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allfortzu · 10 months

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i'll carry the moon and stars, i'll carry you and me

-- jihyo / tzuyu. 1.4k - light angst, fluff - hurt/comfort, light mentions of blood // MEN DNI.

tzuyu goes home to jihyo.

it’s late at night and pouring outside, a constant static of crashing cascades instead of rhythmic patters.

jihyo still finds it calming, though. there’s always been something about the simultaneous state of disarray and comforting orderliness that came with storms and thunder.

it also meant she had an excuse to curl up under a blanket and watch every movie she’d been neglecting. not that she needed one, but it was always nice to have.

a little mundane for a detective, maybe, but some mundanity has always been needed to balance out a life like hers.

peace in chaos, if you will.

comforting orderliness in states of disarray.

so, jihyo picks out her most comfortable pyjamas, and makes the best cup of tea she knows how to make – which only consists of choosing the most expensive brand of tea she has and actually boiling water instead of microwaving, but such is life.

she’s still humming and waiting for the kettle to sound when her doorbell rings, a barely discernible ding in the storm.

she pads her way from her kitchen to the living room, right up the entrance of her house. it’s too dark outside to see anything through the peephole, so she opens the slightest crack in her blinds.

the light from inside spills out, and the outline of a familiar figure is illuminated.

jihyo opens the door instantly. instinctual, immediate.

“tzuyu?”

tzuyu looks up at the sound, and jihyo’s chest tightens.

her cheeks are smeared with blood, gaze weak and lidded. her suit is ripped and there’s splashes of dirt and more blood over her usually stark white button up. everything is drenched in the downpour. her clothes drip with rain.

tzuyu’s voice is painfully soft.

she opens her mouth but nothing comes out, the rain drowning out every syllable.

but jihyo hears her clearly.

she knows when tzuyu says –

“jihyo unnie.”

jihyo’s heart shatters.

she wants to tug tzuyu in by the wrist and ask her every question in her mind – what happened, are you okay, who did this – but tzuyu takes a single step in, and she loses all strength.

“tzuyu!”

jihyo surges forward; without thinking, without hesitance.

tzuyu falls right into her arms.

boneless, completely weak.

the rain from her clothes soak through jihyo’s pyjamas, she’s piercingly cold to the touch. jihyo feels her tremble, meek and shivering. every breath she takes comes out shakily, every exhale barely there.

jihyo’s never realised just how small tzuyu is, finding solace in her arms.

it hurts terribly to see.

maybe it’s the adrenaline, or pure determination – but jihyo hoists tzuyu up with everything she has, carries her unfalteringly until they reach her shower.

she sets tzuyu down and hurriedly pushes her damp blazer off; clenches her teeth at the sight of more blood revealed on the sleeves of tzuyu's white shirt.

"who the hell did this, tzu?" jihyo seethes, pulling a towel off the rack and wrapping tzuyu up. "what happened?"

"i don't know…" tzuyu says weakly, clutching at the towel and curling into herself for warmth. "some other gang– "

then, softer; shakier, "sorry… you– you were the only person i could think of."

jihyo pulls tzuyu into her arms as tight as she's able to, presses tzuyu into her shoulder, cheek to temple.

she's still worried sick, but at least tzuyu's conscious and speaking.

at least tzuyu's here with her.

"are you hurt anywhere?" jihyo's voice cracks, pained. she lifts tzuyu's head gently to cup her face, caressing a thumb over her cheekbones and looking over the wounds. "... is this your blood?"

tzuyu doesn't say anything, just looks at jihyo, eyes watery and lips pursed.

"oh, baby," jihyo mutters.

she realises, tzuyu's not so much shaking from the cold than shaking from whatever happened to her before all this.

she's scared.

jihyo decides her questions can wait.

"take a shower, i'll get you a set of clothes," she says, stroking tzuyu's cheek one last time and laying her palms on tzuyu's knees. "okay?"

tzuyu catches jihyo's wrist before she stands up; whispers, "stay with me?"

her fingertips are still freezing, so jihyo adjusts her hold until her hands are covering tzuyu’s. just a little warmth.

“okay,” she raises their hands up to her lips, presses a kiss to tzuyu’s knuckles. “i’ll get us clothes.”

jihyo has seen her fair share of blood and slashes, but peeling tzuyu’s soaked red clothes off still makes her wince. tzuyu sucks in a sharp breath at times, some wounds a little more tender than others.

the most obvious ones are gashes below her ribs and another on her thigh, then bruises here and there. there’s more blood on her jaw, but jihyo can’t tell if they’re tzuyu’s or someone else's.

tzuyu stays close the entire shower, and jihyo focuses on washing her hair first. she kneads the shampoo into tzuyu’s head gently, massages her fingers into her scalp and detangles whatever she can.

the shower adds on to the rain outside; it’s loud in tzuyu’s ears, a mess of sounds.

tzuyu clenches her fists, lets jihyo work her fingers through her hair despite the sensitivity of water passing over her wounds.

she tries to focus on jihyo’s eyes – dark brown, then golden when the light catches them just right. they’re distracted and darting, cautious and wary, but soft around the edges, fading into black at the rim of her irises.

it becomes apparent that the blood on tzuyu's face isn't tzuyu's own. jihyo doesn't know if she should be worried or relieved.

she cleans tzuyu's wounds in the shower, too, gently rinsing the cuts with warm water. tzuyu flinches whenever jihyo dabs at it, whimpering and shaking softly.

jihyo intertwines her free hand with tzuyu’s, squeezing reassuringly. “just a little more, tzu.”

tzuyu squeezes back, eyes closed.

for the most part, jihyo's voice is soothing enough to help her endure the pain.

"this part won't hurt, don't worry."

she rests her head on jihyo's shoulder still, and jihyo tries not to ache too much at the feeling of tzuyu tearing up, holding her breath throughout.

the gashes don't look deep, so jihyo places a gauze dressing over them and settles with wrapping tzuyu up in bandages.

"can you walk?" jihyo asks, scratching lightly at tzuyu's scalp and running a thumb over the shell of her ear.

tzuyu nods, releasing the breath she was holding. she uses jihyo as leverage to stand up, but shifts most of her weight on her uninjured leg.

jihyo stands with her, letting tzuyu hold on to her shoulders as they dress.

"thank you," tzuyu says, slipping jihyo's oversized t-shirt on.

it fits just right when she wears it, and it smells perfectly of jihyo.

"sorry," she adds. "i won't– "

"don't be," jihyo cuts in. "i know it's a given for… what you do."

she curves her palm around tzuyu's jaw gently, almost as if she's afraid of hurting tzuyu. tzuyu can't help but turn her head to nuzzle into the touch.

"just come to me, okay? any time," jihyo continues, stroking tzuyu's face. "i'm always here. i'll always, always open the door for you. i'll do all of this again if you ever need it. remember that."

tzuyu nods. "i know."

she places a hand over jihyo's, kisses her palm.

remembers the storm outside, how she staggered through the downpour with barely any conscience, light-headed from the fight. she'd shown up at jihyo's house naturally; an innate desire to just want to be with jihyo.

there was nowhere else she’d rather have gone.

tzuyu wakes up in jihyo’s arms at dawn, turns her head to check if jihyo’s awake.

jihyo has tossed all the blankets over tzuyu, she knows tzuyu runs cold. she has one hand over the part of tzuyu’s abdomen that had been injured, and the other plays with tzuyu’s hair idly.

“i have to go to work,” she says, seeing that tzuyu had awoken. her voice is low and raspy in the morning. “will you stay?”

tzuyu hums, stretches until she can curl an arm around jihyo’s waist. “can i?”

she's still sore, and every move sends a sharp pain to the gashes. but it's better. better than if she were alone.

