#about 10 months later and this book is still always in my head | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dottores · 1 year

Text

ROMANTIC HOMICIDE | IL DOTTORE

pairing: dottore x reader; implications of future tartaglia x reader

summary: in which you’re with dottore’s youngest segment when he makes the deal with the dendro archon.

warnings: heavy angst, character death (dottore’s segments), very heavily implied breakup but it’s not made explicit, dottore does not know how to deal with emotions, the youngest segment (referred to as iota segment) was literally like reader’s son, was very liberal with what little we know of dottore’s lore/background.

notes: wow this was the most emotionally intense thing i’ve written in a hot minute. ever since i learned that dottore had a 10 y.o. segment i’ve been distraught—he is my son #real keeping dottore in character for his pov was honestly a rlly big writing challenge n i had a lot of fun w it. i think i did pretty well. as always, rbs for boost are appreciated! praying that this stays in the tags n it’s only the tighnari tags glitching again

wordcount: 7.3k

“Good morning, sleepy head,” you murmured, a small smile pulling to your lips as you watched a familiar pair of eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep and exhaustion. Dottore’s Iota segment only let out a noise of complaint as he rolled onto his side, burying his face into the pillow. You hummed quietly, running your fingers through the soft curls as his expression slowly went lax again, drifting back off to sleep. “You have to wake up sooner or later, I told you not to stay up all night reading that book.”

“I choose later,” his voice was muffled by the pillow, thick with sleep and you tried to bite back a laugh, not wanting to encourage his behavior. Instead, you leaned down to press your lips against his temple.

“I made you breakfast,” you tempted, watching as one of his eyes immediately peeked open, watching you curiously. “Strawberry crepes,” a recipe you had learned to make during the few months you had been stationed in northern Fontaine, on the Snezhnayan border, a recipe that Dottore and his segments particularly enjoyed even if the Iota Segment was the only one that was obvious about it. Their fondness of sweets was something they liked to keep hidden.

“... Fine,” he finally agreed, pushing the blankets off and sitting up. You watched, a fond smile pulling at your lips as he stretched, yawning and rubbing at one of his eyes until he froze mid-yawn, catching sight of you watching him. “Don’t look at me like that,” his voice was sharp but he was flustered, cheeks pink as he turned away from you.

You rose to your feet, holding a hand out toward him and you turned away before he could catch your smile as he reached out and took your hand, small fingers curling around yours as you led him from the bedroom.

Your relationship with Dottore’s segments varied widely--from the Theta Segment, who could barely stand to look at you but would still throw himself in front of danger for you if it came down to it, to the older segments, Beta, Gamma and Delta, who were as adoring and obsessive as Dottore himself was. You liked to think that you didn’t play favorites, but you knew it was a lie--how could you not have favorites when the Iota Segment was just right there.

The youngest of all of Dottore’s segments, the Iota Segment was frozen in time at the age of ten, why Dottore had felt it necessary to create a segment this young was a question in itself. But you were not one to cut your blessings short, so instead you took advantage of the situation, being able to dote over a far younger and more vulnerable Dottore, before he had become cold and sharp and cruel.

No one was born evil, you liked to believe, and the Iota Segment of Dottore was surely proof enough of that. Dottore never told you much of his past, but you knew enough to figure out exactly when this one had been made--the scar crossing over his nose and the top of his face was fresh, so he had to have been frozen in time right after he had been run out from his village, hailed a monster and heretic and scarred by his parents the night they chased him out.

Sometimes, you wondered what Dottore’s life would have been like had he not been shunned and kicked to the streets by the people that were supposed to love him. You spent enough time with the Iota Segment to know that his interests back then were nothing like the older Dottore’s. But Dottore had been from a devout and traditional village down south in Sumeru, so the moment that he had sparked interest in ruin guards and comparing humans to archons, it had been his downfall.

It was only after the first rejection in his hometown, from the people that were meant to love him unconditionally, did Dottore’s mindset begin to spiral into the one he had in the present day--uncaring of human life, ruthlessly ambitious in pursuit of his goals, sadistic and cruel and tunnel-visioned onto his research.

But the Iota Segment had yet to be cemented in that mindset--and maybe that was why Dottore had created one so young. He was still hurt and stand-offish after the events in his hometown, reluctant to get close to people but he was not cruel or sadistic, he was young enough to still be able to see the aranara of Sumeru but old enough that he could still devote himself and focus on research.

Curious and clumsy, the Iota Segment usually was found following after the older segments like a lost duckling, with them watching over him to make sure he didn’t find himself in trouble, as he usually did. But the older segments were all busy these days, with three down south with Dottore himself in Sumeru, overseeing the God Creation project, the Theta Segment continuing Dottore’s research into Irminsul until he could take back over, and the rest scattered throughout Teyvat still trying to advance the Archon residue project after the setback from two years back.

So it was up to you to keep an eye on the Iota Segment, and as much as you loved the boy, you swore you were on the verge of pulling your hair out. The amount of times you had to go out in the freezing winters of Snezhnaya to go searching for him, having to warm the both of you up with fire and blankets and hot cocoa, was too many to count.

It was both a blessing and a curse that Tartaglia had come back to Snezhnaya because he was willing to keep you company while you watched over the boy but the Iota Segment despised Tartaglia, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was because the older segments were whispering in his ear about the fellow Harbinger. It was very much common knowledge that there was no love lost between the older segments of Dottore and the Eleventh Harbinger.

“Do you think Master Dottore will let me work with live ruin guards when he gets back?” the Iota Segment asked as he sat down at the counter to shovel the crepes into his mouth. Your stomach lurched at the question, very much aware of the dangers that came along with working with live ruin guards. Dottore had been hesitant to let the Iota Segment anywhere near the live ruin guards. He didn’t like to restrict the curiosity of his segments but he was young and there was little reward and too much risk if something were to happen to him.

But the Iota segment had been working overtime while all of the other segments were gone, studying all of Dottore’s notes, reading over the research papers that Epsilon wrote on ruin guards and ruin hunters--if there was a piece of research on it, the Iota segment had read it to the point where he could recite it word for word if asked.

“With all your studying?” you smiled, nudging him gently with your shoulder as you passed by him. “How could he not?”

“He never stops the other segments from doing what they want,” he complained, and you watched as he twisted his food around with his fork, resting his chin on his palm. “Only me.”

“Mmm, that’s not true,” you said off-handedly, not even really processing it before you spoke, thinking back to the many times Dottore had put a stop to the Beta and Delta segment trying to get it on with you when they thought he wasn’t around.

“Yeah? Well what did they get stopped from doing?” he demanded, turning to face you and you froze, realizing what you had said.

“You know I don’t care to listen when they prattle on about their experiments,” you tried to blow off the question. “I don’t remember exactly what it was.”

But your chest tugged when you watched his shoulders slump over again, a frown pulling at his lips. You pouted softly, moving to stand closer to him, you cupped his cheeks in your hands and lifted his face so he was looking at you and you hated how frustrated and upset he was. “You’re young, s-”

“And I’ll never get older,” he snapped, trying to look away from you but you only smoothed your fingers over his cheekbones, tracing the lower half of his scar. “I don’t even know why he made me. I’m useless compared to the rest of the segments.”

You leaned down, pressing your lips to his forehead before letting out a soft sigh, “You are not useless,” you said, smiling as he huffed, hiding his face in your shoulder. “In fact, I think you’re the most useful of them all.”

“Now you’re just lying,” his voice was muffled into your shirt but you could hear the way it cracked.

“I would never lie to you,” and it was the truth, not that he would ever believe it, having been burned too many times by the people that were supposed to love him.

He made a noise, barely even acknowledging your words before he tilted his face up, and you forced yourself not to coo, catching the way he blinked up at you through his lashes, cheek still pressed to your shoulder, red eyes wide and searching your face.

“You’re so strange,” he murmured, and you raised your eyebrows, not sure if you should be offended or not. You could feel him shrug. “You just are. Nobody chooses us.”

You swallowed thickly, playing with one of the thick curls laying against his ear. “I’ll always choose you.”

“I just don't understand,” he finally spoke louder, pulling away from you, staring down at the plate, and you cocked your head to the side as you waited for him to continue. “I’m not stupid, you know? I know the Jester has been coming here, offering you a high ranking position in the Fatui—why do you keep turning him down?”

And you smiled, cupping his cheeks and tilting his face up, pressing your lips to his temple once, then twice, and then a third time. “Now why would I ever want to become a Harbinger when I can simply spend my days with you, silly boy? I told you, I’ll always pick you.”

Your smile softened when you noticed that his red eyes had welled with tears—and it really was a reminder that the segments were stuck in the mental state Dottore created them at. No matter how many times you told the Iota segment how much you cared for him and that you would never leave him, he would never believe you or understand it—too stuck in the betrayal of his mother and father. “Do you mean that?” he asked, voice wavering.

“Of course I do.”

His bottom lip trembled and you hummed quietly, reaching out to pull him to your chest. He flung thin arms around you, pressing his face against your skin and you could feel his shoulders shaking and you could feel the way he was desperately trying to blink away tears. The words that had slipped out when you had woken him up from a particularly bad nightmare rang through your head:

“Father said I’m not allowed to cry.”

“S’okay,” you said softly, cupping the back of his head and holding him close, remembering how he had been shaking, terrified at the prospect of crying that night because of what he thought waited for him after. “You can cry.”

The noise that escaped his lips was caught between a sob and a wheeze, you could feel his hands clutching at the back of your shirt, blunt nails digging into your back. You did your best to soothe him, running your fingers through his hair and rubbing soft circles against his back--he was reaching the end of the cycle again, where he fought back all of his emotions until they exploded. It was something that every version of Dottore dealt with--the Theta segment was prone to bouts of rage at the end of his cycle, Epsilon and Delta tended to close themselves off, and Dottore himself got cold and sharp, to the point where it was hard for you to convince yourself that he didn’t mean some of the particularly harsh words he spoke.

You could hear the muffled apologies against you as he tried to calm himself down. The Iota segment had yet to compartmentalize and funnel his emotions in the way the older segments did, so instead of being able to force the emotions into one that was easier to handle--like cold or hot anger, which was how Dottore frequently described it--he was forced to deal with tears that only made him more anxious and frustrated, a spiral that he couldn’t control.

“Hey, look at me,” you said, waiting for him to look up at you, and he did--lashes wet, eyes rimmed red and bottom lip wobbly.

“Come,” you said, holding out your hand for him. “How about you come tell me about the research you stayed up reading last night? So you can get ready to show Dottore how much you have learned while he was gone. He’ll be impressed if you’ve taught me some, that’s a feat that not even he’s been able to achieve yet.”

His eyes were still welled up with tears even as he perked up, taking your hand and all but dragging you in the direction of the library. He was already waving his free hand around, voice still cracking as he explained something about cores and autonomy that made little sense to you, but he seemed to be pulling himself out of the spiral before it could worsen, and you supposed that was worth the headache that was bound to come from trying to understand what he was talking about.

---

“You need to bathe, why must this always be an argument?” you were exasperated calling him for the hundredth time, hands on your hips as you paced up and down the hall. This was the third time this week that he refused to interrupt his studying for basic necessities and you were tired of chasing him around to haul him into the tub or force feed him.

“I will in a minute!” he shouted back from down the hall, locked in his room. “I just need to finish this page.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago,” you told him loudly.

“I did not! It was five minutes,” he argued.

“Check the clock then.” You could practically see the way his brows were furrowed, searching for the clock in his room, and you couldn’t help but notice that he did not, in fact, talk back this time. “Well?”

“... it was nineteen minutes ago,” he said, rather petulantly before going quiet again. “Just this last page, I mean it this time.”

You sighed heavily. “The water is running. Get in there before it goes cold. I’ll be in the other room.”

You turned on your heel to walk back down the hall toward the library, intent on curling up on the sofa and reading that book that Dottore had left behind for you, claiming you would enjoy it. You hadn’t got the chance to look at it since he left, too caught up in handling little Iota--but you knew if you didn’t at least get through a good portion of it before he got back, he would be disappointed. Not that he would ever show it outwardly, but his gaze would linger on the unmoved book in a way that you knew was him second guessing himself if the way his fingers tapping steadily against his thigh had anything to say about it.

And you didn’t want him to think that. Dottore was never the best with verbal or physical displays of affection but he was phenomenal when it came to things like that---thinking of you and things you might enjoy, and bringing them for you to appreciate. He was observant and attentive unlike anyone you had ever met before when it came to figuring out what you like and don’t like.

He had been hesitant about it during the beginning of your relationship, but as the years went on, he became more and more comfortable bringing you stuff. But Dottore, as much as he would deny it, was rather sensitive when it came to his emotions. Or maybe sensitive wasn’t the right word--he was closely-guarded, and one little thing like you brushing aside something he had gone out of his way to bring you because he thought you would enjoy it could set him back quite the distance.

You smiled softly, shaking your head as you looked down at the ground as you reached the end of the hall. You didn’t even get a step into the library before you heard the Iota segment’s door slam open.

Familiar footsteps dashed toward you and alarm began to shoot through you, turning around just as he barreled into you. You let out an oof, stumbling backward as you wrapped your arms around him, cupping the back of his head. Panicked, you lifted his head, turning his face up toward you so you could search it, make sure he was okay.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, throat closing up at the way his red eyes were glassy with tears and you worried if something set off the spiral again--anxiety eating at your stomach because you thought you had averted it and couldn’t think of anything that would have sparked it again. He buried his face into your stomach. You stroked his hair as soothingly as you could, trying to calm him down and keep your own voice steady. “Are you okay? Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“He’s getting rid of us,” he cried, voice catching on a sob. “He’s getting rid of us, he’s killing us for the gnosis.”

Your world stilled and shattered at once, hand freezing midstroke against his head, “What?”

“He’s getting rid of us,” he was repeating it over and over again but you simply could not comprehend what he was saying because it just couldn’t make sense to you.

Why would Dottore ever do that? The segments were difficult, nigh-impossible to make now that some of the resources were all but inaccessible and Dottore was strong, obscenely strong, he was the strongest man you knew and you knew that the Dendro Archon stood no chance against him, why would he not just take it by force?

You wanted to assume that the Iota segment was wrong, that he had just misheard something, but the way he was clinging to your shirt tightened and his weight went dead in your arms.

“I can’t feel my legs,” he gasped. “I can’t feel them, I can’t move my legs.”

You eased the two of you down to the floor, arms shaking, barely able to process what was happening as you cradled the boy in your arms holding him to your chest. “It’s going to be okay,” you said, trying to stop your voice from shaking, pressing your lips to his forehead, “It’s okay, everything is going to be okay.”

“I don’t want to die,” his voice cracked. It was happening too fast. You felt sick to your stomach, nauseous as you noticed how his fingers were no longer clutching at your shirt, arms limp next to him. “He’s going to regret this, he will, I don’t want to die. I can’t feel my legs or my arms anymore, I can’t-I’m scared-”

“It’s okay,” your vision was blurred, and this time you couldn’t stop the way your voice wavered as your arms tightened around him, as you buried your face into the top of his head holding him tight. “Everything’s going to be okay. Don’t be scared, I’ve got you, Zandik.”

“I don’t want to die,” he repeated, more desperately this time, voice shrill. “I don’t understand, I don’t understand, why is he doing this? He’s going to regret this, he’s-”

The following silence was louder than his cries. You stared at the wall in front of you, praying, begging, for him to speak up again but he didn’t and you could barely even process what had happened. Not even two minutes had passed since you told him to get in the tub before the water ran cold and now-

Now, he was limp in your arms, the weight felt obscenely heavy compared to the amount of times you had carried him around when he got himself hurt--it was a different sort of weight, you couldn’t feel him toying with your hair as you propped him up on your hip, you couldn’t feel him squirming in your arms as you held him bridal style, you couldn’t feel his chin resting on the top of your head as you carried him on your back around the house while he was immersed in whatever book he was reading.

It was deadweight in your arms now, and it crushed everything within you all at once. You wondered how the night had turned so fast--how you had been chasing him through house as he screeched at you to leave him be to him using his last moments to rush into your arms; how he had been excited at the prospect of actually being able to study live ruin guards to crying against your chest afraid to die.

You wanted to cry but everything felt cold and empty and numb and you thought, just for a moment, that you might hate Dottore.

---

He half thought that he would come back to the estate and you would still be sitting there holding the youngest segment’s body. You were not. And he wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or worried that he came home to an eerily empty and cold house.

His throat had been tight when he had first arrived, the book he had left you untouched in the library and the halls of the estate absurdly uncomfortable when he realized you weren’t there. A bit of anxiety pooled in his stomach at the thought of you leaving without a word but your clothes were still in your shared room. There were still mementos on your dresser that you wouldn’t leave behind, so he figured you were just busy doing something else.

A grave had been dug, was the last thing he had noticed looking out the window of his bedroom, before Pierro had called him to the Zapolyarny Palace for a status update on what had happened down in Sumeru. The soil was still fresh, and Dottore considered, just for a moment, digging up the grave and trying to scavenge whatever materials he could from the segment’s remains--it wouldn’t be enough to create a new one, but it would be a start at least.

He ended up deciding against it as he twirled the familiar blue earring inside of his pocket--you had left it on the dresser for him to see as soon as he had noticed the grave. An offering, he supposed, asking him not to disturb it. He figured that he could acquiesce to that much at least.

The more time he had alone to think about it, the more perplexed he became--he had been certain that he would come home and you’d still be there, clutching the Iota segment to your chest. He had been prepared for the tears, he had been prepared for the anger; he steeled himself for the sharp words and shoves against his chest when he tried to draw close. He had expected it and it didn’t happen, and all of the walls he had built up to brace against the aggression crumbled in confusion.

Dottore didn’t like being wrong. It threw him off when he was prepared for something to happen and then it did not, in fact, happen. His mind was running at the speed of light, bouncing around all of the other options as to what might happen next. You didn’t leave, you weren’t there to yell at him, you weren’t there crying, so where were you? Were you planning something sneakier? Revenge?

No, he shook his head, revenge wasn’t your way.

