#angst without happy ending

[writermask-0807]

bakugo katsuki x reader {“a taste of this bitter fruit.”}

A/N: first of all, the title is shitty. again. Yaaay!! Second of all, it's cruel of me, ik, but bakugo and angst are just made for each other. Spare me the pitchforks pls-

Warnings: swearing, angst with no happy ending, a little bit toxic?? Also the reader has no trust in him. As in they think he gonna hit them-

Edit: I edited some shit. Hope you don't mind.

KATSUKI loves you.

He knows he’s a mean guy- unnecessarily so, gruff and bitter and cruel, arrogant and angry and rough around the edges- all dark scowls and bared teeth and explosive fury.

It’s who he is- who he will always be no matter how much the years mellow out some of that cruelty, who he will always be no matter how much your warmth chips away at his ice. He’ll always be a bitter fruit, poisoned and rotten to the core, sour at first bite, and he knows it’s not easy for the others because sometimes his words cut a little too deep; sometimes he says the wrong thing at the wrong time; sometimes he’s too cruel and oftentimes never kind enough.

Katsuki knows it’s not easy to stay with him, stand with him, let alone love him- not when he won’t let you close enough- but you do, and he loves you for it.

He loves you, and he doesn’t think he can ever stop; not when you look at him like that- eyes bright and loving and filled with reverent adoration, like you think he’s actually worth enough to be loved, despite all that he’s done, like you think he’s actually, really good.

He doesn’t think he can ever stop; not when you put up with his shit with that same unaffected, stupidly soft smile, not when you see past his cold sneer and to the boy scarred beneath, not when you smile at him like that, all sunshine-bright and gentle- not when it makes your mouth curve and your dimples show and your eyes crease at the corners like half-moons, not when his heart lurches at the sight.

He doesn’t think he can ever stop; not when you’re so fucking kind- that same thoughtless kindness that had made you comfort him, in the middle of the night, when he’d been trembling and red-eyed and haunted by nightmares, that same kindness that had been offered to him on so many occasions despite the harsh words that he doesn’t really mean, that same kindness he’s always taken for granted.

Katsuki loves you- for every little thing that makes you you, and despite the fact that his love is twisted and hard and sometimes subtle enough that you don’t see, he tries, and for a while that has been enough.

It had been enough when he’d shoved you off of him, none too gently, strangely annoyed by your affection. It had been enough when you smiled tightly at him- maybe even a little bit tearily but that was probably a trick of the light, or so he’d thought- when his voice had risen and so had his explosive temper, always lurking like a slow-acting poison crawling under his skin. It had been enough when he’d noticed you growing distant and cold, because of course you weren’t leaving, right?

Katsuki loves you, except-

Except he doesn’t think that you do. Not anymore.

It would have been so easy to think that you hadn’t loved him in the first place, that this was all an elaborate act, but that thought’s just petty and bitter and unfair because he’s a coward at heart, because that brings the anger and anger is familiar, anger is home, and anger hurts less.

It would have been so easy to fool himself like that, except Katsuki knows that this is reality, ugly and painful in all of its sharp clarity.

He knows that it’s reality because you possibly can’t fake that pained expression; the wobbling lip and those eyes- pretty even now, damn you- filling up with unshed tears, the trembling arms you wrap protectively around yourself like you think he’s going to lash out at any second, and fuck, that hurts-

Do you… do you think he’s actually going to hit you? Have you no trust in him, at all? Has all of this been a fucking lie?

“I’m sorry, Katsuki. But-” your voice breaks, a single tear breaking free and dripping down your cheek and it feels like a knife to his heart because as cruel as he is, Katsuki can’t stand seeing you cry.

“But I can’t- I can’t do this anymore. I f-feel like I’m walking on eggshells all the time, and I can’t tell when you’re going to snap and it hurts and it’s scary. I- I’m sorry.”

You sniffle, voice catching, and you keep your eyes trained on the floor as though you can’t bear to meet his gaze, and he wants to scream- he wants to beg, to tell you to stay, to not leave him because he’s nothing without you, because you’ve stolen his heart, his love, his everything. Because you are his everything.

Except, nothing comes out. When his lips part, it feels like someone’s shoved broken shards of glass down his throat- he can’t speak, only tremble and fight back the tears that are building in his eyes, threatening to keel him over, and there’s a knot in his chest that he can’t breathe around, something hot and nauseating clinging like ash to his throat, self-loathing choking him to his core.

Cold silence mushrooms in the infinity space he’s created between the both of you- close enough to touch and yet so far out of reach. You’re already drifting away and there’s nothing Katsuki can do to stop it.

The love of his life is leaving, and he doesn’t have anyone else to blame but himself. Pathetic, really- the way his stupid pride won’t let him fix things, even now, even when he can see the way your hopeful gaze darts back to him.

When the silence continues to swell, suffocating and tense, your eyes shadow over dejectedly, and Katsuki knows you’ve made your decision.

He can’t say anything as you draw a shaky breath, as though trying to steel yourself, and when you make your way towards the door, he can only look, hands clenching into fists at his sides because he knows he can’t do anything. Not anymore, not when he’s finally run out of chances.

It’s only when your foot crosses the threshold that Katsuki finally finds his voice- pulls it out with all the willpower of a man dying- and when he speaks, it’s hoarse like he’s been screaming himself raw. “I’m sorry.”

And he is. He’s sorry for everything he’s put you through, sorry for the way he made promises he couldn’t keep, sorry because he started something he knew he could never finish. He’s sorry sorry sorry, but he doesn’t think that it’s ever going to be enough.

You pause, stilling in your movements, and for a split second, hope wrenches in his chest, cruel and ugly and so fucking desperate. But when you turn back, there is only resignation in your tired, watery smile, as you tell him, gently, even now. “I’m sorry too, Katsuki. But we both know that it won’t ever be enough.”

And with that, you turn, and you leave, leaving his chest hollow of the heart he kept for you, and it’s only when you’re gone that he drops to his knees and sobs.

FIN-

#bakugo katsuki x reader #reader x katsuki bakugo #bnha #mha #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #angst #mha x reader #bnha x reader #katsuki x reader #reader x bakugo #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you #reader x katsuki #angst without happy ending #i had a field trip with this one- #but i feel awful #😮‍💨

[kreugarsc0ckwarmer]

I dont usually post my writing but why not? Just chilling when all the sudden i was craving some very much needed konig angst. Princess reader x assasin konig. Written while listening to Nothings New by Rio Ramero.

You’re the heir to your father’s throne, resting in your bedchambers until you feel a looming presence nearby. You flicker open your eyes; seeing a shadowed figure in the corner of your room; partially hidden behind the draped adorning the large patio.

Konig emerges from the darkness, the moonlight illuminating his eyes as he slowly approaches you with a dagger in his hand.

“Good evening, your majesty, I’ve been sent to…well to take your life.”

His voice is quiet as his other hand gently caresses your cheek, carefully combing your hair away from your face to see you better.

“I must admit, you’re quite a sight to behold.”

Your eyes flutter open, dark circles present below them as if you hadn't been sleeping at all. And in fact you hadn't been; who could when practically the entire nation was out to get you?

It wasn't your fault; yet here you were being punished for it.

Your father was a tyrannical king; and you his only child; therefore being the heir to the throne; not that you desired it.

Many people were after you, both in marriage and my life; any way they would be able to take the throne for themselves. You could have seen this coming a mile away, yet had only hoped that maybe you would have had a little more time before it happened.

A soft sigh left your lips as you pulled your head away from his touch. Shifting; slowly; to a seated position on the lavish bed. Hair shimmering in the moonlight as you moved to grab your crown.

You didn't look scared; nor did you look angry; if anything you looked tired. The kind of tired sleep couldn't fix; yet your gaze still seemed to shimmer somewhat curiously as you stared back at him. His compliment made a barely noticeable half smile ghost over your lips momentarily before it dissapeared

"You surprise me; I wouldn't have expected my killer to be so...chivalrous..."

Your eyes flicked over to meet the blade in his hand before meeting his gaze once again; your tone soft and gentle..yet somewhat cold all the same.

"....will it hurt?..."

You can’t tell, but Konig is smiling underneath that black mask as he looks down at you. You’re exhausted from the stress and anxiety surrounding your role as the next heir to the throne, but even then, you seem curious.

“You won’t feel a thing,”

Konig whispers in a low voice.

“Im only doing our job,”

he whispers. Sounding almost guilty of having to admit that which you both already knew.

"Im aware...you are doing only what you are told.....as am I. I do not fault you for it; if anything I admire you.."

Your words trailed off a bit as your gaze shifts out the window, you didn't doubt that there were others after you in the way konig was. You were just releived the first assassin to reach you was so....kind.

After a moment you stand from the bed, white; royal night dress seeming to flow around your figure as you walk, making you look somewhat etheral. It was no secret...you were stunning, the kings prized possession...

Which is exactly why you were in this position in the first place.

You had given up on your life a long time ago, your will and dreams having been taken from you as a small child. Replaced with the burden of the throne and the stress of being the biggest walking target in the kingdom.

You stepped close the the large patio in your room, the one that overlooked and led to the garden below. Gaze soft and somber as you let it run across the veiw knowing it may very well be the last time you see it.

"Can i...at least pick the place? I'd rather not dirty my chambers. I'd prefer the garden"

Even now your voice held a sort of authority, an admirable trait for someone who was to die.

Konig watches as you stand and then steps aside, letting you approach the patio. You’re beautiful, with a softness behind your eyes and wisdom despite your exhaustion.

“The gardens are my favorite too,”

Konig whispers as he takes off his mask, revealing his face for the first and only time. His dark eyes are set upon you, his face still and calm despite the situation.

“May I…”

Konig turns to look out at the view, taking in the beautiful surroundings.

“May I ask you something before we go?”

You let put a soft hum, signaling for konig to ask his question as you both make your way through the garden. It barely even looks like your walking, rather you seem to float gracefully besides him.

Your demeanor is still surprisingly calm, and unaffected by the impending result of this night walk. Your were making your way towards the pond on the property; surrounded by brilliant red blooming saffron, a rare favourite tea and a sign of your father's wealth.

The pond was thriving with life. Koi fish, plants reeds; cranes and more littering the area. Making it seem rather lively and welcoming despite the nights bitter cold embrace and the somber atmosphere. Momentarily your gaze trails to his face, and you can't stop the tips of your ears from growing a little pink; and boldly you'd decide to state your thoughts without holding back.

"My..your very handsome. It is a pity we should have met in such a way."

Konig looks over at you as you blush, your pink ears just barely seen in the dark. He walks over to the pond, listening to the soft melody of the koi fish below.

“Would you have given me a chance?”

Konig asks quietly. The moonlight shines down on his skin, your eyes locked on one another. The world seems to dissolve around you, only two people standing at the edge of a pond.

“If I had approached you at the ball, or in the library… would you have given me a chance?”

You broke out into a tired somber laugh, plump lips pulling back into a soft but genuine smile before you shook your head; no. Your gaze returning back to the pond as you finally reached the spot you had desired.

A beautiful area right next to the ponds shore; a massive archway of trees covering the area and seeming to beckon you two to enter its embrace. The striking red saffron peeking out from between the lush greenery that surrounded you. The ponds water looked almost eerily inky black, splotches of red gold and white flitting at the surface momentarily as the fish swam.

You remained standing, poised as a queen always was with your arms tucked neatly before you. Back straight and head held high, supporting the crown that sat atop your head.

"...no I'm afraid....I never planned on giving anyone a chance..although I can't deny I wouldn't want too...but it's rather unfair to risk love when I am born to die. It is a duty I must fulfill, as yours....I would much rather not risk the heartache."

Konig listens intently to your words as he steps closer to you and leans against the pond’s edge. Your presence is strong and powerful but you still have a softness that comes out every once in a while.

“Is the heartbreak worse than never being loved at all?”

Konig asks quietly, his eyes still on you.

“I think it would be better to love for just a moment… rather than live a sad, loveless life.”

...

“Would you like to know what it’s like to love and be loved… even if it’s only for a moment?”

You let out a soft sigh, allowing your head to lower a little before replying.

"Of course...I want to be touch....be loved. I want to be hugged...but it's just the two of us..and apologies are due...but I don't understand how love can be felt here."

...

"even if it could be...it would hurt most knowing what I could have had; should I have been born anyone else...I'd rather die never knowing what I'm missing rather than burden myself with guilt."

You spoke with a wisdom beyond your years, yet there was a clear sense of longing in my words as well despite you denying you wanted love. You had never experienced love, the ripe age you were; and had never had a lover, been hugged, or held by a man in kindness.... Never been kissed, never been ***held***. You had always been alone, just you, your thoughts, and your garden

Konig’s gaze never leaves you as you speak, his words slow and gentle as his eyes search for any sort of vulnerability in your defenses. Then, without warning, he closes the distance between you and him, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. The warmth of his body is unmistakable, his breath hitting your neck as he holds you close.

“Don’t feel guilty,”

Konig whispers as he rests his face in the crook of your neck and lets out a satisfied sigh.

He’s never been this intimate with another person...but he doesn’t want to let you go just yet.

You stand stiff in his hold, not sure what to do. You had seen **other** people hug sure; but had never been hugged yourself. Your mind was sent into almost an instant panic, before his warmth began to seep into your skin. His cologne and musk invading your senses as you slowly wrapped your own arms around his figure. Burying your face into the crook of his neck with a quiet sob. Tears pricking your eyes for the first time in a heartbroken aguish.

It was overwhelming, the feeling of the hug that you were gradually tightening. Like a dam of pent up emotions, wants needs and desires were suddenly freed.

The hug set your heart ablaze and shattered it all at once. Igniting passion, fury, warmth and more; a need for more....but it couldnt be. And after a moment your cries quieted, eyes still red rimmed as you slowly began to pull away; wanting to scream at the feeling of his warmth leaving your skin but remaining silent and poised outside of the small thank you you had uttered after wards. Gaze returning to the pond besides the both of you as you removed the crown. Letting it drop to the ground as you held my hands together before you. Prepared to face your fate, in this case konigs blade. After all he had a job to do; as cruel as fate had intended.

"...thank you...I think I'm ready now"

Konig smiles gently as you allow yourself to feel his embrace, crying into the crook of his neck. The warmth of his body is indescribable and he holds you close before you eventually release him.

Then he steps back and takes out his dagger, his gaze meeting yours. He holds the knife against your throat, the moonlight reflecting off of the blade as he draws your gaze to it.

“Please forgive me,”

Konig whispers, his own heart aching as his voice shook a little.

“I have no choice.”

