human - only more so if that human is immortal, and surely working hard to remain undetected. How will he-

"So you have come," says a voice behind him, and for a moment Dream's not-heart is beating in his throat, and he turns, relief sparking in his chest, the name Hob on his lips like a sigh...

"...sir," Gilbert finishes, standing there alone, and Dream's heart plummets again.

(Gilbert had taken his leave, after the whole affair, had begged permission to remain in the Waking - and Dream had granted it. Gilbert had been such a painful reminder of a time when he's been both at his most miserable and at his happiest, and sending him away had been... easier, then.)

"Fiddler's Green." Dream inclines his head. "My greetings."

"Gilbert. If it please your majesty." Gilbert corrects quietly. He looks sombre, and tired, a far cry from the curiosity and easy cheer of their journey oh-so-long ago. "May I beg a moment of your time?"

"...I was intending to meet..." Dream gestures vaguely to the White Horse, unable to say the words. Say the name. "Do you, perhaps, know..."

"Yes. Yes, sir. I know who you have come to meet." Gilbert blinks a few times, very quickly. Looks down at his hands followed over the tip of his cane. "Please, follow me. I know a place where we can sit and talk."

Dream hesitates, glancing back at the ruins of the inn - what if Hob should arrive in the meantime? - but then reminds himself how close Hob and Gilbert were, once upon a time. Gilbert would not lead him away if not for good reasons.

Quietly, nervously, he follows.

Gilbert brings him to another pub a few streets down, named The New Inn. A sweet, pleasant place, gentle and warm the way Fiddler's Green once used to be - he spends much time here, Dream can instantly tell.

(His eyes search each table for a familiar face. But he finds none.)

They sit, and Gilbert folds his hands, wrings them nervously, before finally pulling a well-aged envelope from his coat.

"This was given to me many years ago by... our mutual friend." He begins, haltingly. There is something achingly sad, something hushed, in the exhausted slump of his shoulders. "He begged a promise from me, that I would be here, on this day, every hundred years, and give it to you, my Lord, if you ever... he instructed me, in confidence, not to suspect you 'ere half a millennium has passed - you have rather defied his pessimistic expectations."

A smile, then... but tears, the dewdrops on flowers in the morning, gathering in the corners of Gilbert's eyes. Fear gripped Dream's heart, and would not release it.

"Dear Robert. And yet, he never doubted that you would, one day, appear. Such faith he had in you."

"Had?" Dream chokes around the word. On his shoulder, Matthew grows uneasy.

"Read the letter, my Lord." Gilbert's smile is gentle as well as sad, as he pushes the letter across the table. "And you shall know all he wanted you to know."

There is a name on the envelope, Dream of the Endless written in Hob's scrawl, still familiar after so many years - and then, (Murphy) underneath it.

Dream dreads what he will find in this letter - but he opens it with shaking fingers, and begins to read, nonetheless.

My Honoured Lord, Dream of the Endless etc. etc. (My dearest Murphy)

It is my fond and foolish hope that this letter finds you well, and that you have since grown to forgive poor, lowly Hob Gadling - who was ever your friend, if you can bring yourself to believe it. (Perhaps you cannot. I wouldn't blame you. But know that, from the moment I first saw you, I cared for you, and never wished you harm. Hate me for the deception, hate me for my greed - but do not think I did not truly love you. Because I did, Murphy, Dream, whichever name you now prefer. I did.) I've asked Gil to hand you this letter if you ever come to the White Horse. Please don't be cross with him, he fought me on this every step of the way, and even now I am not sure if I have sworn him to secrecy firmly enough. If he's blabbed to you, be happy, his loyalty to you has won out over my pleas, which I do not blame him for at all - and if he hasn't. Well. Thank him for me, will you? He's been a true friend to me, always, and I... appreciate his fealty. Now, the most important thing I have to tell you: I refused your sister's reward. Yes, I know. I'm a fool. After all I did for it, too. But you were right. I didn't deserve it, I was a greedy, manipulative bastard... ...and I was in love with you, of course, and couldn't bear the thought of spending an immortal life being hated by you. (Forgive her, too, for not telling you, please. All on my request, not her fault.) I don't know why exactly I refused, in the end. I was trying to prove something, maybe. To me, to you - it hardly matters. Not anymore, at least. I'm going to see if I can't give our pursuer hell, and that'll likely... not end well for me. But even if I am fortunate enough to survive that encounter, I doubt I'll live to the ripe old age of 130-something, so... I'm sorry I couldn't make our appointment, my friend, my love - and after I was the one to suggest it, too. Unfair of me, perhaps... but at least you'll have this letter, and all I wanted still to tell you. If I died, if I am dead now, you must know that I died happy. You are with your family again, you've returned to your true self, and I could help you achieve that. This time, I could help, and I'm so glad. I love you. Foolish, of a mortal, to love an Endless, but there it is. I loved you as Murphy, and I love you still as Dream, and I am happy to know the one I love safe and free and - I hope, I pray - content and living a life of joy. Be well, Dream of the Endless. Think of me, now and then, if you can bear it - and recall, perhaps, that even low and greedy humans may show themselves to be better than you'd think at first. I love you. Forgive me. And farewell forever. Yours, always, always yours, Hob Gadling

A wet splash as a tear drops onto the letter, old ink running slightly under it; and then another, before Gilbert's gentle hands pull the paper to safety.

Dream sits there for hours, crying like a child, like a human, mourning, regretting...

...and admitting, at last, that he loved Hob, and loves Hob still, even now, when it is far too late for love to change any of it.

He would turn back time if he could, beg his father on his knees for the chance to undo this - but he does not have power enough to even ask, and knows he will be denied either way. He has lost Hob; has lost him to anger and jilted feelings, to secrets and unspoken words. To the Corinthian's dagger, or the tooth of time.

He has lost Hob, and his heart with him.

Gilbert and Matthew bring him home, eventually. His siblings comfort him silently, aching in empathy of his grief.

A century has passed, and soon another will start, and pass, and be gone, over and over and over. Life is rich, and goes on forevermore... only without one never-truly-immortal in it.

And Dream will forever remember Hob Gadling, will think of him at every judgement he passes over a mortal life, at every burst of fury in his chest. Will think of kindness, of forgiveness, of friendship.

And, forever and always, of love.

#WyAnswers #WyWrites #dreamling #anastasia dreamling au #but this is NOT CANON #i just really felt like writing tragedy and angst i guess #please imagine dream waking up after this and it's just a bad nightmare that's already fading from his memory #or hob managed to defeat the corinthian and death ended up giving him immortality anyway #he just didn't manage to tell gilbert #and forgot the right date #so he bursts into the new inn later like wAIT I'M NOT DEAD THE LETTER IS A LIE #and dream eventually ends up crying into his shoulder #and ordering hob to never frighten him like that again #there fixed it in the tags #anyway thank you for the ask anon! #it clearly unlocked something in me #tw major character death #so unlike me to write mcd but here we are

[sea-of-dust]

WHHHAAAAAAAAA

Lyney,Venti,Hu Tao x Gn! Reader

summary: imagine getting spooked on Halloween and then they get spooked by a nightmare.

Notes: lyney...LYNEYYYYYY, I got my ass kicked by @nian-7 for an event. Don't question it please it's a horrible story. Modern au

Hehe~ FYM HEHE. The amount of TIMES this man has scared the hell out of u during October. Magic tricks, flying shopping lists you name it he's scared you with it.

He adores you don't get him wrong, but it's fun seeing your scared expression, watching you cover your face and quiver its cute! But he does wonder if you do get infuriated

You can tell when he thinks this, only three or two scares on days he doubts, 5 or 4 when he's feeling cheeky, and one because he's either planning a bigger scare that may cause you to verbally scream, or if he just wanted to give you a break.

You can't really get back at him for his antics he just smiles. "My such a small spider for someone as delicate as you to hold" he takes it and kisses your cheek. You tried every scare you knew on him only for him to just turn it into a flirtatious move.

And so your final scare...one you didn't even think would scare him. You got out of bed to get some water stumbling out while he twists and turns in bed searching for you with his eyes closed, when he tries to find you and fails his eyes shoot open. You lean down to get some water hearing heavy steps toward you, stoppping suddenly you notice his distressed face when as soon as he lays his eyes on you he nearly tackles you, not saying a word yet trying to hold back his sniffles. "You alright?" You hug him softly but he hugs you tighter.

Trying not to show you his face he burries it into your chest. "Lyney?" You wrap your arms around his waist bringing him closer, hearing him take a few small breaths before looking up at you as if that never happened. "Ah my darling y/n! I guarantee nothing is-" "bull" you point at his cheek "your make-ups a bit smudged" rubbing it a bit watching it smear "must have been a nightmare, lemme help you fix it"

You help him wipe off his make up watching him avoid eye contact a few times. "What was it about?" sighing you scoot closer cupping his cheeks, he doesn't answer looking down a few times. "And why do you wear make-up while you- that isn't important whatever it was im sure youll feel better after you sleep" as soon as you finish the small tear drop and put down the brush he mearly tackles you. "Thank you..."

He's gonna make you wanna rethink your life decisions. "Hey y/n wanna know what month it is" "God please just get him away from me" "hehe"

He likes smaller scares only small kisses or random taps sometimes a whisper behind your ear.

The worst he will use the wind to blow at your ear, and then you turn around and see he's not there only to pop up upfront of you.

Best part for him? He always gets to show affection while bullying you. His two favorite things ever

His favorite activity during this time is dragging you to Haunted houses. "AHHHHHH Y/N ITS SO SCARY LETS LEAVE!!" "We already paid" "BUT THE GHOST IS SO REAL LOOKING AAAA" "you can litterally see the paint chipping" "PROTECT MEEEEEE" you have to give him piggy back rides out still not believing he's scared of a little wooden cut out, atleast he got cuddled by you at home saying something along the lines of "I'll cover your eyes next time don't worry".

Fun fact he "totally" wasn't he had diluc vogue for him horribly. "He just wanted to have an excuse to hug you" "with the way he yelps? That guy's got a problem" "yea..." flawless convincing

He wakes up in the middle of the night because he had a bad dream. Definitely hugs the life outta you. Sometimes they aren't even that scary but he still hugs you he just looks for any excuse for a cuddle

If you ever scared him you might be able to get him to cry. Of course you don't push him to that point unless he deserves it for thinking hiding a realistic spider sticker in the bathroom is funny but that's another story there's always a simple "scary figure in the dark!" Tatic. He's always fallen for it and will get behind you seeing it

The worst scare however will always be...DIONA?? he sees her in his nightmares. Just thinking of sneezing so uncontrollably infront of you, he knows you knew about his allergy but he's just scared of embrassing himself just because of a cat bartender. He already sees her flexing her ability to bring him to his knees trying to show why you shouldn't be like him

Only time he screams when waking up and the only time he dosent cuddle you after a nightmare. He practically shakes you awake about it. "I know there's a bit of cat hair on me" "really?" "No I just wanted you to get so scared you fainted please go to bed" you grab his arm pulling him down "it'll be fine I'll be sure to keep cats away" toying with him a bit pulling him closer. "Please let's just sleep" he hugs you back suddenly softly falling asleep after

COME HERE!!! she's using that ghost to torture you into staying by her side even more during this time of jumpscarin people.

This is like free ads "what if we use this time to promote the coffins as decor?" "Wouldn't that result in backlash?" "Not if they're of lower quality" she's definitely putting them on sale

She loves this time of year so much she is more into making you shop with her and then scaring you.

Not only with her ghost but also with locations she walks with you to. "It's once said people have come here only to not make it out the other side!" "They're right there tho" you point at the line exiting next to you. "Shush lemme continue my legend"

She also likes you scaring her from behind but also just appearing from normal. "BOO!" "Oldest trick in the- WOUAGH" the ghost busting through her face suddenly as she gives the thing a high five. "Never do that again" "Doin it again!" "No!"

She will resort to using realistic looking monsters and bones. "Watch we'll scare away these kids!" "That's not the point" she shushes you quickly "who knows maybe they'll be too busy running away to even get any candy" "just don't take all the candy for yourself" "I won't after all you'll always be at the bottom of the bucket" you sigh harshly kissing her cheek "I hate your jokes so much"

You don't really try to scare her back knowing you can't top her in this department. So you just took em....even the horrendous petnames.

"Hey pookie" your eyes widen at that nickname. "No." "You know well enough it's dangerous to go alone~" "honey please stop trying to make me join your weird ghost hunting thing" "noooo come on its 50 percent off" "there wasn't a price anyway" you went into the mountains staying straight faced even when some of the scares got you, thank God for your ability to appear as if you don't care.

She goes to sleep at night happy she got to bully you, until that nightmare hit her like a truck, her eyes shoot open as she slowly scoots over to you wrapping her arms around you. "You wouldn't right?" She blows near your ear. "You wouldn't..." she lays as close to you as physically possible

She'd fall asleep soon after and then wake up with a "WOAAOAOAAOAOA" "huh?" "YOU" she covers her face inching away. "I what?" You could feel your eye bags get darker so you turn around and try to go back to sleep, unfortunately she gets all up in your face "you didn't really say you wouldnt love me if i didnt exist" "WHAT?!?" You wake up fully at her statement turning quickly toward her. "YOU DID IN MY DREAM!" "WELL DREAM ME CAN FLY OFF SOMEWHERE AND NEVER COME BACK!!" You hug her tightly "I would love you if you didn't exist, you mean alot to me even if you're horrid this time of year" placing a small kiss on her cheek you go back to sleep rather quickly. Doesn't stop her from clinging onto you like a stuffed toy. She'll be enjoying playing with your hair for the next few minutes before she falls asleep aswell

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin fluff #gender neutral reader #genshin lyney #lyney #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n #genshin venti #venti x reader #hu tao #hu tao x reader #hu tao genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #x reader #gn reader #fluff #nian-mutuals #nian-event #nian kidnapped my plushies send help

[saintshigaraki]

holding my hands out and asking how shiu’s sudden appearance at the cabin affects toji’s behaviors around/toward reader. and also…..when was the first time that toji and reader got intimate (if they have)?

yandere tw, kidnapping implied tw, and below the cut noncon tw, period head, afab!reader

i don't actually think toji acts all that differently toward the reader once shiu shows up. i think he mostly acts differently towards shiu himself.

shiu and toji had been close for a while before the reader crash lands in the picture. shiu would often show up at tojis home unannounced and vice versa. but now that the reader is a part of tojis life (whether they want to be or not) its different. toji would be unhappy if anyone that wasn't him or the reader was in their home but the fact that shiu is a werewolf specifically really really sets toji on edge.

he's violent with shiu, doesn't let him within six feet of you. which you are probably grateful for because by this point, you know there's something off about toji, something wrong with him. and you know whatever's wrong with him, is wrong with the man--shiu-- too. and it frightens you. it frightens you beyond belief. it frightens you so much so that you turn to the only source of comfort and safety you have in that godforsaken isolated cabin. you turn to toji, for the first time since you've woken up, injured and so very afraid, in a bed you'd never seen before, you turn to toji for comfort. and toji is pleased by it no doubt, so very pleased.

after that, he decides having shiu around isn't all that bad, not if it makes it so you barely argue when he manhandles you into his lap. not if it makes it so you hardly make a sound when he tugs you on his chest at night, not if it makes it so you only scratch at him a little, when his giant hands make their way up between your thighs.

in my head they have been intimate by the time shiu makes an appearance at the cabin. i imagine it happens a few weeks into their stay with toji. when they're still weakened by their injury. i also imagine it happens while the reader is on their period.

he can smell it, before you even say a word to him about it, he can smell it. and it awakens some of his more...base tendencies. he's kept a pretty good lid on his desires, keeping himself in check. even though you smell delectable, even though you are so so vulnerable, so dependant on him, for food, for care, even for bathing. but its the smell of blood between your legs that breaks the fragile hold he's had on himself.

you're on his bed when he approaches you, wearing nothing but his shirt (he'd given you nothing else to wear that morning), so it's easy enough to split your thighs open, to nose his way in. even with the fuss you kick up about it, even with your begging, your tears, your sharp sharp claws. he's immovable. a giant brick wall of a man.

he shushes you, coos at you, rubs your thighs as gently as a man like him can. tells you to calm down, that he's not gonna hurt you, that you'll feel so much better after he's done with you.

he makes the most inhuman sound once he finally latches his mouth on you, a sound that sends a violent shiver up your spine and causes all your hair to stand up on end. it draws a sob from your throat. you're scared, you're so so scared.

by the time he's done with you, you hardly have the energy to twitch a finger. he cleans you up well. tucks you back in, rubs a thumb over your cheek and tells you he'll wake you up for dinner, though you're already nodding off at that point.

maybe, you tell yourself, this is all just a dream. a terrible terrible nightmare. maybe you'll wake up in your own bed, in your own home, all alone. it's a comforting thought, though hard to believe when you can still feel his hands on you, still smell him all over you. its hard to believe, even in your dreams, that you'll ever escape his clutches.