He paused, or maybe it was, you had always been cold and spiteful, just never to him.

Would him killing the segments really change that?

He didn’t like that he couldn’t be confident in his answer.

Dottore inhaled slowly, keeping his gaze trained forward and his lips pressed tight, fingers tapping steadily against the side of his thigh, a tactic he had learned while at the Akademiya to keep himself calm and thinking straight when he found himself in a predicament that had him second guessing himself.

It was something he had to worry about later. For now, he had to get to the debrief before he had to waste time listening to Pierro make snide comments about him being late again, as he had the dozens of times he or one of his segments had gotten caught up in research before a meeting.

He tried to push you out of his mind--a difficult task, he realized as he approached the meeting room and you just would not leave the forefront of his mind. Questions and options raced behind his eyes as he tried to figure out where you were, what you were doing, and what he should expect when he inevitably ran into you.

He did not have to wonder for long.

He entered the room while Pierro was talking with one jab in his direction at his lateness, as he predicted, but the words didn’t fully process through his head. Dottore could hear him but Pierro’s voice sounded distant and muted even standing next to him. He couldn’t focus on his words--not on what he was asking, not on what he was explaining, not even when he was being addressed directly because he was too focused on you.

You, who was standing right between Pulcinella and Sandrone, eyes iced over and unfriendly in a way that Dottore had never expected you to direct toward him.

You were angry over the segment, that much he could put together from the cold fury in your eyes trained solely on him. He knew you would be angry. He expected that. But what were you doing here? In the meeting with the Harbingers?

Pierro had mentioned bringing people up to replace Signora and now, he supposed, they would have to replace Scaramouche too, but-

But you?

Shouldn’t this have been something mentioned to him? At least in passing? When was this even discussed? How long had Pierro been trying to get you to join--why hadn’t you said anything to him?

What was going on?

“Dottore,” the voice was harsh and sharp, Dottore’s eyes dragged from you to land on Pierro, who was watching him with a frustrated expression. Rather absently, Dottore noticed that all of the Harbingers were looking at him, and he played back the last few minutes in his head trying to figure out what he had missed.

Ah. The debrief on the events in Sumeru.

His voice sounded empty and robotic even to his own ears as he recounted what had happened down in Sumeru from the beginning of the God Creation Project, to the arrival of the Traveler, to Scaramouche’s developments and progress in the experimentation, to the interference from the Traveler and that group, to the meeting with the Dendro Archon and the two deals that were made with her.

He couldn’t help but notice the way Tartaglia’s eyes had drawn toward you when Dottore mentioned his segments, the way his body had twitched to move toward you. What was that? He was still looking at you, even though Dottore knew that Tartaglia knew he was staring right at him. Tartaglia’s brows were knit together in concern, and instead of meeting Dottore’s gaze, you looked at him. Tartaglia. A silent conversation that Dottore couldn’t understand—something green and ugly tugged at his chest, he forced it away.

Pierro wasn’t pleased with the loss of Dottore’s segments or the information he had offered up to the Dendro Archon, but he was more focused on the successful attainment of the two gnoses so Dottore was able to redirect his attention toward you.

You weren’t looking at him anymore, gaze trained on Pierro as he delved out orders to the rest of the Harbingers. He was angry--well, it was more than anger, but he couldn’t place what the second emotion was yet. He didn’t understand why you hadn’t consulted him about Pierro’s offer before taking him up on it, he didn’t understand why you hadn’t even mentioned it to him, and he did not like the way that Tartaglia was watching you, completely tuning out all of the discussion around him.

Hot anger. Dottore liked to differentiate different types of anger between hot and cold, it was easier for him to digest and figure out how to handle that way. Hot anger needed coolness, otherwise it would blow up into an explosion. Cold anger needed warmness, otherwise you would freeze each other out. Dottore was more adept with handling hot anger as he himself was rather cold.

And with him, you had always been hot anger, like his younger segment--Theta. You had been hot anger, he had been cold. A messy situation for when the two of you got into arguments, but not as messy as it could have been otherwise—you worked well with each other even when arguing. Why were you cold now? Where was the shouting and the aggression? The pushing at his chest and telling him to leave?

Dottore did not know how to handle your cold anger. He needed your warmth to balance out his cold. Once again, he felt anxiety yanking at him. He pushed it away. He had until the end of the meeting to figure out how to approach you and fix this mess before it escalated too far.

But the end of the meeting came too fast for him to process. Logically, he knew it had been a decent amount of time, but it had only felt like seconds had passed between him giving the rundown of what had happened and Pierro dismissing everyone. You were going to Fontaine with Arlecchino, that’s what Pierro had said right before ending the meeting. Fontaine, not to the outskirts but instead deep into the court of the Hydro Archon who hated the Fatui and everything they stood for.

Another unfamiliar emotion--more intense this time. He couldn’t push it away.

He didn’t have to ask you to stay. As all of the others left, you lingered. You were looking at him again but Dottore was more focused now on Tartaglia, who hadn’t left, and was staring at you, hesitantly. Rage. He funneled the unfamiliar emotion into rage as he turned his head to the lowest-ranked Harbinger, who had the audacity to raise his chin and meet Dottore’s gaze head on--or meet his gaze as best as he could, at least, with his mask on.

“Ajax,” it was your voice that drew him from the anger, but only momentarily. The familiarity that you spoke Tartaglia’s name had Dottore’s blood boiling, his delusion rattling against its mold. Since when- “Go.”

Since when was Tartaglia, ‘Ajax’? It had taken Dottore months to finally tell you what his real name was—an act that had been one of the most difficult decisions of his life considering it meant reviving a part of him that he had killed off years before.

It had taken him months to tell you and it had taken you months to get used to it—how were you saying Tartaglia’s real name so casually and fondly like that?

Tartaglia only listened to you when you looked at him, nodding once before turning and walking out of the room. He didn’t go far, Dottore noticed, he was lingering outside, ready to step in as if Dottore would do something to hurt you. As if he would ever, Dottore thought, trying to bite back the rising anger. And even if he did, it wasn’t like Tartaglia could hope to stop him.

“What was that about?” Dottore asked, voice tenser than he intended for it to be.

“What business is it of yours?” your voice was sharp, icy in a way that it hadn’t been with Tartaglia. That green feeling returned, ugly and intense, along with something else—something that had his chest feeling heavy.

“What business is it of mine?” Dottore questioned, tone laced in disbelief as he stared at you. “You’re my-”

“I’m your what?”

He didn’t like how you cut him off, how you were waiting for him to say something. He had heard you take that tone with associates of the Fatui before--associates who had gone back on their word and you were often the one sent to whittle the answers out of them before one of the Harbingers, usually a segment of Dottore, was sent to remove them. This was the tone you took when you had won, waiting for them to deliver the sentence that would damn them.

Dottore stayed quiet, only for a moment. Instead of answering the question, he asked another, “When did you and Tartaglia become so close?”

“He has been around the past three months. You have not.”

Dottore especially did not like that. He stared forward, mind whirring as he tried to process what you had said and the implications of it. Dottore had never made anything explicitly clear between the two of you but he had figured-

“Not like that, Dottore.”

Any other thought he might have had was gone, mind focusing on how you had addressed him. By his Harbinger title, you had never addressed him by that. It was always Zandik, you were the only one allowed to call him that, you were the only person he would revive that part of himself for. The name was dead to everybody else in the world except you.

“Why did you call me that?” Dottore asked before he could stop himself. The coldness, the way you addressed him, your familiarity with Tartaglia, Dottore didn’t know what was going on. It couldn’t just be anger over the lost segment--it was just a segment, a piece of him but he was still there, there had to be more that he was missing.

“Because Zandik is dead,” you said, and yet again, Dottore was grateful for his mask because his brow was furrowing and his eyes were squinted as he tried to figure out what you meant. “You killed him.”

Were you referring to the segment?

Dottore’s lips parted, he shut his eyes briefly as he shook his head, trying to clear his mind before speaking. “I am Zandik,” he spoke a sentence that he hadn’t spoken in years, and the forced acceptance ripped open a part of him that had long since been sealed away. Dottore tried to keep his breath steady, trying to split his attention between clearing up whatever this misunderstanding with you was and trying to close the reopened wound before it could cause serious damage.

“No, you’re not.” It was like you weren’t even listening to him and Dottore could feel the frustration seeping onto his face.

“I am,” Dottore snapped, but his anger would only fuel yours--he knew that from experience--so he tried to calm himself down. “I am Zandik,” he said it again. The wound ripped open more, too much for him to try to put back together while at the same time trying to figure out what he was missing. He would fix this with you, and then he would fix the wreck that had become his mental state. “What is going on? Why-”

“You killed him!” Your hands slammed down against the table, your voice a shout so loud that it echoed across the chamber the two of you stood in--outside the room, he heard Tartaglia draw closer to the door, alert. Dottore paused, staring at you--there was the anger, the hot anger that Dottore had expected from you, but he couldn’t find himself relieved at it. Instead, he only found himself even more stressed.

“You are talking about the segment,” he realized quietly, and your eyes flared at his words, angrier. But Dottore was lost because he expected you to be angry but he didn’t expect it to be like this. He didn’t expect it to-

“You killed him, Dottore,” your voice cracked over your words, and Dottore tried to step around the table toward you but you drew back as soon as he started to move. His throat felt tight at the rejection but he tried to ignore it--impossible, the wound tore more, gaping and open.

Dottore shook his head again, slowly this time, as he tried to figure out what to say to calm you down. “The segment was me,” he tried to keep his voice soft, but Dottore was not a soft man. “I’m still here. He was just me, but younger, and-”

“He was not-”

“He was-” His voice rose, anger and frustration, and maybe just a hint of desperation to get you to listen to him as he realized what exactly the issue was. You had never considered the segments as extensions of him. They had been individuals, separate people. He should have realized it from the way you spoke about some of them but he was never around enough when you were talking to the segments to have the pieces to put it together and he was so set in his own mindset that they were simply extensions to realize you felt differently. “He was me. I’m him. Let’s-”

“He was you before you turned into this,” your words were sharp and venomous, acid dripping into the open wound. Dottore drew back, not speaking for a moment as he watched you, waiting for you to elaborate on what you meant.

You did not, chest heaving and eyes welled with tears as you stared at him. If Dottore wanted an explanation, he would have to ask but he didn’t even know if he wanted an explanation.

“And what is ‘this’?” Dottore couldn’t stop himself from asking, time seemed still around the two of you as he waited for an answer.

“Look at what you’ve turned into, Zandik. All of these odd experiments and heretical ideas, you’ve become a-”

“A monster.”

Dottore stared at you and internally he was scrambling, trying to get control of all of the unwelcome emotions before they could become visible on his face. The wound that had been opened had torn past the point of being able to close back up, it had torn through all of the other closed wounds and ripped all of them open too, leaving him bare and vulnerable and bleeding out and there was nothing he could do. He had to leave, or he had to get you to leave so he could get himself under control.

“I see,” he said, his voice was colder than he intended for it to be, maybe that was for the best. “I never should have let you get attached to them.”

Logically, he could rationalize it—how you had managed to get so attached, that is. Parts of Dottore had died over the years, the parts of him that had been softer and vulnerable. Or he supposed they hadn’t died if the reopened wounds he was struggling to patch back up had anything to say about it, but they had been locked away so deep that they might as well have been dead.

Segments like the Iota segment, and even the Zeta and Theta segment, to some extent, did not have the same high walls that the older segments of Dottore had. You were able to access a part of him through those segments that you wouldn’t ordinarily be able to through himself. Dottore had been hesitant about the idea at first but it had kept him from having to open up his own old wounds so he figured it was for the best.

Logically, he could rationalize it but he simply could not understand it. Because if it was just a matter of being able to access that part of him, Dottore would figure it out. He would, for you, if it meant this argument would end.

But it didn’t seem as if it was just a matter of being able to access that part of him. It was deeper. It was the segment itself, not its connection to Dottore. And Dottore couldn’t understand how an artificially made clone of his younger self was causing this to happen. He didn’t understand why you had gotten so attached to it when he was right there.

Right there? His mind flew back to all of the times he had left you with the Iota segment, or the Theta or Zeta segments. Separate bodies, almost completely different personalities from him—you didn’t have the same mental connection that he had with his segments, was it really so hard to believe that you started to view them as individuals rather than extensions of himself?

You scoffed almost instantly at his words, drawing him back to the conversation at hand, and he knew he had spoken wrong but he was already overwhelmed piecing together just how much he had misunderstood between you and your relationships with his segments that he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge the mistake.

Dottore was not a master of deciphering emotions, he was far from it in fact. But he remembered the nights he’d come home late from the labs to find the Iota segment curled up asleep in your arms, how you would dote on him in a way no one in Dottore’s life had ever done before.

The pieces had been laid out for him but Dottore just hadn’t realized it.

“I can think of a lot of things you shouldn’t have done,” snide and derisive, Dottore’s jaw tightened at your words, and you were watching him. You were searching for something but Dottore didn’t know what it was--Dottore had never been the best at reading people, but he was usually able to make up for it just by using sheer logic. This would not be the case here with you. He didn’t know what you were looking for, and he didn’t know how to make this better--not for himself, and not for you, or the two of you together.

Evidently, you did not find whatever you were looking for and Dottore’s lips finally parted from the thin line he had them pressed in as you shook your head and walked away without another word. He tried to force the words past his lips but they got caught in the back of his throat.

Dottore had always been a prideful and arrogant man but he thought he’d be able to set it aside for you, just this once. But maybe it wasn’t a matter of pride or arrogance, he realized, because his heart was erratic in his chest as you walked away, eyes wide beneath his mask. It was a matter of not knowing what to say.

Dottore had never been someone who found himself at a loss for words. One way or another, he would always be able to talk his way out of a situation—but now, staring at your back as you made your way out of the room, not even bothering to shut the door behind you, his mind was blank. Numb.

He felt numb.

Your words mixed with his parents, his parents mixed with the other villagers in his old town, the villagers mixed with the students at the Akademiya and the students mixed with the scholars. And then it was your voice again, loud, damning, finally calling him for what he was after all of the years you had spent with him.

He was not Il Dottore in that moment, he was Zandik--the child that was run from his hometown and scarred by his own parents for showing interests that were considered heretical to the traditional village elders; the student at the Akademiya who had tried, at first, before giving up and throwing himself into his research when he was faced with the same rejection again and again and again and again; the student who had decided if he couldn’t be accepted, then he might as well go to whatever lengths necessary to at least be successful.

He watched as Tartaglia peeled off the wall to walk with you, he watched as his fingers grazed your back--a sort of reassuring gesture that seemed too natural to be of any comfort to Dottore, and he watched as you turned your head to the side to look at Tartaglia, speaking quietly before the two of disappeared down a different hallway. You didn’t look back once.

And when he finally looked away from where you had left, eyes falling on the dark window that led to the palace courtyard, Dottore swore that it was his youngest-self staring back at him, vindictive and satisfied, his last words echoing in Dottore’s head louder than all of the rest of them.

#dottore x reader #dottore x you #genshin x you #genshin x reader #dottore angst #genshin angst

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sassycheesecake · 8 months

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A/N: Chose the names for the kids completely random, also I was a horrible teenager and I still feel bad what my poor parents had to go through with me. Also, the Spanish translations are from my male best friend whose mother tongue is Spanish, I am sorry if it’s not correct, I’ll kick his ass if something is wrong 😂

TW: period blood

Tōru Oikawa is many things.

King of the court, former national Argentinian Setter, husband of a beautiful successful, confident woman he calls the love of his life and father of three children.

Now as a retired athlete, the former Setter trains all sorts of volleyball clubs in San Juan. From little kids trying out Volleyball for the first time to High Schoolers and even College students trying to go pro.

All these years, you raised the children mostly while your husband played volleyball professionally until he couldn’t do it anymore physically. With coming age, every athlete reaches their breaking point sometime.

Now working your dream job as a novel publisher about a romance novel you recently published, you’re in the United States, traveling and doing interviews about it.

The two of you always wanted a family.

After Tōru did the try outs and made it on Argentinian team, the the two of you celebrated with a lot of alcohol and passionate kisses and just like that, your first child was born 9 months later.

Just by the age of 22, Tōru is a father of a beautiful girl named Sofia, she was born in the bright early morning light in December.

As first time parents, there were ups and downs but you both pulled it through as a team.

During the years, you and Tōru brought two more lives into this world, one girl and one boy. Hikari and Thiago.

Sofia is now 13 years old, which means she is a teenager now. Hikari is 10, while Thiago, the youngest, is 7 years old.

Thiago does not always has it easy with two older sisters, especially since Sofia has had incredibly bad mood swings that she occasionally lets out on her siblings, causing fights to break out that the poor former retired pro Volleyball player has to break up lots of times.

Unfortunately the former Setter’s wife is out of the country for interviews and signing her books, leaving the man to run the household by himself.

During years of intensive training, raising three children, nothing could have prepared the brunette for this.

Puberty.

On Saturday morning, Tōru prepared breakfast for his kids when Sofia came out of her room with an annoyed expression.

No.

Pissed expression.

She sits down at the table without greeting her family and just begins to tear apart the waffles without eating them.

"What’s wrong with you?" Hikari asks in a curious voice.

"What’s wrong with your face." Sofia’s voice is full of venom, like her sister took away her iPod again without asking her first.

"Hey! Ya basta." Tōru scolds her with a frowned expression.

Sofia’s mean demeanor drops a little bit but the anger on her face still remains. She definitely inherited your angry expression that Tōru is still terrified of.

Thiago is just munching on his Lucky Charms cereal, ignoring his sisters’ antics like always.

While both daughters inherited your looks, Thiago looks like a solid copy of his father. The same hair, the same eyes, the same face.

When the Setter cleans up the mess from the cooking, an idea pops up in his head. Something he hasn’t done with his kids in quite a while due to their school activities and homework.

"Hey kids, how about we play some volleyball in the garden later on? We haven’t done that in a while." Tōru suggests.

The two younger Oikawas brighten up with excitement, whereas the oldest one barely reacts.