"There is nothing to forgive you for my love, I can only pray that the gods take mercy on our souls so that next time we meet...we may share our presences a little longer"

You notice him hesitate, your hands raising to delicately caress his cheeks as you pull the two of you closer. For the first time that night a large genuine smile seems to grace your lips. Which are soon pressed against konigs own as you ignore the daggers digging into your neck.

Despite the pain your heart was fluttering, stomach twisting, and brain for once was empty. You felt free, felt loved and warm like you'd never had.

The blood slowly invaded the kiss, leaking from the corners of your lips also beginning to run down your neck and stain the innocent white royal night gown you wore.

The crimson reflecting the blazing color of the saffron blooming around you. You heaved a final soft sigh, pulling your lips from his own as your body began to slack.

Your head resting against his shoulder once more as your weight began to lean against him fully. Hands still holding his face ever so delicately before it grew quiet.

Konig is stunned at first as the life slowly fades from you, his face frozen as he watches your eyes flutter and breathing halt.

He whispers your name but there’s no response, no warm smile, no soft touch. Not anymore.

Your no longer in his arms, the cold air surrounding him as he’s forced to face the truth that this assignment was to kill the woman he loved....and he ahead realized it all too soon.

One knee at a time, he collapses to the ground, foreign tears streaming down his face as he remains cradling your form against his. The blade still clutched tightly in his hand as he oresses his forhead against your. His eyes closing as he simply cherishes holding you close.

The garden is empty, silent save for the sound of his quiet sobs....

#konig #call of duty fic #cod fanfiction #modern warfare ii #cod mwii #konig x reader #konig x you #konig x y/n #konig fanfiction #fantasy #alternate universe #konig cod #ooc post #ooc #trigger warning #death? #murder? #angst #angst without happy ending #sad #i suck at writing #ialsosuckattags #unedited #probably never going to edit

[hairmetal666]

Eddie Munson gets famous at fifteen, after a YouTube video goes viral.

He's the kind of famous where he can't leave his house without being mobbed; where his name is plastered across grocery store tabloids and every fifth Pop Crave post; who has to make special arrangements with stores, whose body guards have body guards, who's forgotten what it's like to be normal. He's the kind of famous with well-chronicled stints in and out of rehab

And he thinks, at thirty, why not do a reality show? Why not let everyone in the world into his life because they're there anyway?

There's this guy on the crew, beautiful as a fucking sunrise. He's all golden-tanned and chestnut-haired, with these big hazel eyes that makes Eddie stomach swoop deliciously whenever they happen to meet his.

His name is Steve.

And Eddie, well. He's learned his lesson about jumping into relationships. So, Steve is nice to look at, and that's all there is to it.

---

They're at the studio, and Eddie, he only smokes when he's recording but he's "not allowed" to do that inside. So, he steps out into the alley behind the building, eyes falling shut as he hands search his pockets for his pack of Camels and his Zippo.

"I didn't realize you smoked," a deep voice says from the darkness.

Eddie startles, eyes flying open. Steve is leaning against the brick of the building, cigarette perched between his pursed lips.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I'm Steve. With the crew."

"Eddie," he answers by instinct.

"I know," Steve chuckles. His hazel eyes are golden in the yellow streetlight.

"Oh, right." He lights his cigarette and inhales deep.

"I really like what you're doing in there." Steve nods his head towards the studio.

"You a fan?"

"Never listened to you much before. Not really a metal kinda guy, but I like it."

People aren't usually honest with Eddie. It's refreshing.

"Glad you're getting into it! How's your--uh, job going?"

Steve laughs. "First assistant camera, that's my job." Eddie's expression must read a total blank, but Steve only smiles. "I make sure everything's in focus while we film"

"Is that--hard?"

"Sometimes," Steve agrees. "How do you like being the star of a reality show?"

Eddie huffs out a breath. "It's more fun than I expected. Like, sure it's weird to have you guys follow me around, but at least I invited you, you know?"

Steve's dark eyes are fathomless in his perfect face. "You'll let me know? If anything happens that you don't like?"

Eddie nods, taken aback by the serious line of Steve's pretty mouth. Before he can respond more, the back door creaks open, Gareth's backlit shape leaning into the alley. "Eddie? They're ready for you."

"Duty calls." He smiles at Steve as he stomps out his cigarette. "See you around."

---

Eddie goes to a house party in the hills. It's just a handful of people, all of them he's known for years, no cameras in sight.

Someone asks how things are going with the band. Eddie doesn't think anything of it. Why should he, among friends? Why should he when they already know the resentment that Gareth, Jeff, and Freak have for him? Eddie got signed and not his band. The guys--they never really forgave him, think he could have tried harder.

So, he says--he says--"I wish they didn't resent me so goddamn much still. To this day! They're millionaires and they're pissed at me? Fuck that. I got them here. I got us all here."

They're filming the next day at Eddie's house. He's working on a new song, engrossed in his acoustic and his notebook.

He's so in the zone, it takes him a second to register when Gareth bursts into the house.

"Fuck you, Munson," Gareth screams. "What the fuck is this shit?" Eddie's own voice pours from Gareth's phone, and Eddie's stunned speechless for dozens of seconds as he tries to comprehend what's happening.

"I didn't--" he tires. He raises his hands placatingly, but his minds a whirlwind, thoughts a tangle, heart a mess of betrayal and hurt and fear.

"We should be fucking grateful?" Gareth yells. "You spoiled piece of shit, fuck you!" He lunges towards Eddie, but Steve darts from behind the camera, moving to block Gareth's path.

"Stop filming," Eddie shouts. He lifts his arms to block the shit. "Get out," he snaps at the crew. " Now!"

He and Gareth scuffle towards a set of double-doors, heated words low and unintelligible.

"Don't come in." He tells the crew. "Steve, I mean it. Tell them to stop."

Eddie shoves Gareth into the other room, slamming the door behind him. Still, the mics pick up the screaming fight between the two men.

Hours later, Eddie finally makes his way back to the main part of the house, finds Steve standing at the kitchen island.

"Why are you still here?" He's too exhausted from the fight to put any inflection into it.

"I was wo--I wanted to make sure everything was okay," Steve says. He relaxes against the island. "Are yo--is everything okay?"

Eddie's laugh is humorless. "Something like that."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

The tears he kept at bay with Gareth prick at his eyelids until they burn. "Not really, no."

Steve nods. "We could--you wanna watch a movie?"

This startles a laugh out of Eddie, one that has tears flooding his eyes and he has to blink fast, look down, anything so Steve doesn't notice.

"You know what I want?" he says. It's soft enough that maybe Steve, across the kitchen, wouldn't hear.

"What?"

"To have friends who won't sell me out for a couple thousand bucks." The tears start falling, his throat choked with emotion.

He wants to stop, embarrassed to be crying in front of Steve, but now that he's started, sobs shake his shoulders and he can't keep quiet.

Steve reaches for him. "Is this okay?" he whispers, hands rubbing circles against his back.

Eddie nods, cries for a while as Steve makes soothing motions against his back.

"I just wish I was normal," he mumbles when he has words again.

Steve's hold on him tightens. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

Shame hits him then, too hard to ignore, and he steps away. "I'm gonna--I'm gonna go. I--Thanks again."

He ignores the sound of Steve calling him back.

---

Eddie's playing a show. He's playing a show in a small club, something he hasn't been able to do for years, but he's doing it right now. It's electric, vibrating through his body, the crowd screaming along with every word.

So much of this is because of Steve, and Eddie can't think about it, because men like Steve aren't for guys like Eddie.

As he plays, his eyes scan the small crowd, find Steve easily. He's gazing at Eddie, lips slicked pink and parted, eyes shining. Eddie knows this look; the naked desire obvious. A heat he never lets himself feel for Steve blooms low in his abdomen, but--

He wails into his mic, forcing his thoughts away from that path. He has a show to play, one that's pumping his veins full of satisfied adrenaline. Nothing can ruin it.

When the show ends, Eddie is high, endorphins and adrenaline pounding through his bloodstream.

Eddie, the band, and the film crew make their way out the club's backdoor. There's a car idling close by, but they only get a few steps in before there's shouting; the ear-shattering click of dozens of camera shutters; overwhelming burst of flashes.

Eddie is disoriented, dizzy; the rapid shift from the best night he's had in years, to this, mobbed by paparazzi, people screaming his name, crowding their small group. He stumbles, black spots still obstructing his vision.

Arms catch around him, holding him steady. "You okay?" Steve asks.

Before he can answer, one of the paps yells, "Munson's wasted! Can't even walk!"

"C'mon, Ed, I've got you," Steve says.

"Just get into the booze, Munson, or someone had Molly too? Maybe a little coke? That used to be your thing, right? Snort a little blow and do a show?"

Eddie tenses, almost stops, but Steve keeps him going.

The crowd surges around them, more voices yelling, more flashbulbs popping, the guy saying, "He can't even stand without help! You got a real problem you know?"and he just--can't anymore. He whirls out of Steve's grasp, lunges for the guy.

"What's your fucking problem, man?" Eddie hisses. "What did I do to you, huh?"

"Real tough, Munson, huh?" The man sneers. He shoves Eddie hard, knocking him back a few steps.

Eddie's vision fuzzes out, brain buzzing. He snarls, knows he does, knows he's losing it, can't make it stop.

Strong arms wrap around his waist, pull him off his feet. He fights it until he's pressed into a wall, until cold hands cup his face.

"Baby, baby, you have to calm down," Steve murmurs. "You have to breathe, can you do that for me?"

"I want--he can't--I--"

Steve presses harder against him, bodies joined. "You're having a panic attack, yeah? Can you breathe with me, baby? Match me?"

Eddie nods, tries, wants to be good for Steve.

He calms, as much from the breathing exercise as being held by the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Pressing his face against Steve's neck he says, "why are you always around for my worst moments? I'm such a fucking mess."

"I don't think you're a mess," he says. "I think you've gotten hurt, you've gotten cornered. And your reactions are normal."

"Why do you even care?" Eddie asks.

Steve doesn't even pause. "Cause I like you, Eddie." His hold tightens for a second. "I like you a lot."

Eddie scoffs. "Yeah, you like Eddie Munson, the hot rockstar. Not the loser who cries in your arms"

Cold air hits Eddie as Steve steps away to meet Eddie's eyes. You want to know something? I didn't expect to like you at all. I admit, I bought into all the stories on the internet. But you were never anything like that, Ed. Not even once."

Steve takes a deep breath, turning away as his cheeks grow pink. "And you--you're always going out of your way for people. The day I knew I was gone for you? Three weeks into filming. There was this kid interning. You didn't know a thing about him, just some twenty-year-old, and you sat down and talked to him. Were genuinely interested in everything he said."

"Steve," Eddie's voice breaks. He has to cover his mouth, lips a wobbling mess.

"I want to give you normal, Eddie, as much as I can. If you'll let me."

The moisture tumbles free from his eyes, streaking down his cheeks. Eddie laughs. "God, Steve, you're--I like you, too."

Steve brushes the tears away. "So, you'd go on a date with me?"

"I think I would really like to go on a date with you, yeah."

Steve leans in, slow and gentle, placing a soft kiss at the corner of Eddie's mouth. It lights him up like a fresh struck match, nerve endings on fire. He thinks it's so much more than like already.

"Take me home, sweetheart," he says.

"Getting fresh with me, Munson," Steve smirks. "I won't have you using your rockstar wiles to seduce me."

Eddie's laugh echoes off the brick of the surrounding buildings. "Oh, sweetheart, my rockstar ways will destroy you."

"That a promise?"

---

Six months later, the first and only season of Welcome to Hell premieres. Instead, of chronicling a rockstar's debauched and wild lifestyle, it's a soft and charming love story. It shows Steve and Eddie growing closer, Steve working late into the night, to give Eddie the hint of normalcy he's so desperate for, to make him happy. It shows Eddie's eyes track Steve across a room, something like sadness crossing his face. It shows a concert that Steve arranged, the fight with the pap outside the venue, brief glimpses of Steve and Eddie in the aftermath, the gentle kiss.

In the last interview of the season, the producer asks Eddie if there will be a season two of Welcome to Hell.

Eddie smiles, glances off camera, which pans to find Steve in worn jeans and a Metallica hoodie, hair messy and wearing glasses. He gazes at Eddie, smiles this soft, aching thing.

"Nah, I don't think I need it anymore," Eddie answers. Throwing the camera a smile that matches Steve's.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #reality show au #famous eddie munson #regular guy steve harrington #mutual pining #fluff #workplace romance #angst #getting together #angst with a happy ending #rockstar eddie munson #former teen star eddie munson #eddie has a reality show #crew member steve harrington #eddie is the kind of famous where he can't go outside without being mobbed #this is sort of based on todd and kandi from rhoa #it's also sweet nothing but not on purpose #all steve wants to give eddie is sweet nothing #it's a long one sorry about it

[petricorah]

the dangers of not confessing

pt 2 pt 3

#zukka #sokka #zuko #atla #zukka fanart #avatar the last aribender #don't Worry sokka's lying. i can't do angst without a happy ending #fire lord zuko #avatar #avatar fanart #avatar the last airbender fanart #sokka fanart #zuko fanart #myart

[glwmcres]

can’t stop thinking about trying to help clarisse in the war and her losing you :/

she thought you were doing good at first, you were. no one had gotten close enough to touch you, you were winning. until you weren’t.

she looked away for a minute, a single minute, just 60 seconds. when she looked back you were on the ground, blood slowly seeping out of your abdomen.

her face falls as her tears well up in her eyes. she almost drops her weapon to run over to you. quickly dropping down to her knees as she looks over you.

she’s scared to touch you but needs to stop the bleeding before it’s too much. she lets out a breath as she pushes her hands over your wound, trying to minimize the bleeding. the pressure making you grunt as your eyes open up and look up at her.

she can save you, she tells herself. she needs to save you. she can’t let you go like this.

she’s so caught up in the way your blood is covering her hands that she doesn’t notice you staring at her. she finally looks up at your face and lets more tears fall. she leans down at presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“it’s okay, i promise… it’ll be okay..” she chokes out as more tears fall freely down her face. she pulls you into her lap and she holds onto you, not wanting to let go.

“i love y-you, clarisse,” you take a small breath as you grab onto her hand, pulling it towards your lips as you press a kiss to her. “more than anything..” you whisper out to her.

she sobs as she watches your eyes go hazy as they flutter close, your body falling limp in her hold. she presses a long kiss against your forehead again and she sobs, her tears falling from her onto your face.