“always." jihyo kisses her temple.

she leans down again to brush tzuyu’s hair aside, presses another kiss to her forehead. “i have to get a few urgent things sorted at the office, but i’ll be home quickly, okay?”

tzuyu smiles. “i’ll be here.”

where else would she go?

the rain had stopped sometime in the night.

she’s warm, she’s safe.

and she’s with jihyo.

even if tzuyu is chaos in all her ways, jihyo is peace.

i'm sure this would've been a much nicer read if i'd wrote some backstory for them, but i couldn't get this particular scene out of my mind 🤧 it's meant to be detective!hyo / vigilante!tzu! is the suit part of tzuyu's vigilante get-up or is it just bc i find it hot? who knows <3 you can tell ttt crime scene 2 did a number on me

anyways, thank you for reading!!! i really loved writing this one, and i really hope you enjoyed it! interactions truly truly appreciated <3

#twice imagines #jihyo x tzuyu #twice fluff #twice angst #park jihyo #chou tzuyu #jitzu #but very light angst!#angst written simply to give rise to a fluffier ending <3 #title very very vaguely inspired from 披星戴月的想你 by 告五人 (accusefive)#the vibe of their songs in general fits very well here too!! highly recommend! theyre one of my favs :)#i wanted to write a datzu sick fic but everything felt too similar to “in pain in love” so ive put that aside until i forget ipil 🙏#and new gradient!! for angst fics 😁#would be ideal if i had the mental strength to make this a series and seriously flesh all these out #maybe one day #twice fics

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littlecrittereli · 3 months

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That moment when your non-affectionate brother is suddenly affectionate

#wild kratts #chris kratt #martin kratt #wild kratts fanart #light angst #Martin is a very touchy feely guy and his poor little brother hates being touched #and then suddenly initiates a hug and Martin's gotta genuinely consider the possibility someone has died #he will gladly return the hug tho #he very much cherishes the few opportunities Chris gives him to be affectionate #and sometimes you just need a bear hug from Martin to make everything better again #im still figuring out the WK style so sorry for so much inconsistency with my art lol

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saintpavlov · 3 months

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he doesn't mean to make you sad, you know that. it's just that, when atsumu's upset it becomes everyone's problem—yours especially.

you don't know how it starts. atsumu had been bouncing off the walls just a moment ago, drunk off of booze and the afterglow of victory. you don't know which one of his teammates had invited her to the after-party, just that right now, you can't help but hate them.

it's just for a second, but you catch it. the way his eyes immediately dim, how his hand falters around yours. you don't want to jump to conclusions, but it's obvious—atsumu's in love with her. painfully so.

he drops your hand as if burnt and turns away, letting himself be carried off into another conversation. atsumu laughs loud enough to be heard over the music, a deafening house mix that thuds through your chest like a second heartbeat. anyone else might not spare him a second glance, but you know that when atsumu laughs that loud there's something he's trying to hide. then, as if remembering that you're still there, atsumu turns over his shoulder. you answer before he can ask the question.

"no no, go ahead. go have fun!"

atsumu tilts his head, though you know he's only asking to be polite. "are you sure?"

you smile. "no worries."

it's a bold-faced lie, but atsumu's never been that good at paying attention. he returns your smile with an excited nod, letting himself be led away by the shoulders. "don't go anywhere!" he shouts, though you know later on he'll forget to come find you. that's the way it always is. always has been.

you nurse your drink against your chest—water, you don't have the stomach tonight—and try to look on the bright side, if there is one. atsumu had been the one to invite you, hadn't he? and though you're still "just friends", he'd held your hand earlier, so that has to count for something, right?

it's useless. you down your water in one go, figuring that if you treat it like alcohol it might work like it is. it doesn't, and now you're alone at this party with an empty cup and an even emptier hand.

you sigh and snake your way out of the kitchen, making your way up the stairs to the first door that opens. the upstairs is off-limits, but you hope that whoever owns this room is drunk enough to be forgiving. you don't even bother to turn on the lights, and instead flop backwards onto the bed. you feel the music downstairs rather than hearing it, a steady thump-thump-thump that shakes through you from head to toe.

you close your eyes, trying very hard not to think about atsumu and the girl he's still in love with downstairs. it's not your place to be bothered, that you know, but something in your chest still aches at the thought. you've loved atsumu since before he met her, after all. it's a shame he hasn't noticed. or maybe he's not noticing on purpose, which is considerably worse.

"woe is me," you say to no one, your voice biting with sarcasm. you're not shocked at how things are turning out, moreso that you thought it'd turn out any differently. with a sigh, you close your eyes. atsumu will find you eventually. and if he doesn't, then someone else will. you'd rather be cursed at for trespassing than anywhere downstairs, faking a smile as you wait for atsumu like a well-trained dog. at least here you can lick your wounds in private.

you don't know how much time has passed when you feel something press into your side, warm and solid. arms wrap around you: one slung over your waist, the other snaking its way under your head. you turn in confusion, seeing nothing in the dark.

whoever's holding you down reeks heavily of liquor, and their arm feels like a dead weight around you. when you try to pull it off they hold onto you tighter, mumbling something incoherent under their breath. "um, hey," you say loudly, voice hoarse with sleep. "get off of me."

the person beside you stirs, and the bed dips slightly as they prop themselves up. they mumble your name under their breath, and in the dark you can make out the vague outline of a face.

with a start, you realize you recognize that voice. "...osamu?"

he lies back down, bringing you along with him. "h-hey," you start to protest, but osamu's grip grows stronger in response.

"don't leave," he mumbles, as you try to sit up.

"but—"

"m'head hurts. shhh." osamu shushes you, curling up against your side. his hair tickles the side of your reddening cheek.

"hey, osamu." you try to move out from under his arm again, to no avail. "you're really drunk."

"and?" he counters, pulling you closer, almost possessively. "just pretend for a little while."

that catches you off guard. "pretend?"

"it's dark, so it's easier," osamu refuses to elaborate. "c'mon. it's my birthday."

"osamu, your birthday's in october."

"is it?" there's an uncharacteristic cheekiness to osamu's voice, one that makes you turn your head towards him in surprise. you can't see him, but you can tell from the warmth that his face is only inches away. "well it's somebody's birthday, somewhere."

something touches your cheek—osamu's hand? no, his face. somewhere near his chin, guessing by the stubble that scratches your skin. "just do me a favor and pretend i'm him," osamu says, and in that moment he sounds scarily sober.

"wh-what?" you can't help the way your mouth hangs open at the request, your stomach feeling like it's about to drop out of you.

"you heard me," osamu mumbles, back to being drunk again. "pretend i'm him. you know what i mean."

"you—what—that's not—"

"am i wrong?" osamu presses, raising his voice like he's imitating his brother. it works. osamu's fingers trace across your face, reading the shock on your face like braille. you turn your head and press your nose to his neck—no cologne, only the soft smell of skin. it can't be atsumu, but for a moment, you're fooled.

osamu tilts his head and sighs, slow and sweet. and when his lips brush your forehead, it's like everything you've ever dreamed. "i'm right," he breathes, nestling his head against your shoulder. it's not a question anymore, but a fact. "i'm right," he sing-songs, still painfully drunk.

"osamu—"

a hand covers your mouth, warm and firm. softer than atsumu's, and just a bit bigger. "don't say my name like that," he whispers, his voice hot against the shell of your ear, "say it the way you say his."

you swallow an audible gulp. "osa—osamu?" you try again.

osamu shakes his head. needy hands pull you in by the waist. you feel osamu's lips kiss up the side of your neck. "not like that," he murmurs.

"o-osa...mu..." you're breathless and dizzy. you feel osamu's smile against the underside of your jaw.

