#fuck you genuinely i wish you nothing but pain for the rest of your miserable life

[astraystayyh]

this post actually broke my heart.

#i can't believe more than ten thousands children were killed #and yet we are still grappling on whether israel is commiting a genocide #i can't believe how inhumane some people can be #how cargo ships matter more than human life #fuck you if you still support israel #if you still excuse it if you still think of “two sides” #fuck you genuinely i wish you nothing but pain for the rest of your miserable life #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza

[luneariaa]

ღ || tornare insieme.

✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : claudio serafino x fem! reader.

✰ 𝐰. 𝐜. : 2k+ ( i got carried away )

✰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : since the breakup, his mind has been so restless. on one night, he unexpectedly bumps into you within the park.

✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : not much proofread, claudio seemed a lil miserable here though ( only at the beginning parts ) and might be ooc.

✰ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : brainrotting over him still ngl like 💙 -- and idk what i wrote for the most part :")

. dividers by @/saradika-graphics !! 🏹

It’s been days since the whole break up thing happened. Have weeks passed, even? He didn’t really give you any proper reasons to do so, and it feels so abrupt. He could see through your reluctant actions– truly a tough decision to do. It’s not like you got any other choices at that moment.

The Italian exorcist remembers that day all too well; your mere expression showing a visible pained look, both physically and mentally. You didn’t even have the time to process everything, simply just doing what you were told.

Are you not good enough for him?

But during all those times when he’s not together with you anymore, he feels restless. He feels lost, he doesn’t know what to do. Claudio knew he had to do that eventually. The immense feeling of regret begins to resurface within him, now wishing he could take those words back as he was trying to take a break in his private study room. 

It’s been a tiring day as per usual for him today, and he wishes for nothing more than your sole comfort alone– even when it’s not possible after what happened. His duties may be done for the day, but his heart feels as if something is still lacking. He misses you. 

You were the light of his life, and he just messes those up further. Claudio even wondered if you still thought of him, as he did with you.

With a frustrated sounding sigh, he brings one of his hands up to rub his forehead to at least alleviate some of his current stress pain. He misses you dearly– plain and simple. He knew he fucked up, and it’s not really by his own favor. 

Claudio genuinely thought that his line of work is quite dangerous for someone like you, especially since you were too involved with him. He has forgotten on how you actually accepted his whole job and lifestyle as the exorcist leader for the Archers of Sirius– highly aware of the tasks that he has to do often, having no complaints. You accepted him for how he truly is.

It’s reassuring, to say the least. But also concerning, since he doesn’t want any potential danger to harm you while you’re not in his sight. Which as a result, he had to push you away, to prevent any of those from happening.

But now, the pain he feels is too much to bear. He needs you back. He wanted to make things right again; he doesn’t care at this point. You mean so much to him, and forever it will stay that way.

It’s quite late at night, as most people by that hour can be assumed to be already asleep, or merely just resting within their own private sanctuary. Claudio left the building not too long ago, wanting to clear his mind before making any proper decisions. No feeling of anxiousness, or even fear creeping up within him, as he had faced even scarier things during his time as an exorcist. But God, he feels pathetic and miserable for wandering around almost aimlessly in the middle of the night.

The lone moon shines overhead; simply looking beautiful as ever, and filled the atmosphere with such serenity, yet it’s just not enough for his preoccupied mind, filled with the mere thoughts of you.

Instead of letting his negative thoughts completely take over, his slate blue eyes wandered over the view of some parts of the city that’s being displayed. The sight alone never fails to amaze him.

But as he still tries to get a grasp of his surroundings, a familiar figure came into his line of vision; noticing how the said person even halted on their tracks so quickly. The expression of disbelief is present, but he wouldn’t even want to blame it on them for that matter.

Has fate decided to play around with them?

Of course, you’ve recognized that familiar tall, dark blue-haired male from somewhere as well– somewhere, which perhaps, better left forgotten. But you couldn’t, since your feelings for him are still one of those that you hold so dearly to yourself.