“i love you, y/n. i’m so sorry.”

did yall like this or :3

i might do short drabbles like this more often?? i did most of this at like 3am :P

#clarisse la rue x reader #lesbian #wlw #dior goodjohn #pjo series #percy jackson #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x fem!reader #glwmcres #clarisse la rue angst #angst without a happy ending #pjo angst #drabble #made this at 3am

[carlyraejepsans]

hibiscia!!! Sorry if youve explained before but is there something specific about reset-remember fics that you hate? I don't really like them either but for me it's just because I feel like a lot of authors type sans in very ooc ways

They're completely antithetical to Sans' character arc for the sake of cheap and easy angst. The nature of his brand of cosmic horror isn't in reliving his life again and again, that's Flowey's. Sans knows OF the anomaly, knows that it's manipulating time and knows it's a threat to the entire universe, but he doesn't know how or why, because he doesn't remember.

And that's crucial! him being mostly in the dark in spite of the MANY warning signs about us... because it's in that doubt that he remains hopeful. YES we could potentially end the world... but what if we don't? yes we have unimaginable power over everyone else and we can bring back time, but what if we're just.... sad? he needs that gap in his knowledge so he can take a leap of faith across it, it's his entire character arc in the pacifist run. sans THINKS he's given up, he wants to have given up, he chose to do it because there's a comfort in that. in contenting yourself with good food and bad laughs. there's peace. but he hasn't given up, not really. on himself? maybe. but not in us.

there's no way to have that arc if he remembers resets.

#this is also why i don't like post pacifist sans angst where he worries about resets. unless there's like a Reason for frisk to reset #kinda like sam did in UG with the incident with the blasters #because ppl take his lines during the NM fight as a given without considering that... it's the fucking NM run? lol #he's talking about reaching the surface from the point of view of a sans who's only ever been antagonized by the anomaly #ie reaching the surface meant through asgore's plan being successful #pacifist achieves that in a scenario where he actively befriends and loves and cares about the anomaly. he trusts us!! #it would feel unfair to his friend if he were convinced they were going to shit on their happy ending. that's a really shitty thing to thin #it's actually sth i wanted to handle in dv. having a kid REALLY fucks with his paranoia. it's irrational but understandable #that doesn't stop him from feeling guilty towards frisk for worrying about it. or feeling worried at all #undertale #sans #answered asks #metanalysis

[tb3ih]

A TEST OF ANGUISH (pt. 4), kamisato ayato/reader

SYNOPSIS… they love is not for the weak of heart OR KAMISATO AYATO has more buried in his rib cage than he lets on. 

⋆   warnings, kamisato ayato & fem-presenting!reader, a smidge of confrontation, pain pain pain. ⋆   notes, ayato is actually an allusion to my ex lmaooo.

⋆ tags! @kiyoomiwo @hotgirlshit5 @kunikuzushisbeloved @iamnotobsessed @lightoftheamethyst @xiaosonlybeloved @jcrml @kireeen @isotofl @iiyumii @neverlandlostchild @lumpywolf @mrs-heelshire @nickey-diano @irisxiel @esthelily @chiisananingen @goodsoup101 @the-real-fandom-person @whatamidoing89 @ayatoslovelywife @lorkai @bambambunny @i-3at-kidz @kyauyumira @pineapplesneedrights @atlas-rin @hyunromi @simplyhumanlol

YOUR fingers are gentle as you thread them through sora’s hair, carefully threading the strands together until it’s a braided crown of blue. you’ve just finished tucking in the last bits of hair into her braid when you see the coloring; it’s faint, but her light blue has begun to shift to a deeper indigo at her roots. 

“okaasan, am i pretty yet?” her light indigo irises are fixed on you through the reflecting vanity mirror. sora had sensed your halt in motion, her smile innocent and inquiring. 

you bring an easy smile to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair before reassuring her. “you have always been the most beautiful to me.” your hands move to adjust to the collar of her formal dress, the light purple blossoms peeking out just over her shoulders. you had this dress made just before you left the kamisato estate, hopeful that she might be able to wear it during summer festivities rather than a trial between two dominant clans. 

a reality which you seem to be so detached from as of late. 

it had been a couple months since you’ve moved out of your old residence, a decision you made in the best interest of you and your daughter, and yet you can’t help the strange welling in your heart at the thought of having to set foot inside once more. 

a house once full of unity, now harboring distrust and tension, you had no choice to bring sora back to it. as the sole heir to the hayashi matriarch and the only child of the head of the yashiro commission, sora could not be absent. 

“sora,” you begin, “i just want you to know… that, uhm…” there’s a lump in your throat and something tickles at your tear ducts. your daughter turns to face you on her chair, her smaller hands coming to cup around your face as her expression fills with worry. “i’m alright, flower, no need to worry.” you bring a hand to place on hers, thumb rubbing softly against the back of her hand in comfort.

“after today, if somethings don’t go the way i planned,” you explain, “i don’t want you to think for even a second that i don’t love you. not ever.” the thought of having to give her up had been tormenting you the past few weeks after the elders had brought into question succession for both clans with the continuance of a divorce. 

between the yashiro commission and the hayashi clan, there was only one legitimate heir. and you’re sure everyone who was anyone in the room would want a claim to your sora. 

“everything will be alright as long as i’m with mama,” sora replies quietly, offering a soft smile. there was absolutely nothing you wouldn’t do for this little girl. 

you press a soft kiss to her forehead. “let’s hope that never changes.”

holding her hand in yours, the two of you leave the room, making it down the hall to the grand room where the most important meetings are held. the few elders which had gathered outside the door lower their gazes and bow, offering you their respects. The guards outside the door stand in position of salute, only moving back to a position of attention when you nod. 

there are whispers among the few which you pass on your way towards the doors, their voices hushed but not quiet enough for you to miss. 

“a pity the yashiro commission has to incur such a loss over a petty issue,” one criticizes. 

“you’d think as a matriarch she’d be more understanding and mature,” the other replies. “it seems ridiculous to stage such a trial between clans, no?”

sora looks up at you with confusion in her eyes, and you simply bring a soft smile to your face, shaking your head in dismissal. “you pay them no mind, flower.” you stop just before the doors, your free hand coming to signal to the door keepers. “vermin who mooch off of their diluted family ties hold no opinion in the court of nobility.”

there are some hushed gasps behind you and you see your daughter giggle, the doors coming to open before you to reveal a larger room of gathering nobles. directly in front of you at the grand table, kamisato ayato sits beside his younger sister, an image of placid indifference reflected in his figure. 

the elders seated in the room took to their feet, offering a bow of acknowledgement as you approached the room. ayato was delayed in his response, standing moments later and offering a deep bow. 

you bowed in response, sinking deeply before returning back to your full height. Akane appeared at your side at once, ushering sora to the side seats where she could sit but remain in proximity to you. 

“matriarch of the hayashi clan, i, kamisato ayato, head of the kamisato clan, greet you humbly. regardless of the outcome, i wish all good intentions during this trial.” his voice is smooth and courteous, but void of any emotion, yet another twist to the knife in your heart. 

“i, hayashi y/n, head of the hayashi clan, wish you well in this fair trial and hope you accept the ruling without protest,” you reply, smile soft and polite. 

you see his jaw tick at this, a feeling of satisfaction settling deep in your bones. 

when the doors open one final time, it is everyone’s turn to bow, for the raiden shogun comes waltzing in, voice calm and level when she asks, “shall we get started then?”

"SHE was born on the kamisato estate, by natural laws she is the kamisato clan’s right!” an elder at the table, whom you recognize to be one of the most senior among those gathered from the opposing party. she only ever liked the number on the profit amount your marriage brought her. “this is inarguably–”

one of the elders from your side stands from his chair, violet eyes seething at the remark. “inarguable? it was not in the contractual agreement!” 

the air is tense with anger, confusion, and stubbornness, all of which you remain aware of yet quiet. your eyes are trained on your husband, his eyes also never leaving yours since the moment the both of you sat down. 

it isn’t until the raiden shogun speaks do the two of you avert your eyes to her. “why are the lot of you discussing the little girl as if she’s a mere object? Have you any respect for the child?” her violet eyes are narrowed and gaze is pointed, as if to pierce straight through anyone who might answer her conjecture incorrectly. 

“n-no, almighty s-shogun–” 

another elder stands, trembling before the archon. “please, we didn’t mean any insolence–”

“and yet,” raiden continues, “i have yet to hear anything remotely negotiable in the past two hours i’ve been stuck sitting in this chair. tell me, have you any idea what the girl is like? taken the time to understand who sora is?”

at this, ayato flinches, the question itself more indirectly intended for him. 

“it is true that by natural law sora is entitled to the kamisato clan,” raiden begins, the faces of all those in favor of the aforementioned clan lighting up in delight, “but after further examination of the justification for the divorce, it would seem that she is, inarguably, the rightful heir to the hayashi clan.”

protest begins to break out amongst the elders and you feel the heat clawing at the back of your throat, the tickle of electricity in the air as everyone begins to overwhelm you. before you can react, there is a burst of blue, water form the shape of blades pointed at every elder in the room. 

“all of you, hush!” it is your husband, hands clenched on the table and expression tight with rage. “had it not been for any of you, we would never be in this mess to begin with!”

the room is silent but for the ticking of the clock. his words ring through your head, a mixture of confusion and anger swirling in the pit of your stomach. 

“the elders?” your voice is just barely a whisper. “i spent nearly a decade wasting away in a loveless marriage and you want to blame the elders?!” 

your husbands eyes are wide when they meet yours, his mouth open as if his words were not meant to be his. 

you laugh coldly. “i knew you were a low creature, but i had never thought you to be pathetic enough to continue blaming everyone but yourself–”

“i do blame myself! i am the only one i blame!” ayato’s eyes are a mix of desperate blue and you’re not sure what to think of it. “i sleep alone and walk past empty rooms where you and sora used to play. i sit at an empty table where we used to eat. i waste away in a home of ghost and absent memories, do not tell me that i do not blame myself!”

“then where were you?” you think he’s unbelievable. “where. were. you? i brought her into this world alone. she received her vision without you. her first summer festival, without you. archons, ayato! where were you?!”

“i thought you hated me!”

“you’re the one who told me we were married for politics!”

“because i wanted you to hurt!”

“why?”

“because i love you!” he is huffing and attempting to catching his breath. he runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, looking around at the room of eyes all on him. lowering his voice, he continues, “from the moment i met you, i loved you, and i have never felt like i was enough and thought of bringing you anything but happiness did terrible things to me.”

you swallow the lump inn your throat. “so you abandoned me?”

he can’t meet your eyes. “i felt if you were too close, you might discover the worst of me. that maybe if you–”

“no. no, ayato, don’t be cruel,” you interrupt, shaking your head. You will not hear any of this. you stand from your chair, a look of anguish on your face when you meet those beautiful cerulean irises. “you have no right to say that.” 

he stands too, hand almost reaching towards you. “my dearest–”

“no!” your voice cracks and you pick up the skirt of your dress, back up towards the doors which you came in. “you can curse at me, insult me, do your worst, but you have no right to plead your love to me!”

sora stands from her chair and comes running to you, her small hands clasping at yours. you gather her in your arms, ordering the guards to open the doors. you turn to face your husband who, having rushed from the other side of the table, stands just meters away from you. 

“you are a cruel man, kamisato ayato.” your eyes are sharp with hatred, your expression twisted with pain. you bow in acknowledgement to the raiden shogun, who nods back. you meet the gazes of all the elders in the room before replying, “this trial is over, i will hear no more of your grievances.”

and you turn and run. you escape. you leave with sora in your arms your past on your tail.

because love shouldn’t hurt. it shouldn’t.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 5 (coming soon!)

© tb3ih mmxxiv all rights reserved.

#xx tb3ih #genshin x reader #genshin impact #ayato angst #ayato x reader #ayato imagines #ayato x you #ayato x y/n #angst #angst without a happy ending #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #genshin impact ayato #kamisato ayato #ayato kamisato

[quinzzelx]

Don't Go

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel thought he knew what pain was. But faced with the consequences of battle, he shatters.

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: Heart-shattering angst. I'm sorry, this does not have a happy ending. Death. I need to still proofread this!

A/N: One of my favorite Band's songs, one that I hold very dear to my heart, is called "Don't Go"... Let's just say, this song expresses the feelings of this perfectly. If you are interested in an alternate ending, one with a happy one, let me know.

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

I was raised in the valley There was shadows and death Got out alive but with scars I can't forget

You never imagined that drowning could be so tranquil. Drifting, falling, floating deeper into the abyss, your once-alert eyes now glazed over with a distant emptiness. The shimmering surface of the moon above reflected in the water, casting a serene glow upon the scene. Despite the turmoil raging within you, the water remained calm, almost comforting as it enveloped you.

With each passing moment, consciousness slipped further away, your limbs heavy and unresponsive. The light above grew dimmer, more distant, as you descended into the depths. A sharp pang in your chest served as a grim reminder of impending death, your lungs screaming for air that was nowhere to be found. The burning agony of suffocation clawed at your throat, the water filling your lungs with each desperate gasp.

This was the end. At the age of 347, a mere blink in the lifespan of a Fae, you faced your demise. While humans might find such longevity unfathomable, for your kind, it was but a fraction of existence. Yet, as the final bubbles of air escaped your lips and rose toward the surface, a sense of peace washed over you. Despite the fear that once gripped your heart, in this moment, all was calm.

Your death would not be in vain. You had fought until the very end. And now, as you surrendered to the depths of the lake, you found solace in the embrace of the water, welcoming you home. Your vision blurred, the edges of your consciousness fading as you struggled to stay afloat. Every movement sent waves of agony rippling through your body, your broken bones protesting with searing pain. Despite your efforts, the darkness continued to close in, suffocating you with its crushing weight.

But then, a sensation unlike any other tore through you, a visceral reaction that seized your heart in a vice-like grip. Panic surged through your veins, amplified by the frantic beating of your heart. It was as if every fiber of your being screamed out in terror, a primal instinct that screamed for survival.

Ears ringing and throbbing with agony, you felt a sharp, stabbing pain shoot through your skull as your eardrums burst under the immense pressure. The pain was excruciating, a relentless assault on the last bit of strength you held onto.

An orphan and a brother and unseen by most eyes I don't know what it was that made a piece of him die Took a boy to the forest Slaughtered him with a scythe Stamped on his face An impression in the dirt Do you think the silence Makes a good man convert?

In the tumultuous landscape of the Illyrian Mountains, whispers of dissent had been stirring for years. Cassian's hunch had sparked a relentless pursuit of the rebels, their motives driven by a desire to reclaim power and revert to antiquated traditions. Their disdain for the new order, especially Rhysand's leadership, fueled their rebellion.

Months of meticulous investigation led Azriel to their hidden stronghold, nestled deep within the rugged terrain. The plan was in motion: pairs deployed, each with a specific mission. Cassian and Feyre, Rhysand and Mor, Nesta and Azriel, and you with Gwyn and Emerie tasked with liberating the captive females.