#yandere toji #yandere jjk #yandere toji x reader #yandere tw #noncon tw #yandere x reader

[eldritch-spouse]

I have pretty bad nightmares so now I'm imagining one night I'm too paranoid to be alone after a dream so I ask my lovely roommate breg to stay with me for the rest of the night

breg being breg accepts what great enthusiasm, tail wagging at a million miles per hour

poor ole breg however cannot see into the future and didn't know i would fall asleep & have a wet dream right in front of him

it wouldn't hurt to help relieve me right? and he's definitely not going to get another chance like this again might as well

(I was going to talk about something else but the horny took over sorry)

["My lovely roommate Breg"... I am cackling. 💀 Also, fem reader for this one.]

TW: Non-consensual sleep sex.

Of course Breg accepted to sleep next to you!

His poor mate having nightmares all by themselves, how could Breg ever refuse to be there for you?

He will insist on snuggling you to sleep, and if you question the breeder about it, he'll start spouting lies about how it'll make you feel safer to have contact, how he can just wake you up gently if you start having nightmares again. Come on, you don't have to be embarrassed about it, Breg knows what it's like! No one enjoys waking up in a fit of crying or screaming, he'll be there to make sure it doesn't get that far, he'll be there to keep the bad dreams away.

You can trust him.

Breg is already monumentally excited to share a bed with you, without having to be extremely silent and still in order to not be noticed- Now imagine his delight to have you willingly fall asleep in the breeder's arms, snuggling into him, with your adorable little mane, and your cute nose, making those sweet incoherent murmurs- Oh! Your breathing is picking up, what's that odd look on your pretty face? Breg grabs your chin softly, getting to hear the small, frantic little whimpers you're making.

Ah, you poor poor human. He wonders what's making you have these nightly terrors. You don't deserve any of them, you're such a sweet, exquisite person, who's stressing you out to make you lose good sleep like this? Who is giving you a hard time? Who's scaring you? Because Breg will have none of it! His mate deserves their wonderful full night's rest and whoever dares interfere will pay. Just look at the state of you, flushed like a cherry, sweating, eyebrows creased, curling in on yourself, legs shaking, mouth parted in an "o" of-

Wait a minute- What's that scent-

Oh.

OH.

Well then. Some very pleasant nightmare this must be, if the rather pungent smell of your """fear""" has anything to say about it.

Now, the correct thing to do here would be to wake you up, pray you don't remember anything about your dream and that you still feel comfortable enough to have Breg sleep next to you. Right. Oooorrrrr- Breg could just... Enjoy the show. You do look adorable like this, needy and whining softly, legs clenching together. Such a view. The breeder very softly nudges your blanket off, head leaning to get a better view.

What is it that you're deaming of? What's erotic enough to put you in this state? Who's doing this to you? Is it him? Fuck please, Breg hopes you're dreaming of him, he wishes he was in your dreams stuffing his fat tongue so far up your little cunt that you'd be singing his name. Just say it's him that makes you twist and turn at night, that he's the one keeping you stuffed and happy- You dream of him, right? Just like Breg pants about you in his own. He can't count the nights he's woken up stiff and drooling, haunted by flashes of you bouncing on him, on your knees, bent in two for him- This is just like it!

You really must dream of him. And Breg doesn't want you to suffer in silence like he does, you clearly need help.

Humming quietly, the breeder scoots ever so close to your lightly squirming form, alert and cautious, though easily distracted by the smell of your hair up close. That nice fruity shampoo you use. Though, maybe in the future he'll recommend you stop using products with such intense fragrances, because he would much rather smell you- Your natural scent. It's irreplaceable, the most appealing of them all, much better than this odd citrus-y mask.

You start panting.

Ah yes, where was he?

Breg can't help himself, he would rather take things slow and touch every part of your delicate frame before moving to the crux of your situation, but he's already gotten ahead of himself with his prior fantasies, both cocks squeezing out his slit impatiently and wits burned to a crisp. Besides, if the monster wastes too much time lollygagging, you might actually wake up at some point. So the breeder bites his lip, sucking in an excited breath while he lets his hand drift to the front of your shorts. Down. Down further, shifting position to cup your precious pussy, applying the slightest pressure- Oh fuck yes, you're already wet, bucking onto his soft rubbing motions, giving the absolute pervert the best show of his life. You're so pent up! Hell, you're trying to close your legs around him! Could you cum like this? On his hand? In your shorts? Adorable!

Oh but that would be ruining things too soon. No can do. Not at all.

Breg looks down at his own deplorable state and groans. He's tired of this. He's tired of only ever getting to palm at you, of only ever getting the chance to stuff his face in your panties or jerk off over you while you sleep. He needs more. He can't take it, his patience has limits and he behaves so well when you're awake! Breg needs a reward, a little treat for trying so hard not to lose himself.

He's off the bed in a blink. Not to leave, mind you. He's not that considerate, much as Breg loves to think he's the exemplary mate. No, he's grinning like a greedy madman while his claws flirt with the hem of your loose shorts. It takes the patience of a saint, a trial of self-control, but the breeder is more than determined enough to painfully glide the cloth down, giving himself a show unintentionally. They're tossed aside carelessly. Oh, you're using those nice blue panties he likes! The one with stripes. So very cute. He's played with those before. They're taken off too, ever so slowly, Breg forcing himself to stop whenever you shift too much or make a disgruntled noise. Yes yes, sweet needy thing, he's here- Wait just a teensy second, will you?

The moment your lower half is bare, Breg can already feel strands of his own drool caking his chin, parting smooth legs ever so carefully to see your core flushed and wet for him. Maybe he should take a picture... No, why waste time? It's too risky, he's doing this now. Breg takes one last look at your uncomfortable, flustered expression and dips to take a greedy lick from bottom to clit- Moaning low and hard. God fuck, it's like a cocaine rush.

If Breg started asking to eat you out, just eat you out, would you let him? He wants his tongue glued to your cunt forever. The breeder's hands work clumsily over both cocks as he drowns in fantasies of you pulling him to his knees to service you while you're performing menial tasks.

Every single time your hips buck against his slow licks, Breg rewards the effort by whispering praise against your flesh and circling your button harder, hoping to hear more of those melodic, pleading cries. You're so expressive, even in your sleep. Would you beg him if you were awake? Would you pull his face down to grind your slick pussy all over it? Mark him, mark your mate, make him yours-

Oh ffffuck, moan again moan again!

Breg slurps his roving muscle back up so fast he nearly whacks himself in the head with it. This is not enough anymore. He wants... He wants so badly to be inside of you. That's the treat, that's his treat. Just a tiny bit, just for a second, only one minute of bliss inside your perfect pulsing walls! You'll understand, won't you? Of course you will, he's been so good, so well-behaved...

The pale monster pants shakily while he shifts pose, crawling atop you on the bed, sliding between your perfect doughy legs and letting his heavy cocks sit on your mound. Tiny thing. You're such a tiny creature. But you'll take him. Oh, you certainly will. He knows you can. Probably.

Time to find out.

Breg presses the very tip of his member to your saliva-slicked hole, whimpering in the back of his throat at the resistance he meets. You're gonna be so tight, you're gonna hug him so good, you're so hot and so perfect and-

Hhhngh holy shit-!

The breeder sees stars when his cock finally breaches your opening, and even if only a minute part of him is in, you're already gripping him like a vise with your heavenly hole. You must really be an angel! Breg makes an incredulous, panting laugh, rocking back and forth pitifully, wanting so much more, observing the way your skin stretches to welcome him further.

He could cum like this, barely sheathed inside his mate, second cock twitching and leaking, relieving his needy partner while they sleep. Breg grabs your legs in a stupor of arousal, ready to shove more of his fat member inside you when-

" ... Hu- B-BREG?! " Oh God. " WHAT THE FUCK? "

Every muscle in his body freezes. He let his arousal take over.

He's in such deep shit.

" H-Hi, honey...? "

#Bregory #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #tw noncon #terato #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster #minors dni

[skyward-floored]

Ohhhh hoo hoo so @/writing_prompt_s posted this prompt: “You were the only child that didn't have powers in a family of metahumans. Today you got kidnapped by a supervillain… and none of your family came to the rescue.”

Imagining Four… pre powers… having nightmares…

Bc of course his family would never, but intrusive thoughts and a scary young mind…..

My muse grabbed me and I wrote something for this in a few hours and it’s not the exact same as the prompt but it’s pretty darn close so! enjoy.

Tw nightmare, also I teared up writing this so be warned it hits kinda hard but it’s hurt/comfort so dw. Sorry Four.

——————————————————————————————————

Four didn’t know what was chasing after him, but he was too terrified to look.

Something grabbed at his back and Four frantically shook it off, wishing not for the first time that he had longer legs. He bolted down the street, no traffic around to stop him, or even people to ask for help, and finally recognized his house in the distance.

Four charged, relief sweeping over him at the sight of his family out in the yard.

They’ll help me, they’ll stop it, they’ll save me—

Something shot out and grabbed him right as he reached the mailbox, and Four cried out, falling to the ground as his family looked over at him in surprise.

“Help!” Four cried, but his siblings merely glanced at each other, then went back to what they were doing. “Wh— no wait! Wait help!”

His brothers began to walk away towards the house, not appearing to care a bit that their younger brother was in trouble. Four watched in disbelief as they strode away, hurt striking him even harder then the pain from falling on the ground.

“T-Twi?” Four whimpered.

Twilight didn’t even give him a backward glance as they all filed in, Wind closing the door behind them.

More hands grabbed at Four, beginning to pull him backwards, and he looked frantically around for help, his gaze landing on his mother standing nearby.

“Mama! Don’t let them take me!” Four cried out, but she merely shook her head, Time walking up to stand beside her.

“Sorry Link. You’re just... not useful,” Malon sighed, giving him a disappointed look.

“If only you were born with powers,” his father said with a shake of his head. “Maybe you’d be worth saving.”

The arms tugged Four further away from his family and he clawed against them, his eyes stinging as panic and horror shook through him.

“Wait!” he shrieked, but Malon merely turned away, Time following after her. “Please don’t— I can be useful! I promise I can, I— don’t let them take me!”

Time glanced back at him as Malon paused, his bad eye glowing slightly as they watched Four struggle.

“No you can’t,” he said simply, voice emotionless. “You’re not special, Link. And this family has no need for useless children.”

And he and Malon turned to head inside.

“No, no wait!” Four screamed, more arms clawing at him, pulling him back into the darkness. “Daddy, Mama please, please—”

A hand tried to cover his mouth, but Four thrashed away from it, and he managed to let out one last scream for his parents before he was pulled into the darkness.

“I’m not useless!”

“Four, Four wake up!”

Four’s eyes shot open, and he didn’t even realize he was screaming until he it suddenly cut off into a sob, his face already damp with tears.

Something touched his arm, and Four stiffened, blinking the tears out of his eyes just enough to see the blurry figure of his father next to his bed, eyes wide with concern.

Another sob burst out of him, and Four closed his eyes, shaking with the want to throw himself into his father’s arms, but unable to forget how he’d looked at him in his dream.

This family has no need for useless children.

Four heaved in a whimpering breath, and before he could figure out what to do next, his father had moved forward and pulled him into his arms, holding him tight.

“Link, shh, it’s okay,” Time whispered, Four shaking with remaining terror from his dream. “You were having a nightmare, it’s all right.”

Four sobbed, his father running a hand over his head, and didn’t speak for several moments.

“I-it, it felt real,” he finally hiccuped, barely able to speak through the lump in his throat and terror constricting his chest, “you, you a-and M-Mama said I’m—”

His voice broke, and Time shushed him again, still trying to calm him down.

“You s-said ‘cause I don’t have p-powers, I’m useless,” Four sobbed, and he heard Time inhale.

“Oh Four, no, you’re not useless,” he breathed, tucking him securely under his chin. “Me and your mother would never say that.”

“But I am,” Four cried, burying his face in his father’s shirt. “I can’t do a-anything, I can’t run like Wild, o-or turn into things like L-Legend or Twi, or e-even—”

“Link Smith Forester, you are not useless,” Time said firmly, holding him tight. “Having or not having powers doesn’t have any bearing on that. You’re not useless now, and you never will be. Powers or not.”

Four felt more tears drip down his face.

“You d-didn’t try to save me,” Four whimpered, his words interspersed with sniffling. “In th-the dream, you didn’t bother.”

“We’ll always bother, Four,” his father whispered back. “If you’re ever in trouble we’ll come save you, I promise. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Sure?” Four whispered.

“I’m sure. I promise.”

Time slightly eased his grip, leaning back to grab something, and Four wiped his eyes, feeling a little better, but still miserable. His dream still lurked at the forefront of his mind, the faces of his family uncaring and indifferent, the words they spoke holding nothing but disapointment and annoyance at having to deal with him. Time leaned forward again as Four let out another sniffle, and handed him the stuffed bird he usually slept with, tucking him back into his arms.

Four squeezed it tight to his chest, and Time began to lightly rock him, humming something under his breath that Four could barely make out.

“Don’t leave,” Four whispered when Time shifted how he was sitting, and his father nodded, wrapping him more securely in his blankets.

“I’m staying right here,” he whispered back, and went back to humming the soft melody.

Four relaxed a bit, still sniffling and shaking, but much less terrified, his dream finally fading to the background of his mind. Time’s hand ran through his hair, the soft rumbling of the melody in his chest comforting under Four’s head, and he closed his eyes.

The last thing he remembered before drifting off was his father holding him tight.

#this is actually more whumpy then the next febuwhump fic I have HEH #answers from the floor #anon #incredibles au #linked universe #linkeduniverse #fic #lu four #lu time #incredibles au fic #writing from the floor #Time doesn't say i love you out loud very often but he shows it in other ways #like humming a certain soothing song #you all know the one #anyway can you tell i wrote this in like three hours hahahahaha my head hurts *wanders off to get medicine*

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Hi I really love your save everyone au and it has me hyper fixated on it for a week now! My personal question is does Angel ever have nightmares about the factory and their ptsd so badly that they actually wake up and start crying? How would the toys react? Also, how would the toys react if they found out Angel had any self harming coping mechanisms? (Sorry if that is too sensitive, I actually have self harmed myself when I felt like my existence was just making everyone around me miserable. And a I was going through a lot of stress at the time. I am actually 1 month clean now which I am super proud of. I hope you have a wonderful day and I appreciate you reading and potentially responding to my ask :DDDDDD

You got hyperfixated?! Oh my God 🥺💝😭!!!! I'm so glad you have been enjoying it, please don't be afrad to send me more asks and interact with my posts! I saw your comment on the AO3 fanfic and it made my day!

BEFORE WE START THIS, I just want to let you know that I'm so proud of you for going one entire month clean!!!!! YOU CAN DO THIS!!!! The answer will be under the cut just for the safety of other people reading this, so let's go!

In the past, when my own trauma was still super fresh and I was alone, I unfortunately also had problems relating to self-harm and bad coping mechanisms. It was bad!!!! I have been clean for some time as well, thankfully, but I have been projecting some of that trauma juice(tm) over the toys, Prototype and Angel. And Angel, oh, dear...

I imagine they get some Awful nightmares. They had some during the past decade, but Angel thought of them more as stress dreams than "proper" nightmares related to their PTSD from their coworkers going missing. After the rescue, however, they do get actual nightmares related to their new trauma. They involve the toys being captured and/or taken away from Angel, Angel failing to save them, and the toys they couldn't save staring at them and asking them why didn't they come to the factory during those 10 long, long years. I think it's a matter of time until Angel can't prevent themself from waking up when another toy is already awake and breaking down in tears. Angel would try putting on a brave face, smiling softly as they always do and trying to help the toy to go back to sleep, but it doesn't work.

I think that the first one to see Angel like this is Dogday. Angel wakes up trying to reach to something - or rather, someone -, thinking for a moment their kids were taken away from them. Dogday asks them what's up, Angel tries to brush it off, but they're already crying at this point before Dogday gives them a hug.