It looks like the both of you coincidentally had the same idea of going out on this seemingly fine night– you really can’t tell it anymore as much. Claudio was contemplating for a good minute there, thinking if he should openly acknowledge your sole presence, or simply walked toward another direction, but in the end– 

– “(Y/N)?” He begins to call out to your name; his voice sounding soft, yet lowered than usual, as if he was actually hesitant to break the lingering silence that was built between the two of you.

Your mind went blank for a moment there, unsure on what or how to answer him to that. Without thinking much, you tried to walk back towards the direction as to where you previously were from. 

“Wait!” The Italian male instantly cries out to you once more, catching up to your retreating form with ease. To be fair, he doesn’t really know how to deal with the whole situation either, since he never really experiences things like this with anyone else, but you. Only you.

“Can we talk, please..?” So you stopped in your tracks, turning your head to finally face him again, but this time, properly. You couldn’t find it in yourself to ignore him completely when his voice sounded so sincere, just like how he always did when you both are still in a relationship. Never once has he mistreated you, there’s that.

“About what, exactly?”

“Can we find anywhere more private, at least? Just this once– I want you to hear me out.” It’s been a while since you two talked like this, so it feels a little.. Odd. Yet, it gives you a lot of mixed feelings; you couldn’t even tell.

“It’s important.”

You gave it some thought, before eventually sighing with a defeated look. His expression alone makes you feel something, which stirs within you so much. Like, you genuinely feel bad if you chose to ignore or reject his simple request. What if he means it this time? The least you could do is to hear him out, even for this once.

“Fine. Just this once."

"You got any places in mind, or my place instead? Since it’s already quite late.” And why would you even offer your place to begin with? You wouldn't even know.

“Your place,” he replied almost instantly, very well aware of how late it already has been. Claudio wanted to settle everything properly for once, given the current opportunity– or even if it meant that this would be the last time he would be able to see you.

“Lead the way.”

“I’ll follow and watch from behind.”

The dark blue haired male didn’t mean to sound creepy in any way, but rather, his tone has shown the hint of protectiveness underlying within it, even though you both aren’t exactly together anymore. Still one of his admirable traits, but you wouldn’t say it out loud. Even when the two of you started heading towards the said destination, he remains behind with a quite respectable distance, silently feeling as if he has a sense of purpose for the night.

“This better be good.”

“I promise, I’ll make it worth your time.” Claudio reassures to your utterances; his eyes taking in his changing surroundings that begin to fill his senses like no other. But deep down, it’s like a mask he’s trying to put up, feeling the nervousness gradually eating him up internally. The last thing he wanted to do is to mess things up further and you being disappointed by him in a lot of ways.

Once the two of you arrived at where you’re currently residing, you told him to wait for you in the living room as you went to prepare some drinks for the both of you. You don’t even understand how you can be so casual right now– especially when your literal ex was inside your home around this specific hour, but you couldn’t care less. If his intentions were true, that’s the least you could do. You can fight if anything.

His eyes silently followed over your movements from afar, not making any attempts to approach you there or anything akin to it. The momentary stillness within the air definitely helps a bit; trying to remain calm himself.

Not much has changed inside your house either. The photo frames are still in place, and even the small vase with flowers in it looked so fresh; placed just on top of the table nicely. But what caught his attention is the pendant he used to give you in the past– hanging someplace safe, yet visible to those who are observant enough.

The exorcist was surprised that you would even keep that, clearly thought you got rid of it sometime during the breakup.

A nostalgic look flashes over his features, seeing as the remains of his magic somehow works perfectly still within the pendant, yet faint– as if to symbolize loneliness, even somber. It means a lot to him that you didn’t choose to throw it away.

Not too long after, his gaze shifted once again when you returned from the kitchen with the cups in your hands, settling yourself down across from him once you’ve given the cup to him. 

“Alright, speak.”

You didn’t intend to sound so harsh, as it’s the first thought that you literally had at the moment. He didn’t seem to mind as much, clearly understanding as he nodded slightly. “Right.”

“I just– I just wanted to apologize for how I broke up with you so suddenly back then.. And I realized that I never really gave you a clear explanation either.”

Straight to the point, he refuses to waste time any longer, choosing his next words carefully before adding to his previous statement. “You’re always so good to me, and you deserved better. I should’ve respected you more.”