"better," he grins, and this time, his lips find yours.

it ends before you can even react. osamu pulls away with a shaky exhale, as if he's slowly waking from a dream. his eyes shine back at you in the dark, wide and unblinking.

he opens his mouth to speak. "i—"

"you're drunk," you say immediately, and push him away by the chest.

osamu doesn't let you. he brings his hands over yours and keeps them there, and under the thin cotton of his shirt you feel his heart beating rabbit-fast. "so? i'll still want you when i'm sober."

his words choke your own out of your throat. "osamu...i can't—"

"so don't. don't do anything. just stay the night." there's a desperation in his words that makes your stomach flip. osamu holds onto you like he's afraid to let go. "please."

it's late, and you're tired. atsumu's in love with someone that isn't you, but osamu's arms are warm enough to make you forget. you think to yourself: is it selfish if he's willing? are you cruel for wanting to pretend?

you wrap your arms around his neck and osamu relaxes, melting into you the same way butter does on toast. he's soft, comforting. familiar, but not the same. osamu's lips brush on your neck again and the impact shudders through your spine like electricity. he takes his hands and rubs them over your arms, thinking that you're cold. you don't want to tell him that in reality you're burning up, feeling hot everywhere he touches.

"thank you," osamu murmurs into your hair.

"for what?"

"stayin'."

and when osamu kisses you a second time, you don't have the heart to push him away.

#spwrites #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x you #osamu x reader #osamu x you #drabble #light angst #unrequited #x reader #i have lots of thoughts about miya osamu #he is very gorgeous to me

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 5 months

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there was no place in nature we could meet ; suguru geto

synopsis; it’s never fun to run into an ex. especially when the ex in question is your unfairly handsome high school sweetheart — who also just so happens to be a wanted mass murderer.

word count; 3.3k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, geto-typical angst, exes to [redacted], lots of longing, geto is kind of a cunt but also disgustingly charming, reader is understandably upset, biblical imagery (i just think he’s so serpent coded), curse user geto is his own warning tbh

a/n; i wanted this to be a drabble so bad but it ended up just a little too long for me to get away w it so … :’3 yeah. i hate suguru geto (said w affection)

the moon is out.

in the shadows of the street corner you find yourself in, seated comfortably on the sidewalk, it’s a welcome distraction. something to look at, in the midst of your loneliness; the evanescent glow of the moon, illuminating your solitude.

a solitude soon to be broken. shattered into pieces, battered and bruised beyond recognition, jagged shards littering the asphalt. digging into the soles of your shoes.

”hey.”

for a second, you think you must be dreaming.

the figure obscuring the light of the lamp post in front of you is familiar. too familiar, a little too dear for your liking. as you grasp your shitty cup ramen, seeking the warmth seeping through the polystyrene, all you can do is stare. blinking dumbly, drowsily.

geto looks something like a bad omen.

sharp facial features, even sharper eyes. so dark they almost shift from an amber-tainted cedar into an obsidian black — two abysses, staring into your soul, beckoning you closer. they were always enchanting, but now you think they look almost hypnotizing. not at all in a good way. dark hair frames his face, cascading down his back, longer than you remember it being. and he’s wearing robes.

still has those fucked up bangs, though. of all the things to keep.

the gears of your mind turn, endlessly, untangling the mess of thoughts inside your brain. ensuring you that no, you are not hallucinating, and no, you didn’t fall into a deep slumber somewhere between the moment you exited the convenience store and sat down by one of tokyo’s empty street corners. this is real. a reality you can’t comprehend, can’t even begin to process.

what stands in front of you is a ghost. but ghosts don’t exist, can’t be seen, can’t touch the living.

(so how is he able to haunt you like this?)

what eventually jolts you out of your silent stupor is not the questioning tilt of his head, nor the suffocating sensation of your heart crawling up your throat, but the feeling of soft fur against your leg. the stray cat you met further down the street meows at you, sweetly, trying to get your attention. you think she must be asking for more grilled fish.

so, completely ignoring the apparition in front of you, you turn to reach for the little plastic bag you bought as a midnight snack — digging out a bit of fish for the kitty to enjoy. she seems happy, settling down by your feet. purring softly.

geto watches, eerily silent.

(maybe he’s upset that you’re ruining his dramatic entrance. you hope so.)

finally, you have no choice but to look at him. a lump forms in the back of your throat, clogging up a little more for every second spent falling into the trap he’s laid out for you, trailing over his moonlit features with your tired gaze.

mouth full of noodles, staring holes into his attire, you narrow your eyes. suddenly disgruntled.

his lips quirk up. ”something the matter?” he asks, and you can’t even begin to describe how much you hate his voice. how devastatingly deep it is, during the late hours of the night. even deeper than it was back in high school.

slurping up the soggy noodles, you lean back a little, licking some broth off your lips. finally meeting those abyssal eyes.

”… i was gonna say those robes look like shit on you,” you exhale, weary, ”but you actually kinda pull them off. that’s…”

a beat. you struggle to find the right word.

”annoying.”

geto’s lips curl up, smoothly, and you find a hint of familiar amusement in the vague crinkle of his eyes. barely visible crows’ feet. then he’s moving — plopping down right beside you, robes fluttering with the breeze.

”thanks,” he hums. crossing his legs.

the silence that festers around you is odd. not quite suffocating, nor especially fragile. definitely not comforting. it’s familiar, yet different, and it hurts a bit more than it should. but you choose to look at him, out of the corner of your eye, and he looks right back at you. still smiling.

when your eyes settle on the particular cloth wrapped around his torso, you just barely manage to bite back a taunting chuckle.

”a gojo-kesa, huh?” you grin, and geto doesn’t flinch. he doesn’t miss the meaningful glint in your eyes, either. almost satirical. ”you miss him that much?”

”just a coincidence,” is all he answers. smiling, but you think it looks a little stiff.

your grin widens, for a second, before settling back down. a sad transition. you let it go.

”whatever you say, geto.”

at that, he visibly reacts. barely noticeable, but it’s there — a twitch of his lithe fingers, an unknown something that flickers through the scope of his iris. when he looks at you, a neutral smile is playing at his lips.

”ah. i take it we’re not on first name basis anymore, then?” he asks, jovial. hiding a tinge of something mildly displeased.

a shrug. you pick at what’s left of your ramen with your chopsticks, a little too nauseous to enjoy it. ”call me whatever you want. i just don’t see suguru when i look at you, y’know?” leaning forward, you begin to pet the kitty by your feet. ”he was sweeter.”

geto smiles. almost a grin, but not quite there. a chuckle spills out from his lips, and something about it irritates you. ”was he?”

”yeah,” you nod. without hesitation. a summer-stained memory blooms behind your eyelids, but you try not to look at it. all you catch is a glimpse of cherry blossoms. ”you just seem bitter.”

the grin that finds its way onto your lips is self-deprecating. a shadow falls over your face. ”guess we’re similar in that way, huh?”

a hum buzzes in his throat. he casts a meaningful glance towards your hand, scratching behind the cat’s ear. ”oh, i don’t know about that,” he drawls, smile growing. ”.. you seem just as sweet as always.”

to your grave annoyance, you can’t control the way your face changes at his words. a twitch of your lips gives away your discontentment, and something sour settles on the tip of your tongue.

(your blood begins to boil, beneath your skin.)

geto sighs, suddenly, filling the tense silence surrounding you. a little theatrical. ”ah, but that’s a shame.” he turns to you, soft pout playing at his lips. ”i was hoping i could hear you call me suguru again…”

”— i was hoping you’d come back.”

a beat.

(somewhere outside your vision, a crow takes flight into the night sky. swallowed by the darkness, melting into the sea of black. no longer perceivable, by you or the world.)

”but you never did,” the polystyrene of the plastic cup crinkles beneath your fingers. your eyes look dull. ”so what the fuck do you want, exactly?”

…

”i heard.” geto rests his jaw on the heel of his palm, gazing at you with those piercing eyes. like he’s trying to see inside your brain. ”.. about your decision.”