When Angel eventually wakes up (Dogday is still good at luring others to sleep, despite all the horrors), they apologize to Dogday, but the big pup is already on high alert for what Angel has next. He tells Poppy, Mommy Long Legs, Delight and Catnap about it so everyone can make a plan on how to comfort Angel. They inevitably wake up in tears again some days later, but this time Dogday isn't the only one awake. I think that the older toys all hug Angel, because they know what it's like to be like this and they want to give Angel some of the kindness they gave to them. Angel ends up breaking down in tears before thanking the group.

During the decade post-HoJ, Angel did develop some self-harm habits. They have some scars they gave themself, and one really nasty one on their belly area from the time they got themself drunk and fell down on some glass. After that, Angel's family begged them to go to therapy. They still drink and still like drinking, but they never got to the point they were before. They also quit self-harm and have been doing clean for around 6 years before returning to the factory.

After the rescue, I think Angel's bad habits creep out again with drinking, some smoking and them overworking themself to take care of the toys. This time they're able to do a work-around their smoking and drinking problems before they could get as bad as before, but it's the toys and the Prototype who have to force Angel to sit down before scolding them with phrases like "how are you supposed to be the parent if you don't rest??? Uh???? UHHH????"

Angel's skin also gets really bad whenever they're stressed - the problem started from their first big trauma -, and post-rescue it sometimes comes back. Angel is more annoyed than worried at this point in time, thankfully.

I think Prototype is the first to take notice of Angel's scars. It's when Angel goes to "visit" him to drink a tiny bit and talk about the kids. It's summer, and Angel takes off their shirt and is only with a pair of baggy shorts + a binder Crafty made for them. The conversation is going as normal as it could be, when all of a sudden Proto just GRABS Angel's arm and asks them about the scars. Angel sighs. "These are old", Prototype takes notice. "Far too old and clean".

"You know why, don't you?", Angel asks. "I did those myself".

"Why?"

There's a pause. Angel sighs. "Because that's everything that helped me deal with the pain of losing all of my coworkers", they confess, not wanting to sound accusatory, not wanting to feel like a coward for doing that instead of running back to the factory (but again, Angel was never a coward. It's the trauma reshaping their own view of themself). "I got better. I don't do this anymore, the kids aren't at risk of my own lack of care for myself".

Prototype is silent for a moment. "I did no ask because of the children. I asked because of you".

Then, he points at his own body, both at the flesh and the wires and metal that made him himself. And although the hut's lights aren't the strongest, Angel can see some marks.

"I was often careless on purpose", Proto confesses. "Focusing on the physical pain helped more than remembering the children I doomed due to my own egoism. Protecting the few I could was all that mattered. I did not care about this body. Sometimes, I still don't".

Angel nods. They both understand what it is like. The human then drinks from their bottle of water, staring at nothing.

"It did get better for me", they tell the Prototype. "Been clean for seven years at this point. One day your scars will be old, too".

Prototype, too, drinks water. "You give me no option but to believe in your words, Angel".

"Good", they nod. "Your only way is up. Never down".

"Or, at least, never as down as we both were in the past".

That's when the human smiles. "That, too".

I can imagine one day during the summer where the family is playing with water guns and throwing water balloons at each other when a toy (maybe Bobby, Poppy, Catnap or even Bunzo) points at one of Angel's scars, asking them if they got that at the factory, and Angel takes one look at the almost-gone cut before replying that it wasn't because of the family's rescue, but something they did to themself post losing their coworkers. "I wasn't feeling well", they explain. "And doing that helped me deal with the pain, even though it hurt me. But I got better. I don't hurt myself anymore".

"Because you have us?", Bunzo asks, innocently.

"Not just that, bunny", they reply, petting him on the head. "I asked people for help and went to a nice doctor, so they could help me. And they did. It's been seven years since I last hurt myself".

"Oh...", and then Delight, covered in water, takes notice of the scar and explanation. She politely touches Angel's arms, before petting them.

"It healed very well", she notes.

"I know, right? I never told it would get this good, but it did. And now I guess it'll be your turn as well", and Angel then grabs a water gun and SPLASHED Delight, causing her to laugh and attack them back.

Later on, when Angel is helping Kissy try up, they feel Catnap headbonking their back. The feline licks Angel's arm before sitting next to them, just like how Dogday himself playfully did that just some hours before, in order to "kiss it better". Angel thanks Catnap, of course, before petting him.

They're glad for having them.

#the sillies got the hurties #cw self harm #tw self harm #poppy playtime #save everyone au #poppy worldwide #ask tag #catnap #dogday #experiment 1006 #poppy playtime prototype #the angel #cried writing this ngl

[valiantstarlights]

Your showXcomic swap AU is so deliciously unhinged and sweetly dark

Now I have the saddest imagining that Comic Dream lost his Hob because he chose Death a few years after 1989, unable to live in a world where his Stranger "forgot" about him. The Stranger he loved for close to 600 years.

But I do hope that Comic Dream finds a Hob to love and cuddle and stockholm syndrome into loving him.

Thank you! 🥰 I worked hard on the sweetly dark part, in the hopes that it would make the fic less unhinged. 😊 *glances at Dream* I think I failed, but that's okay! 😂

(putting everything else under the cut because fic spoilers 👀 CW: comic spoilers, dark!Dream, depression, dubious consent)

In this AU's multiverse, what you're imagining is definitely possible. 😔 There are Hobs who chose to take Death's hand after Dream didn't show up in 1989, Hobs who did it during one of the World Wars out of overwhelming grief, heartbroken Hobs in 1889, etc.

In The Truth Can't Hurt You, It's Just Like the Dark, I imagined that Dream lost his Hob in 1689, and his realm has been deteriorating ever since. And the state of the Dreaming is so bad that, after Dream escapes from his fishbowl, there is absolutely nothing left in the Dreaming except for ruins.

"But where are all the dreams and nightmares who have escaped to the Waking World?" you may ask.

As this is a dark AU, I'm gonna say that Dream ate them. 👀

He escapes and devours the first dreams and nightmares he finds in the Waking World without conscious thought. Just full on starving man at a feast mode. Because while he is Endless, he has also been starving for centuries, and the fishbowl made him feral enough to not care about anything except getting sustenance.

His arcanas give him more of a fight, though they do so with reluctance. Dream looks so gaunt, and they remember being lovingly crafted by him once upon a time. Surely they could help him, just a little, without losing themselves in the process?

But no. This Dream is too empty, too hungry, and has lost too much to hear their cries of mercy, and their pleas of no more, my lord, please, I still want to live!

I think Dream intentionally finds Corinthian last, and I think he relished each and every bite of him.

Does Desire go through with their dream vortex plan, knowing that their brother is already a shell of his former, haughty self? Probably not.

And anyway, I don't think Dream would talk to his siblings after 1689 at all. But especially not to Death. Even during their family dinners, and even with Destruction trying to get him to talk, Delirium trying to cheer him up, and Death apologizing endlessly because it was Hob's choice--

He doesn't say anything, doesn't eat anything, and just stares at the tablecloth until it's time to leave.

Desire senses no desire from him. Despair feels all his despair, but even that is too much for her. She chokes when she tries to bait him, while Desire feels like their lungs are collapsing because it's hard to breathe around him. It only takes one or two family dinners for the twins to ignore him completely. They both sit as far away as they can from him. They do not want to even look at him. (They still plot to get him captured though, but in this universe, it's because they hope that he becomes so weak that he would be forced to end his being Morpheus and become a new Dream of the Endless.)

On the bright(?) side, yes, this Dream will absolutely find a show!Hob who would love him and all his red flags. 👀 I think the Hob he'll find is very compassionate, and would see the state of him and his realm, and immediately be like, 'This Dream needs me, unlike my Dream whose funeral I just went to. 🥺 I cannot possibly abandon him.'

This Dream needs an entire realm's worth of new dreams and nightmares? Hob can help with that! Just tell him how, and he'll get to work. 😊

Rejuvenated by Hob's presence, Dream recovers his ability to create new dreams and nightmares from dreamsand. But Hob looks so eager to help, and Dream can't possibly let him down and say he can make new dreams and nightmares on his own.

So he tells Hob that they absolutely have to fuck, and Hob has to get pregnant and give birth to all of Dream's children. Because that's how dreams and nightmares are made.

Hob is intimidated because he has never even thought about being pregnant before. But if it's with Dream... 🥺👉👈

And a Dream who has been so kind to him ever since he arrived, never leaving his side and telling him that he loves no one else but him? A Dream who literally ripped the fabric of reality apart for him?

"Of course I'll help," Hob says shyly. "It might be a frightening experience, but as long as you're with me, I'm not going to be afraid. 🥰"

(Cue Dream immediately teleporting them both to the comfiest spot in the currently work-in-progress Dreaming and fucking Hob until his seed takes, because why does Hob know exactly how to make Dream insane about him? 🔥 Is that a skill that all show!Hobs have or something?)

And then of course Hob discovers that he absolutely loves being pregnant, because Dream dotes on him even more. So even when Dream confesses that he lied about the process of making dreams and nightmares, Hob just laughs and kisses him, and tells him to abandon his old way of creating on the beach, because Hob definitely prefers this method.

Needless to say, Dream is absolutely head-over-heels in love with his new Hob. He makes his castle--and basically the entire Dreaming, to Hob's liking. Hob would like to have more bright courtyards filled with flowering trees and picnic spots? Done. Hob would like for all their children to be able to have their own homes (so he and Dream can fuck wherever they want in the castle without getting interrupted)? A stellar idea. Dream helps Lucienne 2.0 build her house that's full of books, Gilbert 2.0 with his botanical gardens, and even Corinthian 2.0 with his sarlacc pit.

As a result, the new Dreaming is a cheerier and brighter place. The new dreams and nightmares love their parents very much, and they do not find it strange that both Dream and Hob always smell like sex, with their moddy always happily pregnant, and their father always smug and possessive.

Dream learns to delegate most of his tasks to his many children, so he and Hob could work on making more dreams and nightmares to repopulate the entire Dreaming. It's Hob's idea that he delegates so they can fuck more, and Dream thinks that his lovely husband has all the best ideas and can do no wrong.

And in this universe, all the new dreams and nightmares agree. Having Hob in the new Dreaming is a blessing. Absolutely the best thing that has ever happened ever. And the entire realm will go to war with anyone who would try to take him away from them.

#showXcomic swap AU #ask and you shall receive #dreamling #the sandman #my writing #(side-eyes myself) #girl this is a dark AU stop making them happy

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 - 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐼𝒱: 𝒟𝒾𝓈𝒶𝓇𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 ⚜

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ ✧.*★ Thank you again to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

TW: withdrawals, mention of drug use, nightmare, panic attacks, paranoia, guns, an argument that gets physical. Take care of yourselves, I'm taking the story a little darker from here on out!

Summary: The Marquis is hiding a secret that sends him spiraling into paranoia and threatens to drive a wedge between him and John.

Vincent was standing in the motel doorway, holding a gun, but the parking lot looked…wrong. Outside was the gas station where he’d been shot yesterday. At the center of it, under the buzzing floodlights, stood a dark figure. It was almost impossible to make out, but it was dressed in a black coat and holding a gun. “John!” He could not tell whether he was addressing the figure, or calling for help. Who was it? Its face was bowed towards the ground at first, but slowly, he saw its chin and its weapon arm begin to rise at the same time. Vincent tried to look away but could not. He tried to raise his own arm and couldn’t do that either. He was going to be shot, again, and he felt the pain echoing through time itself, from out of the future, already spreading through his lungs, his heart -

“Vince - Marquis. Wake up.”

Okay. Okay, it was all okay. He was in bed, probably fresh from thrashing around, based on the tangle of blankets clinging to his legs.

John leaned over him, saying, “It’s nine. Breakfast ends soon.” He was plainly trying to play it off like he didn’t notice, like that wasn’t why he was shaking Vincent awake. But he absolutely noticed. He wouldn’t have had that doe-eyed look on his face otherwise. Great. “I need to get us food, which means I need to leave you awake and armed.” John pressed a pistol into his hand and stood, looking away from him at some endlessly fascinating spot on the wall. “I’ll be back in less than ten minutes. Is that okay?”

He forced his voice steady. “Yes. Go.”

The door clicked shut and Vincent let out an exhale that rapidly gave way to gasping and didn’t stop until he felt dizzy. Bad dreams, massive anxiety. This horrible knot in his chest that had nothing to do with the bullet wound.

It was starting.

It had probably started last night honestly, given the way he’d lost his cool. How long had it been since they boarded the plane in Paris? More than 24 hours, that much was certain. That was when he took the last hit.

Vincent hobbled to the bathroom and splashed water over his face. Don’t panic, he told himself. I can get something. I can fix this.

How? How exactly would that be remotely possible, with no contacts in all of Pennsylvania? With no contacts accessible at all, other than John? And he was sure as hell not going to ask John to get him snow. For now, the best he could do was collect himself.

John was back in less than ten minutes, as promised – less than five, in fact. He carried plates piled with eggs, sausages, pancakes, and fruit. “Convinced the clerk that I’m on a high calorie diet,” said John, a hint of amusement coloring his voice. It was a relief to have food at least, even the dismal fare to be found at an American breakfast buffet. Vincent hadn’t eaten dinner and was so glad to see it that he barely even complained – only that the eggs had the texture of rubber and that the syrup packets were a disgrace to the name of confection. Really, he was very restrained.

After breakfast, Vincent settled into the armchair and took up the notepad again, doing his best to imagine that he was seated at the antique executive chair in his personal office, just doing some routine paperwork. Perhaps this day could be salvaged yet. All he had to do was maneuver his way out of this situation, which was his specialty. All he needed was a plan.

And for the pain to stop. That would be nice. And a hit. A hit. Please. He’d take anything to take the edge off at this point. The smallest amount. It was so hard to focus. Every car that pulled into the parking lot sent John running for the window and Vincent teetering on the edge of hyperventilation.

Hours passed and he came to the end of the notepad, without success. He sighed and glanced around at the pile of papers scattered around the bed and wastebasket, covered in High Table secrets. “Do you have a lighter?”

John handed it to him. “Don’t burn things in here. You’ll set off the fire alarm.”

“Then go make yourself useful and burn them outside for me.” He handed it right back.

“Okay…not this one though.” John pointed to the drawing of himself.

So he saw that. Irritating. “That attached to your own image, hmm? Who knew the Baba Yaga was so vain.”

“Who knew the Marquis had hobbies outside of murder and ladder-climbing.”

“Oh I enjoy life to the fullest.”

“I have no doubt.” John was staring at him with something uninterpretable in his eyes. “Anyway, it’s good. Would be a shame to burn it.”

Vincent puffed with pride. “A mere sketch.”

“Guess I can keep it then.” He tucked it into this breast pocket. “Where’d you learn?”

“Private lessons. My instructor traced her tutelage to Francois Boucher - an honorable history.”

“…I took private drawing lessons as well, but I was never much good.”

“Yes, I am familiar with The Director’s education program. That’s a formidable upbringing in its own right. But it lacks depth in all topics, in favor of breadth. It’s meant for the kind of rabble that comes out of the orphanages, jack-of-all-trade types. No wonder you didn’t get far. Mastery requires the aspiration to mastery.”

John shook his head. “I guess you’re right. I had none of those aspirations. Would have traded it for an ordinary school in a heartbeat.”

Vincent genuinely couldn’t understand that. “Why? What is the appeal of this ‘ordinary life’ that’s so precious to you?”

“…Peace?”

“How boring.”

“You can’t really tell me you’d choose this life again if you were given a chance, can you? The constant fear of death, the mistrust, the pressure from all sides? Just to be betrayed by the entire organization.”

“You know nothing, you’ve never so much as considered your own place in history. How could you possibly understand? When I bring them to heel, that will be a victory far beyond what I could have achieved with a humble seat at the Table. I will be above the Table, I will be the Elder by the time I’m done. On the mountaintop – that’s where peace can be found.” Vincent was snatching up the papers as he spoke, suddenly filled with need to burn something himself. He grabbed the lighter back out of John’s hand.

John came between him and the door. “Don’t go outside.”

“I don’t have time for a pissing contest.”

John moved graciously aside. “Your choice.”

As soon as he stepped out into the eerily silent parking lot, the Marquis regretted it. It was too open, and he pictured snipers everywhere. He glanced around nervously, too on edge to even enjoy the flames that consumed the products of his fruitless brain-wracking and left a black, ashen scar on the pavement. He scuffed at it with his shoe and came back inside still seething.