The tension in the air is palpable, yet he tries his best to not let it get through him while letting his words flow out— the words he wanted to speak for so long. 

“But it's something had to do with my job before. I’m sure you’re aware of it already, of how dangerous it truly is.”

You remained quiet during the time he spoke, giving him all the time he needed after he took a sip of the drink you had made earlier. No anger is present, but rather, you let his words sink in.

His slate blue eyes would find your own, letting it stay there as you returned his gaze. Claudio wanted you to understand each of what he has said, of how he meant every word.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me in any way, but for the real reason– to keep it simple, I don’t want to potentially put you into danger; the risk from the last one is quite unpredictable.”

You had this one almost unreadable expression plastered across your face; silently contemplating over his words, while your eyes are skeptically glancing at him. Claudio noticed the look you currently gave him, which leads to him eliciting a quiet sigh.

“I mean it; honest.” He sounded way more genuine and truthful at this point; finding no reason to lie to you after what happened between the both of you. “You know how much I cared about your safety, cara.”

The rather endearing nickname slips past his lips without any second thoughts, yet he makes no attempt to take it back. Just one of his old habits; one that he couldn’t seem to get rid of. His words did reach your ears, but somehow, you got distracted by something else almost entirely.

“.. Have you eaten properly lately?” 

The Italian exorcist was caught off guard by your simple statement, remaining silent for a bit as he feels called out. You noticed, after all. Was it that obvious?

“I don’t know– it’s just been rough for me since, well, that day.” He looks almost too ashamed to admit it outright at this moment, but he knew he had no other choice. “I think I haven’t been able to eat properly as of late..”

Claudio suddenly had the sudden urge to tell you everything right from his mind. About how he always tries to keep himself as busy as he could– up to the point of forgetting his daily meals intake, whether it’s unintentional or not. Yet, he refrained from doing so, keeping it all to himself instead.

The guilt you felt at this moment is becoming too real; your eyes appearing to be filled with certain heaviness, though you managed to gather up your next words without any hints of hesitation whatsoever.

“Wait here, I’m gonna prepare something for you.” Before he could even protest, you've already gone to the kitchen. You wouldn’t dare to say that you’re a good cook much, but you’re willing to regardless. It’s like, the least of your worries at this point.

Claudio was taken aback by your actions, to say the least, but some other part of him feels somehow.. Relieved, in a way. He couldn’t help but to wonder; what’s running through your mind right now, and what made you act that way. Nonetheless, it’s somehow leading for a better progress, by the looks of it. 

It feels good to be able to let everything out from his chest– feeling more better than how he truly feels during the past few weeks.

However, his attention was shifted back to you once he heard a wince-- accompanied by strings of cusses under your breath. You've accidentally cut some tiny part of your finger with a knife while you're just trying to slice something.

The male immediately rushes to your side, feeling worried as ever if anything had gone wrong. His gaze instantly landed on your bloodied finger, letting out a faint sigh of concern. "You alright?"

You get startled by his sudden presence being way too close to you, but you simply brush it off.

"It's just a minor cut; a small mistake. I shouldn't be so careless.." Your voice trailed off near the end of your sentence, looking downwards with a somewhat disappointed expression.

"Let me see it." Claudio held his palm open, motioning for you to give out your hand to him. You didn't have any much choice, so you obliged. He began to take a closer look at one of your injured fingers, helping you clean it a bit, before wrapping the small bandage around it carefully. It looked nothing too serious, much to his relief.

"There, all done. Take it easy, okay? Please be careful, next time."

By the time he finished speaking out those words, he realized that you were no longer staring at your now bandaged finger, but rather, at him. So, he returned the silent gaze, not knowing what to do or say next--

-- that is, until he noticed that your eyes are getting teary this time, averting your gaze away quickly from him in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." But what is there to apologize for? He already caught sight of it, now feeling a little more saddened by it himself.

"Hey, there's nothing to be sorry for." He replies in a soft tone, retaining his gentle demeanor as he silently urges you into an embrace. "Mistakes happen, after all."