”ah,” a grin splits across the curve of your lips, showing off the white of your teeth. ”of course. that’s what this is about, huh?”

with groggy movements, you throw away your nearly-empty cup of noodles, haphazardly aiming towards a trash can across the street. it bounces off the steel cover, landing on the ground with a soft thud. leftover broth spilling out across the pavement.

(geto doesn’t bother to hide his amusement, lips twitching upwards as one of his curses goes to pick it up. you furrow your brows in embarrassed annoyance.)

a moment passes, and something in you knows that he’s waiting. it’s like you can practically sense it, like it’s etched into your bones. the same way you always knew exactly when he would begin to get impatient during your nightly convenience store runs in high school, after you had spent about five minutes struggling to decide what kind of chips you wanted.

”what can i say,” you lean back, palms against the rough concrete. breathing in the midnight air. ”you inspired me.”

geto tilts his head. smiling. always, always smiling. he smiled at you the day before he massacred that village, too. ”oh?”

with a deep breath, cool air courses through your body. burning your lungs. ”i realized being a sorcerer is completely fucking meaningless,” you exhale through your nose. ”and that trying to change that fact is even more meaningless.”

a wicked, rueful grin rests on your lips. ”so i left.”

geto doesn’t say anything, so you continue. voice dripping with venom.

”i’m a civilian now,” you purr, mocking. a sardonic coo cast his way. ”does that bother you? feel like killing me?”

…

his smile looks a little off, now. tilted in a direction you don’t want to recognize. you don’t care to examine it further, don’t care to figure out if it might look just a little bit sad, because that’d only hurt more.

so you look away.

a click of his tongue. then he speaks, with that honeyed voice, raspy and husky. almost a groan. ”well, i can’t say i approve.”

he’s looking at you. sharp eyes digging into your skin, dissecting you, a million words he expects you to grasp from that look alone.

”you’re better than them,” he states, and you try not to squirm when his eyes trail over your features. ”worlds better.” his voice sounds almost motherly, a twisted concern that makes you cower a little. like he’s scolding you. a crease between his brows.

”i don’t like the thought of you surrounded by these animals.”

a huff pushes past your lips, but it sounds shakier than you’d like it to. you hope he just chalks it up to the chill of the air. then again, when has he ever made anything easy for you?

”what, you got a problem with cats now?” you reach for the little furball licking grilled fish off the concrete, picking it up. cradling it close. ”gonna go on a cat-killing spree?”

an amused exhale. geto narrows his eyes. ”funny,” he hums, but his eyes say you know what i mean.

it takes you a moment to regain control over your breathing. there’s still something tense in your shoulders, and your heart still feels a little like it might jump out of your throat and crawl into his lap. the stray cat slips from your grasp, moving towards geto, curiously sniffing at his robes. he looks at it with no ill intent, and it puts you at ease.

”well, i appreciate the concern, buddy,” you pat his back, trying not to flinch at the contact. trying to appear relaxed. ”but frankly, i don’t give a shit. i actually like my job, unlike literally every single sorcerer on planet earth.”

geto stills.

”.. buddy?” he echoes, ignoring every other bitter word you just graced him with. for some reason, he actually seems visibly bothered. ”i’m buddy now?”

you click your tongue. muttering, tiredly. a little exasperated. ”.. what else would you be?”

and then he smiles, again. only this time, it looks oddly genuine. the same as you remember, framed by cherry blossoms and the fizzle of youth.

his movements are smooth. like he’s completely unguarded, like this situation doesn’t bother him in the slightest. elegant, in the way he leans back, palms on the concrete to support his weight. keeping eye contact with you, all the while.

when he speaks, his voice has a sweet tinge to it. nostalgic, maybe. wistful. if you hear a touch of longing, you choose to ignore it.

”i seem to recall you calling me baby quite a lot,” he hums, and you stiffen. gritting your teeth. eyes darkening, but he continues. ”what else was there? angel, i think… it was sweet.”

then he’s leaning forward. scratching the cat under its chin, gently. ”ironic, though.”

an inhale. then, an exhale. they’re a little shaky, a little meek, but at least they make the lump in your throat feel less like it’s blocking your windpipe. air fills your lungs, but it tastes like nothing at all.

something like sorrow simmers in your eyes. or maybe more like fatigue. god, you really want to cry.

(you wonder if he gets some sickening satisfaction out of seeing you like this, out of breaking you. maybe it just makes him feel rotten. you don’t know what you’d prefer.)

”suguru,” you murmur, at last. voice dripping with exhaustion. defeated, the sigh that flows from your lips. ”why did you come here?”

…

”join me.”

the words spill out into the open air, slicing the silence in half. heavy. a request, not a question. against your better judgement, you turn your head to meet his gaze.

”we could use you,” he says, and there’s hope in those keen eyes. he maintains his distance, but for some reason you still feel like prey being sized up by a predator. like he’s weighing your value.

a chuckle slips from your lips, but there’s no humour to it. ”use me…” you echo, a tired murmur under your breath. ”you're just straight up admitting it, huh? kinda refreshing.”

”that’s not what i meant.”

he inches closer. slowly, as if trying not to scare you. reaching out, to brush through your bangs, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. tangling them between your locks, inserting himself into your space. testing the waters.

you don’t look at him, completely still. barely breathing. like a wounded animal.

”i want you there,” he says, and it comes out almost as a whisper. ”with us.”

unable to resist the temptation, you indulge in a single brief glance his way. his eyes look warm, and his lips look soft as they part.

”with me.”

there’s a devotion to his voice when he continues, one he’s always had. one you thought you’d always be able to trust. ”i’ll create a world where you can be happy,” he vows. ”i swear it.”

a moment passes.

(you swallow thickly. it takes everything you have not to burst into tears. when you remember how he brushed you off, back then, it gets a little easier. when you remember all the skipped meals.)

”.. like you give a damn.”

geto smiles. you loathe how soft it looks, how similar it is to the one suguru always had. when you used to eat your ramen too quickly and started choking on it, and he brought a palm to your upper back, patting it gently. he’d chuckle, and tell you to slow down, and the softness of his smile would almost be enough to distract you from the amusement in his eyes.

”my love.”

you flinch. breath drawing back at the base of your throat, heart screeching to a halt, and some part of you emerges; the shy, sweet kid you used to be. hanging on to his every world. like he was your sun, your guiding light. back when that purr of my love had you blushing furiously, not choking back a string of curses.

it’s sudden, and you can’t react the way you want to. you want to kill him for calling you that. for thinking he has any right to call you his, anymore.

but that sweet, naive, innocent little kid still exists. even if you want to pretend otherwise. it’s there, somewhere, that part of you — peeking out from behind the curtain. and it stops you from saying anything that might hurt him.

(it’s so hard to hate him when he calls you that.)

if geto notices your inner turmoil — he must — then he doesn’t mention it. you don’t say anything, but you hope the amused, harsh exhale you partake in is signal enough for him to cut it off. now.

yet he continues. there’s love in his voice when he speaks, barely contained. if he’s trying not to hurt you he’s doing an awful job.

”… i never stopped thinking of you,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it. ”not once. i left for you, not just for myself.”

and, despite every part of your being resisting it, a sweetness settles on your tongue. so sweet it’s sickening; the thought that maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe he really has been thinking of you. maybe you’re more to him than just a means to meet an end, or a memory yet to be buried.

geto looks at the moon. bathed in moonlight, he looks a little like a god. like something reverent. his voice is honeyed. low, like a secret.

”this world doesn't deserve you.”

silence.

a subtle anger trickles through your veins, a kind of fury, subdued, carefully tucked away. sparking to life inside the depths of your eyes when you look at him. bitter, given everything. but your voice still comes out sounding something like a plea.