John hovered near him at first, but soon got himself snapped at. After that, he kept his distance, working out and playing with Dog on the other side of the room.

But it was even more distracting, somehow, to see John ignoring him. Walking on eggshells around him, while simultaneously proving that he could occupy himself throughout an enjoyable day without even looking in Vincent’s direction, as if he didn’t exist. Yes, that was exactly what he’d told him to do, but the fact that John was capable of doing it felt so insulting.

Just as the sun was declining into afternoon, Vincent looked up and he was texting someone. “Who can you possibly be talking to?”

He gave a quizzical look but answered anyway. “Winston. He’s lecturing me.”

Vincent scoffed. “He loves his lectures. He once told me - ”

But there was a crackle of tires over gravel outside, and both men froze at the same time.

John’s body went tense in a split second. He leapt across the room to peer out the side of the curtains. “There’s someone going into the office.”

He left his phone open on the bed. And, well, it wasn’t as if Vincent could just not look.

Winston: “What the hell are you doing, Jonathan? I’m worried. You of all people should be delighted to see the Marquis ruined. You have no idea how many meetings it took me to prevent the High Table from opening a bounty on you, equaling his. The Adjudicator is already in New York pursuing this case. I can’t imagine why you’re on his side anyway, it’s not like you.”

John: “I’m not on his side. I have no idea how he plans to escape this alive. Is it even possible?”

I’m not on his side. I’m not on his side. I’m not on his side. Vincent felt sick.

“Looks like it’s just a couple on vacation. They’re getting suitcases out of the trunk.” When John turned around, he was greeted by a gun barrel. “Marquis,” he said, very calmly. “What is this?”

“Apparently, you’re not on my side. Shouldn’t be so careless with your phone, Jonathan.” He emphasized Winston’s endearment mockingly.

John muttered something under his breath in Russian. “Think about this. Anyone could be standing next to Winston right now. He made a point of telling me The Adjudicator is in New York. I’m not about to admit that I’m with you and get a matching bounty. Then we’d both be stuck.”

Vincent hated how reasonable that sounded. He didn’t lower the gun.

John continued, “Notice the rest of my reply. A veiled request for advice about how to get you out of this.”

A long moment passed as Vincent weighed his options. “If you’re on my side, you will prove it to me.”

“How?”

He hadn’t thought that far ahead and had to pause again. But soon enough, it came to him. “Kill whoever just went into the office. Do it now, just because I ordered it.”

Flatly, “No.”

This would be the time to shoot him. Vincent’s hand was shaking.

John took a step towards him, completely unfazed. “You are not going to shoot me, because you need me. And I am not going to shoot a happy couple going about their day, because I am not the boogeyman, no matter what you or anyone else tries to turn me into. I understand that you don’t value life the same way I do. I don’t fault you for that. God knows what was done to you to make you this way. But I’m not engaging with it. Understood?”

He was right. It would be completely counterproductive to attack his own ally, but at this point, he didn’t care. Whatever might happen to him next could not be any more painful than being challenged like this. “Don’t flatter yourself that I need you. I don’t need an idiot masquerading as an idealist telling me what he will and will not engage with. You jump when I say jump. I don’t need you, Wick. I own you. And I can destroy you if I want to.” His other hand went to the gun, in a futile attempt to steady it.

He barely saw it coming. John’s arm swept down over both of his and disarmed him in a single motion, and a leg swept him chest-first onto the floor into a searing white field of unbroken pain. He felt John yank away the dagger that he always kept in his back pocket, and had thought was carefully concealed. It took him a second to realize that he was making inarticulate, winded keening noises into the grimy carpet.

“Yet again: consequences.” John stepped smoothly over him and switched off the light, plunging the room into darkness. He picked up the duffle bag as he went, with the rest of the weapons inside, and whistled for Dog to follow him. “I’m going out. While I’m gone, don’t turn on the lights. Don’t make any noise. I’ll get food, and more bandages. In the meantime, you would do well to consider that I haven’t killed you just now.” The door slammed behind him.

A feeling of complete and utter nakedness stole over him. He was unarmed. Alone.

For a while, he just cried.

At some point, he found the strength to roll over onto his back. He felt at the bandages. John hadn’t hurt him, not really – or at least, none of the stitches seemed to be torn. But the aching knot inside him wasn’t coming from the wound. The room was dark, an isolation chamber that heightened that ache within him. It was in his body, yes, in his bones, yes, but not the sternum specifically. All of his body, all of his bones. The gaping hole where any sense of self-worth normally rested.

John had seen through him completely. And the worst part was that he was actually loyal to him. Still loyal to him, even after that humiliating display of paranoia.

God, he needed a hit so badly. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so emotional. It was completely unreasonable to have to deal with this kind of stress sober.

He dragged himself up onto the bed and under the blankets.

He should work. He should think. But his mind was a blur of shame, craving…exhaustion. He tried to close his eyes to sleep, but his heart pounded as heavily as if his blood were made of molasses, thick with sadness and rage.

When he looked at the clock, only a half hour had passed. The time seemed to stretch infinitely. John had taken everything, including Dog. Maybe he wasn’t coming back. Maybe this was all just a cruel joke, from the beginning. Vincent would kill him for that, he really would this time. Not even kill him. He would show him how unimportant he was, how much he didn’t need him. Never wanted the help of a traitorous cockroach like that in the first place.

Crackling gravel, outside.

In an instant, the heavy pounding of his heart went hideously shallow and fast.

He crept to the window and peeked around the curtains from the edge. This time, it was not a couple on vacation. It was a sleek black Mercedes Benz, from which emerged two heavily built men in designer suits, one with a tattoo on the back of his hand. A Tarasov symbol.

Should he bar the door? Hide in the bathroom? …Why wasn’t John here? He would know.

The terror outweighed the pride and he picked up his phone, dialing frantically. He was about to be mocked, to have to beg, to look like he couldn’t even handle himself alone for an hour. But it only rang once. “Yeah?”

“They’re here. Tarasovs. They just went into the office. What do I do?”

“Okay. Breathe. I’m already on my way back. Listen very carefully: you need get out of the room while they’re still in the office. If Marjorie gives them our room number, you’ll be trapped in there. Circle around behind the building and find cover.”

“Out of the room!? Are you crazy? What if they see me on the way?”

“If you hurry, they won’t. Go.”

Vincent swore quietly. With the phone still pressed to his ear, he stepped into the afternoon sun, blinded after the dark of the bedroom. The emptiness of the parking lot leered at him and he fled from it, around the back of the building as John had instructed, into the fields. “Did you go?”

“Yes.” He wondered if John could hear how much he was panting. He crouched down behind a blue flower bush, which snagged at his slacks.

“Good. You’re doing great.”

“No I’m not, I’m sitting in a god damn bush. This is your fault. Is this the way you keep a man alive?”

There was a ragged sigh on the other end. “I will fix this.”

Vincent wanted to tell him that he should be sorry, that he couldn’t fix this, but instead he found himself saying, “Don’t hang up, please.”

“I won’t. I’m staying on the line until I’m with you again.” There was a long silence. “What car were they driving?”

“A black Mercedes Benz.”

Screeching tires.

“They already left. They just passed me on the way out. I’ll be busy for a minute.”

“You’re going to kill them for me?” Why was he suddenly so…touched? He smiled. “Run them off the road and smash that pretty car of theirs.”

“I will. I’m chasing them away from the motel first. Go back in the room, you’re safe.”

Another terrifying flight through the parking lot, but it was less miserable in this direction. A little while after he was seated on the bed, Vincent heard a great clattering, as if the phone had been dropped, or perhaps something very loud had happened in the distance. A car door slammed. Distantly, “Damn it! It’s Wick!”

“That bitch must have covered for him! Run – “

John’s reply was a gunshot, and then a second gunshot. Both of them for him.

Vincent was grinning ear to ear. “Mon chevalier blanc [My knight in shining armor],” he said. “I never doubted you, Mr. Wick.”

John just laughed. “Liar.”

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹

#john wick #john x marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont #john wick fanfic #wickblr #marquis de gramont whumpee #gunshot #angst #emotional whump #hurt/comfort #whump fic #assassin whump #ao3 crosspost #enemies to lovers #// withdrawals #// drugs #// addiction

[hailey-murdock]

Lose me (chapter 4)

Paring: Matt Murdock x Fem!reader

Warnings:(for this entire series) Angst, death, illness, nightmare, established relationship, depression, use of pet names, fluff, implied smut, mentions of college Matt and reader(let me know if I missed something out)

Summary: Matt "the man without fear" may not after all be that. He fears he'll lose the person he most loves

Other characters: Foggy Nelson, Frank Castle

WC: 1.1k

A/N: hated how i ended this chapter....Keep in mind the warnings, this series can be triggering to readers. Please read with precaution. (Reblogs, comment and likes are appreciated)

"Please tell me this is all a nightmare..that I'm going to wake up soon". Foggy didn't know how to help Matt, he thought maybe he should call Frank. Frank has been through this before, he would know what to do, Foggy thought in the back of his head. But Foggy also couldn't deny that he was heartbroken. One of his friends just died in the arms of best friend.

Matt's heart..it feels like it's tearing into two...he doesn't know what to do. He felt so lost and defeated as more tears kept dropping.

"I can't.. I can't.. I don't know what to do without her". Matt says to Foggy as his body shook and was cold.

You wake up in the middle of night since you heard Matt whimpering and shaking. You shook his body to wake him up and he was extremely cold. In his sleep he flinched at your touch. Right away you knew this was a nightmare. You call out his name and he keeps moving around and whimpering.

"Matt? Wake up, baby wake up". Somehow Matt heard your voice in his dream. The sweet sound of your voice woke him. His heavy breathing and the fear on his face, scared you. This wasn't just any nightmare. It was his worst fear.

"Wh..wh..what?" Matt moved his head around the room in a panic..in a state of confusion.

"No no no no no no...what's going on?"

He sat up and he tried to wake himself up as he heard his name leave your mouth again. You weren't alive, you just died in his arms. Matt felt like he already knew the answer. But he didn't want to accept it.

"No..no..please.." Tears ran down his face as the memory of his nightmare came rushing down his head again.

"Angel..no..i-" Matt really thought he had lost his angel, and he wasn’t fully awake, he needed something to ground him back.

"Matt, honey, it was just a bad dream." You pull Matt into your arms, rubbing his back. "It's okay, I'm here with you".

As more tears ran down his face, Matt held your body tightly. He thought it was just his imagination. "Y..you said it..it was just a dream?" Matt held you in a hug and he cried into your shoulder as he missed you more than ever. "Y..you're here with me?" Matt tried to move his eyes to where your eyes would be as he kept crying. Matt wanted to believe that he was right that it was just a dream..but you were still with him.

You felt your heart break as you saw Matt like this and you held him tightly to help him ground himself back.

"Yeah Matty, I'm here with you. And you're here with me. It's okay, it was just a bad dream. You're here with me baby".

Tears kept dropping from Matt's face as he held you tighter and tighter.

Y..you're here with me?"

His voice was filled with emotion. Matt felt so many things. Hr felt fear..sadness..and so much pain..but he felt happiness too. It was hard to hold on to that happiness though as his heart continued to break.

Matt felt so much love for you and he felt like I would do anything to make this all go away. "I'll do anything..I'll do anything to spend more time with you".

Everything that Matt said confused you. You had no idea what he was talking about but you just nodded. "I know baby, just breathe in and out for me". You wiped Matt's tears as you pulled away from his embrace and you kissed his forehead. "See, I'm here. This is real".

Matt took a deep breath, as tears kept falling from his face.

"I love you, sweetheart…..so much".

Matt's voice was filled with emotion, and he felt his heart breaking more and more. But it was all worth it as he felt your warm touch. He felt so safe and so welcomed. He felt like He was at home when you were with him.

You shook your head. "Yeah, and I know you do Matt. Feel me, I'm real. This isn't a dream". You leaned in to kiss Matt's lips filled with love. He leaned in as well, kissing you back with the same amount of love.

Matt had never felt such a strong feeling in my whole life..this is what love was..this is what it felt like.

Matt kissed you back with so much love..and it was the best feeling on the planet.

"Thank you..I love you so much". Matt couldn't help but smile as he rested his forehead against yours "You're welcome hun, do you want to talk about your dream?"

"N-no, it's too painful". Matt didn't want to think about the nightmare. The thought of the nightmare ever coming to reality was something he hated.

You understood Matt, this wasn't the first time that this had happened. Moments like these weren't new territory for you.

"Matt, I'm so sorry. But I wouldn't leave you. I can't do that to my lover boy".

Matt smiled as you called him lover boy. That warmed his heart. "Thank you for not leaving me. I feel like you're my soulmate. I.. I love you too much...I feel like I'd do anything for you. You're..my everything...you're perfect".

Matt held you close. He felt so happy as he kissed you again. The kiss was meaningful, it wasn't just any kiss, it was a kinda a kiss where you never wanted to let go

"At least a part of your nightmare wasn't all real, I mean we did end up living together just like we planned in college, but we aren't married or have any kids".

Matt smiled softly as he thought of the idea of maybe one day you would be "Mrs. Murdock". Also that very soon the two of you could buy a bigger home where mini him or mini you can live there.

The kiss was so meaningful. The love and the care and the emotion you felt in that kiss was so much stronger..it was so amazing, and it almost felt like everything around you disappeared and it was just you and Matt. Matt felt like he knew what it meant to truly love someone. He felt like his whole life had been meaningless until he met you. You gave him a reason to live.

"I love you".

He kissed you again, this time with even more love. Matt closed his eyes and smiled deeply at you. At times like these gave him even more reason to prepare the proposal he had in mind for you. You wouldn't abandon him like everyone else had in his life.

You would stay for all eternity.

Previous

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #marvel #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fluff #matthew michael murdock

[makorragal-312]

Okay, I have ANOTHER Coma!Buck theory!

I know, I know I already posted like a million of these things already! But I think I figured out a way how Coma!Buck can wrap up the sperm donor madness!

Hear me out, cause this is a REALLY long one so bare with me please:

Okay, so 6B starts and Buck is starting to get involved in Connor and Kameron’s pregnancy. I’m talking sending them gifts, texting them for updates, the whole enchilada. All the while, Connor and Kameron, while appreciative (somewhat), they kinda start to become a bit passive aggressive with him and say that he’s smothering them.

And Buck, being who he is, feels bad and tries to respect their wishes. Fast forward to him confiding to Eddie about it and Eddie telling him that even though they’re being dicks, Buck shouldn’t be looking to those two and their kid for a shot at being a parent. And Buck, not ready to admit that Eddie is right, denies his claims and they kinda get into it for a bit before Buck leaves.

Later that night, Connor calls Buck and tells him straight up that when he signed up to be their donor, he was meant to be just that. 

A donor. Not a third parent.

Then he hangs up and Buck is just left reeling.

Then we get the lightning call and that’s when he and Eddie both get hurt, with Buck falling into a coma.

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

Then we enter ANOTHER LIFE, where Buck is imagining an alternate version of his life where everything was different. Loving parents. No Doug. A very living Daniel. The whole nine yards.

Somewhere along in his dream, he sees Eddie, only for him to not know who he is. (in this reality, Eddie and Chris still move to LA, but he’s not with the 118 so they and Buck never met) Buck, horrified and heartbroken, tries to reach out to him:

“Eddie, it’s me, Buck! We both work at the 118! You’re my best friend! We hang out late at night at out places with Christopher!”

And Eddie just looks at him, disturbed and confused, and says:

“How do you know my son’s name?”

And then Buck gets into everything that they all went through together. The lawsuit. The tsunami. Taking care of him after the shooting. The shooting itself. Being taken hostage.

At that point, Eddie just can’t hear anymore of it (mainly because he’s freaked out) and starts to walk away, saying something like:

“Look, man. I’m sorry about everything you went through. But I think you’re confusing me with someone else. I have to get back to my son. And you should probably get back to your family.”

And Buck, with tears in his eyes, just yells out:

“BUT YOU AND CHRIS ARE MY FAMILY!”

But Eddie is already gone and Buck wants nothing more than to wake up.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -    

Finally, after a long-winded dream turned nightmare, Buck finally wakes up. And the first person he sees is Christopher, sitting by his bedside with a big smile on his face.

Buck could care less about the tears streaming down his face as he pulls Chris into his arms for a much-needed hug, relishing in how real he actually is and how much he never wants to be away from his again but not before Chris calls out for Eddie.