"Go got ready after breakfast, I'll clean everything up and Thiago, go get the volleyball in mum’s closet." Tōru tells his kids, a huge smile breaking out on his face when his youngest one quickly chows down the rest of his food before running upstairs to get dressed and fetch the volleyball out of his parents’ closet.

Hikari also finishes, setting her plate in the dish washer before going to her room as well, getting ready to play volleyball with her brother and her father.

Tōru looks at his daughter and she pushes her plate away, leaving the table without another word.

"Sofia, you know you can talk to me. Qué te preocupa?" The brunette calls out to her.

She doesn’t reply, just keeps on walking and closes the bathroom door with a slight slam.

With a deep sigh, Tōru finishes cleaning up, wishing his wife was here to help him figure his teenage daughter out.

All of sudden, he hears Hikari and Thiago running down the stairs, this time in sports attire instead of their pajamas.

Making a run for it, Hikari trips Thiago to be the first to arrive in the garden of the house.

With his face landing on the hardwood floor, he groans out loudly in pain before getting up and yelling after his sister.

Rubbing his temple in annoyance, Tōru makes his way to the bathroom to try and get his eldest daughter out to join the family fun.

Knocking gently on the door, the father begins to talk.

"Sofia? You okay?"

"Go away, dad!" She yells out behind the door and it sounds like she is scared but also deeply upset.

"Preciosa, what’s wrong? You okay?" He begins to get worried.

"It’s nothing, I just… I-I need mum for this." Sofia sounds embarrassed as she says it out loud.

Tōru pouts a little bit at that, his little girl choosing you over him.

"Maybe I can help you." The father offers.

"No! You can’t! Gosh, this is so embarrassing!" She shouts in reply.

Now Tōru is starting to freak out a little bit.

"Sofia, tell me what’s wrong or I will knock down this door, I am not kidding!"

No reply.

"There’s… there’s blood… in…my…" She stutters.

Pressing his ear against the door, he tries to listen what she is trying to say.

"Blood in your what?!" Tōru asks frantically.

Now both Oikawas are freaking out.

"I GOT MY PERIOD, YOU HAPPY?!" She finally snaps and yells.

It seems like time has stopped for Tōru Oikawa.

Why, why?!

Out of all the times, it happens now?! When you’re gone and he has to deal with it by himself?

'Deep breaths, Tōru. You can do this.'

"Nena, please open the door. I’ll try to help you in any way I can."

"You can’t! I read online that I need something called a pad or a tampon. Do we have any of that here?"

Tōru knows whenever you’re having your period, you keep your feminine products on top of the med cabinet, out of reach from prying eyes.

Hikari and Thiago return inside the house after a while, confused why their father hasn’t come outside to play yet.

"What’s going on with Sofia? Is she sick?" Thiago worriedly asks.

Hikari appears as well, more annoyed than worried like her little brother.

"Sofia, if you die, can I have your laptop?" She teases.

"No! When I get out of here, you’re done for, you little shrimp!" Sofia snaps back.

"Oy! No one is killing anyone! I will be right there, just leave your pa and your sister for a bit okay? I promise I will be there."

Tōru interferes, before Thiago becomes an only child, more likely foster child, since his wife will kill him as well.

Hikari and Thiago make their way outside again, with Thiago jumping on his sister’s back like a warhorse.

They both scream as they head outside again, while Tōru only shakes his head at their silliness.

"Mijita, check the top of the med cabinet."

"What? Why?" Sofia asks perplexed.

"You’ll find what you’re searching for."

After a few minutes of rustling and hearing movement, the father hears the rustling of plastic and the uncertainty in his daughter’s voice as she describes the products.

"You found everything?"

"Yes, thank you, pa…"

"De nada, linda. I’ll explain from the door how to use it."

Tōru does not move from the door, explains to his daughter step by step how to use the different kind of feminine hygiene products, also offering to buy her favorite candies and food tomorrow and even if Tōru can’t see it, Sofia has tears in her eyes, appreciating her father’s supportive nature so much.

When you return from your trip, Tōru is watching a volleyball game between England and France, eyes captivated by the screen.

He is sipping on a beer can, eyes on the tv, switching between cursing and cheering for the teams.

Entering through the entrance door, you spot the love of your life immediately.

"I haven’t seen you drink a beer since high school. Any special occasion?" You grin as you hug your husband from behind, your arms wrapped around his neck.

Pressing a chaste kiss against his temple, your brunette husband chuckles and intertwines one of your hands with his.

"Bienvenido de vuelta, ¿Cómo fue tu viaje?" Tōru asks while briefly looking at you over his shoulder.

"Amazing! The people are very nice and I was busy every single day. How was home?" You ask in return.

"Puro pánico y discusión entre hermanos." Your husband sighs while taking another sip of his beer.

"What do you mean?" You say in a very concerned voice, already bracing for the worst.

"Your daughter had a mental breakdown over her first period today."

"MY daughter?! She’s your daughter too, marido."

"ANYWAY, your amazing marido handled it, amore. They are all asleep, Sofia and I had a long and big talk, you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about anything else."

You smile brightly at him, remembering you have a little souvenir gift for him.

Quietly unzipping your suitcase, you change into the surprise you have for your husband.

"Tōru?" You quietly call out to him, leaning against the entry way of the living room, doing a sexy pose of the new black Victoria’s Secret lingerie you got from the States.

"Hm?" Looking over his shoulder once more, the brunette’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets, choking on the sip of beer he took, while taking your figure in.

"Ven y cógelo, mi capitán." You say in a seductive voice, walking towards the direction of your bed.

Jumping over the couch, the Setter follows you into your shared bedroom, full of excitement and horniness for his precious wife.

Translations:

Ya basta = stop it/cut it out

Qué te preocupa? = What’s wrong?/ What’s going on?

Mijita = my daughter

De nada = no problem

Bienvenido de vuelta, ¿Cómo fue tu viaje? = welcome home, how was your trip?

Puro pánico y discusión entre hermanos = pure panic and siblings fighting

Marido = husband

Ven y cógelo, mi capitán = come and get it, my captain

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workingbynyx · 3 months

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i’m dying on my period and i just want a fic where jason takes care of me??? i’ve been so starved of affection the last few days and just need soft!jason to take care of me

love ur work <3333

Nights Like This — Jason Todd x F!Reader

↷ summary — it's that time of the month again and jason's doing everything he can to make you feel better even the slightest <3 ˎˊ˗

↷ pairing — jason todd x f!reader ˎˊ˗

↷ genre — fluff, comfort ˎˊ˗

↷ warning/s — mentions of blood but nothing too explicit! ˎˊ˗

↷ a/n — hi! omg i tried to write this as soon as i saw your submission, drink lots of water and eat anything you can (and take pain killers if you need to) but don't fret— jason's now here to take care of you 😚 ˎˊ˗

it was around 9 pm at night, you had just finished eating dinner with jason and the two of you were watching a movie— some book to live-action adaptation he saw while browsing, even though you hadn't read the book itself you enjoyed the plot and characters...even if jason spent the last few minutes complaining about how inacccurate and 'disrespectful' it was to the author to take out things from the book in the movie. you found it adorable that he's able to pin point them out even if it kinda made him sound like a geek, but you love it.

until pain on your lower abdomen grew by every second and you couldn't handle it anymore, you rushed to the bathroom which left jason puzzled on the couch. and as you suspected, your period came in 2 days early. "how convenient" you sighed, grabbing pads and a spare underwear to change in. eventually, you came out and walked slower than usual. "hey babe?" you called out to him, your back hunched forward. "yeah?" jason said. "i think i'll turn in for now, i..i don't really feel good" his head snapped in your direction but you already made your way into the bedroom before he could even stand up and help you.

you enter the room and closed the door behind you, plopping down on the bed then pulled the covers over your aching body. your cramps now hurting much more now that your period started. you curled your knees up to your chest in a fetal position, a common tip for women on their periods when sleeping. you could feel your lower abdomen start to throb in pain that slowly came around your lower back which made it even worse. you laid there for a couple seconds trying to find comfort on the soft bed but the pain wouldn't subside.

that's when a knock on the door caught your attention and knew it's probably jason going to check in on you. "hey, what's wrong?" jason said as soon as he found your body curled under the sheets, seemingly in pain when he saw your brows knit and sweat forming on your forehead. "its that time of the month, again" you tell him with pained laughter, feeling the edge of the bed sink to his weight when he sat down. you could see his expression soften when you tell him, it all made sense to him now why you kept tossing and turning about 10 minutes ago, and how your mood constantly changed just a few days before.

"isn't it not supposed to start until 2 days?" he says, his hand now rubbing against your thigh gently. "well, i guess it wanted to pay an early visit this month— but that's better isn't it? better early than suffering later losing blood in 'that' area" he chuckled softly, now moving towards you even closer as he placed his arm on your other side— caging you between the mattress and himself. jason then tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "you always gotta make jokes when you're in pain, don't you?" he says while looking down at you. "did i not tell you that humor is my coping mechanism?" you replied in return, trying your best to shift positions in facing him properly.

"i guess you did. but baby, you're very strong for this y'know. i don't think i'd handle bleeding every month and don't even get me started on the pain thing" "cramps?" "yeah or whatever that is" his sassy tone making you laugh, even in days like this jason still manages to make it better just by talking to you. "jay you handled much worse, i'm sure you can take something like this" you said cupping his cheek and smiling. "well, that's a fair point" he shrugged, leaning his head into your touch.

"do me a favor and stay in bed for me 'kay? i'll take care of you, don't move and take some rest. do you need anything? food, drinks, your pain killers?" jason added. "...i just need you here with me right now love, my lower back is killing me and i need cuddles so bad" you practically whined to him, the corners of your lip turning into a frown. it didn't take anything for jason to stand and walk over to the end of the bed, climbing and carefully pulling you towards him as he laid there with you in his arms.

he released a deep breath, getting relaxed in the position— his right arm over your shoulders pulling you against him as you laid your head on his chest, wrapping your arm around his waist. jason's free hand coming up to rub against yours before asking, "comfortable?" to which you replied with a single nod. jason smiled at your answer– kissing the top of your head, admiring and loving how he himself alone gave you enough comfort in such a bad state. it made him feel even more special knowing that someone as amazing as you could rely on him. although jason did hate seeing you in pain, especially during your period. so he does everything he could to help you out.

he cleans the apartment, takes out the laundry or tries to cook you food even if he could fail miserably. but then he'd think about the useful nature of food delivery instead and orders from there when the kitchen starts to fall apart in his hands. he'd give you massages and get your heat pads for you, just tell him anything and he'll be on his merry way— skipping joyfully to get what you need. no matter what it is, jason swears to be there for you anytime.

you could feel and hear his heartbeat calming in your ear, indicating that your boyfriend might be dozing off soon enough. so before that happens, you looked up to him with half-lidded eyes. "i love you..you know that right? thank you so much for this" you said in a soft whisper. jason simply smiled, "anything for you, gorgeous. i love you more" he says. "always"

#✎ ─ nyx fics !#jason todd x reader #jason todd x f!reader #red hood x reader #red hood x f!reader #dceu #dc comics #dcu #dc universe #red hood #jason todd

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girls-alias · 4 months

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Sam's Years P3

Title: Sam's Years Part 3

Words: 1,804

Relations: Sam Winchester X reader.

TW: Sexual hinting.

Prompt:

Sam ran into you years later after you left the hunting life.

It had been nearly 11 years since we ran into Sam.

At night, my heart screams at me. It reminds me of the great times we had and the regrets I hold close to my chest. Rory is a young genius, she has dreams of being a doctor and the grades to allow her. She was 12 when she finally figured out Sam was her father. As soon as she figured it out herself I explained it all. She cried for days and I regretted being so honest but she deserves the truth. I often checked on her through the night, finding her hugging the photo of him and me with Dean.

Sam and I were together, perfect for each other. I fell pregnant and couldn't bring myself to tell Sam, I knew as soon as I told him he would quit hunting, he would leave his life behind but just like always I was afraid. I knew I couldn't cope if he had told me he wouldn't leave, that he would leave me so I didn't give him the option. I decided I would do it all on my own, I would let Sam continue hunting while I raised our child, him never knowing.

We had settled in nicely to our new home. We were the perfect neighbours, the perfect addition to the small, family-like village. I always looked for possible monsters, knowing if one were to come around, Sam and Dean might turn up. We were monster-free and a small enough village, out of the way of any main roads. There is no way Sam and Dean could happen upon the town.

Rory's focus stayed on her school work and volunteering at the local doctor's to start understanding the way a doctor works. I am very proud of her and know her intelligence comes from Sam. It breaks and warms my heart at the same time, she seems to be becoming more and more like him every day. I took over the small bakery as ole' man Richards grew ill and couldn't manage it alone.

"Hi, princess," I cheered, the bell above the door grabbing my attention as she walked in, books in hand like usual and Sam's smile.

"Hi, mom. I thought I would come to help clean up so we can go to the movies quicker," She explained a little excitedly as she placed her books on a clean table. I chuckled as I went back to wiping the tables.

"I'm almost done, you okay checking the office is cleared up? Richards is coming in tomorrow so I need to make sure the floors are clear so he doesn't fall again," I explained, she chuckled as she approached. Side hugging me, I kissed the top of her head.

"You don't worry about that, he trips over air," She joked, earning a chuckle from me before she headed to the back.

I popped my head to my music as I played it quietly over the speakers, I continued cleaning tables, putting the chairs up once I was done so it was easier to mop later. The bell jingled behind me showing someone had come in.

"I'm sorry, we're closed," I explained. Flipping my hair back out of my face, before I turned around and saw Sam standing in the doorway. A slight beard graced his cheeks. He looked at me hopefully. I gulped but put a smile on my face. "Hey, I still have some cupcakes one?" I asked, trying to act natural. Maybe this is a coincidence. Maybe he got a flat tyre and happened upon the place. Maybe he is a figment of my imagination. My twisted and degrading imagination.

He said nothing as he slowly approached. My breath hitched as I wondered about a thousand things, does he know? Does he hate me? Did he come here to find us? I gulped as he got closer, I tried acting natural, calm and collected but I've never been able to hide my emotions in my eyes. He stopped arm's length away from me. My smile faltered as he looked heartbroken.

"10 years, 7 months and 4 days." He said simply. I looked at him confused, my mind going blank. "It has been 10 years, 7 months and 4 days since I met our daughters." He went on. My mouth instantly dried. He knows. He's smart I should have figured he knows. I stammered for words, for excuses, for anything. I could deny it, I could tell him I cheated, I could lie through my teeth to anyone but Sam. He licked his lips, the broken-hearted look on his face. I gulped.

"I'm sorry," I sighed, I have to confess. I have to explain everything, I have to find the courage to tell him why I never told him, I have to-

His lips were on mine before another word could escape. He held the back of my neck, his hand on my waist. I was kissing him back before I could even think. My hands found his longer hair, begging to be closer to him. Sam's the last person I have kissed. No kiss could ever heal me after our kiss goodbye. The tears mixed together and my whole body begged me to stay but I didn't and I regret it. Sam seemed to relax into my touch, just like all those years ago when he would melt against my lips, he would smile as he kissed me and he was doing it again.

"Mom?" Rory's voice was confused behind me. I gasped as I pulled away, quickly covering my lips as we looked at her. I opened my mouth to apologise for her witnessing that but she smiled brightly. Her breath quickening. "Dad!" She screamed, running around. I stepped out of her way as Sam opened his arms and she ran into them.

I watched them, tears in my eyes as I quickly realised the injustice I had done to both of them. I kept them both apart because of my fear. Sam seemed to hug her so tightly, that it seemed like he was afraid to let go in case we left again. No more running. He stroked her hair as I watched tears escape his eyes as she softly sobbed into his chest. We're all crying messes. I chuckled as I wiped my eyes. Sam smiled at me before they pulled away from the hug.

"You found us, thank God. We're going to the movies, I already got your ticket and moms buying the popcorn," She explained excitedly, I looked at her confused.

"You planned this?" I asked. Sam smirked as she looked at him. She turned around to face me slowly. She looked happy but guilty.

"I may have put something in the newspapers but I didn't think he'd actually see it so I didn't tell you in case you got your hopes up or made us leave," She explained, wincing slightly like she was afraid I'd be mad. I smiled, shaking my head as I hugged her. She melted into my arms sighing in relief.

"Thank you," I expressed as I kissed the top of her head. I smiled at Sam as he watched but soon joined the hug. The three of us hugged one another happily. Sam kissed my forehead before resting his chin on the top of my head like he used to. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

We decided the bakery could wait. I locked up before we all started walking to the movies, Rory excitedly explaining things in her life he wanted her to know. It seemed like she was giving him a full rundown of her life, to the details of when she lost her baby teeth. Sam walked in between Rory and me, after a while he wrapped his arm over my shoulder as we walked. Rory excitedly skipped ahead still explaining her life. The smile on my face never faded.

"I never stopped loving you," He whispered to me. I blushed as I looked up at him.

"I never stopped loving you either," I whispered back. He chuckled happily, pulling me closer to connect our lips. He pulled away with a bright smile. I grinned as I chuckled.

We got to the movies, already acting like a happy family. Rory wanted to sit in the middle, the popcorn in her lap. I often noticed Sam watching me, and I finally found the courage to look at him. His smile grew as we made eye contact. I chuckled softly as I looked back, paying attention to the movie.

Rory had dismissed herself to go to bed, leaving Sam and me alone in the living room where we had all been sitting on the floor looking at our photos over the years. Sam said nothing as he grabbed my ankles with a little stretch and pulled me to him. I giggled as he smirked at me. Instantly connecting our lips. I smiled against his lips as he lay me back, hovering over me slightly. His tongue graced my lips. I opened my mouth, my tongue greeting his in the middle as we made out. His hand roamed my body as he kissed me. I held the back of his hair and his back, keeping his body close to me.

"I'm making up for lost time," He said against my lips. I giggled as his lips moved from my lips to my neck, instantly finding the place that was sensitive. He's remembered after all these years.

"Maybe we should do this in the living room," I hinted, I felt him smirk before he placed a quick kiss on my neck and pulled away to smile at me.