Amidst the chaos of battle, Azriel wielded Truthteller with lethal precision, dispatching adversaries with practiced ease. Yet, his focus fractured when Emerie and Gwyn rushed to his side, your absence glaringly apparent. Dread coiled in his gut as Gwyn's wide-eyed gaze met his. It was then that Azriel noticed your absence, a sinking feeling gnawing at his gut. "Where is she?" His voice was tight with worry, urgency lacing his words. Her response only fueled his anxiety. "There was a group of about ten. She's our best fighter, and she insisted we go for help." Azriel's instinctive reaction was to scowl at Gwyn's decision to leave you behind, but he knew you were capable. Still, the thought of you facing such odds alone churned his stomach. So many of them? Fuck, he had to find you. A glance at Nesta was enough as she immediately nodded. "Find her." With a silent nod, Azriel launched himself into the sky, his wings slicing through the air with a fierce determination. The urgency of his mission spurred him onward, each powerful beat bringing him closer to the treeline that marked the edge of the battlefield.

It was only recently, during your parting, that the bond between you had awakened with startling clarity. The sensation pulsed within him, a potent reminder of your connection. How had he overlooked it for so long? The question gnawed at him as he scanned the landscape below, every hut, every tent, every clearing scrutinized for any sign of you.

As he neared the cliffside, a gust of wind carried the pungent scent of blood, assaulting his senses with brutal force. Panic seized him, his chest constricting with a primal fear as he descended closer to the source of the chaos. Then, amidst the carnage, he felt it—a flicker of your presence, fragile yet unmistakable.

We all have our horrors And our demons to fight But how can I win when I'm paralyzed? They crawl up on my bed Wrap their fingers round my throat Is this what I get for The choices that I made?

Landing with a staggering thud, Azriel stumbled forward, his chest heaving as he fought to quell the rising panic. Ears ringing, he scanned the scene before him, desperate for any sign of you amidst the chaos of battle. The sight of severed limbs and pools of blood sent a shiver down his spine, his heart hammering with dread. The battlefield was a scene of utter devastation, a macabre tableau of violence and chaos. Bodies littered the ground, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles, pools of blood mingling with the churned earth. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid scent of sweat and fear.

A sudden sound to his right shattered the eerie silence, drawing Azriel's attention like a predator honing in on its prey. His eyes narrowed, scanning the landscape until they landed on a figure slumped against a tree stump. The Illyrian's battered form was a testament to the brutality of the conflict, bruises marring his face, blood staining his clothes. As Azriel approached, his shadows coiled around him like vengeful serpents, an ominous aura of danger emanating from his every movement. His broad shoulders were squared, his stare intense and unwavering, like the embodiment of death itself stalking through the battlefield.

The Illyrian male flinched as Azriel loomed over him, a towering figure of wrath and retribution. With a swift motion, Azriel snatched him by the collar, yanking him up and pressing him against the tree with a force that left no room for defiance. "Where is she?" Azriel's voice was a low, menacing growl, barely contained fury simmering beneath the surface. The Illyrian snarled in response, his bruised and bloodied face contorted with defiance. He spat into Azriel's face, a vile mixture of blood and saliva, his defiance fueling the flames of Azriel's rage. "I won't tell you a gods damn thing, Bastard," he spat, his voice dripping with venom.

Azriel's fury intensified as he tightened his grip, bones cracking and snapping under his relentless grasp, the Illyrian's defiant sneer faltering as pain seared through him. "Tell me where she is," Azriel growled, his voice a dangerous rumble that reverberated through the air like a thunderclap, echoing the storm raging within him.

The Illyrian's lips curled into a twisted grin, his defiance unyielding even in the face of Azriel's wrath. "Your whore? We took care of her," he taunted, his voice laced with malice as he sought to goad Azriel further. Azriel's gaze darkened, a storm of fury brewing behind his eyes as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against the Illyrian's face. With a swift motion, he slammed him against the tree once more, the force of the impact jarring his senses. "You will regret those words," Azriel growled, his voice dripping with icy venom. In an instant, Azriel's shadows surged forward, wrapping around the Illyrian's limbs like vengeful tendrils, constricting and squeezing with crushing force. The Illyrian's defiant grin faltered, replaced by a look of sheer terror as he struggled against the suffocating darkness. Azriel's grip tightened, his fingers digging into the Illyrian's flesh as he leaned in closer, his voice a low, menacing whisper. "You will tell me everything," he snarled, his words a promise of retribution as he unleashed the full extent of his wrath upon the helpless captive.

Azriel's gaze hardened, his patience wearing thin as he pressed the Illyrian harder against the tree. "You will tell me," he insisted, his voice a deadly whisper. "Or I will make you wish you had."

With a defiant glare, the Illyrian spat back, "You can't scare me, Shadowsinger. I'd rather die than betray my comrades."

Azriel's jaw clenched, his fury simmering just beneath the surface as he stared down at the defiant captive. "So be it," he growled, his voice cold and unforgiving. "But know this, your death will be swift compared to the torment I will unleash upon those who have harmed her."

With a final, chilling glare, Azriel released his grip, allowing the Illyrian to crumple to the ground in a heap. Azriel's heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing like thunder in his ears as he stumbled forward, the weight of the bond pressing down on him like a suffocating shroud. Desperation clawed at him as he scanned the surroundings, his senses straining to pick up any sign of your presence.

God forgive me for all my sins God forgive me for everything God forgive me for all my sins God forgive me God forgive me

As he reached the edge of the cliff, overlooking the vast expanse of the lake, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of Azriel's stomach. Where were you? His mind raced, frantically trying to piece together the puzzle of your disappearance. And then it hit him, a searing pain shooting through his head as the bond between you wavered and dimmed. Gasping for breath, he clutched at his chest, his vision swimming with panic and fear. He couldn't lose you, not like this.

Azriel's mind reeled as the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. You were dying, and he had only just discovered that you were his mate. The weight of the revelation bore down on him, suffocating him with a sense of dread and urgency. With a fierce determination, he forced himself to focus, pushing aside the overwhelming surge of panic threatening to consume him. He cursed himself for not recognizing your distress sooner, for failing to protect you when you needed him most.

The sensation of suffocation intensified, the air growing thick and heavy around him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't bear the thought of losing you. Then it hit him like a physical blow, his eyes widening in horror as the truth dawned on him. "No," he whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling with fear and desperation. In an instant, he was on his feet, his movements fueled by a primal instinct to save you at any cost. The chaos unfolding at the cliffside suddenly made sense, and he knew what he had to do.

With lightning speed, he leapt into the depths below, his senses on high alert as he scanned the eerie still surface of the lake. Every fiber of his being screamed for you, a silent plea echoing in the depths of his soul. No, no, no. He couldn't lose you. Not now. Not ever.

Don't go I can't do this on my own Don't go I can't do this on my own Save me from the ones That haunt me in the night I can't live with myself So stay with me tonight Don't go

Frantically, Azriel swept over the vast expanse of the lake, his heart pounding in his chest with each beat of his wings. The enormity of the task ahead overwhelmed him, but he refused to succumb to despair. With each passing moment, the silence from the other side of the bond grew louder, echoing in his mind like a haunting refrain.

"Please," he pleaded silently, his thoughts a desperate mantra as he called out your name into the void. "Hold on, just a little longer." He tugged at the fragile thread of the bond, hoping for some sign of life, some glimmer of reassurance. But there was only emptiness, a faint flicker that threatened to snuff out entirely.

Then, like a beacon in the darkness, a glimmer of light caught his attention, reflecting off the surface of the water below. It was a small ray of hope amidst the vast uncertainty, and Azriel clung to it with all his strength. Grateful for the clarity of the lake's icy waters, he scanned the depths below, searching for any sign of you.

And then he saw it—a flash of metal glinting in the moonlight, unmistakably your sword. His heart leaped with a mixture of relief and dread as he circled the area, his keen eyes scouring the surroundings for any trace of you. With a surge of determination, Azriel dove into the clear waters of the lake, his muscles straining with the effort as he propelled himself downward. Anxiety gripped him like a vice, each stroke of his wings a desperate plea for your safety.

His heart hammered in his chest as he descended deeper into the murky depths, his senses keenly attuned to every movement, every shadow that flickered in the water around him. The pressure of the water pressed in on him, threatening to crush him with its weight, but he pushed on, fueled by the urgency of the situation.

"Please," he prayed silently, the word a fervent prayer on his lips as he scanned the darkness below. The faint outline of your form came into view, a haunting specter in the gloom, and his heart clenched with fear at the sight.

His Illyrian wings strained against the resistance of the water, their powerful beats driving him ever closer to you. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to reach you, to pull you from the grasp of the icy depths and into the safety of his arms.

With each stroke of his wings, Azriel descended deeper into the darkness, his heart pounding with a mixture of dread and determination. His fingers strained, grasping for your form as he fought against the relentless pressure of the water.

When he finally reached you, his heart twisted painfully at the sight of your vacant eyes staring lifelessly into the abyss. Gently, he pulled you into his arms, cradling your limp body against his chest as he began the arduous journey back to the surface.

Tell me that you need me 'cause I love you so much Tell me that you love me 'cause I need you so much Tell me that you need me 'cause I love you so much Say you'll never leave me 'cause I need you so much

As he ascended, a sense of urgency gripped him, his movements swift and purposeful as he struggled against the weight of your lifeless form. Halfway to the surface, he summoned his power and with a flicker of shadows, he winnowed to the shore, still holding you tightly in his embrace.

Your body felt unnaturally cold against his, your skin pallid and clammy as he laid you gently on the ground. Panic surged through him as he knelt beside you, his hands shaking as he pressed against your chest, desperate for any sign of life. But there was nothing—no rise and fall of your chest, no flutter of your eyelids. Tears stung his eyes as he stared down at your motionless form, the weight of his failure crushing him with each passing moment. "No," he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking with emotion as he fought to suppress the rising tide of despair. "No, no, no."

With tears streaming down his cheeks, Azriel bent over your motionless body, his hands trembling as he began chest compressions. Each push was an agonizing reminder of his helplessness, his fingers pressing against your chest with desperate force, willing your heart to respond.

The bond between you dimmed with each passing second, a thin thread of connection that threatened to snap at any moment. But Azriel refused to let go, his mind consumed by a singular determination to bring you back from the brink. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to yours, breathing life into your still body with every exhale. The taste of saltwater lingered on your lips, a bitter reminder of the depths from which he had pulled you.

His movements were frantic, almost desperate, as he continued to alternate between chest compressions and breaths, his own breath ragged with exertion. His wings, normally a symbol of strength and power, drooped at his sides, soaked with water and heavy with the weight of his despair. In the midst of his efforts, he failed to notice the arrival of Cassian, Nesta, Rhys, and Feyre, their shocked gazes fixed upon the scene unfolding before them. They hovered at a distance, unsure of how to intervene, their hearts heavy with the weight of your precarious situation.

But Azriel was lost in his own world, consumed by the task at hand. He refused to acknowledge the fear gnawing at his heart, the dread that threatened to consume him whole if he dared to let it in. Azriel's hands moved with a desperation born of sheer terror, his fingers trembling as they continued to press against your chest. Each compression sent a jolt of anguish through his body, his muscles straining with the effort to bring you back to life. "Please," he whispered, the word barely audible over the rush of blood in his ears. "No, please."

His vision blurred with tears, the world around him reduced to a hazy backdrop of grief and despair. He chanted your name like a prayer, a desperate plea to whatever gods might be listening to spare your life. "You can't go," he pleaded, his voice breaking with emotion. "Not like this." Beside him, Cassian's heart shattered at the sight of his brother's anguish. Stepping closer, he placed a hand on Azriel's back, a silent gesture of support in the face of overwhelming sorrow.

"Brother," he murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. But before he could say anything more, Azriel's head snapped in his direction, rage blazing in his eyes. "No!" Azriel snarled, his shadows swirling around him in a tempest of fury. Cassian recoiled, his heart aching at the sight of his brother's pain etched so clearly on his face. Feyre's sobs echoed in the background, a haunting melody of grief that underscored the desperation of the moment. Rhys and Cassian shared a look, their expressions mirroring the anguish that weighed heavy on their hearts.

But it was Azriel who bore the brunt of the agony, his entire being consumed by the terror of losing you. As he clung to your lifeless form, he felt the weight of despair pressing down on him, threatening to crush him beneath its unbearable burden. With each passing moment, he watched helplessly as you slipped further away from him. Your lips, once full of color, now turned a lifeless shade of blue, your cheeks growing hollow with every breath you didn't take.

"Please," he begged, his voice raw with anguish. "Do something! Rhys, please!" His words were a desperate plea, a cry for salvation in the face of overwhelming despair. But as Rhys stepped closer, a defeated look on his face, Azriel's heart shattered into a million pieces.

"I... I can't," Rhys murmured, his voice heavy with sorrow. "I'm sorry, brother, but..." Azriel's rage boiled over, his pain spilling out in a torrent of emotion. "You don't understand!" he screamed, his voice cracking with anguish. "She is my Mate!"

Don't go I can't do this on my own Don't go I can't do this on my own Save me from the ones That haunt me in the night I can't live with myself So stay with me tonight

The words hung in the air like a heavy fog, their significance sinking in with a painful clarity. Rhys and Cassian exchanged shocked looks, their faces a portrait of sorrow and disbelief. And as Feyre wept silently in the background, the weight of the truth settled over them. Azriel's cries echoed across the desolate landscape, a symphony of grief that pierced the night with its raw intensity.

With each failed attempt to revive you, his soul fractured a little more, the pain tearing through him like a relentless storm. He clung to you desperately, his fingers digging into your lifeless flesh as if trying to anchor you to the world of the living. But no amount of pleading or praying could bring you back, and with each passing moment, the reality of your loss became more unbearable.

Tears streamed down his cheeks unchecked, mingling with the cold water that surrounded you both. In that moment of utter despair, he felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest, leaving behind nothing but a gaping void where you once belonged. In the eerie silence that followed, broken only by the lapping of the lake against the shore, Azriel held you close, his heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

His tears mingled with the water that now cradled your lifeless form, a cruel reminder of the love that had been torn from him so suddenly. "I love you," he whispered brokenly, his voice barely a whisper against the vast emptiness of the night. "I have always loved you." Each word was a knife to his soul, carving out the depths of his grief with ruthless precision.

As his tears fell upon your face, mingling with the coolness of death, Azriel felt the weight of his loss bear down upon him with crushing force. With trembling hands, he brushed a lock of hair from your forehead, his touch gentle yet filled with unbearable sorrow.

And then, with a heart-wrenching realization, the bond between you flickered and died, snuffed out like a candle in the wind. The agony that tore through Azriel in that moment was unlike anything he had ever known, a searing pain that threatened to consume him whole.