Cue Eddie barreling into the room, smiling in relief at seeing Buck alive and well and walking towards his bedside with a small “Welcome back.” And Buck, happy to be met with the Eddie who knows who he is, is silent as he pulls Eddie down to the bed and we get a long-awaited Buckley-Diaz group hug.

Later on, when they’re alone and Chris is back home, Buck and Eddie talk things out and Buck apologizes for lashing out at Eddie, but Eddie understands completely and lets him know he gets it and just couldn’t stand seeing Buck be hurt by someone he considers a friend. It’s at that point that Buck inquires about Connor and Kameron and Eddie confesses that they haven't stopped by since Buck got hurt nor have they called.

Buck attempts to play off the hurt but Eddie sees right through it and sits next to Buck on the bed as he pulls him gently into a side hug. And if he feels his neck and shoulder start to get damp, then that’s their business.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  

And finally, we get Connor and Kameron entering Buck’s hospital room as he’s about to get discharged, looking a bit apprehensive.

Eddie refuses to let them speak to Buck and is about to read them the riot act, but Buck tells him he wants to hear them out and to give them the room. Reluctantly, Eddie exits the room to submit the discharge papers, but not before giving the couple his classic Diaz bitch glare. Buck asks them what they were doing here and they say that they wanted to see him and make sure he was good and even offer to take him home.

Once they see Buck doesn’t believe them (and rightfully so) and is kinda giving them the cold shoulder, they apologize for keeping their distance and give a bunch of vague BS excuses like not wanting to put stress on the baby and not wanting to see Buck the way he was. They’re about to spit out more garbage, but Buck interrupts them. It’s here that he FINALLY reads them for filth on how they’ve been treating him before AND after the baby was conceived and shuts them down every time they try to justify themselves. And then he lets out a heartbreaking line like:

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been used for spare parts, so I can see the signs.”

Once he says that, Connor begins to apologize profusely to Buck for saying what he said and tells Buck that they want him to be a part of their kid’s life after all and that they’re willing to make things work.

Buck is quiet for a moment and thinks back to his coma dream, specifically when he was calling out to Eddie. 

“BUT YOU AND CHRIS ARE MY FAMILY!”

And at this moment, Buck says that being in a coma has put A LOT of things into perspective for him about what he needs in his life and what would make him happy. And then he tells them straight up that after everything that’s happened, he wants to put as much distance between him and their baby as possible. 

And not just their baby, but Connor and Kameron themselves, as well.

Connor and Kameron are just left speechless and cue Eddie calling out for Buck, saying that Chris is on the phone and wants to speak with him. Buck breaks out into a grin and just about sprints past Connor and Kameron as he grabs the phone and starts speaking with Chris, who is over the moon and raving about him coming back to the Diaz house (which is where he will recuperate for the time being). Buck just smiles and tells him he can’t wait to see him and that he and his dad are on their way now. He ends the call and hands Eddie’s phone back to him as the latter grabs his bag, asking if he's ready to go. Buck nods with a soft smile but not before turning back to Connor and Kameron and saying:

“Thanks for stopping by, but I should be getting back to my kid.”

And without another word, he turns around and heads down the hall and Eddie pauses for a second to shoot Connor and Kameron a “You done fucked up” look before walking after him, leaving the two in their wake AND THUS THE END OF THIS RIDICULOUS FUCKING PLOTLINE THAT SHOULD HAVE NEVER FUCKING HAPPENED IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!

“sigh” A girl can hope.

#911 #911 fox #911 on fox #911 6b #911 season 6 #911 6b spec #911 6b speculation #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #911 buck #911 eddie #911 chris #911 christopher #buddie #buddie 911 #911 buddie #buckley diaz family #coma!buck #once again #this just popped in my head one morning and I just had to post it #and i know i know #there's like a 99 percent chance that none of this is gonna happen #but the possibilities #they just never stop #like just imagine #the storyline we wanted to happen putting an end to the storyline we DIDN'T want to happen! #because honestly #this sperm donor plot line is fucking ridiculous #it literally only exists to undo buck's progress AGAIN and to make him miserable

[sesamestreep]

Jyn/Cassian, 14

14. All my days, I’ll know your face. (from this prompt list) cross-posted to ao3 here, with content warnings and tags galore, since this one gets a little heavy... It's a Cloak & Dagger AU, it's for Zainab's birthday, it's almost a year since she sent me this prompt, just go with it! If you want to know what you're getting into beforehand, read it on AO3, please! Much love and happy belated birth to you, @firstelevens, you are theeeee best!

xvii. the moon

Jyn wakes up from the dream again. The one where she’s drowning. She’s ten years old, still wearing her clothes from ballet class, sitting in the back of her father’s car, which hass just gone off the side of the bridge into the water and it’s starting to sink. Her father is already dead in the driver’s seat and she’s never been able to tell if that’s a mercy or not, that the dream doesn’t even allow her the fictional opportunity to save him. It always starts with them already in the water. And then it ends with the same fade to darkness as a hand reaches out and pulls her to safety.

It’s a dream, of course, but it’s also a memory. One largely influenced by her childhood imagination and fears and flights of fancy and therefore pretty untrustworthy, as far as she’s concerned, but a memory nonetheless. She and her father did get in a car accident, one where he died and she survived. The rest probably doesn’t matter much, she tells herself as the gurgling waters of her dream melt into the sounds of her alarm and she finally, fully wakes.

She nearly smacks her phone off the crate she’s using as a makeshift nightstand in her hurry to get rid of the noise. She would never have set the damn thing to “relaxing” babbling brook sounds knowingly. She’s not fond of water and doesn’t find its noises soothing, for obvious reasons. She’d rather wake up to the most obnoxious beeping known to man than this shit. No wonder she’s having nightmares.

She grumbles as she rolls herself over in the sleeping bag she’s using in lieu of an actual bed while she stays here. According to the signage posted out front, this building is technically condemned, but it suits her purposes just fine. She is always welcome at her mother’s house, or so her mother says, but being welcome somewhere isn’t the same as being at home, she’s realized. Staying with her mother means supporting her mother’s bullshit, and dealing with her disappointment, and putting up with her questions. It’s better for everyone if Jyn lives on her own, even if it’s in a condemned shithole like this place. What little of its original architecture that remains suggests it used to be a church, which is pretty bleak, but the price (free of charge) is right, so she pretends not to care.

She might start giving up these afternoon naps, if she’s just going to have bad dreams all the time. They’re supposed to help her so she can stay up late and work and make more money—maybe even enough to afford a real apartment with an actual shower—but lately they’ve been leaving her more drained than if she hadn’t even slept. She’s got to get ready now—the idiot rich kids going out on the town tonight aren’t going to rob themselves, after all—but she can’t bring herself to move. It’s only when she realizes that going back to sleep might put her back in that sinking car that she manages to convince herself to get up.

vii. the chariot

Cassian stares at the ceiling of his childhood (and current) bedroom and thinks, not for the first time, of how they missed a few glow-in-the-dark stars when he decided such things were for babies and told Maarva they could take them down. She’d hidden her expression of disappointment under something more bright-eyed and understanding quickly but not fast enough that a twelve year old Cassian hadn’t seen it. Before he could take it back, she was already moving briskly to get the step ladder. That’s how Maarva handled everything after his father’s death: briskly and head on. Even when she hated what she was doing. Every challenge in life was like getting a shot at the doctor’s office: just a quick pinch and then it’s over.

It’s that kind of attitude, he knows, that’s made her so successful and transformed her into a sort of pillar of the community. She started as a member of a variety of citizen’s action groups and a leader for the local chapter of NOW and then moved her way up up to a seat on the city council. Cassian admires her for that, the way she’s turned grief into purpose, but he’s always felt less adept at it than she is. Sometimes he’s consumed with guilt that his grief has mostly just stayed as grief. He knows he could be doing more, and he knows she wishes he was too. It’s a lot to bear. It’s a lot of emotion for a couple of glow-in-the-dark stars.

He decides to get out of bed and do something with his day rather than sit here and contemplate any of this further. Downstairs in the kitchen, he 's alone just long enough to pour himself a glass of orange juice before Maarva appears with her phone pressed to her ear. She kisses him on the cheek as she goes by and Cassian hears hold music on the other end of her call, which means he's in for it.

"Did you sleep well?" she asks pleasantly as she moves to pour herself some coffee.

"Well enough," he replies, because anything else will be met with a deluge of concern that he doesn't want right now. He leaves out the part where he dreamed about the night Clem died—the one where Cassian himself almost drowned—again. He'd gone years without having that dream, to the point that he'd thought himself past it, only to have them come back with a vengeance when he moved home again after graduation. The superstitious part of him wants to blame New Orleans, with all of its supposed mystical powers, but rationally he knows it's just being back at home with reminders of his father everywhere. He didn't have this problem at school in New York, but he'd made the choice to come back and this is the cost of that decision.

Maarva nods approvingly and takes a sip of her coffee. "I assume that means you'll be working on internship applications today."

Cassian sighs. He has only been done with his summer internship at the state house in Baton Rouge for a few weeks and his mother has been on his case about what's next since the moment he got home from his last day. "I'm trying, Ma, honestly, but nagging isn't going to make an opportunity instantly materialize. You know that."

"Neither will loafing around the house," she counters. "When you decided to take a year off between college and law school, you promised it wasn't an excuse to sit around and do nothing. I just want to be sure you're keeping up your end of the bargain."

Cassian knows a lot of parents who would have been thrilled to have their kids choose to come home right after college, but ever since he was young, the plan for him was that he'd get into a good college—Ivy League, preferably, which he'd managed—and then he'd go straight to law school and follow in his mother's footsteps to a career in politics. She'd always instilled in him that it was his responsibility to help make the world a better place. And after everything that had happened with Clem, it was the only path that made any sense. But his senior year at Columbia, after spending months studying for the LSAT, he'd found himself unable to go through with the exam. The idea of law school started to fill him with dread and he'd begun to miss deadlines. Eventually, he'd been forced to tell Maarva the truth—or, at least, part of it. He said that he wanted to take a gap year to volunteer and do internships to gain practical experience and figure out what kind of law he was most interested in. She'd taken the news better than he expected, but still with the vague attitude that he was only delaying the inevitable, which, in Maarva's world, always meant agreeing with her. She still fully anticipated he'd come to his senses and follow her into politics at the end of all this. And maybe he would, but he'd like to decide something—anything—for himself, for once. He told himself over and over that this was the point of the gap year, but in his heart, he wasn't truly convinced and clearly neither was Maarva.

"Yes, I promise," Cassian says, wearily. "I'll get some applications submitted before I go out tonight."

"What's tonight?"

He hesitates before answering but he doesn't love lying to his mother, so he prepares himself for an argument. "Bix invited me to a party that some friend of hers is throwing and I promised I'd go."

Maarva looks displeased, as expected. "Is that really the best use of your time?"

"If I get my work done today then, yes," he replies. "It's a Friday night. No one's going to be reading my applications after business hours anyway."

"You're not taking up with that crowd again, are you?"

"If by 'that crowd', you mean my friends from high school, then yes," Cassian says. "They've been giving me grief for being home all summer and working only an hour away and still never seeing them. They're going to be insulted if I don't go."

"That girl's a bad influence," Maarva says, shaking her head.

"And yet she's the only person you trust when your car starts making that weird noise," Cassian points out, rolling his eyes.

"She's a wonderful mechanic, I will give her that. But I never liked you dating her."

"We've been broken up for four years now! You don't have to worry about that anymore."

His mother raises an eyebrow at him. "You're sure about that?"

He groans in frustration. "Yes, I'm sure. Bix and I are just friends these days. And if I want to keep her—as a friend—I can't keep bailing on plans with her. Besides, didn't you raise me to be a man who honors his promises?"

Maarva smiles, reluctantly. "That is an ambitious argument for going to drink cheap beer in someone's basement ."

"You're the one who wants me to become a lawyer," he says. "Arguing is a pretty important part of the job, as I understand it. Besides, I think the party is in someone's backyard, not their basement."

"Good to see that Pre-Law program wasn't for nothing, " Maarva remarks, amused.

"You could also try to remember that I'm a responsible adult and you trust me," Cassian says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That is true," she says, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "But it is my job to worry about you, as your mother."

"I understand that, but we've talked about reining in your expectations for me a little."

Maarva looks like she wants to argue with that, but a soft, tinny voice comes through the speaker of her phone, demanding her attention once more. "Yes, I'm still here," she says, to the person on the other end of the call. "Actually, give me one moment," she adds, putting her hand over the speaker. "Whatever you end up doing, don't drive home if you drink."

Cassian suppresses another eye roll. "Obviously not. Give me some credit, please!"

"Fine, then. Oh, and be sure to reply to your mother's email sometime today. She sent us that nice picture of Kerri at the state championships, remember?"

"I replied last night," he replies, exasperated. "Go back to your call."

Maarva nods, then, and gives him another kiss on the head before wandering off. Before she's even out of the room, she is already deep in some important conversation with the person on the other end of the phone, like nothing had interrupted her in the first place, and Cassian is left to finish his orange juice in relative peace.

i. the magician

The crowd at the club tonight is decidedly lackluster in Jyn's professional opinion. There's not enough trust fund kids partying alone for her usual grift and for whatever reason, any viable targets are looking right past her. She might as well be invisible. If she wasn't already planning on returning this dress (the tags are still on and tucked away so no one will notice them), she'd definitely be considering it now. It's clearly not doing her any favors.

Maybe she's just not in the right mood for this tonight. Her mark from last night had been a piece of work and said several vile things to her before the sedative she'd slipped into his drink took effect. Then again, she had turned around and robbed him of most of his valuables after that, so maybe they were even. If she didn’t need the money, she’d already be on her way home, but most of the things she fenced from last night didn’t net her much profit, so she’s got to find a way to turn this around.

At the exact moment she’s beginning to despair of her prospects, her phone lights up with a text from Bodhi. 

wyd?

Bodhi works security at one of her usual nightclubs and she’d much rather be there tonight, except it’s his night off so there’s no one to get her on the list without paying the cover charge. This place is her second choice—one of the bouncers accepts the adderall that she liberates from her marks as payment—so she’s happy to hear from Bodhi instead.

at the second best club in NOLA rn, hbu?

Bodhi responds with a pinned location. It’s in the middle of the woods on the other side of town. Friend of a friend of a friend is throwing a party out here. Take a night off playing Artful Dodger and come hang...

can’t take a night off, but I’ll come steal where you are, if it’s all the same

just don’t get caught, okay? I can’t keep hooking you up if people catch on

be there soon

Jyn’s phone dings with a thumbs up from Bodhi as she finishes her drink and heads for the exit. At the coat check, she makes a fuss that her number wasn’t put on the correct hanger and leaves with a more expensive jacket than she came in wearing.

x. the wheel of fortune

Cassian takes a sip of his beer and surveys the scene in front of him. The party turned out to be less of a backyard affair than a middle of the woods rager, which is a piece of information he's absolutely not going to volunteer to Maarva later. There's a large bonfire in the middle of the area the hosts (whom he still hasn't met) cleared for the party and then a spot not far off where someone's pickup truck is parked with a keg in the bed. Cassian is probably done after this drink because four years of college parties didn't cure him of his anxiety about getting caught drinking by his mother, even if it is entirely legal for him to do now, but most of the people here do not have his qualms. The guy manning the keg is keeping very busy and, since they're charging for drinks, he's also flush with cash.

On the other side of the bonfire, he can see Bix animatedly telling a story to their friend Xan and a guy from the body shop Cassian's never been formally introduced to. He's glad he came out tonight, even if all it accomplishes is getting his friends off his case. Still, he can't help feeling like he shouldn't be here. Maarva is right that he needs to stay focused on his future. Meanwhile, his friends that stayed in New Orleans together while he was away at school have bonded and put down roots in a way that makes him feel like an intruder.

It's while he's having these morose thoughts that a drunk girl collides with him and drenches him in beer, which is probably what he deserves for being so somber at a fucking party.

"Woah, sorry," she says, stumbling to a stop. "Shit, I really soaked your jacket, didn't I?"

"It's fine," Cassian says, wiping at his jacket with his hands rather ineffectually.

"No, that was super uncool," she replies and even standing completely still, she looks unsteady on her feet. She reaches out to swat at the stained fabric with her hand uselessly before she seems to catch on that it won't accomplish anything and pulls off her knit beanie instead. "This...isn't actually helping, is it?"

He laughs, unexpectedly. "Not really, no. But it's fine."