”and you think you do?”

another smile. this time, it looks a little sad. remorseful, maybe. ”… let me prove myself.”

his touch burns. the pads of his fingers against your cold skin, cupping your cheek. slithering down to grasp your hand. and you’re pliant, unable to react. just sitting with that aching hollow feeling in your chest.

”i wasn’t worthy, back then,” he hums, bringing your hand to his lips. ”but now…”

a kiss to your knuckle. featherlight. reverent. you try not to shiver, but when he says your name, dragging each syllable out, like they belong on his tongue —

a chill runs down your spine.

when he speaks, you feel his warm breath on your skin. it’s dizzying. ”i’m not the same suguru you once knew,” he admits, a forlorn look in his eyes. and devotion, frighteningly sincere. ”unlike him — i’ll never let you go.”

what a twisted desire. he wants to take you with him, drag you down to hell. the suguru you knew wouldn’t put you through that. but maybe you’re even more twisted, for wishing he had; for wishing he had taken you with him, ten years ago, instead of leaving without a single goodbye.

geto’s voice is soft. coaxing, like he's handling a frightened mouse. join me, he whispers, and you think of eve. when you look at his mouth you think you see serpents’ teeth behind his lips.

(you're almost sure he notices it. and you're almost sure his smile widens, lips curling up, as if preparing to open his maw and swallow you whole.)

a sickening sense of resignation roots itself somewhere in your gut.

you pull your hand away, and he lets you. the loss of warmth hits you like a freight train, but you aren’t sure you could think clearly with his skin on yours. when you part your lips to speak, only air comes out, just barely forming a sentence. like there are no more words to say. like the world stopped spinning around you both a lifetime ago.

”i don't love you.”

…

for just a second, his smile falters.

”.. no?” he hums, and you wish it didn’t hurt so bad to see him hurt. his eyes carry a kind of patience, something gentle. ”it’s fine… these things take time.”

a bitter chuckle. ”like you’d know anything about waiting,” you spit, and it comes out sounding venomous. a phantom ache sprouts in the spot where his lips touched your skin.

geto closes his eyes.

”.. you don't need to love me,” he says, finally. kind. you hate that he still sounds so kind. so understanding, like nothing you do could be wrong in his eyes. ”as long as you're beside me, that's enough.”

he turns to look at you, and his smile looks very real, for a moment. impossibly fond. ”i have two daughters. i’ve told them about you,” he smiles. ”my family… you’d like them. i know they’d like you.”

dark clouds cover the moon, suddenly, and a shadow falls across you both. illuminated only by the streetlight. in the distance, you hear a car whooshing by.

”don’t stay at the bottom,” he beckons, and your name slips from his lips again. soft, his tongue bending around the vowels. coaxing. stirring your heartstrings like a puppeteer.

then he’s standing up, dusting off his robes, large hands smoothing down the fabric. turning around, towering over you; obscuring everything else. all you see is him, under the glow of the lamp post. a halo of artificial light.

”come. let me show you the world we can create.”

he gives you a sweet smile, two abysses gazing at you. the promise of something, something twisted. something new. forbidden. you think of red skin, yellow flesh. the bite of sin.

and for a second, you see it. the world. a world where laughter comes from the bottom of your gut, and the trees are always ripe for picking, red apples hanging from the branches like glowing rubies.

paradise.

geto stretches a hand out towards you. fingers unfurling, one by one, like a blooming camellia. close, right there in front of you, so close that you’re tempted to take his hand in yours, let him carry you away. burn everything else to the ground.

(you think of the serpent. you think of god.

only one of them banished eve.)

”so,” he smiles. ”what do you say?”

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 2 months

Text

Charlie: (folded up and hunched over with chin in hands) (brooding)

Vaggie: "Someone's got a lovely long face today."

Charlie: (sighs) "Sorry..."

Vaggie: "Don't be, sweetie." (sits and hunches over too, hands clasped) "What's got you down?"

Charlie: "You, kinda."

Vaggie: "Me?" (terrified) "What did-"

Charlie: "And all this." (waves at vaggie next to her) "Specifically."

Vaggie: (edges away) "Is it the 'sweetie' thing? 'Cause I'll stop-"

Charlie: "No. No, I like it." (sighs again) "Vaggie, in the wonderful, amazing, dream-like over a YEAR we've known each other now, have you ever, like..."

Vaggie: (edging closer again) "...have I ever...?"

Charlie: "Killed anyone?"

Vaggie: "Wh- No!"

Charlie: "Not even a little?"

Vaggie: "What would 'killed them a little' even look like..? I mean, sure I've thought about maiming people, and probably would've a few times if you hadn't been there, but-"

Charlie: "What about when I wasn't looking? No... sneaking out for some midnight murder sprees?"

Vaggie: "Charlie- I can't even get up to use the bathroom without you tearing up half the bed with your claws looking for me. We've had to get new sheets three times this month. And last time I took a midnight shower, I found you curled up on the floor just outside the door afterwards. I almost STEPPED on you!"

Charlie: (pouting) "You were gone when I woke up."

Vaggie: "I was gone maybe ten minutes."

Charlie: "And I was missing you."

Vaggie: "Yeah. I figured." (smiles) "So how the fuck am I supposed to be sneaking out to kill people, when I'm best friends with the biggest cuddle bug in all creation?"

Charlie: "I don't know!" (frustrated) "NONE of this makes any SENSE!"

Vaggie: ".... now I feel like I'm missing something."

Charlie: "You're not though! That's why-" (GROWLS) (yanks at hair)

Vaggie: "Okay, hey- Charlie?" (takes her hand) "Talk to me?"

Charlie: "....."

Charlie: "...why're you still here?"

Vaggie: "Do you... want me to move out?"

Charlie: "NO! Never! I, you- I don't even know how I'd-"

Vaggie: "So that's not the problem here. What is?"

Charlie: "The PROBLEM is- I want you here, but you shouldn't BE here! You're not a bad person! Whatever you did or used to do- you haven't been for a whole YEAR, and I'm just- just being stupid and selfish wanting you to stay, but you-"

Vaggie: "You're not-"

Charlie: "-aren’t doing anything bad! So WHY-"

Vaggie: "Charlie, hold on- no- you're not stupid or selfish. You've been alone, and that's not something you did anything to deserve, okay?"

Charlie: "...."

Vaggie: "You can be sad without apologizing for it too, you know."

Charlie: (slumping) "Why are you still in hell, Vaggie?"

Vaggie: (wryly) "Not like I've got wings to flutter off with."

Charlie: "You deserve them."

Vaggie: "..... thanks for saying so, sweetie."

Charlie: "It's true."

Vaggie: “Pretty sure it’s not, since I don’t have them.”

Charlie: “You should. You should have them.”

Vaggie: “I’d rather have this.”

Vaggie: (lifts their hands)

Vaggie: “Who needs wings, when you’ve got the best cuddle bug ever. Right?”

Charlie: (holds tight) “…heaven’s probably better. Full of people you wouldn’t want to even maim. That’s where you belong, not down here in hell…”

Vaggie: “…with you?”

Charlie: “Oh I’d be fine!”

Vaggie: (lifts brow)

Charlie: “Really!” (looks away) “It’d be good. Knowing you’re up there in heaven, and, happy.”

Vaggie: “I wouldn’t be happy.”

Charlie: “Sure you would.” (miserable) “It’s heaven.”

Vaggie: “Hell’s better. It’s where you are.”

Charlie: “Vaggie…”

Vaggie: “Charlie.”

Charlie: “Be serious? Please?”

Vaggie: “I am. But it's not gonna work if you don’t listen to it.”

Charlie: “Fine.”

Charlie: (deep breath) (looks vaggie in the eye)

Charlie: “Vaggie. Do you want me to try getting you into heaven?”

Vaggie: “No.”

Charlie: (voice crack) “Are you SURE?”

Vaggie: “I’m not going anywhere. I’d miss you too much.”