A guttural scream tore from his throat, raw and primal, echoing across the desolate landscape. His shadows burst forth from him in a frenzy of writhing darkness, swirling around him like a tempest unleashed. Rhys acted quickly, raising a protective shield to contain the torrent of emotions that threatened to overwhelm them all. Clutching your lifeless body to his chest, Azriel's whole being shook with terror and despair.

"No, this isn't true," he cried out, his voice a desperate plea to the uncaring heavens. "Don't leave me." But there was no answer, no miracle to bring you back to him. In that moment, the reality of living without you crashed over him like a tidal wave, threatening to drag him under. How could he go on without you? How could he face a world that suddenly seemed so cold and empty?

Your laughter, your smile, the warmth of your touch—all of it was gone now, lost to him forever. And as he held your lifeless body against his, Azriel screamed, a primal cry of anguish that echoed into the night, a haunting lament for a love that had been stolen away too soon.

With his forehead pressed against yours, Azriel wept, his tears mingling with the water that surrounded you both. He pressed a gentle kiss to your cold cheek, his lips trembling with sorrow and regret. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I failed you. I failed us."

The shadows around him finally began to still, their frantic dance slowing to a mournful sway. Rhys lowered his shield, allowing the others to approach, their faces etched with sorrow as they took in the devastating scene before them. Cassian stepped forward first, his expression a mixture of grief and disbelief. "Az," he said softly, his voice thick with unshed tears. "I don't know what to say."

Azriel looked up at his brother, his eyes red-rimmed and haunted. "Say that it's not true," he pleaded, his voice breaking. "Tell me this is just a nightmare and I'll wake up soon." But Cassian could only shake his head, his own heart heavy with grief. "I wish I could," he said quietly. "But this is real, Az. And I'm so sorry."

Azriel's voice cracked with anguish as he spoke, his words a desperate plea to the heavens. "Why you?" he cried, his voice raw with pain. "You were everything good in this world, everything bright and beautiful. Why did it have to be you?"

He clutched your lifeless form tighter to his chest, as if by sheer force of will he could bring you back to life. "It should have been me," he whispered, his voice thick with sorrow. "I'm the broken one, the one who's lived in darkness for so long. You deserved so much better than this."

Tears streamed down his face as he pressed his forehead against yours, his breath hitching in his chest. "I can't do this without you," he confessed, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You were my light, my reason for living. And now you're gone."

His heart shattered into a million pieces as he held you close, the weight of your loss crushing him beneath its unbearable burden. "Please come back," he begged, his voice choked with grief. "I can't bear to live in a world without you."

Don't go I can't do this on my own Don't go Save me from the ones That haunt me in the night I can't live with myself So stay with me tonight

Rhys approached Azriel cautiously, his expression heavy with sorrow. "Az, we need to leave soon," he said gently, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. "You'll freeze to death out here." Azriel's tear-streaked face twisted with fury as he turned to Rhys, his grief-stricken eyes burning with intensity. "I can't leave her here," he growled, his voice thick with emotion.

Rhys nodded solemnly, understanding the depth of Azriel's pain. "I know, brother," he replied softly. "But we can't stay here forever. We need to take her home."

Azriel's sobs echoed through the desolate landscape, his voice barely above a whisper as he pleaded, "Just five more minutes." His gaze remained fixed on your beautiful face, etched with pain and longing.

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a somber glance before silently stepping back, giving Azriel the space and time he needed to say goodbye. The minutes stretched into hours, the sun dipping below the horizon and rising again, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. But still, Azriel clung to your lifeless form, his whispered pleas of "just a little more" echoing through the silent air. Each passing moment felt like an eternity as Azriel grappled with the reality of your absence. The weight of his grief was palpable, a heavy burden that threatened to consume him. But still, he couldn't bring himself to let go, as if leaving this place would make the devastating truth more real.

As the sun reached its zenith once again, casting long shadows across the landscape, Rhys approached Azriel with a heavy heart. "Az," he said gently, his voice filled with compassion, "we need to go." Azriel's voice was raw with emotion as he stood for the first time since arriving at the desolate shore, still cradling your lifeless form in his arms. His eyes, once filled with anguish, now held a haunted emptiness as he spoke to Rhys, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I can't live without her, Rhys," he confessed, the weight of his words heavy in the air. Each syllable was laden with the depths of his grief, a pain that seemed insurmountable in the wake of your absence. Rhys's heart clenched at Azriel's words, the pain evident in his brother's voice piercing through him like a blade. He could see the devastation etched into Azriel's features, the unbearable weight of loss bearing down on him.

"I know, Az," Rhys murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I understand. But we have to take her home. She deserves that much." His own grief threatened to overwhelm him, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. "We'll give her a proper farewell, Az. Together." Azriel cradled your lifeless form in his arms as he followed Rhys, his steps heavy with grief. He thought of all the moments they had shared together in Velaris, the quiet nights spent stargazing on the balcony, the lazy mornings talking over coffee. He thought of the way your laughter echoed through the streets of the city, a beacon of light in the darkness.

But now, all of those moments felt like distant memories, fragments of a life that was no longer his to hold. As Azriel prepared to winnow back to Velaris, your lifeless form cradled in his arms, he couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of regret that consumed him. He would never get the chance to kiss you again, to hold you close and tell you how much he loved you. He wished he had confessed his feelings before, before the bond had been revealed, before it was too late.

You had died alone, unaware of his love, unaware that you had a mate who cherished you more than anything in this world. The thought tore at his soul, leaving behind a gaping wound that he knew would never fully heal. He would carry the weight of that regret with him for the rest of his days.

But as he prepared to winnow, to leave this desolate place behind and return to Velaris, he knew that he had to find a way to live with the pain, to honor your memory in every moment of his existence. You may be gone, but your love would live on in his heart forever.

With one last lingering look at your peaceful face, Azriel whispered a silent promise to himself, to remember you, to cherish you, to love you for all eternity. And then, with a heavy heart and tear-stained cheeks, he winnowed away, back to Velaris, with you in his arms, your spirit forever intertwined with his own.

Don't go Don't go Don't go Don't go

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

A/N: I'm sorry. Whew. I made myself cry while writing this. Please let me know if you enjoyed this and if you'd be interested in an alternative ending. :)

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #reader insert #azriel spymaster #x reader #azriel angst #angst #tw death #death #loss #heartbreak #dealing with grief #grief #angst without a happy ending #cassian #rhysand

[theaudacitytowrite]

I just called to say...

Dean Winchester x Reader

A/N: I think this fic shows my current state of mind quite well... so I think you guys get why I'm not able to write the fluffy fics that were supposed to be written months ago. I hope you can enjoy this one at least

Warnings: blood, injuries, character death (it's spn, duh!), hurt with no comfort

word count: 2.124

Dean groaned when he was shaken out of his slumber as his phone vibrated somewhere next to him. He tapped around his nightstand annoyed as he tried to find the pesky device and turn it off. Whoever called could wait for him to get up in the morning. He peeked onto the display, blinking against the harsh display light as he was about to decline the call when he saw your face lighting up the screen.

You had walked over Dean’s path earlier that day. You were out on a hunt with a fellow hunter and the three of you caught up over lunch. Dean had needed a motel to stay over for a night since he was on the drive back to the bunker after a successful hunt further down south so you showed him the motel you were staying at before parting ways again.

Dean wondered why you'd call at this time and sighed deeply, answering the phone.

“It’s 3 in the morning. What is it Y/N?” he asked groggily. His voice sounded hoarse, rough, and tired but his demeanour quickly changed to worry when he heard your laboured breaths that you forced yourself to take.

“D-Dean...” your voice was only above a whisper as you replied shakily. But there was also relief. Relief that Dean had picked up. You had worried that he wouldn’t hear his phone since it took him a few rings before he had answered. When he answered with his hoarse voice and his usual sassy remark, you had to smile softly, your eyes closing as a tear ran down your cheek “...I ...I fucked up.” you wheezed strained.  

Suddenly all his usual snarkiness was nowhere to be heard; he was in his serious, caring, concerned mode now.

“What do you mean?" Dean asked confused, “Where are you?”

Your breaths were ragged, and Dean could tell that you were holding back tears and wails of pain.  

“...Randy and I-I,” you stammered, swallowing hard as you tried to hold yourself together, “We were... we went out to the woods.” you coughed and it sounded like you were choking, “It was an ambush.” you managed to press out, “Randy's... he didn't make it and as it looks like... I won't make it either.” you breathed out.

In an instant Dean had jumped out of bed, starting to dress himself hurriedly.

“I’ll come and get you.” Dean responded curtly, almost hanging up.

“No! Wait.” you croaked, “Don’t… don’t hang up. I... I don't wanna die alone.” 

“You’re not dying, Y/N!” Dean harshly responded but cooled down immediately as he took a deep breath. “Okay.” his voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again, “I’ll stay on the phone with you but you’re not going to die. And you gotta tell me where you are.” Dean tried to stay calm for your sake as he hurried out to Baby. 

“Somewhere in the woods... maybe ten minutes from the motel.” you breathed heavily.

“I’m coming to you, Y/N. Hold on.” Dean uttered collected.

“Dean...” you sobbed, “...can you do something for me?”

“...yeah. What do you need?” Dean tried to keep his emotions at bay. He didn’t like the sound of your voice. It was getting quieter with each time you spoke. He didn’t waste another second and drove off towards the woods you and Randy had told about him earlier. 

“Tell Bobby...” you hiccupped, “Tell Bobby he was right. I'm an idiot.” you chuckled somberly. “And... tell Sam and Cas that I'm sorry... and I love all three of them.” you sniffled. 

“You can tell them this yourself.” Dean insisted. He felt his emotions start to build up as tears streamed down his cheeks. 

“Please.” you breathed shakily. ”Just promise me.”

Dean’s words were no longer above a whisper as he croaked. “I'll tell them.”

“Thank you... *you huffed heavily, trying to keep your breath steady as you lay on the cold forest ground, the knife in your chest hurting so damn much with every breath you took.

“Do you... do you remember that Summer in 1995?” you suddenly whispered into the phone.

“...Yeah?” Dean hummed as memories flooded his brain. He had no idea of where this was going but he was still curious and waiting for your next words.

“How we went to the beach that one night and sat eating smores till sunrise?” you chuckled, tears running down your cheeks. “We watched the stars...” you trail off. 

“...Yeah, I do remember that night.” Dean wasn't saying much because he didn't want to interrupt you, so he was mostly quietly listening and waiting for more. He wanted to keep you talking so he knew that you were still with him.

“I knew it then.” you sobbed cryptically, the rigid movement hurting you even more. “But I never said anything...” you gulp, “But I have to say something before... before I go…”

Dean swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat and was struggling to keep his voice steady when he spoke. “And what is that?”

 “I love you, Dean.” you breathed through the speaker, “I always have.” you sniffled, “And I'm sorry for telling you this now... but you know me. I always had bad timing.” you chuckle bitterly.

Dean swallowed hard as your words sank in. A flood of emotions filled his head like a wave from the ocean crashing to the shore. He was so speechless that he could barely respond “...yeah, y-you always had bad timing.” He finally answered though it was really just to have something to say.

You chuckled sadly and closed your eyes, tears streaming down your cheeks. Your breath became shallower with every breath and your voice started to fade out as you slowly began to slip in and out of conscience.

“D-Don't you dare leave me...” Dean uttered huskily. He grew more panicked with each passing second. He was scared and desperate. “D-Don't leave me...” He repeated, his voice growing more strained with each word. 

“Ok.” you sobbed weakly, knowing you couldn't do anything against it no matter how hard you tried. You felt your energy draining more and more as you began to shiver. 

“...where are you, Dean?” you asked almost inaudible when Dean’s line grew silent. You needed to hear his voice just for a moment longer. 

“I... I'm here...” Dean whispered back. His voice was shaky, unsteady, and heavy with pain as tears continued to stream down his cheeks. “You... you're not alone. Okay?” he repeated his earlier words almost in a begging tone.

“Thank you...” you whispered, slowly losing strength to hold up your phone to your ear. 

“You're welcome...” There was a long pause after that, and Dean was trying to stay calm for you but you could still hear him struggling to hold back more tears. “Hold on... Okay?” you could hear his voice break with another sob. 

“I... I don’t think I can that long anymore...” you croaked when you suddenly heard the faint sound of an engine and some lights started to creep up the hill. Dean perked up as he heard the noise of Baby reverb from your side of the line and his eyes widened. He suddenly sounded incredibly desperate, and his voice was pleading. “Come on, come on... Come on, come on. Please...” he was still speaking softly so as not to alarm you, but he was trying to be encouraging, hoping you'd hold on long enough to see him.

“Dean?” you asked almost elated, “Is... is that you?” you sobbed, “Or am I hallucinating?” 

“No, you're not hallucinating.” Dean's voice was surer and clearer when he spoke again, though the heavy emotion in his voice was still clearly present. “It's me, it's me. You're gonna be okay.” his voice was still quiet so as not to startle you, but a little louder than before.

You started sobbing audibly, a mix of hope, longing and desperation mixing as you heard Baby approach. It took an eternity until you heard her come to a halt and the doors opened and closed. You heard hurried steps rustling through the leaves and Dean’s voice calling out for you in the distance and over your phone.

“H-here...” you croaked as loud as you could, but it was still only a whisper.

Dean heard you and your words filled him with a rush of emotions. The tears still streamed down his cheeks as he ran around the trees following the sound of your voice. He got closer and closer until he reached you, kneeling by your side as he looked down at you. 

“Y/N.... Y/N...” the flood of feelings almost made his words unintelligible.

Dean saw the state you were in and it frightened him. Your skin was pale and dull, your lips chapped and your eyes half-lidded. You were covered in bruises and cuts, blood everywhere. You were cold to the touch aside from the bloody patch where a hunter knife stuck in your abdomen. 

“Dean...” you breathed out, barely able to focus your eyes on him but his touch was so familiar and soothing.

“Y/N...” Dean took your hand and squeezed it firmly, “Y/N...” he repeated, and his voice grew stronger and louder. “...don't go... please...” you could sense the desperation in his words, as well as the pain and anguish that was breaking out as Dean was desperately trying not to cry.

“I'm... I'm trying...” you huffed heavily, fighting against your eyes closing. “How did you find me?” you croaked out weakly. 

Dean swallowed a few times as the words struggled to come out of his mouth. “It... it doesn't matter... don't matter.” There was a long pause before he spoke again “Just...” another long pause and his tears kept falling, “...just hold on... okay?” He sniffled as he tried to come up with a plan of how to get you out of here and into the ER.

“Dean...” you weakly squeezed his hand, trying to get his attention back to you. 

“Y-yes?” he quivered, pulling your hand up to his cheek.