"You're right, our daughter might see us," He commented and I could tell he was excited to say it. I chuckled as he jumped up and offered me his hand. He pulled me to my feet but he bent down pressing his shoulder to my stomach before he stood up straight, picking me up and carrying me on his shoulder. I giggled, feeling weightless in his arms. "Which way?" He whispered as he walked up the stairs to find my room. I covered my mouth as I giggled.

"End of the hall," I explained. He seemed to pick up speed as he made his way to my room.

"Dad?" I looked up to see Rory in her doorway looking at us confused. Sam turned around to face her. "Good night, I'll see you in the morning,"

"Good night, baby," He added chuckling before heading into my room. He dropped me softly onto my bed. "She's clever. She put headphones on," He explained before his lips found mine again. I chuckled as I kissed him back.

My family is perfect and finally complete.

Masterlist

#fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam #sam winchester

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dr3amofagame · 6 months

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I find it strange that a lot of people are coming forward and saying that the staged finale was a bad play for one reason or another but it really isn’t and I don’t understand where the hate is coming from.

yeah i've seen some of this the last few days--staged finale has always been somewhat "controversial" in the lorehead scene, so a measure of disagreement/discourse about it makes sense. especially bc it was honestly a very big change to what people thought was the story and required people to go back and reevaluate a lot, which. people are naturally resistant at doing

but while obviously i think that some healthy discussion about these things is good, and i feel like i have seen a level of...misunderstanding? about it?? which has gone into the ways that people disagree

staged finale refers to the decision to stage the finale. that's it. staged finale just asserts that based on preexisting foreshadowing and based on the sheer level of suspension of disbelief in order for genuine finale to be real, it made more sense for the finale to be staged than for it to have been genuine. how the finale was planned, when the finale was planned, and to what ends it was planned are all things that you can disagree on w/ other staged finale believers/supporters while still being a staged finale believer/supporter, ykwim? if you believe that c!punz faked his betrayal to c!dream, then congrats! you believe in staged finale. oftentimes i see people say things like "i don't believe in staged finale, i think that c!dream faked the betrayal and all and always had c!punz on his side but i think that the reason behind why he did it is [X]" and it's like. staging the finale is one (1) event, not a comprehensive explanation for everything c!Dream does. that would be more in line with something like the "strategist dream interpretation," which in itself does have different readings as well.

people have listed all of the inconsistencies in the staged finale before, but just to summarize--the guy literally could've dipped when everyone came to "defeat" him, c!tommy leveraging his own life is basically no leverage at all when the mans has the revive book, skeppy cage is a joke, c!dream revealing all of his plans when they were maybe 10% carried out (the entire damn attachment vault was empty of items besides stuff that was literally faked, his own damn stuff, and stuff that he stole recently from c!tommy such as the Axe of Peace and the discs) is ridiculously stupid, why the hell does he have blackmail against c!punz included in a bunker that c!punz clearly had access to???? the list goes on.

(as someone who took awhile to be fully convinced in staged finale, what really tripped me up was the stream punz did the day before: here's a post breaking it down that definitely helped me to see it in a different light.)

as far as foreshadowing goes, just off the top of my head: the original prisoner is a constant question from the day of the prison's creation, being something that's even highlighted on the day of the staged finale itself. c!Dream saying he has "the biggest house on the server" and how it's full of redstone. the entire conversation he has with c!punz, obviously. his holding back on the favor with c!techno, the connection between the revive book and the prison that he establishes the day they begin prison construction.

from a logical perspective, the plan as c!Dream establishes it doesn't make any damn sense. c!dream had opportunities to escape that he didn't take for illogical reasons (if the only reason why he allowed himself to stay in a fucking possible kill chamber was to keep c!tommy from committing suicide, then? what about the revive book? what about the fact that he literally kills c!tommy just a few months later????) -- a level of plot contrivance is expected in the medium, but for a lot of people this was just. Going way too far. Unless he literally lost his whole mind (which, to be fair, was the persona being played) there's just. really no other way to make sense of what was going on there, if it was all genuine.

the other argument is a narrative one--people claim that the story established by a genuine finale is cleaner than the story of the staged one, and honestly. it's like. like that's...a feature, not a flaw? the reason why the genuine finale worked isn't because it was logically believable. dream is Dream Manhunt. he's famously hard to nail down, famously good at escaping sticky situations, famously a man that can outsmart his way out of crazy disadvantageous situations--like. just in terms of minecraft skill, i'd wager that most people would think that dream would've technically been able to pull off an escape even when facing down the collection of enemies that were there. like he had 2 stacks of pearls.

narratively, though, the staged finale has a story that's quite appealing on the surface. the "story" of the events from the spirit speech onwards is one that revolved around the idea of "attachment." c!Dream rejects attachment in favor of control in the spirit speech when he says he refuses to let his love for his dead pet control him anymore, and he focuses on the ability to use the discs to control c!Tommy. the fact that c!Dream's relationships deteriorate at this time seems to support this point, and c!Tommy's strength in his relationships being what saves him and damns c!Dream ties everything off into a neat bow. c!Tommy wins because he has friends and c!Dream loses because he doesn't, moral of the story established, hip-hip-hooray. And so it goes.

but when we look at this more in specifics...? it does start falling apart a bit, doesn't it?

although c!Dream supposedly begins his rampage over his existing emotional connections with the spirit speech, his reputation had been in shambles long before that point. c!Dream-as-villain is first established as part of the greater story in the lmanburg revolution, and that's a title that he never really sheds (this point being emphasized in inconsolable differences and the book c!Wilbur has c!Dream write.) Dethronement happens within a day of Spirit Speech, iirc, and on that day c!Quackity specifically points out that c!Dream has no one on his side but c!Punz. the moments where he is more specifically isolated go back to events such as november 16th, where his alliance with c!Wilbur involved blowing up L'manburg, his deal for the revive book, which involved his publicly betraying Pogtopia, or his opposing Manberg to the literal Manberg cabinet. etc. all of these events in the Manberg/Pogtopia era had c!Dream's loyalties erode to end up as just c!Wilbur and later c!Schlatt for the book, two dead men. (and i say eroded loyalties as if pogtopia really believed dream was on their side, like, ever? like he was never trusted in their ranks, even by c!Tommy, who was definitely the person he worked the closest with outside of c!Wilbur.)

if we look at Dethronement itself, it doesn't actually fit the pattern of "c!Dream cuts off his attachment to people in order to make himself uncontrollable" -- in fact, what it does fit the pattern of is. Staged finale? Faking an end in a relationship with people that he does consider important to him, making a public appearance of betrayal + anger to mask an existing connection, drawing attention to their being enemies to hide the fact that they're actually friends--that's not c!Dream cutting anyone off. That's just the exact same ploy that he uses to make people think that c!Punz betrays him (only c!Sapnap and c!George ended up deciding that Nah We're Gonna Kill You Now. Fuck You It's Coup Time. so that's how that ended up.)

Otherwise there's...the Badlands, who were perfectly happy to agree to joining the coup on the day of dethronement if it got them more power and land. c!Techno, who c!Dream wasn't an ally of until later on with the favor established and then doomsday, and who was someone c!Dream was quite openly wary of + afraid of due to his combat skill. c!Dream was alone literally before exile even happened, his remaining "attachments" of c!George and c!Sapnap turning against him like the day he goes on a whole spiel about ohhoho from today onwards i DONT GIVE A SHIT ABOUT MY ATTACHMENTS !!! I ONLY CARE ABOUT THE DISCS !!! like congrats you don't even have a chance to cut off any attachment at all dingus they all hate you and want you dead already.

further, with c!punz, he literally says that they're more than just employer/employee in the infamous conversation they have about planning a betrayal. if the whole point of the story is "attachment good," then why is it that what takes down c!dream is...his one remaining attachment? if his fatal flaw is that he didn't trust people enough, why is it that he loses because he trusted someone too much? it's not like c!tommy had any attachment to c!punz--c!punz explicitly "has a reason" to betray c!dream because of money. he helps c!tommy because dream "should have paid [him] more." none of that reflects that spirit of "attachment" that people claim was c!dream's downfall.

(not to mention how the people present in the staged finale to take c!dream down included people who literally hated c!tommy's guts. like. what brought them together wasn't the power of friendship, it was the power of we hate this green bastard.)

this isn't to say that c!Dream didn't have some relationships that go up in flames because he starts acting particularly cackling evil villain (with the green festival being the specific moment where he really goes full in with that persona, going from someone that was framing himself as having a Reasonable Complaint to literally the joker as soon as he gets the disc from c!Tubbo. It's purposefully played as a "mask off" moment that is meant to make him look like a crazy fucking villain in front of a large audience--whether or not you think that was a choice that he made in character or not, the way his personality changes as soon as he receives the disc is jarring.) In particular, his relationships with c!Puffy and c!Sam come to mind--c!Puffy burns the house she made him when she decides that he's too evil (but, uh, c!dream really wasn't even there for that and didn't ever have a particularly close relationship with her) and c!Sam is among those whose opinions of c!Dream become drastically more negative around the period of time that spans green festival->doomsday->staged finale. but it's important to note that c!Dream's relationships on the server aren't...great, at the time of spirit speech. They're uh, really fucking bad, actually. dethronement only makes them even worse, and all of this happens pre-exile. c!Dream had significant reason to be paranoid and afraid for his life long before exile happens, which is Quite Significant, Actually, when you consider that that paranoia is literally what goes into his decisions to carry out the staged finale + put himself in the prison (which isn't the case for genuine finale, where he's more motivated by a desire to control the server without being controlled himself.) staged finale does solidify c!dream-as-villain for a lot of people, but it never would've worked if people didn't already see him as a villain in the first place. c!Dream doesn't make people hate him with the staged finale; he uses hatred that he already knows exists to put himself in what he sees as a safer position.

and look we could go into a whole discussion about manberg/pogtopia c!Dream (which i do think is way overdue to be fair considering that that's where the paranoia + isolation that motivates him post-november 16th comes from in the first place) but this post is long enough already and i still have to figure out a better way to articulate my thoughts on the matter. anyway. carrying on:

people still have different feelings on why he carries out staged finale in the first place, but what we do know for sure is that it was meant to protect punz and protect the revive book. by firmly establishing that c!punz and him were on opposite sides, he keeps the revive book safe and both of their lives safe by extension: as long as no one would kill both of them at the same time, they had a means of reviving the other if need be and obviously had the information on how to raise people from the dead secure. which was important to them. and otherwise...c!Dream is paranoid. c!Dream is very, very paranoid, and this paranoia goes back at the very least to when he learns about the revive book. the prison, for all the dependence that it required of him, was tailor made (and the construction process controlled by dream every damn step of the way) to make sure that whoever was in the main cell would be safe from external threats. the security of the prison and the prisoner was the POINT. i've seen some assertions that staged finale implies that he predicted everything that happened after he was put in prison and...no? i'd say that c!dream's behavior indicates him being thrown off by c!sam as early as bad's prison visit, c!sapnap's prison visit for sure. c!Ranboo being banned from visitation pretty damn obviously fucks him up, tbh. he has c!punz explicitly out there to keep an eye out on the server while he's in the prison, where he was meant to remain for a period of time that was supposed to be much shorter than how long he ends up being there. likely because, you know, he was supposed to have a consistent and reliable source of information with the outside world in the form of c!Ranboo, and c!sam wasn't supposed to fall off the fucking rails as soon as the prison started. people have also talked about how having the staged finale be true means that c!dream doesn't lose, which...i mean. gestures at the prison arc? that whole thing is a loss so catastrophic it literally destroys him. he's never the same after the prison happens. the false betrayal of c!punz is deliberately like ironically described to c!sam, who was the REAL betrayal that fucking. ruins him. he loses SO MUCH over the course of the prison, which was something he literally designed to keep himself safe from external threat. as far as losses go, i definitely find that a lot more compelling and a lot less contrived than watching c!dream go "whoop de doo guess i have to die now" when he's like 3 pearls away from making a clean escape in the disc vault, tbh.

at the end of the day, i think having some conversation about staged finale is fun! and it's always good to reexamine what you believe to make sure that it still holds water. but i've really not seen much staged finale crit that makes the genuine finale feel favorable as an explanation: logically, it makes a lot less sense. narratively, it relies on a story that the audience wants to be true and acts as a "clean" explanation for everything while not actually taking into account a lot of what was ACTUALLY going on for c!dream (cutting off attachments for the sake of control versus watching people turn against you and becoming increasingly paranoid, for example). and believe them or not, the content creators involved have always asserted that staged finale was the plan from the beginning, not any form of retcon. (and we do know that people have been dodgy about stuff like the "original prisoner" literally since the week that c!dream was imprisoned, so take that as you will.) (okay to be fair theyve been dodgy about the original prisoner since the day that the prison began to be constructed, but the QnA from that first week of imprisonment sticks out to me in particular because cc!Sam had the biggest fucking smile on his face and staged finale would've been planned out and then carried out in entirety by the ccs and the c!s by that point.)

this is a longass post but uh hopefully it makes sense, lmao. tried to touch on most of what i've seen recently 😅

#my asks !!#long post #c!dreamisms #also like. im making this post from the perspective of someone who always saw staged finale as really cool #but really wasn't 100% convinced until like ehhh halfway through the prison arc roughly?#like im not claiming any credit as a believer from the beginning it took me awhile #so like. i get it.#i think for me a lot of it was also just a lack of faith in the ccs' planning and writing and feeling that narrative contrivance #could be explained through the ccs being less experienced writers + the sheer level of what they were carrying out #but you know. staged finale canon now and im not gonna sit here and pretend that im the smartest person in the room #when these guys definitely overachieved in terms of what i was expecting them to pull off #by making a plot twist that was THIS BIG and conning the whole damn fandom and server in one #like nah they deserve their W actually lmao

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simpforthedead · 11 months

Text

Genshin x fem reader

✧Here I am with a new headcanon idea !✧

✷What if Y/n was pregnant but learn later that her child is dead ?✷

๑I always see the if YOU die giving birth scenarios⁠๑

✿Don't worry it's all fluff even if it have a little angst plot ✿

✯Characters (Minors aged up if they're minors I don't know how old they are)

✯Scaramouche (You simp-)

✯Alhaitham

✯Baizhu

✯Bennett (Im sorry )

✯Albedo

✯Thomas

✯Cyno (My main and now I do bad jokes too...please tell me I'm not the only one)

Scaramouche (Well it's when he's wanderer but I'm not calling him wanderer)

☆When the doctor told you that to both of you he frozed up, like really...

☆You two left the hospital in shock, and you were only now starting to understand what the doctor meant.

☆You wanted to cry so badly but nothing was coming out of your eyes, and they just stayed open and with the wind it made them hurt.

☆Scaramouche finally took you in his arms and placed your head on his chest while kissing your head, you could even felt tears falling from his eyes.

☆It was only now you started crying.

☆You hugged him so tightly like for escaping the sad truth.

☆Weeks later you were still sad and didn't want to leave your home.

☆Scaramouche had to force you to go outside and to talk to people.

☆Everyone were worried for you and especially Scaramouche.

☆Even if he didn't show it, he was very sad and had cry a lot, maybe even more than you...

☆But he knew you were going to feel guilty if you saw him like that, that's why he kept it a secret.

☆After 1 month he was totally fine mentally, but for you it was a lot harder and Scaramouche kept helping you with things.

☆Nahida even came to talk to you since you were slowly starting to feel better.

☆After 2 months, you were capable to do everything right and feel happier than ever, but you still felt a little sad.

Alhaitham

⁠⑅I recently started to like him so it's prob not the best thing I've write.

⁠⑅You were sleeping when he learned it.

⑅When you woke up, he was reading a book on the edge of the bed, with his back facing you.

⁠⑅You happily greeted him but he didn't answered.

⁠⑅You moved to be able to see his face but he was covering it with his book.

⑅You were confuse and keep on going like that, but you stopped when you could have seen a tears rolling down from his eyes.

⁠⑅You suddenly stopped and hugged him, even if you know he's not a fan of hugs.

⑅After what seemed like 10 min, he faced you and tell you with a shaky voice.

"H-he's dead ...Our child is dead..."

⑅At first, you didn't believe it- No you didn't want to believe it.

⁠⑅You were hoping it was just a prank or something else.

⁠⑅Your eyes started to fill up with tears and you wiped them away with your arm.

⁠⑅He hugged you and kept reading his book

⁠⑅You were devastated and keep crying on his chest (Pillow chest is the best ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ)

⁠⑅ For the next few days you stayed by his side, and together you slowly started to feel better.

⑅ He was a little harder for him to kept his original himself, even if he didn't look like it you knew he was hurt inside.

⑅ Luckily your smile and your everything kept him out of the depression.

Baizhu

๑He's the doctor.... Yeah...Imagine the guilt he felt when he had to told you about it.

๑ Basically, he already knew the chances of having a baby were little cause he has a disease (I think...I didn't read his lore lmao)

๑You wanted to hug him but you were stunned by the revelation.

๑He understand your intention and immediately hugged you.

๑You felt so guilty you didn't want to eat for months, obviously you eated but never a big proportion.

๑Baizhu, being the amazing person he is, keep on telling you it's not your fault and taking you to peaceful places.

๑Qiqi was also worried about you and she was sooo sweet to you, I mean as a Qiqi she was cute.

๑Baizhu was amazing to comfort you, and you were really grateful for that.

๑There's nothing else to say except he's hot-

Bennett

⁠♪He think it's his fault.

♪He have bad luck and you can't do anything about it.

♪Yeah he turned EMO. Jk but it would be funny to see

♪Bennett felt so guilty, nobody could comfort him...

♪Except you of course ! So that's what you did !

♪You were sad too, but you already came up to this deduction when you couldn't feel the baby moving anymore...So you had the time to take all the informations slowly.

♪But him....He wasn't ready for this, I mean he knew his badluck would affect his child but didn't thought it was going to kill him.

♪Yea, so you guys had to transform into a psychologist , not that you mind it because you were cuddling while he was saying it's his fault.