Charlie: “...okay.”

Charlie: (laughs wetly) “Okay. I’d. Same.”

Vaggie: “Yeah.”

Vaggie: (dabs away charlie’s tears)

Vaggie: “You’ve been feeling extra lonely haven' you, thinking about all that on your own.”

Charlie: “Maybe. A little.”

Vaggie: “…sorry I didn’t, you know. Make sure you knew sooner. ”

Charile: (laughs for real) “Don’t be. Not like I asked.”

Vaggie: (smiles) “Sorry for making you feel like you even had to ask.”

Charlie: “Um. Uh.” (clears throat) “You’re forgiven?”

Vaggie: (chuckles)

Charlie: “…and, you’ll tell me, if you change your mind? About the whole heaven thing?”

Vaggie: “I won’t change my mind, Charlie.”

Charlie: “But if you do, you’ll say so?”

Vaggie: “Mmm, kinda feels like you’re saying it like you think I will.”

Charlie: “No. I mean you can, I just… don’t wanna worry about it like this again.”

Vaggie: “Oh. Then I promise-”

Charlie: “Thank you.”

Vaggie: “-if you promise me you’ll let me know what’s going on in that brilliant head of yours.”

Charlie: “Pfft- More silly than brilliant. Didn’t wanna bother you.”

Vaggie: “Bother me? Now you're really sounding silly. You’re not the only one who’s been lonely.”

Charlie: “Huh? You? Why were you- Ohhh…”

Vaggie: “You’ve been a million miles away lately. Welcome back.”

Charlie: “Aww Vaggie! Were you missing me, even when I was right in front of you???”

Vaggie: “Don’t even.”

Charlie: “That’s so cuuuute~”

Vaggie: “Don't. You've been worse. You were impersonating a rug- You clung on so hard after I picked you up I couldn’t even get the blankets over us again.”

Charlie: “Lucky I make a good blanket!”

Vaggie: “The best. But you still gotta stop sleeping in front of the bathroom door.”

Charlie: “I can, try?”

Vaggie: “Is it really that hard to stay in a warm soft bed?”

Charlie: “It is when you’re not there!”

Vaggie: “Sweetie, please. I’ll be coming right back.”

Charlie: “…then I can wait.”

Vaggie: “Good.”

Charlie: "...."

Charlie: “Probably. I think I can probably wait.”

Vaggie: “Ugghh...”

Vaggie: (playfully bumps shoulders) (leans in as charlie hugs her instead)

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #fluff and light angst #incorrect quotes #silly ideas #vaggie and the very fine line of not saying SOME things #while trying to make sure the others are heard LOUD and CLEAR #even through charlie's whirligig brain of many thoughts #imagine charlie sleep-gowling as she reaches around searching for vaggie in their empty bed #vaggie comes back and it's just #pillow feathers and shredded cloth EVERYWHERE #XD

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spruce-and-snow · 2 months

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“Why did you go without me?! […] You KNOW what happens if you don’t have allies!”

-Grian, to Joel after he not only messed up a demise trap yet again, but also managed to kill himself in the process.

I am so normal about this. I am so normal about last life and limited life. I am so incredibly normal, but Grian can’t just go and say this after Joel’s desperate spiral in limited life. Or just how he get’s in the life series in general.

#this is very good angst #is what I’m trying to say #it’s the lighting strike in front of the clocktower all over again #Grian is on his way to help _ he’s trying so hard to help_but he’s just too late #Grian #joel smallishbeans #hermitcraft s10 #hermitcraft #hermitcraft spoilers

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sweeneydino · 17 days

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Dragon lore...?

Idk I'm sure there's something comprehensive in here, I need to go to sleep this was killin me

If it helps, I was listening to me and my husband by mitski 👍:)

>:))

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b5ttyb1tch · 2 months

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Huskerdust HC

(you can tell when I Got Lazy)

• Husk CANNOT cook to save his life, but will eat anything if you put it on a plate. Angel Is a very good Cook that Constantly Needs feedback From husk if his Cooking Needs anything "did I go to overboard on the Salt? " Should I add more Cheese??" And Husk is Just. " No all eat it like this 👍" and Angel Gets so frustrated.

(angry Italian noises)

• Angel sometimes Comes Back to the Hotel crying to Husk because he Did Technically Cheat on him at work and feels Awful about it, and Husk Comforts Him.

• They have the Nightly Routine Of Angel getting back from Work and Bitching to Husk about Valentino, And Husk always Listens (Good boyfriend brownie Points)

• Husk is Definitely A gentleman when it comes to Dating (-Give Angel flowers Taking him on Little dates EXT)

• Angel flirts With Husk any Chance he gets, But when HUSK Is the one flirting with Angel (even in just Slightly) Angel Gets all flustered and Embarrassed

• When Husk and Angel Have free Time They Watch Angels Shitty Porn Shows and Make fun of them.

• Angel Talks. Husk Listens. Happily

#hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel huskerdust #hazbin hotel valentino #I love them will All my Heart #very light angst #casinohearts #angel x husk #angelhusk

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simpfr · 11 months

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Im so sorry if this is uploaded late or if it isn’t good enough I’ve been having the most gut wrenching headaches because of my anemia and i also have exams so i can’t be on my phone very often.

Tags: @mikeikax @bucky-barnes-supremacy @ken-zah @datweirdperson765 @pulling-out-my-eyes @yunonaneko @queenofsimpsblog @a10vely-yutazen @clayyfan @cantdothis-nomore @lieutenantlashfaz

Lieutenant why is ur user so long 😭

I wish you knew.

Part 2.

His hair was so soft to the touch, it felt like you were running your hand through a billow of clouds that wrapped themselves around your arm as an ethereal feeling was sent throughout your body.

If there was a chance you could steal his hair and use it as your mattress and pillows you would've done it in the blink of an eye...

"Can you turn around so I can how it looks on you?" you asked and he nodded, turning around while avoiding eye contact with you, because...well, in a situation like this you would usually do something devious.

But, this time around you didn't and he looked so adorable. His hair was tied back down into to a loose low ponytail with there still being some hair at the front to not leave his forehead bare as it was his signature style while you added a little heart clip to keep the short front hair from falling out.

The only reason he was doing this was to leave an impression on gayatri, who he recently asked on a date.

They weren't they dating but they became friends a month or two ago and pavitr wanted step it up a bit.

Though, he never said it was a date but instead "a hangout"

Sometimes, you really wanted to stab yourself in the mouth and rip your tongue out.

You were the one who suggested they became friends and you were the one who told him to ask her out at least once in awhile to make her "grow or feel a connection"

Why? you weren't even sure yourself.

You knew she began growing feelings for him as well but instead of keeping them apart, you willingly made them get closer to one another.

who were you to deny his love life? He's been your best friend since the primary school days! you couldn't just snatch his chances of ever finding love out of pure spite.

But once again, ever since the whole 'hangout with gayatri' thing has been going on you've never really hangout or talk to each other as much as you used to.

The only time you would have a conversation would be on WhatsApp where you would text like two random people who just got each other's number.

You weren't sure if it was on purpose or not but you were still glad to be able to see him again, "actually, can you come with me this time?"

What?

"You mean third wheel? Yea, no thanks." as mean as it sounded, who in the right mind would want hear their longtime crush trying to get it on with their friend? Or anyone in that matter.

"I'm not talking about sitting with us! Just like, watch and be there with me for emotional support."

"Why now? you've went on date with her multiple times already haven't you? you didn't even ask me to go with you during your first time!" he sighed before placing his arms on your shoulders. Looking you right in the eye like he used to, but this time he wasn't looking for your reaction instead he wanted you to see his, to take what he had to say seriously.

Taking in a deep breath, he spoke,"I'm planning on confessing today."

....

Oh.

That sentence alone made your heart beat faster from anger as the walls of realization came crashing down on you.

you knew you should've said something.

you knew you should've made a move.