“It’s going to be alright,” you whispered almost inaudible. 

Dean felt his emotions break as he felt your soft hand on his cheek. A lump grew in his throat yet again as he fought back tears. There was another long pause before he spoke again. 

“It won’t... will it?” he whispered strained, his voice breaking slightly with the last word. You smiled bleakly, knowing he was right. 

“I love you...” you simply responded, your eyes starting to flutter.

You could hear his voice getting even more filled with distress as he couldn't hold the tears back anymore. “I... I love you, too...” he continued, not wanting to waste the last few moments you had before leaving this world. “I love you, Y/N... too...” he whispered as he squeezed your hand again, softly kissing the back of your hand. He hoped that you could still hear him and feel his love as your eyes had closed. For a moment a soft smile appeared on your lips before your face relaxed.

Dean felt a deep sense of guilt when he saw your relaxed expression. The tears still fell as he was struggling to hold your hand steady. “Don't go...” he repeated over and over again. He fell apart when your hand squeezed his faintly once more. He leaned over your body, softly pressing a kiss against your forehead. He could taste the dried blood mix with his tears.

Dean took in your last squeeze and he stayed next to you, his hand still holding yours for a while after he felt there was no more movement in your hand. He was still crying, too devastated to say anything else.

As he started to pull himself together, his voice had become hoarse. It was weak and barely above a whisper. “...Y/N...” Another long pause spread as he took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. “...Y/N, you ain't ever gonna believe this.”

He took a moment to gather himself again. He took in a shaky breath and continued, hoping that the last of your consciousness could hear his words in the afterlife at least. “...Y/N, I always knew that you were an idiot,” he said with the barest touch of humour as he smiled through his tears. He took a moment and then spoke again. “...but... you've always been my idiot.” His breath grew shaky again and his eyes were filled with more tears, but the smile was still there as he spoke. Another tear fell from his eyes as he forced himself to chuckle through his sadness as he sat there with you until the sun began to rise.

Sooo... what do y'all say? Hope it wasn't too bad for a first Dean Fic.

Taglist: @hellowgoodbye @tommie-gvf @loz-3

Divider by @talesmaniac89

You can also read it on my [AO3]

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #jensen ackles #character death #angst with no comfort #angst without happy end

[codfanficedits]

One more mission.

CW: ANGST. A lot of angst </3 no proofreading because i cried while reading it

Fem!reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley.

One more mission.

That is what Ghost and you had agreed on. Just one more mission until the two of you would go on a little getaway. A nice, well deserved vacation. Something to relax at after countless missions, countless late nights, countless piles of paperwork. To celebrate your relationship, the five beautiful years that had flown by, to celebrate his stubbornness, to celebrate your kind nature. The best place to celebrate how you had gotten to be his sunshine.

The memories of planning the trip are as warm as the blood that drips through your fingers as you hold your chest. A guttural scream from Ghost is heard from the battlefield. The man sprinted towards you, the thuds of his boots being deafening. He drags you to safety, hiding behind a slab of concrete. Ghost drops on his knees, his hand over yours, pressing on the wound on your chest.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“Don’t.”

“You are going to make it lovey, don’t worry.” You can tell that he wants to believe his own words, but you both know he’s lying. “I’m sorry.” You whisper once more, as your free hand reaches for your dog tags, taking them off and offering them to Ghost. “So you can keep me close to your heart.”

It was as if his soul came apart as he listened to your words. “No, no, no. Sweetheart. Don’t you say a word. I’m not losing you. You hear me? God damn it, I will tear this world apart for you.” His voice breaks into sobs when he speaks to you.

You had never seen Ghost crying, and all it took was for you to die.

The hand he has on yours tightens its grip on you, if God would’ve asked him what he wanted in exchange of his soul, it would’ve been you. More time with you. More cuddles with you, more kisses from you, more love making. More. More. More. But God had abandoned his best soldier in times of need.

Blood kept seeping through your fingers, it stained your hand, his hand, your uniform and his too. But Ghost didn’t mind, not at all. You had gotten dizzy from the amount of blood you had lost, a wave of nausea came over you. You were running out of time and the both of you knew it. “There is a picture book under my bed.” You say, a faint smile on your lips as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I’ve captured our moments for the past five years. It was a gift for our vacation. But..” You don’t want to say the last part. If you don’t say it, it doesn’t have to feel real. “Look at it when you miss me.”

“Then it’s all I’ll ever see again.”

You want to tell him to move on after you, to continue with life, but the look in his eyes tells you enough. He always thought soulmates were stupid, after all, he loved you on purpose, but Ghost changed his mind, right there and then.

The skullmask gets lifted, the balaclava too, and his soft, warm lips pressed against your forehead.

“Let me see your face.” You murmur and he obeys.

It’s a sight that breaks your heart. A trembling lip, tear filled eyes and so much guilt on his face. “I can’t do this.” He whispers. “I can’t live when you’re gone.”

“But I won’t be gone.”

“What?”

“Look for me in the beauty of life, look for me in the sunrise, the moon, the stars. I’ll be the beauty of the auburn leaves in autumn, a soft breeze on a hot summer day. I’ll be with you through it all.”

His sobs are no longer silent, they’re raw, painful. His lips press kisses against your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, and finally your lips. As If he is trying to keep you alive through his love. And to be fair, if love would be enough to survive, you would’ve lived forever.

The both of you knew the risks of being in the military, but it never occurred to you that it would be the reason you would die, that it would be the reason you would never marry, grow old, get your own kids, or a few dogs for that matter. It was bittersweet. The army would cost you your life, but you had gained Ghost, you had gained Simon, and your life seemed like a fair price for the love he had given you.

You could feel that it was time, there was barely a pulse left. What you would’ve done for a little more time with him. “Flowers.” You whisper. “I want so much flowers on my funeral.”

“I’ll get you all the flowers I can find.” He answers with a choked voice.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You can close your eyes after his words, you’re tired, and while your mind isn’t ready to go, your body can’t hold on much longer.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He holds you while your body goes limp. Holding your head against his chest as he cried, wailed and screamed as loud as he could, halfway through, he hoped you could hear him scream on your way to heaven, so you would turn around and come back to him.

One more mission. And the two of you would go on vacation. One more mission and Ghost would have some time off with the love of his life.

One more mission and you came home in a body bag instead of in his arms.

He kept his promise to you. Getting all the flowers the funeral home would allow him to and then a few extra he had snuck in through his suit. The two of you had jokingly discussed him wearing royal blue suit on your wedding day, and now he was wearing it to your funeral.

Ghost tried to speech on your funeral, he really did.

“I wish we had more time.” He started. “I miss you terribly. The world is too quiet without you nearby.”

His voice left him after those words, his eyes filling with hot tears as his vision got blurry. But they all understood. No one needed him to finish speaking to understand the love he had for you.

And so the hours after your passing turn into days, they turn into weeks. Ghost finally had the courage to look for the picture book you had described. The sight of all those pictures made him curl up into a ball and bawl his eyes out. He never knew you had taken so many pictures of him when he wasn’t looking, and he was thanking the Gods that he could see himself through your eyes.

The picture book is located in his bedroom, accompanied by a black, velvet box. An engagement ring that never made it to you.

One more mission, before he would propose to you.

The hours after your passing turn into days, they turn into weeks, into months.

And now Ghost can finally see your beauty in the world. You’re the soft blue sky filled with white clouds. You’re the eclipse he went to see with Soap. You’re all the flowers that bloom around him, the mushrooms he finds in autumn, the soft blanket of snow in winter. You’re it all and he is no longer afraid to open his heart for it.

The hours after your passing turn into days, they turn into weeks, into months, into years and Ghost opens the door to his balcony, watching over the sunrise you promised him you’d be.

“I miss you more than I remember you.”

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod mwii #cod x reader #angst #ghost x reader #ghost x you #angst without a happy ending #tw death #im sorry #not really #ghost angst #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon riley x you #fanfiction #fanfic #cod fanfic

[buckyispunk]

Better Man

Alcoholic!Joel Miller x Reader

masterlist

Summary: Falling in love with Joel Miller is heaven. It's leaving him and forcing yourself to move on that's hard. Inspired by Taylor Swift's "Better Man."

A/N: Very angsty, please don't read if you're not a fan of heartbreak! Huge shoutout to one of my fav authors, @macfrog, for the beta!

Warnings: alcoholism, smoking (cigarettes), Joel yelling and throwing things (he never hurts reader tho), Joel being mean, littering (just for the sake of the fic, please don’t in real life), idrk what else lmk if I'm missing anything please

Word Count: 2.2k

All lyric credit goes to T-Swift!!

Rain beats down against your car window. You watch water droplets roll down the glass. You’ve got the radio on, waiting for the storm to let up so you don’t get soaked on the walk into your apartment. A glint of red from the passenger side floor catches your eye. A carton of Marlboro cigarettes - Joel’s cigarettes. How long had they been there?

You’re walking into the bar with your friends when you see him for the first time, cigarette hanging between his lips. He’s leaning up against the brick wall, clad in faded jeans and a worn flannel. His grey hair is curling at the ends. He takes the cigarette between two fingers and pulls it from his mouth. His broad chest expands as he inhales deeply before blowing a cloud of smoke past his pink lips. Grey wisps linger in the humid Texas air as he calls out to you. 

“Hey darlin,’” he drops the cigarette and stomps it under a work boot, leaving a black, ashy stain on the concrete beneath. “‘S a nice outfit,” he nods his chin in gesture, “Can I buy you a drink?”

You had spent the rest of that night curled into his arm in a sticky booth seat, discussing childhood crushes, family trauma, and everything in between. The rest, as they say, had been history. Joel had picked you up the next weekend, flowers in hand and nervous sweat on his brow. His southern charm had you falling for him dangerously quickly. Luckily, he was just as head over heels for you - you could tell by the fascination in his eyes as he hung on to your every word whenever you offered up new information about yourself, like he was a starved man and your words were his sustenance.

I waited on every careless word Hoping they might turn sweet again like it was in the beginning

The day Joel asked you to move in with him was one of the best of your life.

You open the door to his house to find him standing in the entryway, bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. His other hand is clutching something small, concealing it. 

“Hey, hon,” he shifts from foot to foot, “How was work?”

“Fine, babe,” you gesture to the flowers, “What’s all this?”

“I-um,” he scrunches his brows and hesitates for a moment, “so, you’re almost always over here already anyway. I want to spend as much time as possible with you. Want you cuddled up with me in our bed every night. Want to come home to you after a hard day at work. Want to be here to take care of you when you have bad days, too. I love you and I guess what I’m askin’, darlin’, is if you’d move in with me?”

He unfurls his other hand, presenting a key. You quirk a brow in surprise. 

“Oh my gosh, Joel,” you stare at him in disbelief as his expression turns into one of nerves and anticipation. 

“Yes!” you practically screech, excitement flooding your body. 

You run over to Joel and wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into his strong chest. Joel sets the flowers down on the nearest surface and embraces you with one arm. His other hand lowers to slip the house key into your pants’ pocket. 

After that, he had carried you upstairs and made love to you. You fell asleep in Joel’s doting embrace as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. Living with Joel had been everything he’d promised. Until it wasn’t. It had been when he and his crew were working on a particularly rough job that things started to change. 

He transitioned from drinking on special occasions or when out with friends to having a beer or two every night with dinner. You didn’t think too much of it at first. It was only when he started downing several glasses of whiskey a night that you got concerned. You asked him about it, wondering why the sudden change. I just need it to help me relax after work, hon. He’d promised you that it wasn’t an issue, this is just a really hard job. He brushed you off every time you’d tried to talk to him about it.

His drinking started to come between the two of you. He would opt to have a beer and watch football rather than spend time or share conversation with you. On nights when there wasn’t a game on, he’d go out to the bar - sometimes with buddies from work, sometimes alone. 

He was too tired to take you out, too stressed to do anything more than press a chaste kiss to your lips once in a while. He began to get irritated easily - the two of you found yourself arguing over meaningless things often. It seemed the only time he wasn’t complaining was when he had a drink in his hand. He’d passed out in his recliner watching TV nearly every night during that project. You’d lie in bed and fall asleep waiting for his side of the mattress to dip with his weight, only to wake up the next morning and find him gone for work.

When the project ended and he had some time off, you expected him to lighten up on the drinking. With all the extra time he had, things only got worse. You’d leave for work and he would still be asleep. You would come home every night to find him with a beer bottle in hand and empty ones at his feet.

Talking down to me like I’d always be around Push my love away like it was some kind of loaded gun

One night, you’d tried, for what seemed like the hundredth time, to talk to him about it. 

You come home after a long day of work to find Joel snoring in his recliner. He’s wearing boxers and a t-shirt - he hardly ever gets dressed anymore. It’s times like these when you could almost pretend everything is normal. That he’ll hear you and wake up. That he’ll jump up and give you a hug, make you dinner, ask you about work. Instead, you watch a string of drool run down his chin.

You make your way over to him and gently remove the bottle from his hand, setting it on the table. You run a hand through his hair and shake his shoulder, rousing him. 

“Oh, hey,” he hiccups. 

You can smell the alcohol on his breath. You hear his stomach rumble and wonder whether he’d even bothered to eat anything today. 

“Hey, babe,” you muster the most sincere smile you can, foolishly hoping that you might get one in return. 

He looks past you and grabs the bottle from the table. 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink today, baby? How about I make us some dinner, we can sit and eat together like we used to,” you offer. 

You reach to take the sweating bottle from him, but he raises a hand to stop you.

“I jus’ wanted to finish watching the game, babe. How ‘bout t’morrow?” he slurs. 

“Joel I really think you should see someone about the drinking. It’s not healthy for you. I love you and I miss you. I want to help you, baby.”

He stands from the chair, grip tightening on his bottle.

“I know my own fuckin’ limits, thank ya very much,”  his sharp tone makes you flinch. 

“Can you at least eat something? This isn’t good for you.” 

“Jesus, will you just leave me alone?” his lips wrap around the opening of the bottle and he turns the bottle up, letting the rest of the alcohol pour down his throat. He turns to walk away from you and you reach a hand out to grab his forearm.

“I’ll make you your favorite dinner, Joel. It’s been months, baby. You said you’d lay off the drinking after the one job, but it’s just gotten worse. You haven’t been working and it’s not healthy for you to stay in the house and drink all day,” you try to reason. “I’ll make dinner for us and we can go to bed together.”

You look into his eyes, searching for a sliver of the man you love. You remember the way he used to look at you as if he would gladly let his heart break into a million little pieces, as long as you were the one shattering it. As if he would do everything in his power, and then some, just to put a smile on your face. As if he would face his demise head on if you were the sight burned into the back of his eyelids as he faded.