♪You reassured him, even if it took time, you never left him thought it was his fault.

♪Baby was finally acting normal after 1 month and half

Albedo

✿Like Baizhu he was the one who told you.

✿He didn't want to hurt your feeling though, so he kept him a secret 2 days after learning his child was dead.

✿Yeah only 2 days because it was heartbreaking to see you happy for a dead person.

⁠✿When he told you, he had everything to comfort you like blanket, snacks, tissues and things like that.

✿As he thought you cried and run into his arms to get a hug from him.

✿Albedo being very smart, knew how to help you with this traumatizing event.

✿Nothing more to say except he was just perfect and sad, not for long time but still.

✿Here come the best part with.....KLEE

⁠✿Klee was so sad, she wanted a friend to play with.... Although she knew it wasn't your fault because Albedo told her.

⁠✿Klee once said "I can be your child !" even if it seemed weird because well... she already have a mother, she was innocent and you can't say she wouldn't say that.

✿Klee is still a child so she thinks it's the same, and she only wanted to comfort you!

✿So you told her you see her as a little sister but it helped you a lot to have this cute ,little ,blond ,legged bomb with you.

✿Klee is and will always comfort you no matter what !

Thoma

⁠◕MAID THOMAS AT YOUR SERVICE MAAM

◕He for real turned into a to do man

◕You feel lonely ? BAAM Have a party with friends !

⁠◕You don't like the noise in the party? BAAM silence ...

◕You want to change your clothes but you're too lazy ? BAAM YOU'RE STILL IN YOUR CLOTHES ! Yeah he ain't dressing you because he have a lot of respect for you

◕Thomas was trying to hide his sadness but sometimes he came in you room and sat in front of you on your bed, he placed his head on your shoulder crying while you were rubbing his head.

◕You weren't really an incredible person toward him...But he knew it was because of the death of your child.

◕You did have a lot of regrets everytime you yelled at him or drank until you throw up.

◕You felt even more guilty and tried to suicide yourself but bro....HAVE YOU SEEN THOMAS PERFECT ARMS ??

◕He didn't let you fall and you just wanted to restart everything...Sounds familiar? Then you are a good person don't worry about it ⊂⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠⊂⁠)

⁠◕He helped you go through it and you were so...Free like all the events were past and your dead child was probably proud of you from Celestia.

Cyno

☆Shocked, sad, angry, sad, guilty from being angry at something he couldn't do anything for, Cried

☆Cyno is...Sad but will get mad at the god, like they had killed your child.

☆Well later he learned that your child was dead because of a illness incurable.

⁠☆You were sad he was sad, so you two stayed at your home waiting until you feel better.

☆Even if everyone thought the house was dirty with chips bags on yhe ground, dirty cups or plates, water bottle empty and dirty socks averywhere, well surprising the house was clean !

☆Once you decided to invite some friend like Tighnari, Collei and maybe Alhaitham with Kaveh.

☆They were shocked.

☆You looked like nothing ever happened! But in truth you just didn't want to cry for something you couldn't help for.

☆The same for him.

☆Well it was harder for you but Cyno was here with his bad jokes to help you.

⁠☆It was funny tho (not like mines)

☆Your friends were happy to saw you two being okay, but they bring presents ?

☆Like, they bought you food and a new notebook...But a pretty one (You choose because I have a shitty style)

☆Cyno had a new TCGC cards but its a customized one so it's worth it.

Author:"Hope you enjoy ! "

Klee:"Have a good day or night !"

Author:"Go to sleep"

#genshin x reader #x reader #fluff #x reader fluff #Genshin x reader fluff #Cyno x reader #Bennet x reader #Thomas x reader #Baizhu x reader #Scaramouche x reader #Wanderer x reader #Alhaitham x reader

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incendio22 · 1 year

Text

FOR THE HOPE OF IT ALL

Chapter 10: The Room or Requirement

''I want to see what your room looks like.'' I say determinedly.

''Oh, it's not much. Just books and some potions.'' He says, looking a bit embarrassed.

''You owe me one.'' I say and raise one eyebrow.

Sebastian sighs loudly and a minute later we are there, in his own Room of Requirement. I'm surrounded by more books than I have ever seen before, a reading table facing the Dark Forest and some places to brew potions along with some potting tables with magic plants in them. I glance at the book on his desk and I read Healing Dark Curses. I look at it for a good minute before I ask him.

''It's not dark magic, is it?'' I nod towards the book.

''No. It's regular magic, bound to break dark magic.'' He explains. ''Frankly, I have no desire to pursue dark magic any longer. Not after what happened last year.''

''Are you finding any potential cures?'' I ask.

''Potential, yes. But I'm unsure if they will work out in real life. Nor if Anne would let me perform any magic on her.'' He looks disappointed.

''If you were to find anything you think might solve her condition, I'm more than happy to help you out.'' I say and lay my hand on his arm.

He pulls away quickly.

''Merlin's beard! Why are you always so cold?'' He asks with an upset tone. I'm confused since I did in fact not speak in a cold tone. ''Come here.''

Out of nowhere, a fluffy couch appears next to his reading table. It is dark blue with a satin finish and it looks incredibly comfortable.

''You need to start dressing warmer.'' He says and sits down on the couch.

I sit down next to him.

''Oh, you don't have to worry. I'm used to it.'' I say and get comfortable on the couch.

''Come here.'' He opens his arms and pulls me closer.

I lay my head on his chest and if I focus on breathing quietly, I can hear his heartbeat. The head radiates from his body, making me warmer in just a few minutes.

''Can I ask you something?'' I ask after a while in silence.

''Anything.'' He replies in a soft tone.

''So, I know this is probably not what you want to discuss right now.'' I begin. ''But I just need to get it off my chest. Last year, how could you cast Crucio on me? Because I know you need to want to cause harm in order for it to work.''

He's silent for a good minute. One arm still around me, the other one stroking my hair.

''It's not that I wanted to cause you harm.'' He says quietly. ''You must not misunderstand me. I would never hurt you intentionally. But then and there when I was faced with the fact that either both of us would have died in there, it was an easy decision to harm you in order to let you, to let us, live.''

I spent months thinking about how he could cause that harm to me, but hearing his explanation does make sense. It never occurred to me that he could have been thinking like that.

''I'm really sorry, Y/n. I just wanted you to cast it on me, but you refused. So you left me no choice.'' He says in a low voice. ''I do not regret letting you live, but I blame myself everyday for the harm I caused you.''

I move closer to him and hopefully he understands that this is my way of saying that I forgive him, and I will forgive him every single day until he finds the peace and strength to forgive himself. I search for his hand that is stroking my arm and lace my fingers into his. He does not move, but eventually he starts stroking my thumb. Eventually, I lift our knot of hands to my mouth and kiss his hand gently. It's like my body is telling him I love him, without the words actually coming out of my mouth.

''You really are the greatest friend one could have.'' I say softly. ''I'm so glad I met you when I came to Hogwarts.''

''Y/n,'' He says firmly. ''You seriously need to stop calling me your friend.''

''Then what should I call you?'' I ask curiously. My stomach is fluttering like never before.

''I haven't quite figured it out just yet. But 'friend' is not it.'' He says as he squeezes my hand harder.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #hogwarts legacy #slytherin #fanfic #fanfiction #ominis gaunt #for the hope of it all

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acourtofidiots · 2 years

Note

Same sicky anon! Buttttttt what if the meds were making me a horny brat and I needed Doctor Daddy Grayson ™️ to make it better? 👁️👄👁️☠️

I ran away with this whoops

fight so dirty (but you love so sweet)

wc: 1k

cw: absolutely pure filthy smut below (18+ readers only), daddy kink, dom/sub dynamics, bratty reader, lingerie, masturbation, dirty talk, established relationship

title is from teeth by 5sos 😌

He would refuse to take care of that ache in between your legs, claiming that he didn't want to get sick and that you needed to conserve your energy to fight off your illness.

"But Dick," you whine, clinging onto his chest like a koala. You tilt your head up to give him your best puppy dog eyes.

"No, baby, you're sick. And you need to rest. Plus, I need to go to train the rest of the team." He tries to get up from the bed, but you still cling to him.

"Y/N," he says sternly, shoving your hands off of him and standing up from the bed. That display of his strength solidified that growing need for him, and you were about to retort when he interrupted you. "Be good for me, and I'll give you a reward later. How does that sound?"

You pout, finally caving in. Crossing your arms across your chest, you mutter, "Fine," before picking up your book from your bedside table. Your boyfriend gives you a soft smile before leaning down and placing a kiss on your forehead.

"It'll only be two hours, baby. I promise it'll go by quickly." You hum in response, pretending that you'll be good for him, but in your head, you were thinking about that lingerie set that would drive him absolutely wild. You love pushing his buttons; it's one of the few things that kept you sane while living in San Fransisco for the last few months. Whenever he would get frustrated by your bratty attitude, he would take it out on you, rendering you unable to move the next day without your body screaming at you to stop moving.

You've always adored how your lingerie suits you. The bustier accented your chest in all the write ways, and the garter and thong showed off the suppleness of your thighs. Plus, the set being in Nightwing blue made it all the better. Dick was going to lose it.

Angling your phone above you, you snap a few photos of you on the bed, one hand covering your crotch and giving the camera a sly smirk. Next, you remove the thong, keeping your hand surrounding your core as you press the button on your phone.

To: Dick 🦋 How's the workout going, baby?

You hit send on your phone and set it aside, excitement tingling in your stomach as you awaited his reply.

It came about 10 minutes later. The ding sounded from your phone, and you practically threw your book across the room to reach your phone.

From: Dick 🦋 It's going alright. We're taking a quick water break :)

The typing bubble popped up for another second before another message appeared on your screen.

From: Dick 🦋 How are you holding up?

Now it was time to set your plan in motion. You selected the photos from before, giggling to yourself as you hit send with the caption Playing dress up ;)

There was no response for a moment and you worried that he didn't see it before a new message appeared.

From Dick 🦋 Y/N. Don't do it.

A grin spread across your face as you sensed the frustration coming off of the vigilante. You decided to send a video this time.

Facing the camera towards your bottom half, you hit record before trailing your hand down your body in teasing strokes, getting closer to in between your thighs but not quite giving the relief you need.

"I'm so lonely, Daddy," you purred. "I wish you were here to cure my boredom." You slip your hand in between your body and you circled your clit, a breathy moan escaping from your mouth.

Eventually you grew tired of teasing your clit so you sunk a finger into your clenching hole. You sighed in relief at the feeling of your fingers in you, but you knew that you wouldn’t be satisfied until Dick was here.

“Fuck, Daddy, you feel so good,” you pump the sole finger in and out a few more times before putting another finger in and your walls almost immediately clench around the digit.

You pumped your fingers faster, hips bucking as the pleasure coursed through your veins. It felt so good, but you knew it wasn’t enough. You needed Dick here. Here to fill you and fuck you senseless and to make you his.

“Daddy,” you whined as you could feel yourself start to rocket to your release, the spring in your gut winding tighter and tighter the closer you got to the one thing you so desperately needed. “I-I’m gonna c-cum, g-gonna cum all over your cock.”

Toes curling, your felt the spring release, pleasure flowing through your veins. A loud cry fumbled from your lips, fingers poisoning in and out of your cunt at a rapid speed.

Eventually, you came down from your high and you withdrew your fingers with a breathy sigh. Flipping the camera towards you, you give the camera a grin before dipping your fingers into your mouth, sucking your release from your fingers.

“Love you, Daddy,” you wink before ending the video, quickly sending it to Dick. Now to wait.

Not even 30 seconds after you sent it did Dick come barging into your room, eyes blazing with fury.

“You’re in so much trouble. Acting like a slut and not waiting for daddy.” He storms over to where your perched on your bed, blinking innocently at the looming figure of the vigilante.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, daddy,” you flutter your eyelashes and Dick simply rolls his eyes and sits down on the bed before manhandling you so that you were face-down across his lap. You squirmed, trying to escape the tight grip he had on your wrists, but it was no use.

“You deliberately disobeyed me. Texting me during team training, touching yourself without permission, summing without permission. You’ve been a bad girl baby. And I’m going to show you what happens to bad girls.” You gulped, nervous butterflies fluttering in your stomach at his rough tone.

His free hand slaps your ass once before rubbing the skin. “You better count, honey. I’m not letting up until you know how to be a good girl.”

#dick grayson #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x reader smut #julia.writes #ask julia #anon #anonymous

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ourlovelyartmorgan · 2 days

Text

Hi, i'm addicted to create characters for games, movies, series, etc; so, i just want to share with someone :p OBS: Yes, I do use AI Art because I CAN'T draw and I know some people may hate the idea of using AI, but I can't draw :) I have two characters for RDR2, they are quite similar because the sh*t AI has a standard for women appearance ¬¬' But it's just a idea, the won't be real anyway T.T

Is just a "RPG" thing, don't take to personal lol, is just for fun, I wish a could find more people who does that too T.T

PS: English is not my first language, any mistake, punch me. Please don't, I'm joking. ================================================

EMILY DOYLE

Character Info

Role: Companion Name: Emily Doyle Gender: Female Age: 32 High: 1,70 (5,6) Born In Year: 1867 (32 years old in 1899) Nationality: Australian ( 🇦🇺 ) Also Known as: Emy Cooper; Beth Themar. Affiliation: The Doyles, Vanoski Gang, Van Der Linde. Horse: Kentuck Saddler (Female; Name: Sydney) Family: Blake Doyle (Father), Ellie Murphy (Doyle) (Mother), Ryan Doyle (Brother) and Tessa Doyle (Sister).

Emily Doyle was born in 1867 to a family of outlaws in Molong, Australia. She learned to survive in the world of crime since her 10 years old, when her old brother, Ryan Doyle, started to teach her how to use guns, to steal and ride horses. Emily has always been very good at shooting and she started to steal wagons with her brother when she was 14 years old. In other hand, her sister Tessa never liked the idea of been an outlaw, she used to always ride books of romance and dreamed of marriage and live in America; Tessa hates the fact that her young sister, Emily, would become such a terrible person as an outlaw, so she promised her that would take her together to America when she got married, but Emily refused. Tessa did married a man called Roger Vanoski, an american-russian months later and dragged Emily with her to a boat to America. Tessa became addicted to money; her husband, Roger, lives two different life: Crime and Business. Roger had a gang called Vanoski Gang, a very well hid organization inside of America. Tessa locked Emily inside their mansion because she thought that Emily was addicted to violence and money, because of the outlaw lifestyle they had in Australia, also didn't feed her well or gave her good clothes, because she didn't want to spend money with Emily, but also, didn't want to let her go, afraid that she would became a real outlaw in America. Tessa promised to Emily that was everything for love and care. Emily tried to run away a bunch of times, but Roger always found her. When Emily turned 25 years old, Tessa get sick for money and discussed with her husband, making him, in a impulsive action, killed Tessa with a shot in the head. Emily heard everything in her room. Roger didn't felt remorse and dragged Emily with him to his gang and worked for him only for survive, even seeing him as a enemy. Even if her sister "torture" her for years, she still loved her. In the time she was with Vanoski gang, she received a latter from Australia from her parents saying that her brother have died from sickness, but Emily did not send another letter telling about Tessa's death. Emily worked in the gang for 8 years, later she managed to ran away after killing Roger, now being hunted by the Vanoski gang through America. Emily travels and survived by herself, living a life of outlaw like she always lived in Australia.

(Young Emily Doyle)

IF SHE WAS IN THE GAME STORY?

Emily would be found by Hosea and Arthur in one of they hunts or fishing missions, alone in a campfire near they first camp in Horseshoe Overlook, they would get to know her and ask if she was lost, but she says "no, actually the world is my home". After coming back to camp, you can see Hosea speaking about her with Dutch, both wondering if she was an lonely outlaw by her looks and guns. Later, Dutch would ask Arthur to find the lady and invite her to the gang, cause he thinks that it may be good for her and she looks expert, Hosea's words. Arthur would be directed on the map to Rhodes, where you find Emily being in trouble with some men, the Vanoski men (adding a new gang to the know gangs in RDR2). After Arthur helped Emily and take her to Van Der Linde gang to treat some smalls bruises, Dutch tries to convince the lady to stay with them, but she don't want to work with gangs anymore after what happened. Emily tells her story for Arthur while backing to Rhodes to try to find clues about the Vanoski gang and see if the Roger's men were still close; she tells Arthur about a hidden money of her sister in a land close to BlackWater where she used to live with Vanoski gang, and after Arthur tells that to Dutch, Emily help the gang to get the money and fight against some Vanoski gang. After the five missions that called: "Fall of Vanoski (I, II, III, IV and V)", Emily, in the last mission, she discovered that her parents have been dead 5 years ago hanged by the law in Sydney trying to escape to America by Roger substitute, his right-hand Mike Litton. Emily have a angry attack managing, with some members of Van Der Linde, to exterminate the last Vanoski men on that part of America. In the final of the last mission, Emily stayed with the Van Der Linde gang making good friends with Sadie, Arthur and even little Jack, being his favorite "aunt" in camp.

SHE WOULD PICK WHAT SIDE IN VAN DER LINDE GANG?

Arthur's side, of course, but she wouldn't be there in the final missions. She travels alone a while to look for trace elements of Vanoski and money to go back to Australia. After she came back, not managing to come back to her country, she didn't find no member of Van Der Linde gang and again find herself alone, but she restart her life buying a small house in the woods close to Strawberry and living a civilian life as a single woman.

EPILOGUE:

In the Epilogue, with John, you would have a secondary mission where John finds Emily in the city of Saint Denis trying to find work and in the mission you would just help her out and John tells about Arthur's death what breaks her heart apart. After that mission, you're not able to find her anymore cause the moved back to Australia and let a letter for John on his house to let her old friends know.