But you didn't, So you couldn't blame him right? It was his heart and he knew who he wanted it belong to.

You couldn't control his fate nor could you control yours, as in the story written by the one you were just meant to be someone who admired him as he admired someone else.

It took everything in you to not break down at that moment as you avoided making eye contact with him, "yea, I'll be there."

He smiled softly before placing a kiss on your forehead, a gesture he has done multiple times that always made you flustered but now you just felt dull.

"We'll be at the regular cafe, okay?" you nodded, waiting for him to leave you alone in his home once again but for a complete different reason.

He gave you one last look before finally living.

Fuck life.

⏤͟͟͞͞☆

They talked and laughed, clearly enjoying their time together. But, for some reason his mind was still on you. He knew you were there watching, following his instructions from before but he wanted you near to him, he wanted to see you, to hear you, feel you, everything.

Was his feelings towards you really platonic? I mean, it's not weird to think of your friend as attractive and loveable right?

Should he leave? I mean whats the point on confessing if his mind was on someone else as well?

But he didn't just wanna leave early because of that..

"HELP! SOMEBODY PLEASE!" A citizen yelled as a crowd of gut wrenching screams that slowly started to get louder was followed.

Everyone that was in the cafe began to scatter towards the door making it a struggle for anyone to get through.

Seems like fate decided to choose for him.

Remember how i said everyone went towards the front door? Well, it was everyone except gayatri.

She quickly got up and grabbed pavitr's hand, attempting to lead him towards the back door along with her, but he didn't budge.

"I'm going for y/n. You just get somewhere safe okay?" she looked at him with pure fear and concern in her eyes,"What? She was here?"

Oh right, she didn't know.

"She's smart, she would've left by now and so should we!" she said, trying to pull him again but failed miserably, "You really need to go, gayatri. I'll be fine." he said with his honey tone voice that completely swooed her.

She was hesitant but nodded and left anyway .

✰

He couldn't see you, he couldn't hear you or sense you anywhere no matter how hard he tried. Everything was fine, everything was resolved and everyone was saved.

Everyone except you.

It wasn't that dangerous of a villan and he was captured, so where were you?

He checked inside your apartment, you weren't there.

Maybe your parents house? No

Your friends houses? Still no.

You weren't answering your phone either, did something happen to you? Did one of the villains minion get to you? But why you? He never slipped up and went to your house in his uniform before. Did they somehow find out his identity? But that's not possible... Maybe It was his hair?...

Sighing on the rooftop of a random, he went towards your apartment one more time thinking that maybe there was a tiny chance you were there and boy was he glad he did.

You were there, not in your room but on the rooftop and just seeing you, alive and okay, lifted a huge weight off his shoulder.

he wasted absolutely no time to start swinging towards you as fast as he could, as if if he didn't capture in less than a minute you would disappear like sand in the wind, jumping and leeching onto you like a cat after his last swing.

"Wha–? Spiderman?"

your voice. He loved your voice so much but it sounded weak and fragile, were you crying?

"Spider man?" you asked again. He wanted to kiss you so bad, to make whatever it was that made you cry go away. Completely oblivious to the fact he was the reason.

Maybe his feelings towards you weren't platonic.

"I love him but I don't wanna."

╞══════════╡

Part 3

He forget he spiderman while spidermaning

#scenarios #reader insert #pavitr x you #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #light fluff #very fluffy #light angst

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turtletoria · 1 year

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writhing on the floor in pain

#turtlearts #wordgirl #wg #dr two brains #hes rendered a little strangely since i was using jerma face cam as a reference. and as u all know that mans lighting-#is absolute dogshit #his facecam is like 144 hp with lighting that looks like hes streaming from chernobyl #but honestly thats the charm of jerma streams <3 the moment he fixes the cam its all downhill from there #also personally i dont think that 2 brains is stinky. hes a mouse/rat/rodent thing. and they tend to be very clean #maybe his clothes may be messy tho since mice dont um. wear clothes. so there may be less priority there #2 brains got a little snaggle tooth. teehee. crooked teethed guys for the win #you know when u look at something for so long that you can feel an art block coming on. becuase uh. uh oh #also the writhing on the floor in pain thing. its real physical pain not the hee haha angst pain #my bodys all fucked up man

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catsgetoutduringmidnight · 3 months

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Aziraphale & Eddington.

Neil has confirmed us that David Tennant *actually* exists within the Good Omens universe. Thus, we may assume that the whole of his filmography, except for Good Omens, also exists. We may assume as well that Aziraphale has more or less followed Doctor Who over the decades, and that somehow, with time, the actor of his favourite doctor earned an eerie similarity to Job. But this isn't about him, right now. This is about his son in law.

I would like to think Aziraphale did enjoy the utterly handsome Eighth doctor, ending up glued to the screen and getting deeply excited about this incarnation. He probably got upset because of his only appearance on TV, but would still be delighted to see the series coming back to the BBC in 2005. The Ninth doctor may have appeared a bit tough to him at first, but there was something deeply endearing about him. Maybe it was the way he rocked that leather jacket, or his sense of humour, or his bravery, or his charming accent... He never really knew, but it was sad to say goodbye so soon again. "Who will be the new doctor?" He thought to himself. "Will they be blond? Taller? Will they wear a vest? A bowtie perhaps?". When the young man appeared on screen before Rose for the first time, Aziraphale was left completely mesmerised. The young man was... Different. He had slightly long hair and, honestly, he really liked how the leather jacket suited him too. Once the credits rolled, he found out his name: David. "Oh, that's a lovely name," he thought to himself. "That's the name of a king!".

He followed his seasons very carefully, blushing with his cheekiness, chuckling with his jokes, and loving how adventurous and fair the man was. Thanks to Crowley, he even dared to go to "the videoclub" and rent some of his earlier works. Oh, how handsome the man looked in The Last September, what a dear he was in Takin' Over the Asylum, how lovely he was in Duck Patrol, and what a cocky detective he was in Blackpool... Although, he admitted not being too focused on observing his labour as a detective there. The young man was rather handsome. Aziraphale flushed, could this be love? How silly of him! Falling in love with an actor! He was an angel! Which, inherently, also meant he was born to love. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't something bad. It could be silly, of course, but forgivable.

One afternoon, Aziraphale went to the videoclub on his own, and found a movie he hadn't checked out yet. Einstein and Eddington, a scientific movie it was. The young man looked wonderful in those glasses and stunning sandrift linen suit. Humans may say one mustn't judge a book by its cover, but this dvd already seemed perfect for him! Thus, the angel rented it and decided to treat himself with the film. He laid on his white cream sofa, got under his soft tartan blanket, and pressed the play button. A smile came across his face when he saw the man in those light refined clothes. What a delight to the sight that was.

The angel felt it deeply when he learnt that Eddington was in love with a man he couldn't have, but his heart did not only wrench there, no. It was when he saw the man stand before the orrery when things got clearer. He had to pause the video. Aziraphale got up and sat close before the screen, brushing his fingers against the image. "Crowley..." He mumbled. The only thing in his mind was the image of the spectacular ginger angel he met, in their neat white dress, creating a whole universe in front of his eyes. The way their thin fingers moved, the eagerness in their voice, the dark greenish of their gaze, way more breathtaking than the vastness of hues of the newborn nebulae. And when the blond saw, further on, the physicist crying desperately for his vanished love in the wide green garden, his heart shattered into shards.

He would not admit it, but he did not watch the movie just once that night. Not twice either. Eddington was just like his dear boy, not specifically the angel, nor specifically the demon. It was him. With their curiosity, and their passion, and their deep care, and hunger for answers and justice. He felt warm tears threatening to fall from his eyes and his mind started wandering. Because, what if. Just, what if Crowley had ever felt like Eddington? What if he was worried that one day he would never see his angel again? What if there were feelings trapped in his chest he feared never being able to express? Would he be like the astronomer and, once again, question God for her ineffable decisions? It took Aziraphale a good while to get away from the screen, from that eerily familiar image fueling his heart. It took him days for his sorrow over the fictional Eddington's life to lighten, after being the root of many, many wondering.