Your search is futile. The only thing you find in his dark, bloodshot eyes is something you’re too afraid to call contempt. He lets out an exasperated sigh and mutters your name, “I just want some time to myself. You’re always nagging me about the drinking. It’s not a big deal. I’m just stressed all the time and you’re really not helping. Could you just quit being annoying for once?” He runs a hand through the scruff on his chin.

You drop your hand from his arm as if his skin had scorched you. His words settle like a heavy weight on your chest, keeping you from drawing a full breath. It’s as if his heart holds nothing but distaste for you. You look up at him with watery eyes and try to remember the last time he had even told you he loved you.

“I can’t keep doing this, Joel. I’m going to leave if you don’t get help. Neither of us are happy anymore. Can you please just talk to someone so we can go back to the way things used to be? You can be happy without the alcohol,” you plead with him, trying desperately to reach the Joel that you know is in there somewhere. The Joel you hope is in there, anyway. 

“Will you stop it?” his voice is violently angry, “I don’t need fuckin’ help, I just need to be left the fuck alone!” his southern drawl booms throughout the room.

You startle at his sudden outburst, flinching away from him. You feel your eyes overflow, salty tears leaving wet trails down your cheeks. 

“Goddamn it,” Joel mutters before turning to the wall. He raises his empty bottle and tightens his fist around it. He pulls his arm back and launches the bottle at the wall. It shatters and sends glass flying everywhere. You stand, watching in shock. 

“Joel,” your mouth drops and you step away from him. 

Joel has never hit you. Hell, before tonight, he’d never even yelled at you. But the coldness in his eyes and the way he clenches his fist scares you. You turn and make for the door, wanting to leave before things escalate any more. Tears are streaming down your face as you twist the doorknob. You look back at him as you step out of the house. You see him shake his head as he grabs a bottle of whiskey off the shelf and you close the door behind you without another thought. 

You stayed at your friend’s house that night, sobbing as she told you to leave him. The next morning, you had stood on your front porch, bones heavy with dread, unsure of what you’d find when you opened the door. When you finally worked up the courage to push the door open, you’d been met with the sight of Joel sprawled face-down on the couch, snoring. 

He hadn’t woken as you quietly stepped inside and closed the door behind you. He hadn’t woken as you packed all your belongings into suitcases. He hadn’t woken as you left your house key, along with a tear-stained goodbye note, sitting on the table. He hadn’t woken as you rolled your suitcases outside, packed them into your car, and blocked his number on your cell phone before driving away from Joel. Away from home.  

I know why we had to say goodbye like the back of my hand But I just miss you and I just wish you were a better man

You let out a shaky exhale as you pick the pack of cigarettes up off of the floor. You squeeze your eyes shut and wish, for a moment, that things had never changed - that his hand is still splayed out across your thigh and he’s pouting in the passenger seat beside you, I should be the one driving. You’re supposed to be my passenger princess.

After fidgeting with the cardboard box for a minute, you decide that you’re sick of waiting for the storm to let up. You open the car door and step out into the rain. You release the carton and let it fall to the wet ground. Bringing a shoe down on top of the box, you crush it underneath your foot, as if trying to stomp out a flame - as if trying to stomp out the memories the cigarettes had ignited - and watch raindrops roll off of it. Without looking back, you turn and walk inside.

We might still be in love if you were a better man You would’ve been the one if you were a better man.

#joel x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #fanfiction #fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #tlou #the last of us #angst #angst without a happy ending #joel miller angst

[sweetlywriting]

If possible can you do an angst with floyd leech where you're dating him and he used to call you 'shrimpy' until prefect comes and he starts calling them shrimpy while losing interest in you and eventually ends things with you.

You can do whatever ending but ive just had this in my mind for soooo long😭😭😭😭

If you cant do it then its totally ok!!

Washed away

Floyd Leech x Reader (Fluff to Angst)

A/N-Tysm for this request!! I loved this idea so much let me know if you have more! I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope it’s okay that I started it off fluffy I feel it makes the angst hit harder 😭

You were dazing off in history class, when suddenly professor Trein asks you a question about Savannaclaws next ruler. Seeing your sheepish look he sighs moves on to ask a different student. Happy the embarrassment was only a second you lean back in your chair with a sigh, only to be met with a whisper in your ear.

“It was Cheka Kingscholar, shrimpy”

You whip around to see the Leech brothers behind you, infamously tall and terrifying. Though from the coy taunting voice you could tell it was Floyd. The embarrassment began to trickle back in again as you heard snickers over the nickname. You huffed and stared at the clock on the wall, willing the class to finally be over. Eventually it was, though Floyd’s name calling did not. In lunchtime, the halls, the classes you shared it was never ‘y/n’ just ‘shrimpy’, and it never failed to infuriate you.

One day, after lots of frustration and the desperate thought that he’d be calling you shrimpy til senior year, you finally spooned up the courage to catch up with him after class and ask why he had assigned the odd nickname.

“I just think shrimp are cute” He said shrugging one shoulder and giving you a grin, as though it was the most casual thing in the world.

You felt embarrassed again . . . but maybe for different reasons this time.

“You should come to the maestro lounge sometime, I’ll give you a special deal on shrimp” He said throwing you a wink and flashing you his sharp toothed smile before walking off.

Huh’ you mused ‘maybe I will.’

***

You hummed softly next to your boyfriend as he continued to snore, leaning on your shoulder in his seat. The entrance ceremony was long and Crowley certainly seemed to like the sound of his own droning voice. Being second years the formalities were very much familiar and very much boring to you. Only the occasional game of ‘who can bother Jade the most’, watching the hyper first years scramble around, and seeing Floyd in the classic Octanville robes made the ceremony bearable for the first couple hours. As you started to consider also sleeping in your seat with Floyd an odd gray and blue ball of fur zipped past you with various students chasing after it.

I wonder what’s going on “ you mused lazily, unknowing that this was the beginning of realationships unravel. Your interest started to perk at the scene of dorm wardens joining the chase. Floyd opened his eyes and tilted his head curiously at the sight of the person holding the little gray creature.

“Who do you think that is shrimpy?”

***

With the start of classes and busy beginning of Nightraven college you quickly forgot about the ceremony, and person they called the ‘prefect’ who was rumored to be magicless. Though Floyd seemed to know them well. It truly didn’t bother you at first, you were glad he was making more friends, but it seemed the closer Floyd got to the prefect, the farther he fled from you.

“This is a partner project. I expect a quality presentation on how Scarbia’s climate contributes to its cultural and political systems” Professor Trein announced to the class. Well at least it was a partner project so you could work with-

“Let’s be partners shrimpy”

You froze. It was Floyd’s voice, but it wasn’t directed towards you. He was looking up from his seat behind you smiling at the prefect as they laughed and agreed. You swallowed and swiftly turned back to your own seat, staring at your desk and trying to blink back tears. He didn’t even look at you. and shrimpy was your name!

You flinched feeling a gloved hand from behind on your shoulder, and turned ready to give Floyd a piece of your mind-only to see Jade.

“We can work together y/n” He said a mixture of apology and concern on his face.

“Alright.” You muttered turning back away, not wanting the pity but appreciating the gesture.

***

‘Meet me at the maestro’

It had been so long since Floyd had actually asked to go on a date with you and you were beyond thrilled. Obviously the whole situation with the prefect had been a misunderstanding and he was finally taking the initiative to make it up to you! You dressed well, choosing his favorite colors of turquoise and purple with extravagant pearl and shell accessories while reminiscing on your first date the maestro lounge. Back then he had reserved the entire place for you two, wanted you to try everything, and constantly made you laugh. You held close to that memory as a place of hope, and were ecstatic it was finally paying off.

You slipped out of your dorm as the clock struck twelve and quietly snuck into the lounge.

An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach as you entered, the whole place was dark with all the tables and chairs pushed to the side. ‘Maybe not a dinner date?’ You thought, pulling out two chairs and deciding to wait for him.

After what felt like forever you could finally make out a tall silhouette walking over to you-but flinching back seeing your fancy attire. He didn’t lean over you the way he used too, constantly craning his neck to look at what you were doing, or playfully poke at your hair or nip at your ear. He brooded in his chair, leaning back with an uncomfortable expression and his hands both firmly stuck in his pockets.

Only the two of you and the gentle sound of water remained.

“I’m always going to care about you y/n, but I don’t . . . feel for you anymore” He said this simply. The same simple way he would say ‘I love you’ ‘let me do it for you’ ‘this reminded me of you’. The same simple way he’d gently tug at your hair to get your attention, he’d squeeze your hand tightly in crowds as if afraid to let go, and carefully he held your heart in his hands.

His love and indifference looked so similar but felt so different. You wanted to vomit.

Eventually you did. But not before the crying. Heaving sobs filled the silent room as you brought your knees up to bury your face in. He tried to reach you, saying some words that sounded like apologies but quickly left as you vehemently yelled for him to go.

You felt footsteps and were ready to yell at Floyd to leave again but were surprised to see Jade carrying a box of tissues and a folder.

“I told him not to do that here.” He grimaced seeing your face and pushed the box of tissues towards you.

“I just wanted to let you know I finished the presentation, and I put your lines in that folder, I didn’t want you to worry about the project on top of er-this” Jade said warily, as he began to walk back out wanting to give you space.

“Was it because of the prefect?” Your voice was quiet and strained but impossible to not hear in the still room.

Jade didn’t turn around but nodded, sealing your fate as a new round of your sobs mixed with the fading sound of footsteps. 

#fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #disney twisted wonderland #floyd x reader #floyd leech #twst floyd #twst jade #angst without a happy ending #angst #little fluffy #twisted wonderland #it’s been a longgg time since i’ve written sorry if it’s not great 😭 #how we feeling #part 2?? even more angsty seeing Floyd and prefect together?? getting closer to Jade?? lmk what y’all want

[crp-low-quality-content]

Eyeless jack cheating headcannons

Just because I'm traumatized and rarely have happy scenarios with my S/O characters unless they're women.

Warnings: angst, depression, cheating and mild nsfw.

-I'm very traumatized by relationships, but I still can't see Jack cheating on you, not out of pure willpower.

- but there are two scenarios in which he could do this: scenario 1 would be if he only had the opportunity to eat the victim if he had sex with them (for me he doesn't eat just kidneys but he can eat the whole person), or in scenario 2 if he met another demon.

- starting with scenario number 1, which doesn't make sense because Jack has much more strength than any human, so he doesn't need to have sex with the victim to devour them, he can easily overpower a person especially when he's hungry.

- but if it happens, he'll feel like shit and humiliated because he literally had to have sex with a human who is much weaker than him just to have dinner one night and betray his lover.

- so that leaves scenario 2, which is more likely to happen, and get ready because it's going to hurt a lot.

- in scenario 2 he will meet another demon (gender unspecified because my EJ is bisexual) and if this other demon is in heat, Jack will automatically go into heat too.

- he'll be very attracted to the other demon, to the point of forgetting that you exist, and if the other demon is up to the standards that EJ is most attracted to, that's it for him.

- like if the other demon have a small body and easy to dominate, Jack will fall to his knees for them. Bonus if they look good.

- When Jack comes to his senses, he'll try to stay as far away from the other demon as possible because he respects you and doesn't want to lose your trust, which has obviously been built up over time and it would be stupid to lose it so quickly.

- But if he doesn't hold back, he might not speak to you for a few days. Obviously you'll be worried, you'll text him but he doesn't answer, you'll call him but he doesn't answer, you'll ask the other creeps but they can't answer where he is.

- you might think something has happened to him, you'll get really worried and paranoid, imagining a thousand scenarios of how he might have been captured, if he's seriously injured somewhere and slowly dying or if he's already dead. And it will get to the point where you can't eat properly thinking about having lost your Jack.

- the other creeps will also be worried but maybe they'll just think he's just hunting or doesn't want contact now, maybe because he's depressed or something.

- when he comes back he won't want to look you in the face. He feels extremely guilty and dirty about what he's done, but he won't say anything so as not to lose your trust, he'll just make up an excuse for everything that's happened.

- Until the other demon started coming for EJ, he fell in love with them, and now he's all over them. Jack can't resist either and even though it feels wrong, he goes out every night while you sleep.

- EJ is becoming more and more attracted to the other demon than to you, his touch, smell and voice are very intoxicating, Jack is losing more and more of the attraction he had for you.

- the other demon is much more attractive than you in Jack's view, he starts spending more time with them, and all the relationship plans EJ had with you are forgotten.

- Over time you realize that Jack is becoming more and more distant from you, the moments of affection are becoming rare and the nights when you have sex are even rarer.

- you start to feel alone, you see other couples being happy together and having mutual affection but not you and Jack, you start to feel single within a relationship.

- you start to worry, maybe his mental health is fucked in some way, so you tell him if he needs to talk you'll be there to listen.

- you've had depression once, and you know how much it destroys you, so you don't want to see Jack destroyed too, you don't want to lose him.

- Until one night you wake up and look over, you see that Jack isn't around, and as you're thirsty and your bottle is empty, you decide to go to the kitchen to fill it up.

- as the mansion is huge, the trip to the kitchen has put you out of sleep and you notice that EJ is nowhere to be found, you look for him in the mansion and ask the nocturnal creeps but they haven't seen him.

- You return to your room but now come to new conclusions about your boyfriend's disappearance: what if he's hiding something or doing something he doesn't want you to know about? What if he's cheating on you? Now you're starting to get angry with him.

- You see him coming back through the window and you stand in the doorway staring at him, your eyes are piercing, you're clearly someone to be taken seriously, after all, you live in the Slendermansion for a reason.

- he also stares at you, but not as seriously as you, he's even a little intimidated by your gaze because he knows he's done something wrong.

- you ask for an explanation, he tries to think of another excuse but he feels it's not a good idea to do that, so he says everything. Looking down and half-shrinking like a dog with its tail between its legs.

- Now how you react is all up to you.

#creepypasta #eyeless jack #eyeless jack headcanon #creepypasta headcannon #creepypasta headcanon #ej x reader #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack hc #creepypasta hcs #hcs #angst #angst without a happy ending #cheating hcs #sad headcanon #angst headcanons #creepypasta angst #EJ hcs

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

me: don't think about it

me: Charlie going to the demon over lords like "hey look! heaven attacked and we fought and (mostly) didn't die and a sinner got yeeted up to heaven! Will you please support my (newly rebuilt) hotel now??"