One of his hands begins to rub your back, in hopes of providing you some sort of comfort. Perhaps, you're still having trouble processing the whole events from the night, and it's starting to gradually overwhelm you.

"I'm sorry, I just.." You missed him. By the time you fall into his embrace, he could tell it so well-- especially when you begin to cling onto him ever so slightly, trying to keep yourself steady.

Claudio tightens his hold around you just a little, silently savoring the moment while still rubbing your back in a comforting manner. You did miss him, after all; just like how he did with you.

He wanted to tell you that he still, very much cares and loves you, but the timing doesn't feel right to him. Maybe sometime, when everything is back to normal and alright between you two once more, he'll finally have the courage to say it.

Just for now, he wanted to relish in your presence-- feeling your warmth alone, and even the scent that you possessed to fill his senses so nicely. God, he misses this; he misses you so dearly.

"I'll help with the cooking, okay?" He spoke in an almost hushed tone, brushing some of your strands of hair behind. Claudio is always the better cook between the two of you-- able to whip something up even with limited time. "I'll do the chopping and all of it, you'll just help me around a bit. Don't want to risk any more injuries on your hand."

You nodded slowly while your head is still buried on his chest, smiling ever so slightly when he finally pressed his lips on your forehead.

hope the ending part isn't too rushed bc i think my brain got fried atp /hj

@luneariaa do not repost; reblogs are alright. all rights reserved.

#aria's post 𖥔 ݁ ˖ #tekken #tekken x reader #tekken x y/n #tekken 8 #tekken imagine #claudio serafino #claudio serafino x reader #claudio tekken #jin kazama #tekken fanart #tekken fanfic #tekken fluff

[fala-alfredo-pasta]

Going further with the Eren + Nagito comparison, what if Nagito has another "revelation" of sorts. Wondering to himself, was it ever truly hope that he yearned so much for? Or was it freedom? A sense of autonomy and control over his life. Not a life dictated by the whims of his luck cycle, by the diseases limiting his body, and of course by some bitch mind-raping him into a despair addiction.

And this extends to how he treats his luck cycle. Finally reaching the conclusion that no, it has never been a fair balance and it has always just been Ultimate Bad Luck. Deciding that the "good luck" is just a bullshit illusion to get his hopes up and then be crushed again. So he goes out of his way to spite the cycle. Passing over and deliberately sabotaging every single bit of "good luck" that comes his way from there on.

"Fuck off, I'm not falling for that shit anymore. Go ahead, toss me all the bad luck you want. See if I care."

It would probably feel weirdly uncomfortable for the rest of Class 77. Because like...yeah, he's finally shut up about hope and luck and all that. But it also feels kind of wrong. Like the world has turned upside down. And a number of them probably realize that they actually do miss that sense of irreverent optimism. Which in turn would likely make Nagito even more irritable and lash out at attempts to cheer him up.

"If I recall correctly, all the time you'd say stuff like 'I wish that moron would just shut the hell up about hope'. And yet...now you're upset that I've taken your advice? Make your damn mind up."

The idea of believing in hope "in a healthy way" sounds good on paper. But like...I think it would take a very long character arc to come around to that idea. As far as Nagito is concerned (and let's face it he's not exactly wrong here), hope or fate or whatever spited him from the moment he was born. It doesn't smile upon him the way it does people like Makoto.

"No. Fuck that. I'm never going back to that lie. Looking back now...I was a slave long before I ever had a chain around my neck. It doesn't matter that I'm gonna die a miserable death. Nothing's gonna change that. What matters is whether or not I die free."

This would be quite the intriguing concept to explore indeed though as you mentioned it would be a long work-in-progress for Nagito to open himself up again to believing in hope from this point.

Here's hoping that things don't end as tragically for him as they did Eren--though I suppose some argue that Eren did die "free" to an extent. Though really did he ever truly escape? I mean he died a Titan and there was really no way at all for him to be able to remotely have a normal happy life with how deeply involved he was with, well, everything. To that effect, at least Nagito in way has a shot of finding some sort of contentment in life. Yeah, he'll never be truly "free" from his luck the same as Eren will never be free of being a titan, but Nagito has time. As ironic as that may sound for someone with terminal illness, if there is a constant about Nagito's luck is that it does first and foremost ensure his survival (whether it's painful or not). Along with the fact that they really aren't any obligations or responsibilities he's tied (not in the way Eren had), Nagito is at least free to spend his recovery period well...recovering and allowing for introspection to happen. And, because of that, I do think at some point he'll be able to see some sort of reason to genuinely smile again and be happy despite his luck.