(Writers note: Of course I ship her with Arthur lol I'm not a fan of Mary XD Sorry Mary, but in my world, you're gone, my Arthur deserve love... like in my fanfics >:) )

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption community #red dead fandom #red dead online #red dead redemption two #rdr #rdr2 community #rdr2 arthur #rpg #original character #originalcharacter #red dead redemption arthur

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jeannereames · 8 days

Note

You already wrote it like twice lol so I apologize for bringing it up again… but if you were to rewrite the final scene of Rise once more but from Philippos’s POV… what would you envision his final thoughts to have been when he’s killed? Or, I'm not sure if he would have even been capable of having any by that point, but, for imagination's sake really :)

Below are my thoughts about Philippos’s mindset at the time.

Before I get to that, for anyone wondering what the asker is talking about, my website for Dancing with the Lion has several “out-takes” (scenes cut from the novels), plus a few scenes (and one short story) that take place in the c. 10 months between book 1 and book 2.

Among these is a rewrite of Rise's last scene, originally done in Alexandros’s head, seen from Hephaistion’s POV. (Click image)

(Fair warning, and it probably goes without saying, but while the first set can be read after finishing Becoming, the second set should wait until you’ve finished Rise, as they naturally contain spoilers.)

So, first, at the parade’s start, Philippos would still be irked with Alexandros after their quarrel over (ironically) Pausanias. He said they’d continue the discussion later, after telling Alexandros his choices were about managing difficult personalities, especially when they’re about to be away from Macedon for some years.

Ergo, at the start of the parade, he would’ve been thinking about how to get through to his idealistic child that sometimes full justice must take a back seat to avoiding interminable blood feuds. He’d probably also have been hoping he’d live until Alexandros was more mature. He’d not be thinking assassination, of course. They’re about to embark on a serious military campaign to Persia, and Macedonian kings often died with their boots on. He’s in his mid/late 40s, his leg is lame and he’s not as fast as he used to be. He could fall in battle.

This isn’t overly morbid. These are pretty normal thoughts (ime) for parents of teens, and Alexandros is still, effectively, a teen, even if he just turned 20. You just hope the inevitable blunders of adolescence are none so bad they die before the neurons in their frontal cortexes finish fusing. Not that the Greeks understood adolescent neurology, but they certainly understood teenaged hotheadedness. And Alexandros (and the real Alexander) were more hotheaded than most. After all, how many times did his own bravery almost get him killed?

So that would’ve been on Philippos’s mind in the immediate aftermath of their quarrel, but it wouldn’t be the first time—I’m sure it was a well-worn grove of worry—so he’d have kicked it off once the parade started. After that, right up until the moment he was stabbed, he was having a great morning. It was truly his triumph. That’s the irony of his death … and why Pausanias picked that event.

Historically speaking, it seems he was stabbed in the back, or perhaps from the side, so I doubt he saw it coming—or who stabbed him. Now, we get into a bit of speculation and back to my fictional take. I wrote it so that he died almost immediately. Pausanias was a soldier, and even with a cloak in the way, he could find the heart fairly accurately, I think. (Whether this was true in history, we don’t actually know. The historical Philip may have taken a few minutes to die if Pausanias was off target by an inch or two.)

In any case, the heart is delicate. A direct wound by arrow, sword, spear, knife, bullet is almost always fatal without immediate medical intervention, due to extreme bleeding into the chest cavity. Ergo, shock takes over in under half a minute, more like 15-20 seconds.

In the novel, in those, let’s say, 20 seconds, Philippos was able to call his son’s name, and would have seen Alexandros turn and call him Pappa, reaching for him. The surprise on his son’s face would tell Philippos he wasn’t involved. Philippos would know he was a dead man, so I think it would matter to him that Alexandros wasn’t behind it.

I don’t say in the novel, but Pausanias could have whispered something in his ear at the end. I describe him as right behind the king, one hand on his elbow. Alexandros thinks he’s helping to hold his father up (not realizing the other hand had the knife). And, again, as a soldier, Pausanias would have twisted that knife, once it went in, to be sure, even if he’d hit off center, that it would do maximum damage. Then, of course, he’s off like a shot, shoving Philippos at Alexandros.

Philippos was probably still conscious enough to feel his son grab him and hear him shout, “Get him!” But after that, shock would’ve kicked in and he’d have lost consciousness. He’d look dead to Alexandros (and be as good as).

In reality, the brain still survives for a few minutes even after the heart stops. He’d no doubt have had the “life flashes before your eyes” experience. He might have felt fury at Pausanias, but largely, I think, for interrupting his plans. I suspect his main concern would be the safety of his son and of his kingdom. At the approach of death, things pare down to the most basic and most important. I doubt that included Pausanias except peripherally (probably to Pausanias’s dismay, if he knew).

So that’s my take on what Philippos probably thought at the end.

#asks #Philip of Macedon #assassination of Philip of Macedon #Dancing with the Lion #DwtL #Alexander the Great #historical fiction #ancient Macedonia #Pausanias

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kissmetwicekissmedeadly · 10 months

Text

4 years, 40 facts about me loving napo... let's go 🏃🏻‍♀️

...or as @leonscape called it, 40 "Mopoleon" facts?! (picrew link)

the date of our "anniversary", June 19th, is one day after the date of the battle of Waterloo 💀

both our given names are of Italian origin

we're both leo zodiac signs

our birthdays are 8 days apart, in the same month

he's my first otome route ever played

i've only played his route once, in July 2019

i've never seen his dramatic ending

my first impression of him on a teaser tweet of ikevamp EN was that he looks like an asshole, and I didn't like his looks either...

my falling for him was utterly illogical as despite these thoughts I put him on my phone wallpaper a few days later (still before the release of ikevamp EN)

as of right now ao3 says he appears in 59 of my posted works: the total number of fics I have published with him is higher as a few of those are stand-alones in a multichapter fic (napoleon bday prompts 2019 +9, yumeweek 2020 +5, mini requests +4, headcanons +11 ) ...he appears in about 1/3 of all my fics!

we share a hobby of reading biographies! the official ikevamp character sheets state it as his hobby

our height difference is 18 cm

the @xxsycamore blog exists solely because of him, as well as my passion for writing - I started this blog because I wanted to express my love in some kind of creative way, as previously (and for the longest time) I thought my medium would be art instead of writing

despite that, my first ever posted fic is not with him but with Arthur!

I've always loved languages but he had influence over my choice of learning especially french in uni. It's hell but I don't regret it at all

I have a playlist with sleepy-themed songs for him 🥺

birds are my favorite animals (any kind) and he has a pet eagle!!

our mbti personality types are a so-called perfect match! infp + enfj

I don't like black-haired, blue-eyed men because of him, it was my type before him too! (not many such ikemens around but I have a handful of faves like that from other media)

as the fictional napoleon bonaparte is light years away from the historical figure, I thought I wouldn't be interested in learning about him - until I ended up reading multiple books on him, the thickest of which 680 pages... while I don't mix the two in my head, the napoleonic era history (+ russian empire history) is still pretty cool to know imo!

there's hardly any writer around here who hasn't received a napoleon request from me at least once... I'm so sorry...

it is implied in the game that napo has kissed boys (they were taking turns waking him up and they all know of his habit......) which gives me enough reason to headcanon him as bi....like me 🥺

I really suck at completing the bday creation challenges I host for him, as last year I did 0 prompts and the year before that 2....but in 2019 I did 10!

I love making bday gifts. I love birthdays. I don't have the exact number but last year a lot of characters received a bday fic from me but not napo 💀 partly because I was shadowbanned back then!

the only real tradition I have when it comes to his bday is to make homemade crepes since it's his favorite food! but my favorite part is eating them...

I still haven't watched the movie "Napoleon & Me"...

I don't have much napo merch, but I do have the Naplushieon doll which is plenty

I was still in highschool (11th grade) when I fell for him 🥺🥺🥺 it feels like ages ago

I love the song written for the ikevamp stage play and sung by his voice actor Nobunaga Shimazaki, "Lucida", so much you can even find it and play it on my blog... recently some kind soul uploaded the whole version on youtube (I've been waiting for so long....) and I haven't been the same since

my dream napo merch is the clothes hanger with his neck and face so that I can hang my silly little sundresses on him (I'm going to make it on my own actually, just watch)

after having so many random fic ideas for him that will never see the light of day, I accepted the facts at last and now I feel so much better and more chill

I'm currently working on fanart series where I try to post one tablet-drawn art of him every month... I have trouble keeping them simple as desired sometimes but I'm having lots of fun while learning (I still consider myself fairly new to drawing with my tablet)

once I wrote a death anniversary fic for napo!

the best napo song i've discovered so far is Wings by Su!YoON!

I don't know. anything. about his sequel. i just know the cgs. not that is hard to avoid spoilers LMAO

my most favorite napo cg is the 5th bday one (where they're in a field of roses) (it was on my phone's background for a very long time)

my most favorite napo card...that's a trick question but I think the one that is on the left banner in my blog (desktop view)

yes, yes I do want to go to Corsica one day what about it. I have a lot of other dream trip destinations too!

yes, I do love Napoleon cake (It's a russian recipe) (it was my bday cake in 2020)... but so do I love a whole lot of other cakes...!

Fact number 40 is that I love Napoleon a normal amount 😇 nono listen!! I do talk a lot about him, and here I tried compilating facts that are not too cheesy: believe it or not there are days I don't think about him, ok! I never pressure myself to get all the event bonus stories, or to always have a fic ready for him... in a world where im a worrywart about anything and everything, he's my safe place? my chill place? And if I begin to think about the gigantic mass of things surrounding him that are exactly aligning with what I love, with what comforts me, with what traits im looking for in a person, i'm going to get dizzy. So let's end this here with me saying, ily so much Napoleon 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 im such a nunuche sometimes but im your nunuche ‼️‼️

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikevamp napoleon

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comfort-writing · 1 year

Text

Crayons and Cassettes

Chapter 6: Party at Harrington’s

You are a kindergarten teacher. Eddie’s daughter, Sage, is in your class. Eddie helps you relax after a couple grueling months.

warnings: smoking and drinking. mental health- anxiety- is depicted. this fic will be 18+ in later chapters- minors DNI!! no use of y/n. (please let me know if I missed anything)

a/n: I feel much better about this chapter. btw I totally wanted to get it out last night but I fell asleep after work oops. let me know in the comments or my asks if you want to be added to the tag list! requests are open!

word count: 2.9k

Chapter 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 (coming soon!)

Once school was back in full swing, you were busy, to put it lightly. Spring semester was always filled with setting up IEP and 504 recommendations for your students to be analyzed for in the first grade, as well as trying to have every student achieve mastery of all of the state standards. You had to make sure all of your students could write their name without mistakes, tie their shoes, know numbers one through fifty and the alphabet, knew a lot of sight words, and most, if not all, should be able to read basic books.

You were working hard to try and make sure that all of your students achieved. But that didn’t come without sacrifice. You and Eddie still called, but the calls were usually less than twenty minutes, as you needed to grade assignments and lesson plan for the days ahead. You still saw him at pickup line, but instead of those days where you were stressed being few and far between, they were growing more frequent.

You could tell he was getting worried about you. He’d even said it on your last phone call.

“Are you doing okay? You seem really stressed lately.” He cautioned, sounding genuinely concerned.

“Oh, I’m fine. The spring semester is always like this. I’m just not used to having such a large class size is all. They said that next year won’t be so bad. Apparently everyone decided to have babies at the same time that you did.” You joked, trying to downplay your anxiety.

“Is there anything I can do to help you out?”

“I’m not sure… just- being able to talk sometimes is nice. Allows me decompress a little. But if I think of anything else, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Okay..” He said warily, still not quite sure about where your head was really at.

You didn’t want to burden him with anything. You’d always had pretty bad anxiety, but you had learned to manage it pretty well on your own over the years. However, when life got stressful, it was more difficult to deal with, especially due to the fact that you didn’t have much time for yourself.

He’d invited you out to a little get together with his friends the other night. You said you weren’t sure, mainly because you felt like you had a pile of work that needed to get done and taking one night off might put you back. But he mentioned that you didn’t have to stay if you didn’t want to. He just wanted you to meet his friends- it was a casual hang out, nothing serious. You hesitantly agreed, thinking that maybe this might help you chill out a little bit.

It was tonight. Eddie said he’d drive you, which you appreciated, as despite you living in Hawkins since the summer, you still didn’t know your way around town outside of the main roads. You were standing in your closet, trying to decide what to wear.

Casual. Cute. Nothing too sexy or serious. Just- regular clothes. You should have something like that, right? You dug through your closet. It didn’t help that the majority of your wardrobe consisted of colorful dresses you wore to your kindergarten class. Honestly, dressing for five year olds was easier than dressing for adults, in your opinion. You decided on a pair of jeans and a light, comfortable sweater. It was nearing March, so it wasn’t snowing anymore, but it was still cold out. You put on your everyday makeup that you wore to school and tied back your hair, pulling out a few strands to frame your face. Earrings, bracelets, watch. Easy. Cute, comfortable, casual. You grabbed a pair of white sneakers and threw them on. Just as you were finishing tying your left shoelace, you heard a knock at the front door.

You answered the door, “Hey, Eds, come on in. I just have to grab my purse.” You said, letting him into the entryway.

“You look nice.” He smiled genuinely.

You were in a bit of a rush, the anxiety still having a hold on you, “Ah- thanks.” You said quickly, rushing to the living room to grab your bag. You walked back to Eddie, eyes looking a little worried, “Ready to go?” You asked, almost walking past him to head out the door.

He stopped you, placing both hands on your shoulders, “Hey.. Take a breath. Relax.” He said, taking a deep breath, eyeing you to follow suit. You did, relaxing your shoulders a bit. “This is supposed to be fun. You deserve a break. You’ve been wearing yourself out. One night off isn’t going to cause your kids to fail.” He reassured you.

You took another deep breath, “I know… I know. It’s just been a bit much is all. I want my students to succeed.”

“And they will.” He insisted. “But they can’t do that without your help. And how can you really help them if you’re so stressed all the time? You have to take care of yourself in order to take care of them.”

You sighed, “Yeah.. you’re right.” His words were reassuring enough for now.

“Okay. Let’s go have fun, yeah? And remember, if it’s too much, we can just leave. There’s no pressure for you to stay. I’ll drive you home and you can work or relax.” He said, squeezing your shoulders gently before letting go. You nodded, and he opened the front door for you, locking it behind you guys before walking you to his van.

Before you had the chance to open your own door, Eddie jogged over and opened it for you, taking a grandiose bow. You laughed, for what felt like the first time in at least a week. Ever the gentleman. He walked over to the drivers side after shutting your door, and the two of you pulled off to drive to Steve’s.

The moment you arrived at the cute little corner lot house, Eddie jumped out and opened the car door for you, taking your hand and helping you out of the car. He gave it a quick squeeze before letting it go.

You guys walked up to the door, and Eddie just waltzed right on through the door. You felt bad just walking into a strangers house, so you stood in the doorway for a moment. “Sup Harrington, you big lug.” Eddie laughed, wrapping an arm around Steve’s shoulder and bending him to ruffle his hair. Steve laughed and shoved him off, then noticed you in the doorway.

“Hey, come on in, don’t be shy.” He smiled warmly.

You stepped further into the entry way and shut the door behind you. Steve walked over to you and stuck his hand out, shaking yours politely, “Steve. Nice to meet you.” You told him your name and once you’d been introduced, Steve and Eddie walked you to the living room to meet the rest of the group. Everyone seemed warm and welcoming enough.

The younger bunch were back for spring break, so everyone had a lot to catch up on. You mainly listened to the conversation, just taking everything in. You sat at the end of the sofa, with Robin next to you and Eddie squatted on the arm rest. You’d been chatting with her, finding out the two of you had a lot in common.

“You want a drink?” Robin offered, getting up to go grab one for herself.

“Uh, sure. What do you have?” You asked.

She reached her hand out, you took it, and she helped you off of the couch, “We’ve got a lot, and I’m not even sure what all there is.” She chuckled as you followed her to the kitchen. She swung open the fridge like she lived there and reached in the back, grabbing a beer before leaning on the freezer and allowing you to scan the contents. You grabbed some premade cocktail in a can before shutting the door.

“So.. you and Eddie, huh?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

You couldn’t fight the red tint that flooded your cheeks, “Ah- well.. not really?” You said, shrugging your shoulders.

Robin frowned and cracked open her beer, taking a swig, “What’s the holdup? He’s like, toootally into you. And if I could bet on it, I’d put down money and say that you’re into him.”

You sighed, “That’s already been established.”

She gave you a confused look, “So.. why aren’t you two a thing?”

“My job. Unfortunately, it’s like, illegal for me to date a parent. Plus, in this town, it’s not like we can be secretive about it- gossip runs rampant.”

“Ah- yeah, I guess that makes sense. Don’t worry., my lips are sealed”

“Thanks. But it still kinda sucks though.” You chuckled, bumping her shoulder

“I feel that. When I was in college, my girlfriend and I had to be like, mega-cautious around everyone. I know it’s not the same, but I know what it’s like to have to hide how ya feel.” She reassured.

“Thanks Robin.” You smiled, taking a sip of your drink.

She nodded and the two of you walked back to the couch, finding Eddie laid out where the two of you previously sat. Robin groaned and shoved him, trying to get him to move off of the couch. He rolled off, hitting the ground with a thud, and you and Robin quickly scrambled over him and into your seats, giggling. Eddie laughed and pointed an accusatory finger, “I knew I shouldn’t have introduced the two of you.”

You and Robin shared a knowing look and laughed, watching as he got up off of the ground and moved to sit on the armrest once again, leaning against the back of the couch and resting his arm on the cushion above your shoulder.

After a while of sitting and listening to his buddies laugh and tell old stories, with you chiming in at certain points, Eddie leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I’m gonna go out back for a smoke. Want to come with?” He asked.

You nodded and followed him through the house and onto the back patio. You sighed into the cold March air, seeing your own breath. He took a cigarette and a lighter out of his jacket pocket. He offered you one, to which you politely declined, before lighting it and taking a drag.

“You having a good time?” He asked, leaning over the patio’s railing and looking into the backyard.

You matched his position, “Yeah. Your friends are really nice.” You smiled.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. You deserve to.” He told you, leaning over and bumping your shoulder with his own.