"I'm so sorry," she says, miserably, as she continues to try to soak up the beer with her hat. "I'm really not this much of a klutz normally."

"Not your first stop of the night, I'm guessing?"

She groans. "I don't look that wasted, do I?"

Cassian tips his head to the side, trying to equivocate, but it's a hard thing to walk back now. "Well, it's partially that and also you're a little overdressed for this party."

The girl looks down at herself like she forgot what she was wearing: a simple but tight black dress and heels that would do better on a dance floor than in the woods and a trendy, expensive looking jacket. He realizes, a little belatedly, that she's pretty, which is something he's going to have to ignore considering how over-served she is. Still, even in the half light of the bonfire, her eyes capture his attention.

"You got me there," she says, rolling her beautiful eyes like they're in on the same joke. “I had to put in appearance at my stupid cousin's twenty-first, which she just had to have at some bougie club with loud, shitty music and expensive drinks. But this was where I really wanted to be all along."

That last part was said flirtatiously enough that Cassian's entire train of thought slams to a halt. The effort of getting through college in one piece and with a GPA that could get him into a good law school had clearly done a number on his social skills, because high school Cassian would have been able to knock a serve that easy back over the net with little trouble and now he was just staring blankly at this beautiful woman. He tells himself that it's her state of inebriation that gives him pause and not an utter lack of game on his part.

"Uh…I'm not one of the hosts," he says, weakly, "so, you don't need to flatter me.”

"I guess not," she says, with a smirk that tells him his deflection was obvious but that she also didn't take it too personally. She holds up the beanie with grim amusement. "And this is clearly not doing anything. I'm going to see if I can find…napkins? Paper towels? Something useful for absorption at least?"

Cassian snorts. "Don't hold your breath," he says, trying and failing to imagine the hosts of this kegger having something practical like that on hand.

"Yeah, well," she says, with a rueful shrug, "a girl can dream, right?"

''I suppose so."

She nods and starts to wander away. "I'll be back. Don't move," she says and then offers him an ironic little salute.

Cassian laughs to himself as she goes and then pivots his attention to survey the damage to his jacket. The thing is made of wool, which means it's absorbing the beer quite admirably, against his wishes. He probably should have told her not to bother with the napkin hunt since he'll most likely have to get it dry cleaned anyway just to get the beer smell out, but she'd seemed determined to help somehow.

A few minutes after his mysterious friend departs, Bix materializes at his elbow. "Man," she says, stepping back immediately to cover her nose, "You smell like a bar floor. I thought you promised Maarva you'd go easy tonight!"

"I did," Cassian says, scowling at her. “This is someone else's beer, unfortunately."

"Tough break," Bix replies, casting a sympathetic eye over him.

"Probably a sign to call it a night, though."

"Boo," she yells, not entirely sober herself. "You can’t go now! You said you'd buy me a drink!"

"I can do that before I leave," he says. "I just don't want to pay for a cab home and I will definitely need to if I have another drink."

"You used to be fun, Cass," she says, morosely, and he ignores how much it hurts to have his fears about himself voiced by another person.

"Do you want your beer or not?" he grumbles instead, because he knows it's not something she would have said sober and that's enough to soothe him for now.

"Of course," she says, rolling her eyes, and loops their arms together.

Before they can get very far, Cassian pats his jacket pocket to find his wallet and comes up empty. He stops himself and Bix in their tracks and searches the pockets of his jeans too, finding his car keys and his phone but nothing else. He turns around to see if his wallet is on the ground somewhere, like maybe he dropped it, and pats his jacket one more time for good measure. His hand comes away wet and he remembers, suddenly, that someone else recently did the same thing. His head whips around as he searches for her in the crowd.

"Cassian," Bix says, plainly worried. "What is it?"

"My wallet. Beer girl...she must have taken it..."

"Wait, what? Who the fuck would do that?"

"A thief," Cassian says, as he spots her on the other side of the clearing. "Hey, thief!" he calls.

Her head lifts at the raised voice, and she looks around, bewildered, before her eyes—the ones he'd been admiring not that long ago—land on him and go wide with surprise. Before he can formulate something clever to say, her face clears of its confused expression and turns ice cold before she takes off at a run.

"Son of a—!" he mutters and follows. He doesn't even think twice about it, like he probably should. For whatever reason, this stranger stealing from him tonight feels like a very personal betrayal and chasing her down doesn't register as the ludicrous idea it obviously is. He vaguely recognizes Bix calling after him in alarm but he ignores it. The world narrows to just him and his pickpocket.

xvi. the tower

Jyn has got to be more discerning about only stealing from people who can't keep up with her on foot. If nothing else, she should have given this guy a kick in the shin when she had the chance because he is fast. She's not doing her best work in these heels either, but she hadn't planned to run through mud and wet leaves when she got dressed this evening. She was supposed to be at a nightclub. Bodhi is in for it when she gets a hold of him. She hadn't even seen him at this party he invited her to before this dude caught her lifting wallets. What sort of Sherlock Holmes wannabe was she even dealing with here, anyway?

A lucky break presents itself in the form of an entrance to an old graveyard at the edge of the woods. There will be more places to hide there, she reasons, and most people are irrationally superstitious about graveyards, especially after dark. She's willing to bet Wallet Guy is no exception. She ducks through the barely open gate and sprints down a row of tall headstones, feeling the gazes of granite angels on her the whole way.

She eventually hides herself in the shadow of an ostentatiously large gravestone (or maybe it's a very tiny mausoleum) and holds her breath when she hears footsteps approach. Sherlock Jr. clearly isn't afraid of graveyards like she’d hoped. With her luck, he'll probably camp out here all night, waiting for her, completely unbothered.

"Listen," his voice rings out, echoing in the stone aisles, "Beer girl, I'm not going to call the cops or anything. That's the last thing I want, okay? Just give me the wallet back now and we're even. I'll forget your face. You have my word."

Jyn is almost tempted to snort at that but her muscles are tensed up so thoroughly, she couldn't do anything involuntarily at the moment. Still, the audacity that she should trust this guy to be cool, to bet her actual life on it; he must be joking. This is the moment she decides she's going to have to sacrifice the heels in order to get out of there, which she does not want to do because it means spending money she doesn't have to replace them. She can't think of a better plan right now, though, and she's absolutely willing to ditch them if it means giving this guy the slip. Jyn slowly and quietly toes them off so she's ready to run, while he is distracted trying to reason with her.

"I'm serious," Wallet Guy announces, like that wasn't obvious from literally everything about him. It's part of why she'd zeroed in on him in the first place. He seemed so serious that she was sure a little mishap and some light flirting would completely throw him off and make her grab for his wallet virtually undetectable. She'd only been a little wrong, to be fair. "I don't want trouble any more than you do!"

But that had always been Jyn's problem: she's never minded trouble. She can get herself out of it just as easily as she can get herself into it. Some rich kid from the right side of the tracks is no match for her in the trouble department, she thinks, and so she ducks out from behind the headstone and tries to make her escape. In doing so, however, she accientally kicks some gravel loose as she takes off running, which gives away her location. It also turns out Wallet Guy was much closer than she'd originally thought and his reflexes are better than anticipated too, because it only takes a quick heel turn and a few strides before he's caught up with her and reaching for her wrist.

"Please," he says, before there's a bright flash and a lurch like a train picking up speed too quickly and then she's being wrenched away from him with enough force that it launches her across the graveyard.

iv. the emperor

When Cassian was eight, he'd watched his father die. He'd watched him get shot by a police officer, while his hands were up in surrender, because the officer had been startled by an explosion nearby. Cassian always forgets this part—the Imperial Gulf oil rig explosion happening the same night as his father's murder—but one of those things actually materially changed his life and the other was just a thing from the news grownups were worried about. If he hadn't been right there when it happened, he might have forgotten about it entirely, for all people in New Orleans still talk about it all the time. People don't forget here, he's found. The city has a good, long memory.

There is a chance that if not for the explosion, his father might not have been shot, but even as a kid, Cassian knew the odds were bad. Clem was a Black man caught holding a stolen sound system, the one Cassian had stolen on a dare from some older boys at school that he was desperate to impress. He was ten years old and the only thing that ever seemed to matter to him in those days was seeming grown up. Clem had come looking for him when he was late getting home from school and found the stolen stereo in his hands. He'd insisted they bring it back and try to make things right with the owner.

It didn't matter to the police that Clem hadn't stolen it, that he was just trying to teach his son a lesson. Cassian's adoption had only been finalized the year before and he was still acting out sometimes, pushing the limits of his parents' patience in what a counselor would later explain to him were attempts to see what it would take to be sent away again. There was no easy way to explain to a little kid that his birth parents hadn't "sent him away" for being bad, but because they couldn't keep him, or that his adoptive parents wouldn’t do the same thing someday for some minor infraction. He just didn’t understand that back then. Still, Clem was trying to teach him right and wrong without triggering his fears. It was even starting to work. If only he'd never stolen that car stereo, everything would have been different.

But he did. And the police found him and his father trying to return it. And while Clem tried to surrender, the explosion had happened and one of the officers panicked and fired his gun. They'd been down by the docks when the police found them and, when Clem was shot, he'd fallen into the water. Without hesitation, without any thought at all, Cassian had jumped in after him. Maybe it was from a misguided place of hope, believing that something could still be done to save his father. Maybe it was out of fear, knowing that he wasn't safe with those cops after what he'd seen. Or maybe it was a death wish. Maybe in that moment, losing the man who'd been so kind to him even when he hardly deserved it, he just didn't see any reason to try to survive so he followed his father into the water because he wanted to follow him into death.

Under the water, though, he'd seen that there was no helping his father and the oil rig's collapse was only getting worse. He tried to make his way to the surface but it was impossible to see anything more than a few feet away. Everything was dark. He'd been so consumed with fear when he dove into the water that he had no clue by then how far he'd swam from the docks. He was never going to find his way back now. Just when he was truly starting to despair, there had been a sound from the direction of the rig and a pulse went through the water that hit him like a slap across the back of his head. When he opened his eyes again, there was something glowing in the water ahead of him, a pure white light he reached for instinctively. He'd felt sure in that moment, despite everything, that the light would save him somehow. He'd never felt faith or hope that certainly in his life before, and he sure as hell hasn't felt it that way since. Then again, he hadn't seen that bright light again since that night either. Until he reaches for the girl in the graveyard, that is.

xi. justice

Jyn's shoulder throbs in pain. It's the part of her that had made contact with the headstone that broke her fall, so it makes sense that it hurts, but it's going to be a problem if this guy decides to fight her. Then again, judging by the look of him right now, he's not in any condition to fight either. Whatever force just threw her back did the same thing to him. He's still conscious, though, which is only good because she doesn't feel like dealing with a dead body right now. There's something wrong with him, though. He's looking down at his body in alarm—inspecting himself for injuries, she suspects—but he freezes in horror when he sees his hands. It takes Jyn a moment to realize why but when she does, her heart nearly stops.

There's smoke coming off his hands in tendrils, but nothing's on fire as far as she can tell. It's like the smoke that comes off of dry ice except it's pitch black. From any further away, Jyn's not sure she could convince herself it wasn't the shadows moving of their accord. Based on the expression on the guy's face, he's never seen this before, but she has. On the night of the car accident, after her father died, she'd seen it.

She'd been trying desperately to get out of the sinking car, but the water was coming in too fast and the windows were all sealed shut. Then there had been an explosion underneath the water and a ripple went across the bay, knocking her backwards into the seat. When she opened her eyes, there was black smoke pouring through the windshield. It looked like someone had dumped ink into the water, the way it moved and spread its way into the car. She'd reached for it, more afraid of staying still there than whatever the black smoke could do to her. She had expected her palm to find the window when she did, but there was no glass there anymore. The smoke had dissolved it or replaced it somehow and Jyn didn't stop to rationalize how or why that happened. She swam towards the shadows and felt a hand clasp around her own and pull her to safety. And now that same smoke was pouring from the hands of the boy who'd chased her down in the graveyard.

"What the hell was that?" she calls out, shaking (she tells herself) with anger and not with fear. "What did you just do to me?"

"Me?" he fires back. "I didn't do anything! That—that wasn't you?"

"No! I couldn't—how could I do that?"

"Your hands," he says, voice shaking. "They're glowing."

Jyn looks down, then, to find he's telling the truth. Her palms are glowing with a bright white light. This is...definitely a sign of concussion. There's no way any of this is really happening.

Before she can get too far with that denial, the guy is gingerly standing up and brushing off his clothes with shadowy hands. “I've seen it before," he says, carefully. "Once."

Jyn shakes her head, still hoping to write all of this off as a side effect of a head injury. "You've…what?"

"I've seen something glow like that before," he repeats, patiently. "It was you, wasn't it? You're the girl from the beach, the night of the oil rig collapse. You saved me."

Jyn swallows hard, so that she doesn't say the first thing that comes to mind, which is that he's got it all backwards. As she remembers it, he was the one who saved her that night. She knows it's been twelve years but she can't believe she didn't recognize him immediately. His face has been haunting her dreams her entire life. She should have known him.

"That was you?" she asks, uselessly. Who else could it be? Who else would even know about that?

He holds up his hands tentatively but they're answer enough. That night was the one and only time she'd ever seen smoke like that.

"We must have—something happened to us," he starts to say, far too reasonable and certain for her taste. "Back then, or ...just now, I don't know."

Panic rises in Jyn's throat, threatening to choke her. She starts shaking her head before the actual thought has even articulated itself in her mind and she picks herself up off the ground feeling like her body is made of lead.

"I can't do this," she says, still looking at her glowing hands and beginning to back away.

"Please," he says, starting to come closer, "don't leave. I just want some answers."

The light grows brighter as her panic sharpens. "I don't have any," she shouts, over the roaring in her ears, “I’m sorry.” And then she runs.

The boy from the beach calls after her but she doesn't stop running until the light coming from her hands fades completely and she has to pick her way through the woods by the light of the moon. She puts a healthy distance between herself and him, between herself and the party and anyone who could recognize her, and gets back to a main road somehow. She decides to literally go for broke and hails a cab. Once she's given the driver a respectable residential address near enough to where she's illegally squatting, she settles back in the seat and tries to close her eyes. Something pokes at her side from her jacket pocket, though, and she remembers that she still has the wallet.

Tentatively, like she's handling something unstable and potentially explosive, she pulls the wallet out and opens it. She finds a handful of small bills, a debit card as well as a credit card, a library card and a membership card to a local grocery chain. Boring stuff, mostly, but there's also a student ID and a driver's license, which tell her what she really wants to know: Cassian Andor. She'd always been curious about the name of the boy who saved her life all those years ago and now she has it. Her hands shake with the possibility that this knowledge offers. She even has his address, if his license is up to date. She could find him again, if she really wanted to. The problem is that she has no idea what she actually wants.

xvii. the star

Cassian doesn't bother going back to the party. He skirts around the clearing and finds where he parked his car without saying goodbye to anyone. He's not even sure what he would offer as an explanation for his disappearing act if people asked. Instead, he avoids everyone and their potential questions and just goes home. It’s late enough when he gets there that his mother is already asleep, which is just as well, because he doesn’t want to deal with her questions either.

There’s so many things he doesn’t understand right now and so many questions he wants answered and the only person who could even begin to help him ran as fast as she could in the other direction. He didn’t even get her name, which is somehow the most disappointing part of all. He’s spent more than half of his life dreaming of that night and remembering her; it’s only right that he should have a name to go with that memory. Cassian sighs and wills himself to forget about it, even though he knows that’s a lost cause. He takes off his stained jacket and his muddy shoes and heads upstairs, where he doesn’t bother undressing any further before slumping down onto his bed. He tells himself he’ll actually get ready for bed in a minute, but he knows this is also a lie. After a few aborted attempts to get back up, he commits to sleeping in his clothes and pulls a blanket over his head to block out any remaining light. It feels like only a few moments later that the sound of birds chirping and singing wakes him. He wouldn’t normally notice such a thing, but these birds are loud. They must be right outside of his window, he thinks, as he throws the sheet back to welcome in the morning sunlight. He gets the surprise of his life when, above him, all he sees is the faded pink skies of dawn. He lurches up to a sitting position and looks around and finds himself on a rooftop downtown.

It must be a dream. He’s still asleep and that’s the only explanation there is. He hadn’t dreamed of Clem or the oil rig explosion or the girl from the graveyard and he’d thought it was a mercy, but this is…weirder. And it feels real. He can feel his heart beating wildly in his chest and the humid, dewy air of early morning on his face. If it’s a dream, it’s a completely new kind for him. He’s even wearing the same clothes he went to sleep in, and he can feel the bruise on his shoulder from when he fell in the graveyard. And his hands, where they’re still clutching the blanket, have the black mist curling around them again.