I don't think he necessarily needs to be hopeful for the future--because that could feel like you're setting yourself up for disappointment. Instead I think Nagito will do better simply allowing himself to find enjoyment and be happy in the present. He won't fool himself by claiming that everything in the future will be okay, but he won't let his bad luck continue to control him by sapping away all his happiness and making him an empty husk. After all, the freedom of feeling and expressing all the emotions he has, the good and the bad, isn't that really what he's striving for? I can't imagine a bigger "fuck you" to that chain of bad luck he was born with than living and enjoying life despite it.

He won't make plans but he'll enjoy the moments as they come.

#anonymous #danganronpa #komaeda nagito #a e i o queue

[thoughtswrittenaloud]

Impact statement

For starters, fuck you. I knew immediately. My sister told me she said, "I'm just not ready to talk about it yet" and I knew. I knew who and what. I wanted to be wrong, trust me. I wanted to be so wrong I got laughed at. But I was right. Because I've spent so much of my life being not only a daughter to her, but a partner, emotional support, a friend. You either didn't know that or didn't care enough. It's a weird feeling. Being SO in tune with the person who grew you, taught you, fed you. I always thought everyone was like that, but as I got older I realized it was atypical in most cases. Not that I regret it because she didn't have to say anything. I don't know all of the details. I don't want to know all the details. I can assume and that's more than enough. What I do know though, from conversations and comments here and there, this wasn't a 'one time' or even 'first time' offense. She told me she went to my uncle, someone who's spend most of his life practicing martial arts, and even he couldn't find a way out for her. I don't know what it was, but that's not a fluke. That's practice. You're disgusting. You're subhuman. You're literally nothing. I hope your children don't learn who you are to the full extent. I hope they grow and get a gut feeling. I hope that they go with that feeling and never speak to you again. I hope you spend the rest of your miserable life alone. I hope you never find happiness in anything you do. I don't hope physical harm comes to you. I don't wish death upon you. That would be too good for you. That would allow for an end to any sort of pain you feel. I want you to live with the fact that people know what you've done, who you are. For you children though, I wish nothing but the absolute best. I wish for them amazing partners, lives, children if they please, fulfilling careers, nice things, happiness. They deserve that. I would never wish anything poor on a child, even yours. Especially your son. I hope he turns out to be nothing like you. We never liked you, my sisters and I. Even before we met you we didn't like you. And then we did. You were late and expected HER to make your plate for you. Plus you've got man boobs. I actually can't picture your face. I genuinely only see that blue/grey sweater with the moobs sticking out from the front. That's literally how I picture you. It's almost humorous. Almost. You don't have a face because you're not human. You don't deserve that. You had spent enough time with her. You know her past. You know how she grew up. What the fuck made you think you had the authority to summon that again? Who the fuck do you think you are? You had no right to make her feel that way. To do that to her. When you eventually do die, hopefully of old, old age nowhere in the future, I hope you burn in the deepest and hottest part of hell. I also hope you're never given any sort of opportunity to do what you did again. God forbid that happens, I hope you go to the hardest, meanest prison where the other men make your life a living hell. I'm not a violent or hateful person, but I hate you. Loathe you. Despise you. This isn't the first woman I love to go through this and statistically, it won't be the last. It's disgusting. It's disgusting that the chances someone else I care about will have to endure something like this. It's men and people like you that make me cautious. Make me not want to trust others. I consider myself lucky that I've never been in that situation. Crazy isn't it? I consider myself LUCKY to not have been sexually assaulted. That's fucked up. Anyway, I needed to get my thoughts and feelings toward you out, even if no one ever reads this. I've spoken it out in my car and in my head so many times, but putting it out into the world like this makes it feel more real. Makes it feel as though you'll somehow happen upon it, know how much I hate your existence. Now I'm going to go back to studying for one of the biggest tests of my life. You get no more of my energy. The fact I've given you this much is unnecessary because you're unworthy of my time and energy.