You hummed and looked up, seeing the starry sky. It made you feel small, but not in a bad way.

“Just think, only two more months and you’re home free.” He mused.

You giggled, “You mean we’re home free.”

He smiled, “Well yeah, but I was mainly talking about you. You’ve been so stressed lately with all the hard work you’ve been doing.” He paused, looking over to you, “I’ve been worried about you. I mean, I haven’t known you that long, but I can tell that all of it has had an effect on you.”

You sighed, turning around to face the house. You placed your hands on your face and dragged them down, “I know.” You grumbled, your voice muffled by your hands. You let them fall and rested your elbows on the railing, leaning back. “I just feel like I haven’t had a moment to breathe since January. Spring semester is normally stressful, but it’s usually not this bad.”

Eddie nodded, taking another drag of his cigarette, letting you continue.

“I just- anxiety is a bitch, you know?”

Eddie laughed at that, coughing through it as the smoke spilled from his lungs. “Boy do I know it.” He said, once he’d gained his bearings. “But like I said, only two more months. You’re almost there. And really, I know I’ve already said this, but if you need any help with anything, you let me know, okay?”

You nodded and leaned your head on his shoulder, “Thank you, Eddie.” You whispered. He smiled and kissed the top of your head before laying his own on top of yours. The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, enjoying each others silent company as Eddie finished his cigarette, making sure to blow the smoke away from you.

He snubbed out the end of his smoke in the little ashtray on the railing before looking down at you, “Ready to go back in?” He asked quietly.

“Do we have to? This is so nice.” You pleaded.

“You’re shivering. You’re going to freeze to death.”

“Ugh, fine. If we have to.” You groaned dramatically.

He laughed and wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your arms quickly to warm you up, “Come on, cutie.” He said, walking you back inside.

You laughed as you two walked back into the house, feeling yourself begin to defrost as you walked back to the living room together. You plopped back down next to Robin and she gave you a silent wink, to which you rolled your eyes and smiled.

Around ten, everyone was heading out, so you and Eddie followed suit. You said goodbye to everyone, you and Robin exchanging numbers, and Steve giving you a big bear hug. Eddie walked you out to his van, opening the door for you before climbing in himself. The two of you drove home, laughing and recalling funny things that people had said that night, listening to the radio on a low volume.

Once he pulled up to your house, he walked you to your door. “Hey, thank you for tonight. I had fun.” You smiled, leaning against your door frame.

“Me too. I’m glad you came along.” He had one hand in his jacket pocket as he used his thumb to fiddle with the rings on his other hand.

You looked up at him. He looked so handsome in the moonlight. You looked around for a moment, taking in that nobody was on the street and the neighbors’ lights were off.

“Are they planning anything like this again soon?” You asked.

“Not that I know of, but I’ll let you know when we do.”

You nodded, taking a step closer to him. “Really.. thank you.” You said sincerely as you wrapped your arms around him in a hug. He was a little surprised, but he hugged you back, wrapping one arm around your waist and using the other to rub your back.

To an outsider, the hug may have look like it lasted too long, but neither of you cared. You just enjoyed each others warmth and physical contact in that moment. You could have been there forever and neither of you would have noticed.

You pulled away slightly, looking up at him. He smiled softly down at you. You glanced around one last time before looking back up at him. You could have cut the tension with a knife.

After a moment, Eddie bent down and whispered in your ear, “You’re making it very hard not to kiss you right now.”

You squeezed him closer, taking a steady breath before whispering back, “I never said you couldn’t.”

He pulled back and looked around like you had already done, making sure nobody was around. Your porch light was off, so nobody could really see you guys anyways. He looked back at you for confirmation that this was okay. You nodded.

He didn’t waste another moment before leaning down and capturing your lips in his own, moving one hand to hold your cheek as he did so. His lips were warm and soft and he tasted faintly of cigarettes, but you didn’t mind. You felt like you were surrounded by him: his lips, his hair, his tall and lean figure. He smelled like smoke and some sort of warm and spicy cologne.

He kissed you gently, not looking for anything more than this. You melted into it, your arms wrapping around his shoulders lazily. Neither of you knew how long it lasted, it could have been a second or it could have been an eternity. But when he pulled back, the both of you feeling a little breathless, it felt too soon.

The two of you shared a look before smiling at each other. He leaned down and kissed your temple sweetly before he pulled away, your arms falling to your sides and feeling empty. “I’ll see you tomorrow at pickup?” He whispered.

You nodded dumbly, and watched him step off of your front porch. “Good night, beautiful.” He said with a wink, heading back to his car. You wanted to say good night as well, but you felt as though your voice would betray you in that moment, so you silently unlocked your door and walked inside your house, locking it behind you.

You leaned against your front door, taking a moment to let it all sink in.

Man, you felt like a teenager again.

Tag list: @mcueveryday @bebe0701 @emma77645 @edsforehead @manda-panda-monium @nina211544

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #singledad!eddie munson #em #singledad!eddie munson x reader #slow burn #strangers to friends to lovers #teacher!reader

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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years

Text

Crossing Lines || Andy Barber

Andy Barber x defence lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: Your marriage is stagnant but then Andy comes along and reignites a fire you thought was long gone. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, cheating (this is fiction, we don't approve of cheating here) WC: 1771

Your job as a Defence Attorney was extremely time consuming. In Newton, Massachuesetts it was mostly spent defending wealthy men and women with their divorces. The small city rarely had any high profile cases. Still, the above average rate of divorces kept you working late and missing more time with your family.

“Honey, I’m home.” You called out as you stepped into your modest home, on a modest street, full of modest people.

The quiet of the house was heavy and you sighed as you dropped your keys into the bowl beside the door. You dipped your head into the living room but found the tv off and the room empty. Making your way upstairs, you checked your son’s room and found him fast asleep, his homework splayed across his desk. After a quick check and a few corrections on the pages, you placed a soft kiss on his head and wished him sweet dreams.

“You missed dinner.” Your husband stated without emotion. “Your parents say hi.”

“I’m sorry, I got caught up with-”

“The case.” He scoffed. “It’s always the same, always an excuse.”

“I said I was sorry.” You sighed as you pulled your office clothes off and dropped them in the laundry hamper before going to wash your makeup off. “How was Jamie’s day at school?”

“Ask him tomorrow when you are home in time for dinner.”

When you stepped out of the bathroom ready for bed your husband closed the book he was reading and placed it on the bedside drawers.

“I hate to sound like a broken record.”

“So don’t.” You cut in as you pulled the blankets back and climbed in.

“But I married you with the intention of actually seeing you, being with you.” He said, rolling over to face you.

“You want sex? Is that it?” You asked plainly, reaching for his hand and bringing it to your breast.

“I want intimacy, I want my wife.” He corrected but you knew his game. Every few weeks he would make a big deal about missing out on time with you but suddenly the need was gone with a quick round of sex.

You coaxed him closer and felt his erection digging into your skin. “Come on then, have your wife.”

The spark that had been a raging inferno when you met 10 years ago had lost its heat after graduation, marriage and then having a child. It was now a rapidly cooling ember and you didn’t know how to save it without sacrificing your career, something you had worked so hard to get. Even the sex couldn’t stop your mind from wandering to the office, the work you had piling up and the list of to-do growing with every thrust.

A few moans here, a kegel exercise there and your husband stilled above you, a grunt exerting with his release before he collapsed to his side of the bed. You weren’t sure if he believed your fake orgasm or if he just didn’t care anymore but after his quick trip to the bathroom he was sound asleep.

You left him to his rest as you showered away the mess he had spilled between your legs and took your own pleasure for yourself, biting your lip to suppress the real moans that crawled from your throat. The real orgasm finally gave you a moment's peace from your thoughts, chasing away the pressure you were facing and allowing you to climb into bed and sleep without the fitful dreams that plagued you.

Three Months Later “Good morning, Mrs Y/L/N.”

You spun around at the deep voice, nearly losing the stack of files in your arms as you did so, and found the Assistant District Attorney reaching out to help straighten the pile so they wouldn’t fall.

“Would you like a hand?” Andy offered, placing his empty coffee cup into a rubbish bin so he had both hands free.

“I can manage, thanks Andy.” You smiled but it failed slightly when you noticed the crease on his forehead. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah…no. It’s just a case, you know how it is.” He shrugged before noticing the doors to Judge French’s office open. “I better get in there. It was good seeing you, y/n.”

“You too.” You smiled and watched him disappear into the room.

Despite being on opposite sides of the courtroom, Andy was one of the few prosecutors who didn’t look at you like you were an evil incarnate for defending the people you did. He was always polite and made conversation, even out of work when you would occasionally pass him in the street.

When you came out of your own meeting, where yet another divorce came to an amicable end that was settled out of the courtroom, you found Andy pacing the corridor with his phone to his ear and his free hand tugging at his tie. A frustrated growl caught you by surprise, not expecting such a feral sound to come from the relatively softly spoken man, and he ended the call as he dropped to a bench seat.

“You look like you could use a coffee.” You said as you stopped in front of him.

His eyes traced your body as they turned up to meet you and he sat up a little straighter before clearing his throat. “Only if it's half whiskey.”

“That bad huh? Wanna talk about it?” You asked as you took a seat next to him, knowing you had some free time before you were due in court that afternoon. He gave you a look that made you chuckle and you held your hands up in surrender. “Yeah, I figured, but the offer is there if you ever need it.”

“I could still do with a coffee.” He admitted as he silenced his phone from the call that popped up. “If you have time.”

“For coffee, always.”

The trailer parked at the curb had a queue but somehow Andy was able to skip it and took the two steaming cups from the vendor, handing you one as you began to wander along the sidewalk away from the courthouse.

“How was the dinner party last week?” Andy asked as you walked along, his shoulders brushing yours every so often when another pedestrian would pass by. “Laurie said she had a great time.”

“I’m assuming it went well but I have to admit I missed it.” You sighed, remembering the fight that night when you got home. “Had hell to pay for that too.”

Andy laughed knowingly and nodded. “This isn’t exactly a 9 to 5 job.”

“And he knew that when he married me. I don’t know what he was expecting, I put my career on hold for two years after Jamie was born but I think he thought I would quit and play the housewife.” You huffed and took a deep breath to calm the fire erupting in your belly. “Sorry, you don’t want to hear about my struggling marriage.”

“By all means, please vent.” He offered sincerely, looking at his phone that showed Laurie ringing once again before he silenced it. “It stops me from having to think about mine.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” He murmured as he threw his jacket over the back seat and began unbuckling his belt.

“I know.” You agreed, pulling your skirt over your hips and climbing onto his lap.

“But you feel so good.” He moaned as his hands pulled you down on his cock, impaling you as you gripped his shoulders.

What had started off as a one time mistake quickly turned into a weekly mistake. There was an understanding and acceptance he had about your job that your husband never would. There were no expectations. It was always spontaneous.

“This is the last time.” You murmured against his lips as he bounced you on his dick, his large hands gripping the meat of your ass.

“You said that last time.”

The windows were misting from the heat your bodies were producing in his car, the dark woods empty except for the black sedan parked with its lights off. The only light came from the moon but it was more than enough to see Andy’s handsome features and you brushed your fingers through his dark beard that you had felt tease every inch of your skin.

“I mean it this time.” You weakly asserted, more for yourself than him. “This is crossing so many lines.”

“I know.” He swallowed as he stole your argument in a feverish kiss that left your lips burning. “But you make me feel things I thought had died out a long time ago.”

You knew the passion he was talking about, you felt it too. It wasn’t just between the two of you either but it was changing all aspects of your life. You had more fire to fight for your clients, you took more control over your schedule and made time for your son. The sun felt warmer, the sky more blue. The only cloud was the strained relationship with your husband.

“I’m going to file for divorce.” You blurted out before you could stop it, his movements freezing beneath you.

“What?” He blinked as he tried to clear his head and think properly. “Why?”

“Because I don’t love him.” Finally having the clarity you had been missing all year. “He’s a great dad but that’s not enough for a marriage.”

“I get that but is this because of me?” He frowned as you cupped his cheeks and stroked his smooth beard with a shake of your head.

“You helped me realise the truth but this isn’t your fault.” You began to roll your hips slowly, relishing in the feel of his body as his eyes fluttered shut. “This has to be the last time.”

You felt empty as you sat in your car and watched him drive away. Everything in you wanted to grab your phone and call him back but it was better this way. He had a lot to think about and you would give him the time he needed, you would be busy settling your divorce for the foreseeable future anyway.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you felt his lingering kiss on your lips and knew the next time you saw him it would hurt more than it did now. You wouldn’t have the sweet ache between your thighs to remind you of the nights spent with him, you wouldn’t have the swollen lips from his desperate kisses. You could only hope that he felt what you did and found his way back to you.

#andy barber x reader #Andy barber x poc!reader #andy barber imagines #andy barber fanfiction #chris evans characters

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nephilimarecool · 1 year

Text

Concert

Jack Kline X Reader

Warnings: none

I've never written a X female teen reader before so point out any mistakes but give me a bit of slack. I'd love comments and re-blogs also requests are open but NO smut.

Y/F/B = Your Favorite Band

Y/N = Your Name

F/B = Favorite Book

"I'm going out!" You called across the bunker, Dean, Cass, Sam and Jack were sitting in the library studying lore.

"Where?" Dean questioned, you were Jack's girlfriend not his daughter but he still acted like it.

"Out." You responded vaguely, you were actually going to a concert. It didn't take place till about 10 pm though and it was only 6 pm so you figured you'd explore Kansas a bit.

"Like hell!" Honestly Dean was way overprotective. You sighed, you were going tonight no matter what. It was Y/F/B and you were going to see them.

"Dean she is 18." Cas tried knowing how bad you needed to leave the bunker. You'd been cooped up for weeks now since he wouldn't let you hunt. Honestly it was stupid, you were on your first hunt when you met them for crying out loud.

"Too bad Cas." Dean quipped. You groaned.

"I've been cooped up for months! I need this Dean!" Dean gave you his resting bitch face. Sam seemed to be pointedly staying out of the argument.

"Too bad sweetheart." You groaned but knew there was no arguing with Dean when he was in this mood. You decided you wait and sneak out later.

"Fine!" You growled. Everyone looked at you shocked, it was unlike you too give up so easily.

"Fine?" Dean asked.

"Fine." You repeated you could see Cas trying to see if your ok or if something else is going on. You found a chair and sat down with your favorite book.

"What are you reading Y/N?" Jack stuck his head over you shoulder. You smiled, the Nephilim always managed to make you smile.

"I'm reading F/B." placing you book down you stood up and kissed Jack's cheek. "You want a Coke?" The Nephilim shrugged.

"Never really tried one." He admitted sheepishly. You just chuckled and handed Jack one of the bright, scarlet-red cans. He cracked his open easily but you struggled, your hands shaking slightly from nerves because of what your gonna do later. Seeing this Jack took the can and opened it for you. "Thanks Jack." You said.

"Of course Darling." Damn that boy was so sweet.

"Want to listen to some music and read a book?" You suggested smiling at your boyfriend. "I'm pretty sure you'd like Percy Jackson, there's a copy in my bag." You simply enjoyed spending time with Jack, he never judged you.

"Sure." He agree softly. You nodded and went to grab the book from your room.

"Is she ok?" Cas asked Jack confused why you were acting so strange.

"I believe so. Yes. Just sad." Jack replied just as you walked in with your phone and Percy Jackson: The Lightning Thief.

Later on that night you were sleeping in you room which was right next to Jack's. It was about 9pm and you knew you'd need time to walk there. Sighing you kept to the shadows and slipped out the front door of the bunker. You made it about 200 meters before you heard a voice behind you.

"Why'd you leave the bunker? What are doing? Can I join you?" You let out the breath you were holding, it was only Jack. You silently laughed at yourself, you were scared by Jack of all people.

"I'm going to a concert, the same band we were listening to on my phone. Dean wouldn't let me leave so I snuck out. Sure you join me Jack, it's after dark and what better company then a Nephilim." You smiled and grabbed Jack's hand pulling him with you.

"Where is it? I can just fly us there." You were going to walk but he seemed so proud, you knew he'd only recently learnt how to teleport more than just himself.

"Sure. It's about 2 miles that way." You pointed to the road and Jack nodded. Jack nodded and pulled you too him, next thing you knew you were slightly green and the two of you were just out side the concert.

Knowing he'd never been to a concert before you began explaining things to Jack. You pointed to a booth on your left, "That's were you by tickets." As we walked over you pointed to the stage, "that's where the singers are, I like sitting further back as it gets loud."

You walked to the cashier. "Tickets for 2 please." He nodded.

You handed the man $200, ticket plus tip. "Why did you give them extra money?" Jack asked, you should've known he wouldn't know what tipping is.

"It's called tipping, they take the extra money for themselves. Some jobs don't pay very well Jack." You did your best to explain but obviously didn't get your point across quite right.

After the concert you glanced at Jack "Did you have fun?" you asked curious. He was beaming from ear to ear.

"Very much, thankyou." Jack replied obvious joy in his voice. "I'll take us home now." You nodded my smile just as large. Taking Jack's hand you were suddenly back in the bunker, it didn't effect you as much as earlier.

After a few seconds you realized the lights were on.

"Balls!" You grumbled. You should've known this'd happen as it was as it was about 2am.

"Y/N!" Dean came into the library fuming. You glanced at Jack. "Jack?" He asked almost disbelieving he was in on this.

You and Jack looked at each other. "Uh oh." You murmured in unison.

"Run." You whispered, Jack nodded and you took off in opposite directions.

"You have got to be kidding!" you heard Dean yell, let's just say you didn't dare stop.

Masterlist

@graceloveswolves

#Castiel x Reader (mentioned! Plutonic)#Jack Kline X Reader #Dean Winchester X reader (plutonic)#Rebellious teens #SPN fluff #SPN #spn #fluff

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harringtown · 1 year

Text

sorrow is a season

a/n: ik I've been super sporadic these last few months, but book revisions and tight deadlines have had me v busy!!!! anyways I’ve spent so so long on this and wanted to pull off some wild plot stuff but then I got busy and I figured I couldn’t just let the 2k I had go to waste and so, here we are. apologies for the wait anon, its been TOO long, but I hope u enjoy!!!!