He might not be dreaming after all, he realizes, watching the shadowy tendrils twist delicately around his wrist and into the open air. Maybe this is his reality now. Maybe he can—what? Teleport? Travel places in his dreams? What exactly did he do to get here of all places? Where is here, anyway?

A glance over his shoulder reveals the answer to many of those questions. Behind him on the roof, he recognizes a downtown landmark: the old Imperial Gulf Oil sign. The building below had housed the first offices for the later-rebranded Imperial Energy back in the day. Years ago, they’d built a huge, expensive facility across the water where their employee offices were now located and sold this building to a developer, who wasted no time turning it into expensive condos no one here could afford. They’d kept the enormous neon sign on the roof as a nod to the neighborhood’s history and probably because it’s exactly the sort of aesthetic nonsense their ideal buyers would shell out extra for. If there was any chance Cassian still believed his appearance here was pure coincidence, it was gone now. He had said he wanted answers and the universe sent him a literal neon sign. Imperial Gulf is where all of this started and it’s where he’ll get his answers.

He just has to find her first—the girl from the beach, the girl from the graveyard, the girl from his dreams.

#rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #jyn x cassian #rogue one #star wars #cloak and dagger #superheroes au #firstelevens #mutuals admiration society #ask #writing prompts #taylor swift song prompts #all part of my evil plan to get marvel to bring back C&D #i'll do it singlehandedly if i must!! #also i have had an unbelievably sucktastic week and if anyone is even slightly mean to me i will cry about it #and i cannot even begin to tell if this is good or if it hangs together at all #but it's for zainab so I don't rly care if anyone else likes it just don't tell me if it's bad ok? #can't wait to launch this fic into space and never think of it again BYE #homelywenchsociety #that's my writing tag! don't worry about it!

[codependentfreaks]

prompt requested by @zxrocide :

how about an angst post-jess's-death ficlet?

author's notes: I'm not great at angst but I'll try! Also please remember english is not my first language but I'm trying my best with what I know.

______________________________

Sam was lying on his bed again, taking a deep breath as he tried to dissipate the stress of the day. He couldn't help but think about what Dean had said when they parted ways again: "we made a hell of a team back there." And the did, Sam knew it. Him and Dean were always a great team, but also the worst possible one. Like a ticking time bomb ready to explode.

His thoughts about his conflicting feelings towards his brother were interrupted by a sudden drop of something wet on his forehead, one and then two times. He opened his eyes to check on it, just to be faced with the horrifying vision of his girlfriend bleeding on the ceiling. He screamed her name in horror as she started catching fire above him, stamping in his brain a imagine he would never get rid of. Sam kept screaming, watching in a masochistic way how Jessica burned, wanting nothing more than to burn with her, die with her.

"Sam..." she whispered and he felt the tears running down his face. "Why Sam?"

He frowned, still frozen in shock, unable to move.

"Why Sam? Sam..."

It was like her voice was floating in the room, sounding more and more distant as she repeated the words.

"Jess! I'm here... please!" he yelled, knowing it was useless. She was already dead... But why was she talking to him?

"Sam..." she repeated, but the sound coming from her mouth didn't sound like her. It was different, rougher.

"Sam..."

"Sam..."

"Sam..."

That voice. That new voice sounded so familiar. It sounded like Dean.

And then, Sam opened his eyes.

"Sam!" Dean was hovering above him, sitting by his side on the motel bed. "Dude, are you okay? You were freaking me out!"

He wasn't okay. His body was soaking wet with cold sweat and his throat hurts, probably from screaming in his sleep.

"I'm fine" he lied, still trying to catch his breath. "Sorry for waking you up"

"Yeah, I'm gonna start asking for financial compensation" Dean tried to joke, but the concern in his eyes and voice were too obvious for Sam not to notice. "It was the same nightmare as always? I mean, about that night?"

Sam nodded, running a hand though his face as he let out a shaky breath.

"It's okay, Sammy. You're okay" Dean finally surrended to his big brother instincts, deciding to stop pretending he wasn't worried. He brushed back Sam's messy, sweaty hair and the younger one flinched.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Dean's confused and hurt expression. His green eyes were really easy to read, and Sam knew Dean was questioning why his baby brother would back off from his touch.

Sam always felt weird about Dean, things one brother shouldn't feel about the other. His confusing and utterly wrong feelings were part of the reason he needed to get out and go to Stanford. Of course dad and the hunting life were also a big part of it, but Sam really needed to get away from Dean before he noticed his deviance. Part of him felt guilty everyday, like he was using Jessica, sleeping by her side while dreaming about his brother every night and missing him like crazy. Sometimes he feared that, deep down, he wanted her to die, specially after spending time with Dean hunting the woman in white. Of course he loved Jess, but who knows? Maybe he was just a bad person and some obscure part he can't really access is happy she's dead.

He really wish he could access that because missing her was killing him as much as Dean's touches and the feelings they brought.

Dean didn't say anything, he just got up and went to get a beer from the mini fridge. "Here" he handed it to Sam, who just thanked him awkwardky, unable to say he preferred a glass of water.

The younger man drunk his beer silently while pretending not to notice his brother's concerned stare. He wanted to apologize, say he didn't mean to flinch and ask, beg his brother to touch him again. Not only his hair, but his face, his lips his body.

God, he was disgusting. Sick. Jess deserved so much better than a pityful man who thought about kissing his own brother while still grieving her.

He hadn't even noticed he had finished his beer when Dean took it from him and put it on the counter. "You should try going back to sleep. Are you calmer now?", he asked, walking back to Sam's bed. When his brother nodded, Dean mirrored the movement and started going to his own bed.

"Wait-" Sam asked and Dean stopped, turning to look at him. "Stay with me until I fall asleep... please?"

Dean took some time to answer and Sam thought for a moment he was going to make fun of him, but looking in Dean's eyes he noticed he was wrong. The oldest finally smiled.

"Sure Sammy"

Sam smiled back, lying down on his bed again. He felt the bed shift with his brother's weight as he seated next to his head and stayed there. He almost could feel Dean's hesitation about trying to touch him again, so he slightly moved closer. It was such a small movement Dean would only notice it if we was really paying attention, and he always was. That's why the next moment Sam felt Dean's fingers in his hair.

"Thank you, Dean" he mumbled softly.

"Anytime"

#samdean #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #fanfic #sam and dean #ficlet #protective dean #angst #hurt/comfort #wincest #wincest fic #season one #nightmares #this one is a mess #no beta we die like winchesters #my writing

[theacewithoutgrace]

Hey so uh I had a nightmare whoops if you wanna read it go ahead ig

tl;dr — lucid dreams are fucking horrifying if you aren't careful (semi exaggerating but you'll see my point)

also tw for a bunch of stuff considering its a nightmare i dont exactly know all the stufff to tag rn but there'll be a warning when it starts getting bad

if you'd like me to tag everything tho just say please i dont wanna offend or scar anybody sniff

it started off with me in class, except the class was the room of a computer science tuition i went to for only a month in 2020. i had this fur coat too and either my art or english teacher was presenting something, i dont know

then my eyelids started getting heavy, so i put my head on the desk and fell asleep for a bit. literally just by this fact alone i think i already knew it was somewhat of a lucid dream, but my dreamself didnt mention it in the plot. i did wake up once here and then go back to sleep while like leaning on my friend sitting next to me, who just let me sleep cause she's irl famous for always sleeping in class

she woke me up when it was over and we had to switch classes, i dont remember the conversation but i talked to the girls near me in line while going downstairs. its what id usually do normally too, nothing seemed out of the place. it was all really natural in the moment at least, now its all just eerie since im lowkey traumatized by everything coming up holy shit

i immediately fell asleep in the new class too once i got there. also i only notice this later on, but the whole room was so strange. there were a lot lot of broken light fixtures on the ceiling leaking water, and the floor was constantly wet and had these really ugly ass dirt looking black and white marble tiles. try imagining that classroom from the one fight scene in mob psycho 100 where the school just evaporates. i think it was on the 2nd floor

the leading teacher woke me up and told me to go outside for a ceremony because i apparently got selected as one of the candidates for this competition (which i actually gave a submission for just yesterday) i didnt take it seriously, and was still tired, so i went back to sleep. when i awoke, everybody had left- it was just be by my lonesome. i looked outside and the ceremony just then ended too. still not registering that it wasnt real, i ran outside upon spotting my mother in the crowd

when i reached the end of the stairs, i was inside this pub bar thing with all of the other candidates and their parents. apparently my parents just took the uh, 'certificates' they gave. it was like, flowers in vases? i got 3? im not sure what this means, i dont remember the type of flowers. i got mostly red ones, other kids had other types too, it has literally nothing to do eith the actual event i submitted for tho

between the class and the pub scene was when things started getting eerie for me, its when i noticed all of the off broken things in the classroom. i cant fully explain it, but it all started feeling just noticeably slightly off,,,,,,,

there was a great time skip, and i was in my own room, wearing the clothes i am in right now. it was 1am, and it felt like it was ramadan?? i dont know how to explain how it 'felt' like a literal religious month but ok. i think it has to do with everyone still being awake and the cleaning. oh yea, so, when i went to my parents room, some of my classmates were there cleaning and repairing stuff. my parents said they asked them to help when they were at school while i was asleep

everyone in the house was awake doing stuff, all the lights were on and it was noisy, but i clearly knew it was 1am. i think i mightve seen a clock but im not sure if im just remembering seeing the actual clock at 1am before i went to sleep irl. so after my classmates left, i sat next to the door along with two girls from the grade above me. i dont even know who they are, but i just knew somehow i guess

i was talking to them about calculators, specifically about how some older models sometimes give wrong answers and how i liked that my one worked perfectly without me having to switch into degree mode or something. i kept getting interrupted, and actually couldnt finish explaining it to them, cause my social studies teacher was also there? and needed to leave through the door i was in front of? ok then

it time skipped just a little bit more again, and i was upstairs in the 5th floor (im on the 3rd). well, i say 5th floor, but this place doesnt look like the actual 5th floor, its entirely different. ive been to this place in my dream a few times already now, so it kinda felt normal. the 'living room' was really small, the only way i know how to describe it is like its half of a resort hotel's bathroom. the fancy-yet-outdated-design counters and beige yellow cream brown and maroon colour palettes and all. although i dont see it in this dream, the bedrooms look like the old and new house of one of my mom's friends

my aunt offered me some chocolate banana bread, and i ate it while seating in this weird place, i could barely even put the plate on the table cause it was shaped weirdly. this aunt of mine always offers me food when i go to her room, so ive had dreams before where i eat food in this weird dream room. but this time, my grandma and other aunt were there? and they were gossiping about something having to do with me? they first mentioned the weird table counter but then they went onto something else. dream me didnt hear anything - or i just dont remember, but, at then it almost felt like they knew what was going to happen next. like they were talking about how im a poor little meow meow and will have to go through all the upcoming shit

i was above average uncomfortable and left, and then arrived back on the 3rd floor. ok now look i swear it feels like a alot of shit happened here somewhere in this dream but i dont exactly remember. we're getting close to the end of this now.

i was in my parents' room, everything looked normal. it was around 6 - 7pm? again, not sure how i knew, just felt it. it was really windy and the windows kept shaking, so i tried to hold it down for funsies. thats when i noticed,, these pipes? In my eyes they just suddenly appeared out of nowhere, but after seeing them it felt like they were there the whole time, without me noticing. the steampunk-esque pipes were like all across the room btw. I actually even saw them in the part where my classmates appeared, but i didnt enter the room at that time

I first saw the pipes when looking at the top of my window, it was dented somehow without the glass being broken, and the pipe went through it and outside. i started semi panicking, while my eyes traced the pipes back into my room, and saw them everywhere. i looked back outside the window after opening it, it was somehow morning again. as soon as i looked, there was a small explosion. a huge smoke cloud blew into my face, there were people outside my house, screaming

this scene particularly made me start actually panicking, because there was a fire near my house around a month ago maybe? and at the time, it was really scary - as everyone in my house thought our house was the one on fire, due to the way the smoke came. my aunt and i were the first ones to see it, and it looked exactly like the way i saw in my dream. i really didnt wanna live through that moment again

ok so uhm tw it gets really gorey here? mentions of death, blood, violence, such and such

i closed my window, and laid down in my bed halfway sitting, trying to comprehend everything. it was back to the 6 - 7pm again, but this time it was heavy raining. i really didn't want to, but my dream self opened up the window again, and,,,, there was this woman, being stabbed by some guy. there was screaming, and people running around everywhere. the people on the street heard it, there were running, they saw it, they know it, but no one came to help her. i was horrified, but no matter how hard i tried to peel away from the window, close my eyes, and block it all out,, i couldnt stop staring. i couldnt control anything anymore, yet i was practically already completely awake at this point. i wanted to wake up.

i was trying super hard to blink, just merely shut my eyes, practically begging my dream self to do so. it worked for a little bit but it wasnt enough. i finally stopped when i heard my mother's voice in the living room. i finally closed my eyes, the screaming and sounds of heavy storms stopped. i waited for a few seconds to calm myself down before going back to the goal of waking up in real life

except, i couldnt open my eyes anymore. i felt myself blinking intensely, desperately trying to see the room i was sleeping in irl, but it was all black and reddish. i was on the verge of tears pls - and when i finally managed to open my eyes, it was only halfway. i kept blinking over and over, saying repeatedly that i wanted to wake up

and then, i did. i saw the room, the room in real life. i was actually awake for a few seconds. but, i couldnt move. i still wasnt fully awake, every part of me was tired. i wanted to get up and run away so badly, and yet, when i blinked again, i was back to the dream world. however, i was able to get up

i ran to the living room, all of my family was there. i asked them, if it was finally all over, if i was awake for real now. they sat silent, all just staring at me. I knew it, I'm still in the dream, aren't I? I wanted to scream, and cry so badly. I tried too, but it was no use. I couldnt go any louder than this specific limit. If I tried, it sounded like i was aggressively whispering while losing my voice. the screams of the woman in my front yard were so vivid, yet i couldnt. yknow that fun fact about how your thinking voice while reading also cant be louder than how it usually is? i think it has to do with that actually. so yea, not-so-fun fact

i looked at my parents, trying to find an answer, a way to get out of this mess. I wished they could help me, they could tell me, and they could hold me in their arms and tell me everything's alright, that it's over now. But they too, were silent. I ran back to my parents' room, and they were there, on the bed, smoking cigarettes? my mom doesnt even smoke, but my dad does smoke everything in existence other than weed so eh. they were also the younger versions of themselves? Just above 18 i would say? I kept pleading for the way out, but they kinda just continued smoking, slightly grinning. kinda making fun of me i guess?

in the end i just dropped to the floor, knees all wobbly, crying - well, crying but, no tears were flowing, and i couldnt make a sound. i think i eventually passed out in the dream from being overwhelmed, and once again, i woke up in the real world. I could move, I shouldn't moved, I should've stood up and walked away from the bed. but y'see, I already was sleep deprived, and had less than an hour of horrible sleep - I was tired ok. I ended up just staring at the ceiling trying to calm my breathing for a few minutes, before accidentally falling asleep again. I actually did consider leaving the room at that time, but uh, I was afraid that seeing the uhm, not safe things in the kitchen while in a mental state like that would give me thought i really did not need

i was back in the living room of that dream world. at this point, i kinda accepted that id be stuck there for a while. i'll just wake up to my alarm to go to school, yea? its going to be ok - everything would be fine, as long as i just did nothing. it will only feel like a few minutes right? it'll be morning any time now. i hoped. anyway, my aunt said something to me before going to her room to sleep. i knew that there was nobody else in the house somehow too. things were pretty quiet for a few minutes. i just kinda looked around, trying to comprehend everything

then suddenly, miku (the vocaloid in case you didnt know ndjhjsjd) showed up? not her usual clothes, but like casual summer short sleeve white crop top with shorts look with her hair down. the plot went down like it was dating sim now?? i mean, there was still no 'plot' but yk what i mean shh. it kinda went like, those my talking tom games? or the ddlc talking to monika thing? it was just miku talking to me, though i dont remember anything that was said. okok but then, i somehow triggered a cutscene? which looked like those 'emotional montages' of lovers having a reunion at the beach during sunset or something, but it was just in my living room.