The next time the angel met his partner, he was certainly still caught up in his thoughts. The demon noticed, so he decided to ask him about his series and that actor that had truly drawn his attention. He didn't really know what he saw in him, but it didn't take much to notice the pure bliss in his blue eyes when he told him about his character's adventures. The way his words flowed in excitement and his hands often moved around to help with it. The angel was finally enjoying himself in something else than books and occasional music, and seeing him so cheerful did really brighten the demon too.

"How are things going with your binge watching? Have you gotten your hands on another series, or...?"

Aziraphale slowly lifted up his head and stared nervously into Crowley's eyes. He did not know what to say, how could he put into words his worry? Even worse, how to explain where all this came from? The ginger would probably laugh. Worrying that deeply about a character? A movie character? The angel got dewy-eyed. Please no, not in front of him, not like this, he prayed. The demon frowned, he sensed there was something his beloved couldn't easily tell.

"Aziraphale? Is everything alright?" The ginger asked softly. The principality breathed deeply and finally, managed to speak, as he fiddled with his vest.

"I- I just watched a movie, a sad one I must say. It made me think." The demon hummed, and answered.

"I get it. It's understandable, and if that David guy is really that good as you say, I bet his acting can move tons of people." Aziraphale's gaze brightened, he couldn't believe what he had just heard. "I mean, I can see him being very talented. From what you've told me, the man does really have a range for acting. That's always important, to be able to adapt-."

"You really listened." Crowley was about to keep on rambling when he saw the angel in awe.

"Well, I have ears, what else am I supposed to do with them if its not listening?"

Tears fell off the angel's eyes. Crowley did not hesitate to get closer, inviting him into his arms. In a matter of seconds, the blond was in his embrace. He hugged his Angel tightly, and let him cry as much as he needed, caressing his back. He could not help but mutter in a caring tone.

"You and your stories, Angel."

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steddieas-shegoes · 10 months

Text

'til the grave and when we're ghosts

| This is a birthday ficlet for my flower, Dio (@flowercrowngods), who deserves all the happiness and love that he can possibly get, especially on his birthday. I hope the love between Steve and Eddie is sweet enough for you today ❤️ - Mickala

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“The moon’s hiding tonight,” Steve whispered.

He’d come outside with Eddie to help him relax after a hard day at physical therapy. The air around them was thick with a tension Steve wasn’t used to.

Even on his bad days, Eddie was usually still light enough to float around the space they shared, bringing happiness to Steve that he hadn’t been prepared for.

“Yeah. Maybe she’s having a bad day too,” Eddie whispered, his voice sounding choked, wet.

Close to tears.

Steve turned onto his side, watched as Eddie closed his eyes, a tear slipping down the side of his face.

Steve reached his fingers out slowly, wiping away the moisture and waiting for Eddie to open his eyes again.

“What’s wrong, Eds?”

Eddie finally turned his face, another tear escaping from his eye.

“Do you ever wonder if it’s worth the trouble?”

“If what’s worth the trouble?”

“The work of getting better. The fact that I’m six months into recovery and barely closer to being cleared for take off than I was when I started is annoying. What’s worse is that this may be all I ever get to be again. I might always have a limp, and pain, and lose feeling in my leg and arm randomly, and phantom pain in my stomach. I could spend years at physical therapy and brain therapy and taking medications and it could all mean nothing.”

Steve cupped Eddie’s jaw, shaking his head as he spoke.

“It’s all for something. It’s to show yourself that you are alive. It’s to show the kids that you aren’t gonna give up on being the best you can be. It’s to show Wayne that you are the same Eddie you’ve always been.”

“But it’s hard. It’s so hard.”

Steve leaned in and kissed a tear on his cheek, biting back his own sob when Eddie pulled him on top of him.

Sometimes Eddie liked to feel small. He liked having Steve surround him, liked having Steve’s face right above him so he couldn’t see anything, feel anything, but Steve.

And Steve always knew when he needed it, always made himself bigger, shielded him from the world.

He did it now, curled himself around Eddie so that none of the barely-there moonlight could break through. Shared breaths against lips kept them both warm, kept them safe.

“I am so proud of you, baby. Even when it’s hard, you try. Even when it’s hard, you don’t run. You could have given up every single day since you woke up, but you didn’t. You kept going, kept trying, kept showing up for yourself. You make me so proud just to know you, let alone get to love you.”

Eddie’s leaking eyes watched Steve’s, his gaze turning softer as Steve spoke, his body relaxing more with every word.

It’s not the way Steve was going to tell him he loved him, not even close to his original plan.

His original plan was a romantic dinner, all of Eddie’s favorites, even the cookies that were kind of a pain in the ass to make but made Eddie light up. Watching the stars like this, but in the privacy of Steve’s backyard instead of the semi-privacy of the backyard of the new trailer. Going for a midnight swim, clothes abandoned on the pool chairs, skin against skin underwater and above it.

He’d wrap his arms around Eddie’s waist, the cool water lapping at their skin as Eddie pulled him against his chest, humming a song or whispering a story of just breathing slowly.

He’d tell him. He’d say he loved him. Make sure he knew how every moment with him is a moment Steve couldn’t have dreamed up if he tried.

That was the plan.

Plans can change, but his feelings don’t.

He loved Eddie when he was in a coma in the hospital, he loved Eddie when he woke up begging to see Dustin to make sure he really was okay, he loved Eddie every time he laughed and sang and made wild gestures for the people he loved.

He’ll keep loving Eddie through every moment of pain, through every day like today and night like this, he’ll love Eddie because it’s easy.

“I love you, Eddie. More than you can possibly imagine or know, more than I can say. And every day it gets bigger and better and I wonder what I could have possibly done to deserve this chance. I didn’t know it was possible to love a person as much as I love you, but I’ll keep doing it, every single day, for as long as you let me and beyond that. ‘Til the grave and when we’re ghosts, baby.”

Steve was shaking, both with the effort of staying above Eddie for so long and with the emotions spilling out of him.

He cupped Eddie’s jaw, his thumb wiping away a set of fresh tears.

He rested his forehead against Eddie’s, felt Eddie’s hands reach up and hold his hips, tug his waist down so they were touching at nearly every point they physically could be.

“I didn’t think I’d have this, I still don’t.”

“But you do, Eds. You do. You have me, you have the love I have for you. It’s all yours for as long as you want it.”

“‘Til the grave and when we’re ghosts?” Eddie smirked up at him, his cheeks flush from crying.

“Exactly.”

Steve nudged his nose against Eddie’s, silently asking for a kiss if he was ready for one. Not pushing, just suggesting.

Eddie leaned his head back so their lips could meet in a messy kiss, the tears staining Eddie’s face now becoming a part of Steve’s.

But that was it, wasn’t it?

Steve wanted every part of Eddie.

He wanted the sunshine and the moon and the stars. He wanted the laughter and fun and love. He wanted the touch and the looks and the excitement.

But he also wanted the tears and the snot. He wanted the bad days and the pain. He wanted the nightmares and the trauma.

He wanted it all with Eddie because Eddie was worth having it all with.

“I’ll take any bad day with you over any good day without you,” Eddie whispered as they pulled apart. “I love you too.”

Steve shivered at the words, felt the way they carved a permanent place in his chest.

Love didn’t fix the bad days, not for Eddie or for Steve, but it made them bearable, made them feel like they had something to hold onto when everything seemed hard to grasp.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #very light angst #hurt/comfort #love confessions #eddie has a bad day but steve makes it better

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