[myhumanweakness]

I don’t want to be a huge asshole, but...

There are a lot of people trying to find a modicum of positivity in the finale. It’s not about this Destiel-Bibro war that’s happened over the years, it’s not about Cas, it’s not about any of the superficial drama. This finale was the weirdest mixture of OOC and in character writing I have ever seen. 

Things that are in character: 

The brothers put each other first. They are each other’s safe place and stability. Up until the very end. Sam respected Dean’s wishes, stayed with him in his last moments, and let him go gracefully. Sam even went on and had a full life so Dean’s sacrifices weren’t in vain. 

For Dean, Heaven wasn’t perfect without Sam there. And he had this huge sense of relief and happiness when Sam arrived. 

Jack deconstructed the walls of Heaven so that it was a vast place where everyone could be together. They weren’t living out their “best memories” anymore. They were creating new memories eternally with each other. And Bobby recognizing that Jack is like Dean’s son by saying, “That boy of yours...” 

Cas helped build the Heaven that he always dreamed of. Cas always had such a high standard for Heaven, and it always fell short. He helped Jack build a home that was warm and comforting and beautiful and open and loving and true. Everything Cas stood for. 

Bobby, the man Dean adopted as his father, was there to share a beer with him (just like Dean shared with his dad in his childhood). And Bobby was happy and confirmed that Dean is in a Heaven he deserves. 

Sam mourning Dean’s death for the rest of his life, but also living his life to honor Dean. Classic Sam. 

Dean using his last moments to tell Sam how much he loves him and how proud he is. Sam deserved to hear that because we all know Sam looked at Dean as a parental figure. 

Things that are OOC:

Sam not marrying Eileen. The show created this HUGE story arc around Sam and Eileen and their real love and connection. And then they shoot this finale and couldn’t even get an actress that looked like Eileen to stand it the blurry background. Like, I don’t care what you say, it’s NOT open to interpretation. Sam did not end up with Eileen. All of you people who are Sam stans, who say you want your character to be happy and live a full life should be livid. Sam ending up with Eileen wouldn’t have canceled out the fact that Dean was/is his number one person. Dean gave his blessing for Eileen, and he loved her and welcomed her into their lives because he knew Sam loved her and had a genuine connection with her. Having them together would not have ruined the ending in any way. Sam still could have ended up with Dean on that bridge. 

That woman with the blonde/light brown hair is NOT Eileen. They couldn’t even get an actress with dark brown hair to keep hope alive that they ended up together. Absolutely awful. 

Dean just accepting Cas’ death and not even talking about it, other than to say, “Yeah I think about em’ too.” I don’t care if you don’t believe in Destiel or that the love was reciprocated. Dean EXCLUSIVELY said multiple times that Cas is a member of their family and a brother to the boys. He said the words, “YOU”RE MY BEST FRIEND.” I’m not saying Dean should have scarified himself to go pull Cas out of the Empty (because we had 40 minutes to wrap up 15 years). But the fact that Dean was like: I’m gonna eat some pie and just not acknowledge any feelings or thoughts and act like nothing ever happened is SO OOC. If your best friend died tragically, you’d have something to say about it or act like you had something to say about it. And that’s not to say I wanted Dean to be miserable and hurting. I’m happy he got a dog and found some normalcy. But they lost SO many people, and he’s just walking around cool as a cucumber? When every other season/episode where they lost someone important to Dean he was a mess. And I’m not just talking about Cas- we all obviously know how Dean behaved when Cas died/was missing/Lucifer was controlling him. But even when Jo and Ellen died. Even when Mary died. Even when Bobby died. Even when John died. Even when Crowley died. Even when Jack died, Dean was shown hurting. Suddenly everything is cool and normal there’s no pain or anything? The fuck? A brief moment of acknowledgement. That’s all it needed.