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie munson is dead. or is he? (aka a kas/vampire Eddie au)

word count: 4k

warnings: blood/death/violence mention

In the end, he is alone, like he always knew he would be.

Even the bats, either bored of a limp plaything or drawn away, fly off. The lightning seems to follow them, leaving Eddie alone on the grass in a cold, gray version of a place he never liked all that much to begin with.

The only thing that ever made the trailer park worth it was you. Though, to be fair, the only thing that made a lot of things in this shitty town worth it was you.

You. You, smiling at him from the passenger seat as you sing along to the radio, and you, whispering to him under the stars at midnight, and you, looking at him like you never want to stop.

He would give anything to see you one last time. To make sure you’re alive. Because he can’t be sure—he doesn’t know if his sacrifice is amounting to anything, or if you’re dying, too, just out of sight. Panic clears some of the fog from his brain.

At first, he doesn’t realize he’s speaking, calling out the word, “Please,” until his raw throat protests. Even then, he doesn’t stop, forcing his voice louder, screaming into the twisted ether.

Please, don’t take me away.

He isn’t sure who he’s yelling to, exactly, because he’s never believed in God, and even if he did, God sure as shit can’t hear him down here.

“I don’t want to die,” he says. Tears have mixed with the blood on his face, and his vision blurs red.

What are you willing to give in order to live?

The voice asks, and Eddie isn’t entirely sure it isn’t just some figment of his dying brain.

He shakes his head, letting it thump back against the grass. Above him, the dark red sky doesn’t hold a single star.

What are you willing to give? The voice asks again.

Later, he’ll understand what he’s about to do. But not yet. Not yet.

“Anything,” Eddie croaks. “Anything.”

A tall, hulking silhouette moves through the shadows, but Eddie can’t see their face, or anything, really. All of his senses disappear, and he’s lost in an endless sea of darkness.

Eddie Munson dies. And then, he wakes up.

Eddie Munson is dead.

Three months of telling yourself those words, and they still don’t sound real.

Two months since he was legally declared dead—there wasn’t a body, still isn’t, probably never will be, but in Hawkins, this is no longer a strange occurrence—and three months since you dragged Dustin away from his body, and it still doesn’t feel real.

You’re beginning to doubt it ever will. Maybe it will always be this way. You, looking out your front window every time you pass it and expecting to see his van idling at the curb. You, accidentally ordering his coffee alongside your own enough times that even the barista pities you.

You, still waiting for someone who isn’t coming back.

“But you’ll be there, right? 10 am?” Robin asks, her voice garbled through the phone.

Lounging on your bed, you push up, keeping the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder.

“10 am, on the field. I know. I’m not going to miss my own graduation,” you say.

“Our graduation,” Robin says. “And thank the heavens, because I swear to God, I don’t think I’d have survived another week with Mrs. Burton. If I had to read another sexist, poorly written poem by a long dead man, I was going to spontaneously combust.”

You laugh, but something about the words our graduation sticks to the back of your throat like phlegm. You and Robin’s. It was supposed to be three of you, though.

It’s as if Robin can hear your spiraling thoughts, because she says, gently, “If you want company, I can force Harrington to buy us beer and drive me over.”

You smile. “I’ll live. Besides, there’ll be plenty of beer at all the after parties I’m dragging you to tomorrow night.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Robin quips. “For once, I don’t mind hanging out with these people, considering I’ll never have to see most of them again.”

“One can dream,” you say.

“One can,” Robin says. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Tomorrow.”

You exchange goodbyes with Robin and walk the phone back to the receiver, untangling the twisted cord, and hang it up. Before going back to your bed, you bring two fingers to your lips, then press them to the red electric guitar hanging over your dresser, like you do every night.

It isn’t the guitar he used to draw the very bats that killed him. That guitar was lost with Eddie.

It, along with a few tee shirts, the rings he pulled off his fingers and jammed into your hands before you left him, and a few photos, are all that remain of Eddie Munson.

You’d made a thousand plans together, and even if 99% of them were impossible, the 1% that weren’t still clatter behind you everywhere you go.

I think it’s finally my year.

1986 should have been the beginning of the rest of his life; hopefully, a life alongside you. It should have made high school and the monsters you’d fought an old story.

This, an empty grave, shouldn’t be the end.

The lock on the window in your room has been whining as long as you’ve lived in the house. A few years back, your parents tried to get it replaced, but you’d refused. You couldn’t tell them why, but you weren’t about to get rid of a built-in alarm on that window.

The whining sound pulls you out of sleep and off the mattress in under two seconds. You pull out the sledgehammer you have hidden under the bed before your eyes find the silhouette slipping through the now-open window and into your room.

Of all the nights for someone to break in, it had to be one of the miraculous few you weren’t having a nightmare. At three in the morning, that alone feels worthy of at least a tap with the hammer.

The second the figure hits the middle of your room, you lunge.

The figure ducks the swing, and jerks to the side, face illuminated by moonlight streaming in the window.

A face that can’t possibly be standing in your bedroom.

Eddie Munson. Or his ghost. Or something—

“Jesus Christ, babe, where the hell did you get a sledgehammer? Were you going to hit me with that?” Eddie exclaims, except it can’t be Eddie, because Eddie died in your arms. Because you pried Dustin off Eddie’s body. Because you’ve seen his death in your dreams every night for months.

It can’t be. It isn’t. But someone, or something, is wearing his skin, masquerading as the boy you love, and it’s the last of many, many straws.

You swing the hammer, but faster than your eyes can track, Eddie’s hand moves—you blink, and he’s holding the metal edge in one fist.

The hammer’s head is too heavy to be caught without breaking a finger—but the speed with which he moved is more troubling.

“Who the hell are you?” You snap, wrenching the hammer out of his fist, swinging again. “Get the hell out of my house, now—“

“Hold on, hold on—“ Not-Eddie backs up, hands raised, and with each second that passes, your brain files away the subtle differences. The color of his eyes, that beautiful brown, almost has a red tint in the dark. “It’s me. I swear to God, it’s me.”

“Whatever this sick game is, I’m not playing.” You raise the sledgehammer parallel to the floor and point it at him, using it to push him back toward the window. “Out.”

“Okay, okay, just—just wait.” He jumps to the side just before hitting the window, skating along the wall and darting around you. You whip around, and Eddie is there in a blink, plucking the hammer out of your hands. He tosses it onto your bed and slides into place directly between you and your weapon.

“If I wasn’t me, how would I have known how to open the window?”

Your Eddie could pop the lock in seconds. It was why you always kept it locked, because the only person who might need to get in could.

“Anybody—anything— can jimmy a lock,” you snap.

Maybe it’s your lack of a good night’s sleep in the recent past, or the darkness of the room, but you swear, he almost looks hurt.

“Harsh, but fair.” He takes a breath. “But it really is me.”

“Eddie Munson died three months ago,” you say. “I was there.”

“Yeah, I saw the gravestone. Bet my funeral had a hell of a turnout,” he says.

“Just stop. You’re not him. I don’t know what you are, but you’re not him.”

Eddie seems to chew on his words for a moment. “We met in gym class. You were a junior. I was a senior, the second time. You were hiding behind the long jump mats during the mile run, and I army-crawled my ass over to you so that ancient gym teacher didn’t bust us both. Naturally, he saw me, and the second he yelled, you shoved me out onto the track on my ass.” He grins. “I was pretty much done for, after that.”

You shake your head. “Twenty other people were on the track that day—”

“Fine. Okay.” He huffs a breath. Folds his arms over his chest. “Right, okay, so a few weeks after we started hanging out, I took you to Lover’s Lake. We ate Cheetos and drank warm Coke on the dock, and you told me about that field trip, the one to the museum in middle school. You got lost, ended up in the art exhibit for two hours until a chaperone tracked you down. After that, you couldn’t get enough of all those old—what is it? Abstract paintings.”

Your heart beats like a kick drum, so loud you’re surprised it hasn’t woken the whole house.

Eddie’s gaze darts down—and you don’t remember much of the few anatomy lessons you had, but you’d swear he looks where your heart is.

“This isn’t possible,” you say softly.

Eddie’s lips pull thin. “You kissed me outside that gas station on main because you said you were tired of waiting for me to do it.” A smile softens his expression. “And the first time you told me you loved me, we were in this room, in that bed, but you had to whisper because your parents were downstairs.” He takes a step forward. “And I said it back. Didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t whisper either, but you weren’t even pissed. Y’know, I’d only said that to one other person before you, but I didn’t hesitate.“

“No. You can’t be here.” You swallow. Shake your head. Hope is banging its fists against your ribcage, desperate to break out of the prison you locked it in. Tears prick at the backs of your eyes, but you don’t dare let them fall.

Eddie shrugs. “But I am.”

He takes a step toward you, and when you don’t move away, he takes another. Only when there are no more steps to take does he stop, the rubber of his sneakers kissing the tips of your toes.

He doesn’t move any further, like he’s leaving the last inch up to you.

You hold his gaze. Reach a hand up and let it settle on his cheek.

“Eddie?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he says, leaning into your hand. “It’s me.”

Just like that, the sob that’s been sitting at the base of your throat for months dislodges, and you throw your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. He still feels like your Eddie, still smells like him beneath that overhanging scent of ash.

The moment he wraps his arms around you and squeezes you, you know it’s Eddie. You’ve been in these arms so many times, you fit like puzzle pieces.

“Eddie,” you say again, voice muffled by his hair, and he just holds you tighter, so tight you can barely breathe but you don’t care.

“I’m here,” he says. “I’m here.”

And for the first time in months, you can breathe.

For ten minutes, everything is like it was. Eddie is all bravado and big smiles, like the last three months never happened, and you let the lie hang because you’ve missed him too badly to pull it back. But it’s more fog than curtain, and it evaporates fast.

Eddie pulls you onto the bed and into his arms, just holding you, and the way your bodies fold together may be the same, but nothing else is.

His skin is cooler, dryer. Covered in scars. His scent, one you can’t describe but know, isn’t totally different, but it’s not the same, either.

And his eyes. He clearly took efforts to keep them out of the light—asking you not to turn a lamp on, keeping his chin ducked—but up close, there’s no mistaking it.

The deep, dark brown is more like a deep red wine someone spilled on a carpet. It’s a beautiful, inhuman shade of red. And you may have seen enough weird shit to fill a museum over the last few years, it sets off every alarm bell inside you. Like an ancient voice is urging you to run while everything else tells you to stay.

Your first observation was right. He isn’t your Eddie. He’s something different. Evolved. And you’re not sure if it’s for better or worse. You’re also not sure if you give a shit.

There are so many questions to ask, but they’d all break the bubble you’re resting in, so you settle for the softest you can think of.

“Tell me what happened to you,” you say gently, keeping your forehead pressed to his chest so you don’t have to look him in the eye; that, and because you’re trying to find a heartbeat. You haven’t. “How you survived. I’m not an idiot, Eddie. And I can only pretend I haven’t noticed that your eyes are a different color or that you move faster than you should. That somehow, you’ve been in the Upside Down for three months, and you’re not a decayed corpse.”

Eddie’s hands, steady as they glide up and down your back, your arms, your sides, stall, and his fingers curl slightly into your hoodie.

“You were there,” he says. “You saw it all.”

“Clearly, not everything. You were dead when I left—”

“Almost dead.”

“What?” you stiffen.

“I wasn’t… I mean, I was mostly dead. Kissing Death, straight on the lips, tongue and all. And then…”

“And then?”

He inhales, and says, “And then, I made a deal with the devil. A deal I can’t take back.”

You lean back. You may not have all the pieces, but you have enough to get some understanding at the full picture.

The only devil in the Upside Down is Vecna. And if he brought Eddie back—whatever the definition of back is—he didn’t go it out of the goodness of his heart.

“Eddie, what did you do?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“Look, I know you want answers, and I want to give them to you, but I…” He pauses. His hand comes up to your cheek, his cold fingers tracing a line down to your jaw. You shiver. “I’ve spent the last three months waiting for a single minute he wasn’t on my ass, watching me, and I don’t have a lot of time. So, I swear to God, I’ll answer all your questions, but right now, I just want to be here. With you.”

You frown. “You’re not staying.”

Eddie is silent for a long time before he says, “I can’t. Not yet.”

You shift back, sitting up so that only his outline is visible in your periphery. From this angle, blurry and out of focus, he still looks like the Eddie you lost. An Eddie whose biggest problem was whether he’d actually graduate this year.

Eddie sits up beside you, a hand on your arm. He exhales, dropping his chin onto your shoulder. It’s a familiar position, and without thinking, you tip your head against his, temple to temple.

“I’m still a puppet,” he says softly. “Just because he’s not holding my strings right now doesn’t mean he’s not coming back for them.”

You scoff. “If you’re just… some puppet, how are you here now? I mean, am I even talking to the real you right now?”

Eddie stiffens.

“I’m me,” he says. “A lot of the time… I’m more him than me. But right now, right here, I’m me. I’m just Eddie.” He lifts his chin. You crane your head to meet his eyes.

“I spent months waiting for a chance. V—He’s been so weak after everything that went down, he’s been stuck down there. Healing. Even when I came topside to fee—” He stops abruptly. Changes course. “But now…” Eddie pauses. It’s like he’s battling two voices in his head, one telling him to speak, the other urging him silent. “Let’s just say, he’s on a business trip, and I’m supposed to be down there, keeping an eye on things. I only had a few hours.”

“I don’t want you to go,” you whisper, like if you keep your voice low enough, the world won’t hear and jinx you.

“I know, angel,” he says. He drops his chin and presses a long kiss to the side of your head. When he pulls back, his expression has shifted, freezing over like Lovers Lake every December. His voice isn’t entirely his own as he says, “But there’s something I need to take care of before I can stay.”

“Something?” you ask. “Or someone?”

Eddie lets out a long sigh. He rolls onto his back, hands coming up behind his head, and the posture, his presence beside you, the tickle of his hair against your shoulder, is somehow familiar and foreign at once.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“I want you to stay alive—” He lifts his brows, and you huff, pressing on. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. And you know that it wasn’t some… miracle that brought me back. It was—” He stops. “If he’s still around, I’m not really me. I’m just another one of his weapons.”

“You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. No human should be able to hear it. But Eddie does.

“I’m gonna try,” he says.

“And if you can’t?”

Eddie shrugs. He pointedly averts his gaze as he says, “If I can’t, then I go out fighting. Maybe I can get a few decent shots in before he takes me out.”

“Eddie—”

Eddie twists, shifting so he’s half in front of you. He takes your face in his hands and forces your gaze. The angles of his face are sharper, his eyes are clearer. He isn’t the Eddie you lost, but he’s still your Eddie, under it all.

“I’m already on borrowed time, sweetheart. Might as well make it worth something.”

You shake your head. “No. That’s bullshit. We’ll just… we’ll get out of here. Tonight. We can get in my car and drive until we get to a city big enough to disappear in. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“You know, I’ve been running since I learned to walk.” His thumb traces a line up and down your jaw. “I never even thought about stopping. Never wanted to.” A sad smile ghosts his lips. “Then, one day, I met you. And I had a reason to stay. So, I’m gonna fight for it. And I’m gonna come back for you.”

Before, Eddie Munson could have won a contest for stubbornness. It appears dying or almost dying didn’t change that.

You take a breath. Close your eyes for a long moment. When you open them, you say, “You better. If you don’t, I’ll kill you. And I’ll make sure it takes this time.”

Eddie snorts a laugh and loops his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. For a long time, you stay that way, holding each other and pretending the seconds aren’t rolling by.

And then, much sooner than you’d like, Eddie peels himself out of your arms. He climbs off the bed, and you follow him back to the window. The latch whines in protest as he lifts the windowpane, like it too is dreading his departure.

He climbs out onto the roof and turns back to the window, his slender hands on the sill. His fingers look naked without their rings.

Your stomach clawing up your throat, you lift the thin chain out from under your shirt, the metal rings hanging from it clacking. You unlatch it and pull off a thick, black ring. Unlike the others, taken off him in the Upside Down, you’ve had this ring for ages. He gave it to you a long, long time ago.

You lift one of his hands, sliding it onto his middle finger. He curls his fingers around yours, squeezing hard.

“Come back to me,” you say.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says. “Promise.”

Eddie leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, and the cool touch of his lips disappears. When you open your eyes, he’s gone. Like he was never there at all.

Maybe he wasn’t.

Three weeks pass. By the fourteenth day, you’re halfway convinced you hallucinated Eddie. By the twentieth, you’re sure of it.

Call it your brain trying to process the mountain of grief inside you. Or the end of the slow spiral into madness you started three years ago, when a Demogorgon nearly dragged you through a portal in a tree.

Fantasizing a conversation with your dead boyfriend isn’t exactly the weirdest thing that’s happened. It’s better than the alternative: that Eddie is gone, for real.

And then, on the twenty second night, the latch on your window whines open.

In seconds, you’re up and out of bed, standing in the middle of your room just the way you were a few weeks ago. Staring at a silhouette near the window just the way you were a few weeks ago.

The figure half-covered by shadows is limping, and something dark drips off their hands—what you can see of them is covered in a dark substance that has to be blood.

“I know, I know, I’m an asshole. I don’t write, I don’t call…” A familiar, if not a little rough and raw, voice says, and the massive knot that’s been coiling in your gut for weeks untangles itself in an instant.

“Eddie,” you breathe, as he steps into the moonlight.

“Told you I'd be back,” he says, flashing you a smile between heavy breaths. His canines are wickedly sharp, longer than they should be, and shining with blood. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re really here? I’m not hallucinating?”

A smile twitches across his red lips.

“You’re not hallucinating. I’m here,” he says.

“For good?”

“For good,” he says. His mouth curves up, and his smile appears here to stay.

Like him.

And you don’t care how he got here. What he had to become just to be standing here right now. You don’t care what it might take to keep him here, either.

All that matters is that he’s here. Period.

So, you cross the room in three steps, and pull him into your arms. Blood and all.

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