the important part is how it ended tho. i twirled miku around a few times holding her hands, grabbed her by the waist, then threw her up. she started floating, like it a slowmotion scene, but she ultimately came back down when i grabbed her again. it happened directly below where the ceiling fan was. when it ended, i was thinking - wow, it actually isnt that bad this time. maybe i wont be traumatized further, bleh. for some reason, the cutscene repeated, and,, i really shouldn't have done it, i don't know why i didn't do it willingly by myself, but, my sanity was probably slipping away. when miku started floating,,, i was curious, what would happen if i just, purposely not pull her down,? would my brain allow it to happen? would it really make me see,,,?

when miku floated up, i wanted to see how my brain would even create the image for me, of miku, being chopped up by the ceiling fan. i can somehow still remember, the way she grabbed arm, telling me to stop, telling me to please not let go - and I, forcefully shoved her away? And in the end, I didn't see it happen, but I heard her screams. and saw her laying on the sofa, bleeding out with her head half open- and she started like, having a breakdown, like she suddenly understood that she isn't real and that the dating sim esque thing was fake, that it wasn't all cupcakes and rainbows?

the were bloodstains everywhere, on the ceiling, walls, floors, on myself - my vision had a red tint too, and the room was shaky like an acid trip or something. this weirdass deformed baby thing appeared too?? think of like, the regular show artstyle, but semi 3D. everything was loud. miku crying, her echoes wailing, the baby thing pointing and laughing at me, insulting and shaming me- apparently i just- couldnt take it anymore- its literally all in my head, so its not like its illegal, but its still a horrible thing to do i guess. i just began kicking the cursed baby thing. it wasnt human afterall. everytime it passed out, it became a more deformed version. it eventually turned into this weird green thing that looked like slime in a transparent sack. imagine one of those stress toy type stuff but gooey.

the dream finally, actually ended, when i gave up kicking the thing, and threw the leftovers in the trash. up until the final moment, everything was still loud and ringing in my head. the laughing and screaming. when i woke up, i still couldnt really believe it. but i felt the coldness of the air conditioner and heard the super loud sound of the fan next to me, so it had to be real. i checked the time on my phone, and relied washed over me (i only got an hour of sleep apparenly) but, that relied didn't last for long since i started crying nfjndjhd. ive had sadder, more worse dreams, where my parents die or something. but somehow, this dream really affected me alot- ive never had a dream quite thing gorey i know at least

ive been kinda purposefully staying up for a few days now, only sleeping after really really exhausting myself so my brain wont have the time or energy to put me back there again. also because im afraid but ok- also, the reason i googled hatsune miku horror games was because i swear ive seen games where it was creepy and almost just like this. where everything was fine until you do something wrong. but, i think i mightve been thinking of a mix of ddlc and this game called 'can your pet'. which, i watched back in 2017 or something?? also, i mightve thought of miku in a horror game because of the vocaloid song 'bacterial infection'

uhm anyways, if you read this, i apologize, sorry, you probably shouldve stopped huh- this is probably trauma dumping or something i dont even know im sorry s o b

#tw gore #long post

[in-all-ways-always]

Dear Love, 8/2/23

How are you? I'm trying to hang in there. It hasn't been a week yet since we said our goodbyes. I miss you beyond anything you can imagine. I fight with everything in me to not reach out to you. Tell you how much I love and miss you. It hurts so much, I'm trying to be strong and do what I need too to get better. It hasn't been easy, i didn't realize how hard it is getting the help you need for your mental health. Appointments just to be seen take weeks, unless you're in a bad crisis and feel at risk, then you'd call a number or go to the emergency or urgent care.

I went to a crisis urgent care mental health clinic today to get myself evaluated and start on medication. I can't sit around and wait weeks for my appointments to come. I had to be in line by 7am because the intake process and evaluation can take a minimum of 4 hours. I was there for about 4 hours, they prescribed me meds, which I now can no longer drink because it can trigger seizures if I do drink, so that sucks. This medication is supposed to help with my depression and anxiety, its also been used to treat adhd, which I need because as it is, I already have such a hard time focusing. I start them tomorrow morning. I have really high hopes that this can work along with therapy sessions.

I miss you much baby, I think about you all the time, so much that each time I close my eyes and sleep, even just a nap, I dream of you. You're all that I've been dreaming about. In my dreams I'm always chasing after you. You're leaving me or I'm trying desperately to find you. I know this break is what's needed, but it feels like a punishment. I never meant to hurt you the way that I did. I think about it throughout the day, I replay it all in my head over and over like a nightmare. This all feels like a bad dream, I keep wishing that that's all that this is, just one bad drawn out dream and that someone is going to wake me up soon. I just want to wake up, please wake me up.

I hope you think about me as often as I think about you. I saw you had reposted that picture that was taken with me on stage with you at Bricks, it wasn't a good picture of you guys at all, you know that it wasn't, but I tell myself that you posted it to show that you were thinking of me. For national GF day you cropped your head from a picture that me and you took, and placed it onto your friends picture, maybe it was just a coincidence that you picked that picture to use, or you were sending me a message. Then you made the video of you wearing the necklace I gave you. I broke down crying watching it, I screen recorded it to keep it forever and watch it on repeat when I needed it.

You saw that I went to the last day of S&F with Nate, it was honestly such a last minute decision. I had been laying on the couch practically since Friday morning when I got home from saying my goodbyes to you. I hadn't showered or taken your shirt off. I told myself I needed to get myself out the house and do something, anything. I had told you once or twice before that I really wanted to see TUI. So I thought to myself "fuck it, might as well find a wristband for that day and just go, maybe I would feel better". So I started looking through comments online to see if anyone was selling a pass for that day. This was before they had posted that Brendan was gonna be back playing on drums that night. I saw Nate had posted that he was going, and I messaged him and told him that I was looking for a pass. Maybe it was fate, maybe going to S&F was what I needed because he told me he had a wristband and if his friend wasn't going to use it, that I could have it, so he told me he'd let me know. I waited and kept looking through comments, the show wasn't sold out, so I could've easily paid full price. Which I was more than willing to do at this point because I couldn't handle another day stuck in this damn house, I was on the verge of losing my mind.

Then TUI posted that rehearsal photo with Brendan about S&F, immediately I sent it to Nate and told him I was gonna cry. He said his friend wasn't going after all and that the wristband was mine, he let my have it for free. I broke down, because it felt like the one good thing I was needing at a time when my whole world felt like it was falling apart all around me. I still feel like it's fallen apart and now I'm trying to put it all back together again. So I tried to be optimistic about the show. Nate dropped the wristband off at my house and I told him I'd be there around 5 or 6. So I got ready, and I left. I got there and I still couldn't get fully excited, I just kept thinking about how much I missed you, if maybe you were actually there, how I should be experiencing this whole thing with you. How being there with Nate wasn't going to be the same like how it is with you. He doesn't look out for me the way that you do, and isn't too concerned about getting separated. I was grateful to had been there, and to Nate for the pass, but all I wanted was you.

TUI was getting ready to start their set, and by that point I was so hot and drenched in sweat from the band before, I took my top off. We were front and center for them to start. I basically had to hold my own their, which you know is not a problem for me. I was having so much fun, but still that thought kept lingering, "you should be here with me." At some point during their second song it was becoming harder to hold my place in front of the stage, all these people stage diving on our side all of a sudden. I started to kinda panic, my only option out of there was to get up and stage dive to the other side. So thats what I did. It was so much fun, and something I wish you could've been there for. My first time and you weren't there for it. I dove in and this big guy caught me, then another guy jumped on top of us. He put me down and I pushed my way to the side because I needed to take a few hits of my inhaler. I noticed others that were stage diving were doing the same, pushing their way to the side or the back to catch their breath, get some air. Once I caught my breath, I tried to make my way to as close as I could to the front. I honestly could've tried harder, I had so much adrenaline in me, I wanted to go and stage dive again. But I decided to just chill where I was. Gosh babe, it was so much fun seeing them, I hate that you couldn't be there with me. You would've loved it.

The show ended, and me and Nate met up center stage. I realized I lost the water bottle you bought when we went to Sick New World and my heart broke. It meant so much to me, I couldn't find it anywhere, I even looked under the stage, it was gone. So we started walking out, I got myself a horchata and they were giving out free jumbo bacon wrapped hot dogs, which I gave the rest to Nate, and I also regret eating because it went right through me. I had saw you went to the Church of Fun show in your stories. I wondered if you were there alone or with someone. Nate had mentioned going earlier in the day after the festival ended. But he was so tired and had to drive back to Fontana, he decided that we shouldn't go. I was still debating if I should. I'd see you, but I'd also risk seeing you with someone else, and I was already still in bad shape. I don't know what that would've done to me. I decided to just go home, I so badly needed to use the restroom so I stopped at the Offbeat. It was so packed for a Sunday. Avi was there, so I decided to stay and chill for a bit. I had one drink, and then decided to head home. I went home, and still felt like I couldn't handle being home, so I went to our spot (B.R). I sat there till about 4 in the morning, in silence, thinking about everything, I'd rewatch my videos and see who else posted about the show. I would look at pictures of you, the videos we made, or videos you sent me. I cried, I miss you.

I hope I can get better soon, I know that it takes time, but I hope that being on these new meds, that it'll help a great deal. I need this to work.

I love you, forever, in all ways, always.

-Your Mija

#velvateen #love #i miss you #for my love #mental health #depression

[the-smooth-operator]

SLEEPING WITH ARCANE CHARACTERS

Warnings: gn!reader, imperfect English.

Genre: sfw, fluff with a bit of angst, hcs.

Characters: Viktor, Jinx, Silco.

VIKTOR

The first time you shared the bed he was highly nervous and stiff.

He likely tried to lay a bit separated to make things less embarrassing, but only an hour later he was clinging to you in sleep.

Viktor likes cuddles and small talks with you after tough day at work.

Whether he's big or little spoon depends on his mood and well-being.

There're nights when he can't fall asleep because of his leg and these terrible aches he has.

Viktor rarely talks in sleep (he's hella exhausted most of the time), but when he does it can be pretty hilarious.

One night it's some scientific stuff about Hextech.

The other it's a pure slurred nonsense.

But there're also these special nights when he mumbles in his native.

You barely can recognise anything from his sleepish speech, but it's adorable to hell.

Also you can get all of this only if you steal him from his beloved work.

JINX

Oh boy, are you two having a slumber party?

Because you are.

No, seriously, she looks like somebody who loves slumber parties.

And she's all into good lovely cuddles!

Wraps around your body like baby koala.

Definitely has the strangest sleep poses you've ever imagined.

There's no way Jinx doesn't have any 'odd-but-cool' pajamas.

She undoubtedly has frequent nightmares.

Frightful voices telling her you'd leave her like Vi did, scary sharp shadows showing her the worst scenaries.

When she's awake with wet eyes and sweat drops on her forehead, please, try to calm her down (she wakes you up quite often when this happens).

Bring her a glass of water, listen if she wants you to hear about her bad dreams, hug her close, tell that she has no reason to worry about, etc.

Maybe not that quick but she falls asleep in your arms over time.

(She loves you so much, you know?)

SILCO

A king sized bed with soft pillows and silk sheets... and it's often empty when you go to sleep.

It's not that Silco doesn't want you to fall asleep by his side.

He just can't afford it.

Being one of the main Zaun's crime lords isn't some easy thing.

He has a lot of paperwork and other big-boss-stuff, so it's rather expected he comes to you late.

If you wait for him 'till night, he might feel a bit guilty about it but is so really tired.

When he's not that exhausted from work, Silco asks you about your day and other stuff while you're laying next to each other.

If you're already asleep, he's pretty ok with it.

Tries not to awake you accidently.

May spoon you occasionally.

Silco has nightmares, but they don't torture him often.

Most of the time they're about his past.

He doesn't wake you up.

Just smokes a lot at the balcony and then almost always comes back to fall asleep with you again.

#arcane #viktor x reader #jinx x reader #silco x reader #gender neutral reader #x reader #arcane x reader #arcane headcanon

[33roda]

ok but imagine blowing xiaos back while he's asleep like💔💔(all consensual, lets not be weird here hsjajaj)

lets say that he'd been getting really bad nightmares recently so reader offers to 'alleviate' him if it happens again and he accepts

so one night reader wakes up by xiaos whimpers and notices he's having a nightmare by the way hes frowning, so they just slowly take off his pants and just starts gently fucking him omg that would be so wholesome

but then the cute moment doesnt last long bc soon xiao wakes up all sleepy n shit yet still having the audacity to ask reader to go harder as if his nightmare didnt just turn into a wet dream moments ago‼

omg omg wtf i love. thirsts <3 please never stop sharing your thoughts guys these are so good,, writing a lil xiao drabble to honor my first thirst ever

tags: softdom!reader, somnophilia, anal(m!receiving), handjobs, kinda sensual?, tiny dick xiao

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"I told you, I don't need help,"

"Come on, baby, I'll take care of you! Promise,"

Xiao's nightmares have been getting worse lately, all you wanted to do was help! It took a lot of convincing, even though he trusted you, he could never be too careful.

"Fine.. I'll nap with you for tonight." You hardly contained your excitement. All you wanted was to take care of your little Xiao, after all.

Night falls, and Xiao rests oh so close to you, although a bit nervous. He didn't want you to see him hurt in any way, but all it took was for you to wrap your arms around him and stroke his head and he'd be already passed out. Poor baby, hasn't gotten a good night's sleep in who knows how many years..

After what seemed like just an hour, Xiao'd already been shaking and murmuring incomprehensible sentences - clear on his face that he's having a nightmare. "Aww, poor baby, I'll take care of you," you said, gently pulling off him so as not to wake him up. Pushing his hair back while looking at his face, he was still so so pretty, even when he's having a nightmare. Slowly pulling his pants down, he winced at the cold air hitting him, making you flinch thinking he woke up - but he was still asleep.

Admiring his body, you worked slowly. Spitting on your hand and just so tenderly stroking him, your strokes turning into soft pumps; watching his pretty little cock get harder, keeping tabs on his expressions, making sure you weren't hurting him. Such a darling, still letting out more whimpers, making you unsure whether it was from his dream or from you; but you wouldn't stop anyways, spreading your spit all over his cock and hole, preparing him to take you like a good boy.

Pressing a finger into him, he softly humped into the air, almost as if missing your hand on his cock. Hm, it sounds like your care is working.. his dream seems to have 'shifted directions'. His whimpers turned into soft moans, only agitating you to fuck him with your fingers even harder. "I love the way you look with my fingers inside you," You pushed a second finger into him, increasing in speed without you even realizing it - before you couldn't take it anymore, and just wanted to fuck him with your cock. Lightly pushing his legs up, you pulled your pants down and inserting your cock into him with an agonizing pace - so so slow, it was almost cockwarming at this point, but you had to make your baby feel safe, right?

When you finally had your whole cock inside him, you leaned down to give his chest a kiss before finally starting to thrust in and out gently. He shook beneath you, moans getting louder, pretty face resting to the side although still looking somewhat 'indifferent'. "Look at you, asleep yet you're still shaking from me fucking you," you cooed softly.

Giving a push into him, you let out a little groan before a mumble emerged beneath you. "I-I'm awake- haaah- harder," shocking you a bit from being awake, you stopped thrusting.

"A-are you sure you-"

"I need it! Please!"

"Well, I'd do anything to please my baby," you resumed fucking him, now with the knowledge of him being awoken to this making this infinitely hotter - his moans groggy as he pushed back against you lazily. "Mmh, keep making those pretty sounds, baby." his whimpers sending a wave of heat through your body.

Even with all his moans and his inability to speak properly from how hard you were fucking into him, he still managed to let out an "I-I had this dream, and- mmmhhf- and you c-couldn't keep your hands off me," he muttered, tossing his hand next to his head to grab onto the sheets as he looked at you, waiting for a response. All you did was nod at him and groan 'fuck, that's hot,' before throwing his leg over your shoulder to fuck his spot better, making him explode with cute little yelps (he'd rather die than have you mention them).

"How needy," you said between gasps, "oh, baby, you're drooling everywhere.." you could barely decide whether to focus on his adorable face or on making him cum for you, but your time to think was cut short as you felt him tremble under you, moaning with heavy breaths, before letting out his release all over himself. You pulled out, admiring the view before laying next to him and holding him. "I told you I'd take care of you, did you think I wouldn't follow through?" you chuckled.

"Th-thank you," he absent-mindedly said, "we should.. do that again sometime."

wc: 794

edit: punctuation, grammar

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