I will never forgive the writers for ending Dean’s story that way. A rusty nail impaling him (probably in his pulmonary arteries/aorta based on the angle) on some random hunt after he finally exhaled the episode before and said, “We’re finally free.” He sacrificed his ENTIRE childhood and life for his brother and the world and so many other people, and he didn't even get to enjoy being a human on the Earth and living a life for more than a week. What! Dean was always a character filled with tragedy, and yeah, maybe he did have to die. You can make that argument. But like that?! AND. AND! Sam held a funeral for Dean and DIDN’T INVITE ANYONE! What!!! No one was there to toast to Dean and share their memories and give him the send-off he deserved. Sam just burned his body alone. Never. That would have NEVER happened. Sam loved Dean SO much and looked up to him and thought the world of him. Dean was his big brother who was fearless and strong and the best hunter on this Earth (and probably every other planet), and he didn’t celebrate his life in the end? 

Cas not showing up in Heaven is absolutely insane. INSANE. It doesn’t matter what you think of their relationship, the show has proven that Cas is important to Dean (even if you think Cas is way at the bottom of the list, he’s on it!). Dean’s ideal retirement/endgame was him, Sam, and Cas on a beach, drinking cocktails, with hula girls. That was the future Dean wanted for him and his family. And you’re telling me that Cas helped Jack build the best version of Heaven possible, and the minute Dean Winchester arrived Cas wasn’t there to greet him. Even just to say “Hello, Dean.” Even call Dean’s phone and say, “Welcome home.” Cas would have been the one greeting Dean in Heaven, with Bobby. Requited or not, it’s canon that Cas is in love with Dean. You don’t just ignore the opportunity to see the person you’re in love with. And... and! Even if Cas didn’t greet Dean in Heaven immediately, he would have appeared in the Impala during the drive. He would have met the brothers on the bridge to welcome them both home. Cas loved Sam too. He would have been there. The three boys together again. Team Free Will!  

I love Cas, and I know a lot of Cas stans feel buried and betrayed and hurt over the show doing a “is he there or isn’t he?” thing. And that is completely valid. I can’t even express to you how sorry I am that so many of us in the fandom are hurting. But I know this show. And this show has always made it clear that it was/is always about two brothers. Fine. But Dean Winchester, the most caring and loving human in the entire universe, deserved better. I am so sick to my stomach that Dean’s whole life was him convinced that there was only one way for his story to end and it was him dying tragically. For years he never let himself even entertain the thought of living a life because he 1) didn’t think he deserved that or was worth it 2) it just wasn’t in the cards. We watched Dean grow so much, SO MUCH, that we finally saw him talking about the future and having hope for the future. And yeah, maybe he wouldn’t get the future he talked about with the retirement on the beach, but he would have lived long enough to experience life outside of just “playing whack-a-mole” and being God’s favorite story and puppet. Dean didn’t even get to enjoy his freedom and humanity. They took a character that they purposefully pushed through so many stages of character development to attain hope and faith and self-worth and promise, and killed him. 

What the fuck!

#spn finale #spn 15x20 #spn 15.20 #spn spoilers #I truly have no words #it was such lazy writing I don't even know #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #jack kline #bobby singer #Team Free Will #team free will 2.0 #saileen #eileen leahy #sam and eileen #sam x eileen #destiel #deancas #dean/castiel #dean x castiel #cas #my fucking heart hurts so badly #spn meta

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Laito [VAMPIRE ENDING]

ー The scene starts in the hallway at Eden

Yui: ( ...I’ve reached my limit...!! I... )

Laito: Yui-chan...! Hang...in there!

Yui: Laito-kun...Uu...

Laito: I’ll save you right now...!

ーー Kuh, uu...!!

Yui: ( Laito-kun...At this rate...! )

Laito-kun...Just forget about me...and runーー

Laito: I refuse...!

*Rumble rumble*

Yui: Laito-kun!!

Laito: !!

Yui: I’ll be okay so...

Laito: Don’t say that...I will...save you...!

*Rumble rumble*

Yui: ( Laito-kun...!! )

Laito: Come on! Don’t close your eyes, grab my hand...!!

On certain CGs, little black roses will appear on the screen. If you click on them, you get an extra line of dialogue.

“My life has been worth it, simply because I was able to meet you. ...Thank you.”