(most) demon over lords looking at charlie like: shit the second most powerful person currently in hell, who was BORN with that power, is trying to fuck up the power that WE clawed our way to the top of (she's ruining it by giving sinners hope) (meaning they won't be so eager to sell themselves off to bigger demons) (meaning bigger demons will have less power) (if she has it her way they'll be fewer sinners at ALL) (which won't work) (bc this is all still Stupid) (BUT) (if the people of hell start thinking they have a chance...) AND she wants us to stick OUR necks on the line in the fight against heaven (who don't traditionally go after her or her family anyway but love hunting US) now she's also got her dad actively backing her up, so we can't just say a flat "no" or try fighting her over it, especially not since she's shown herself to be not so lame after all.... we need a way to get all of hell doubting and mistrusting her, so they don't go to her hotel thing instead of to us... but what can we use against her? what weak spot does she h-

over lords, looking over at charlie's girlfriend vaggie, and her newly returned, never-before mentioned angel wings: ......Hmmm...

charlie: trying to explain that her gf WAS an exorcist yes ok, and sure she DID kill lots of sinners but- No charlie didn't know that when they started dating but they've worked through it and vaggie- look she fought on hell's side during the hotel battle she was right there with charlie up in heaven advocating for sinners getting a second chance-

What? Yeah she, she went back to heaven that one time. No I guess she's not banished exactly, they just tore off her wings and left her to die here after she- NO she does NOT want to go back- yes ok she COULD but she doesn't WANT to, the hotel is her home now and- look she almost died fighting for it-

it wasn't a LIE, she just, she was scared and didn't tell the truth! What do you mean "can't trust your judgment"? I know her and I knew she'd have my back and she DID, the whole POINT of the hotel, which WORKS by the way, is that people can change-

NO SHE ISN'T SPYING ON US FOR HEAVEN! she hates them! no I'm not "just" saying that because "she said so" I can TELL we've been together for THREE YEARS- YES FINE SHE WAS HIDING SOMETHING FROM ME ALL THAT TIME OKAY but look at what she's done and been DOING! Yes, thank you Caramilla- she got her wings back and used them to fight for- she- WHAT?! NO! She's the hotel manager- she's OUR hotel's manager- she can't leave, that's- wh- fire her? It's her HOME! I'm her partner not her boss!! No I'm not listening to this! This is stupid- the whole hotel wouldn't even BE a thing if I hadn't MET her and it wouldn't work without her! I-

vaggie: I'll go vaggie: charlie's being modest. she's got things covered here vaggie: I'll be hell's spy in heaven, if it'll help. IF you all support the hotel.

and the overlords smile and promise-

(of course of course they will, really, it's nothing against her just a little PR issue, a matter of building trust, so naturally she'll report only to them yes? she and charlie will make a little deal not to contact each other otherwise? they're just worried, you see, wouldn't want an angel taking advantage of the princess of hell's confidence again, so glad she understands)

-nice and sharp and already watching eagerly as charlie's newfound backbone crumples while she stares at vaggie, wordless again just like up in heaven, and doesn't react when vaggie takes her hand and gives her a pleading look-

back at the hotel, alone, vaggie is swapping out her hotel vest for the clothes she was in when they met, wrinkled and crammed at the bottom of drawer, while charlie sits on their bed refusing to watch. vaggie doesn't pack for heaven. she walks over with just her spear and holds it out- here. she'll feel better, about being away, if charlie keeps this with her. charlie doesn't take it. charlie doesn't answer. charlie's crying and she latches on tight when vaggie drops the spear to hug her. she should've been able to stop this- she can't keep the hotel running on her- she doesn't WANT to TRY doing this alone-

she won't be. vaggie reminders her, lucifer and the others are all here, charlie isn't alone anymore. she's got the hotel. she's GOT this. and vaggie will come back

but she's tired of being scared and she's not gonna risk both their dream because of it. not again.

so, vaggie goes to heaven, supposedly to help sir pentious settle into his new life up there, with the help of emily to smooth things over and the fact that adam and lute swept her under the rug instead of making her fall an official thing- and considering the circumstances, emily argues, they were in the wrong anyway, especially now a sinner HAS been redeemed

meanwhile charlie stays in hell, at the hotel, without her.

and she's short tempered with worry, impatient with the everyday problems of the hotel- vaggie up in heaven with LUTE the woman who ripped out her eye ripped off her wings tried to kill her- all because charlie couldn't convince the overlords- couldn't convince (wasn't enough to convince?) vaggie to STAY- and,

the other's notice, notice that asking how things are NOW is too raw but asking about the past is easier, lighter, get's charlie lost in memory instead of on of her worry spirals, and there's flashbacks of them getting together- there's vaggie up in heaven quiet and listless as she shadows sir pentious around keeping lute at bay and he looks over at her nervously, he brings up how much he misses cherri, and how he could use a few relationship tips for when she (surely) eventually ends up here too-

charlie and vaggie, both of them apart in the present, neither of them okay, maybe vaggie's snooping up in heaven leads her to lilith and gets her in trouble- maybe charlie makes deals she regrets down in hell trying to keep things going without her- but we see them in the past, together, and them pulling on those memories now, trying to get back to each other again

or something like that.

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #future au idea? #angst #vaggie not wanting to go back to heaven so SO much but she'll do it she'll go if her being at the hotel is making things worse #charlie who knows this is a BAD IDEA. really VERY BAD #buuuuut it is actually something she can survive it turns out #and vaggie does realize the idea was dumb #and she DOES come back #and everything is FINE #THEY'LL BE #FINE #this idea doesn't work without a very happy ending ok #no #i don't care if emily has to emotionally drop kick vaggie back into hell the reunion will be very sweet

[pinetreeartz]

Idk if this will be in the final thing I’m working on so here is this angst.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanart #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #lucifer angst #hazbin angst #angst kills my soul but I still love it anyways #yes I was sobbing while drawing this and no I will not accept being called sensititve #angst without a happy ending

[helplesslypurple77]

~my spirits sleeping somewhere cold~

Summary: The day after the incident you wake with an itch in your throat. And as you stare at the white ceilings of your familiar bedroom, you get a feeling of foreboding.

The dressing process is subdued, the soft feel of clothes on your skin not enough to dull the insistant pain, the large gaping hole in your chest that will never be filled. You choke up lily petals in the bathroom."

Warnings: Hanahaki, angst, major character death, religious symbolism, i'm not religious, flower language.

Notes: this is something, i guess. I've been in really bad shape emotionally lately, and money’s been really tight so all the stress is just welling up i guess. That's part of the reason I topped my other au week thin, I'm just not in the mood to craft plots and write smut. I don't know. 

Title from ‘Jar of Hearts’ by Christina Perry

...

The day after the incident you wake with an itch in your throat. And as you stare at the white ceilings of your familiar bedroom, you get a feeling of foreboding. 

There's a yawning ache in your chest, a cavity that will never be filled. You don't want to get up. You don't want to suffer. You wish god would take you instead of him. But God is not a merciful creature, that you have come to know all too well. 

The dressing process is subdued, the soft feel of clothes on your skin not enough to dull the insistant pain, the large gaping hole in your chest that will never be filled.

You choke up lily petals in the bathroom.

𓇢𓆸

Your cross sits heavily against your breast, under your shirt. You don't typically wear one, the responsibility of God's eyes is too much for you to bear. 

But today you wear it in repentance. 

There's a tickle in your lungs, underwhelming compared to the aching gap in your chest. He’s stolen your heart, taken it with him in death. You turn your eyes to the sky, so as not to ruin your makeup with tears. 

You hate yourself for your pathetic lovesick nature. Yellow petals are choking up your throat, daffodils and chrysanthemums. You spit them into the grass before you enter the detective agency.

You don't need to burden them with your plight. At least not yet. 

𓇢𓆸

You look up the meanings of the flowers when you're in the office, your fingers trembling as you read the words. 

Lilys, purity. Daffodils, rejection. Chrysanthemums, slighted love. You choke down the tickle in your throat, closing the tabs with shaky fingers. 

“The meaning of flowers?” It's Ranpo, pearing curiously over your shoulder. You force a smile, perfect in your broken heart. 

“My friend wants a bouquet.” You tell him, shooing him away too his work. 

And as he meanders off, you congratulate yourself. At least until the petals choke up your throat and you slope away discreetly to the bathroom.

You throw up petals into the toilet. 

𓇢𓆸

A week after the incident you choke up an entire flower. It hurts, the thorny stems of a small rose, its petals a dark unnatural black. You crumple the delicate petals in your hand, muffling your tears into a towel before quickly reapplying your makeup. Covering your dark circles. You haven't been sleeping. 

Death's heavy hand is hovering over your head, weighing you down with the weight of your sin. The sin of eternal love. The sin of pure devotion. 

He stands behind you, death. With his hand on your shoulder, taunting you. He laughs at your misery, at your pain. He plays his melodies of death, his requiem, his Lacrimosa, truly a lady of sorrow. You shed enough tears and pain to be allowed the title, although you have yet to birth the son of god. You don't think you will. You know your death is around the corner. It will come when the bells toll, when the stems growing in your lungs eat at your insides. The pain drives you mad. You choke up as many flowers as you can before you leave for work. 

𓇢𓆸

“Name?” Atsushi says, his hands clutching the papers in his hands. He's a kind boy, cute and sweet. You spare him a small smile, biting back the petals in your throat. The boy shuffles his feet nervously. 

“Are you doing ok?” Atsushi asks, the question almost too much for your delicate sensibilities. You almost cry, try8ing your best to give him a smile. 

“Im doing well.” You reply, the weight of the lie hanging heavy on your chest, the cold metal of the cross judging you.

The boy leaves, called away but he still eyes you, worried.

You wish you fell for Atsushi instead, for his kindness, for his selflessness. 

𓇢𓆸

They're getting suspicious. This you know. But you smile and keep your mouth shut and muffle your choking as much as you can. You don't need to burden them any more than you already have. You must die without a fuss. 

You had long ago learned how to fool Ranpo, how to get around his almost all knowing intellect. For the key was withholding the crucial fact. Because he could not come to a conclusion without it, and you were sick in your misery. You could never burden them. Never bear to see their eyes of disappointment, their eyes of confusion.

‘How could you love him?’ you were sure they would say. 

You couldn't explain, you didn't know yourself. 

And then you couldn't stop the flowers that ripped out of your throat, spilling onto the office floor. The white petals of the lilies were stained red with blood. 

You didn't see much as you fainted. 

𓇢𓆸

You wake in the infirmary, a worried circle of your coworkers surrounding you. The worry on their faces almost makes you sob. You bite back the lilies as Yosano waves them away.

They file out single files, varying looks of confusion on their faces. The door slams. 

“How long do you have left?” It's Yosano, arms crossed, eyes disapproving. 

“About two weeks.” your voice is rough, choked. A petal falls from your lips.

“Is there no solution?” Yosano asks you, her voice choked with emotion. The sigh that escapes your lips is more than a thousand words.

“The dead cannot return the love of the living.” 

Yosano wipes her tears before you see them. 

“Rest.” She says, closing the door behind her.

𓇢𓆸

The meeting is solem, confused eyes meeting red rimmed eyes. All the eyes turn to Yosano as she enters the room, her own eyes red. Fukuzawa is the first one who dares the speak, from his place at the head of the table. 

“What is going on.”

Yosano sinks into a chair, hand scrubbing at her eyes. The words she speaks are damning.

“Hanahaki.” 

The room sinks into a tense silence, a broken silence, a confused silence. The emotions are a whirl in the room, the atmosphere choking, cloying, unpleasant. Someone muffles a sob into their clothes, Kenji or Atsushi or Naomi, it doesn't matter. Yosano composes herself, dropping plain information on the people in the room. 

“She's choking on Lilies and Daffodils, and she won't last much longer.” She says, the words plain and almost cruel. Kenji curls up into himself, his head resting on his knees. Kunikida, sitting beside him, pats his back. 

“Who is it?” It's Atsushi, his voice choked up, his eyes shining with unshed tears. The room is suddenly silent, waiting with bated breaths for the escape, the hope that this could end. Yosano hates to break their fragile hope, but she repeated the words you had said to her. 

“The dead cannot return the love of the living.”

𓇢𓆸

The green bottle sitting in your hand is your escape. Arsenic is a simple plan, easy to execute, to end your suffering. The lilies are choking your throat. You want to escape.

There are letters on your bed, piled around you, addressed to the ones you love. You don't want to leave them, but you don't want to suffer, 

The bottle is your escape. 

With a pop of finality, with a last look at the world around you, you drink the poison. It's tasteless, coloreless, odorless. 

It lulls you into your final sleep. You can see him, your doomed love. Fyodor, standing on the other side. You slip into death with open arms, broken hearted but peaceful. 

𓇢𓆸

Something is wrong. Atsushi feels it, the weight on his chest, the knowledge that you, a trusted coworker and beloved friend are going to die. And theres nothing to be done about it. The meeting is silent, as the words sink in, and then, it is exposed.

People are talking, arguing, yelling over each other, words and questions and angry accusations. Atsushi covers his ear, tears welling in his eyes. 

And then, that feeling, that horrible dawning feeling that something is wrong. Almost silent, he stands, slipping out of the infirmary door, Ranpo and Yosano on his heels. He can see the dread painted on their faces, the same dread that wells in his stomach, which eats him out from the inside. The hallway is short, the infirmary door at the very end, but it feels like forever, like the hallway will never end and you’ll die out of reach. 

But finally, they reach the door. 

It's quiet in the infirmary, the bed that you lay in still, letters scattered neatly around your body. You're too still. Atsushi flies forward, the other on his heels. 

Your face is serene in death, the lilies and chrysanthemums scattered around you, a makeshift memorial. There's a bottle beside your hand, empty. The label is a death sentence. 

“Arsenic.” its Ranpo, choked up and angry, his fists by his sides. Atsushi chokes on a sob. 

The infirmary door opens with a crack, the others joining them. The entire room hangs in a state of disbelief, of despair. And then the accusations fly. 

It's loud. Atsushi covers his ears, eyes dripping small tears onto the floor of the infirmary. He feels weak when he cries, but he’s sure the orphanage director will spare him this much. 

𓇢𓆸

You left them letters. Personal letters addressed to each of them, and even some for the port mafia members. They read them in the meeting room, solemn and silent. 

But there's one letter that sticks out, an unaddressed, blank envelope. They know they shouldn't open it. But they do, and it confirmed their fears and biases. 

For there are only a few words on the paper, a few damning words. 

“From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

            Nameless here for evermore.” 

𓇢𓆸

They bury you with Lilies, Carnations, and tears. The finality of death painted on your face.

...

Endnotes: I don't know, this exists now. The Raven is a favorite of mine, ever since i read it in middle school. Edgar Allan Poe(the real one) was one fucked up dude

also i know its a little cringy to bend on a poem but i honestly don't care

(also i wholeheartedly believe Fyodor is not dead, but im still crying over it. pathetic i know)

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #bsd x reader #fyodor x reader #hanahaki disease #angst #angst without a happy ending #major character death