“Fuck...! These stupid flames...! ...But don’t worry, Bitch-chan. I’ll keep you safe.”

Yui: ...!!

Laito: ...! Thank god...I made it just in time...

*Rustle*

Laito: Ugh...

Yui: Laito-kun, did you hurt yourself...!?

Laito: Fufu...It’s just a scratch...

It’s such a trivial matter, when I consider I could have lost you.

Yui: Laito-kun...

Laito: Even if I have been nothing but a marionette my whole life, my love for you is genuine.

Just like you said.

Even if everything else went exactly according to his plans, there’s at least one thing.

One thing which that guy has no say in. That’s...our feelings.

Yui: Yeah...You’re right.

Laito: I’ve been aimlessly walking around in a thorny forest, and tried to forget about the pain by numbing my own emotions.

However, a cute princess who wandered into that forest...she reminded me.

These feelings she taught me...They are forever.

Yui: Yeah...

Laito: My feelings are the only thing I can say are entirely my own. And what this heart of mine seeks outーー

That is the sole truth in my eyes...

Yui: Yeah...Exactly...You’re right. Laito-kun...

Laito: Cough cough...The fire...! Fuck, they flames have reached this far...

Yui: Ugh...

( Is there no way out...? )

( However, now that our hearts have become one, I feel like we found happiness regardless... )

*Flash*

Yui: ...Eh?

Laito: The door...The door to the Chamber of Time...opened...?

Yui: What is happening?

( It refused to even budge when Laito-kun was screaming at the top of his lungs. )

Karlheinz: ーー You who are fit to be Adam. You have been granted entry.

Now, step forward aiming for Eden.

Laito: ...!?

Yui: Karlheinz-san?

ー They enter the Chamber of Time

Yui: ( This is the Chamber of Time...It’s a very mysterious place... )

( I’m scared, yet strangely calm at the same time... )

Laito: ...

Karlheinz: No need to glare at me like that, Laito.

Laito: I’m not glaring. I just figured there’s something I should tell you beforehand. 

I’m no longer your puppet.

Karlheinz: Hmph.

Laito: I’m not quite sure what you’re setting me up for. However...

I have zero interest in carrying on your intentions.

No matter what those may be.

Karlheinz: I see. That is a shame.

Laito: The fact you don’t seem to feel any regret at all really gets on my nerves. ...Honestly, I can’t believe you...

You knew I would turn out like this, didn’t you?

Karlheinz: ...I wonder?

Laito: You’re being sarcastic, aren’t you. I bet you know what comes next too, don’t you?

Karlheinz: ...

Laito: Your silence proves that I’m right. Why did you let us in here?

Karlheinz: To give my blessings to the anticipated future. 

Laito: Your blessings? 

Karlheinz: You, who has become Adam, allow me to entrust you with this power...

Laito: ...!?

Karlheinz: You have become the first Demon who obtained the truth and learnt to experience human sentiment.

Therefore, I shall grant you my strength. Come on, accept it.

You will need these powers.

Laito: ...No thank you.

Yui: ...?

Laito: If you want to see me die from sheer self-hatred after accepting those powers, then go ahead and force them upon me.

Karlheinz: ...

Laito: I don’t care what you think. I’m free nowーー

Karlheinz: I see.

Laito: Goodbye.

Karlheinz: ...

ー The scene shifts back to the hallway

Yui: Laito-kun, are you sure you did the right thing?

Laito: Nfu~ I did. I don’t want those powers at all.

Come on, let’s go. Let’s leave Eden together.

Yui: ...Yeah...

Laito: I’m sure many trials will wait ahead of Adam and Eve after they’ve left Eden.

But you’ll come with me, right?

Yui: Yeah, of course!

ー The scene shifts back to the Chamber of Time

Karlheinz: ーー Good grief.

Socrates: Despite sighing, you seem happy somehow.

How does it feel to play the part of the ultimate villain?

Karlheinz: What happens to me is of no concern. As long as I consider that this will aid in the birth of a new humankind. 

Regardless of the circumstances, I have lost this fight.

Socrates: I think you are the only person I know who could rejoice in a loss, my friend.

Karlheinz: ーー Let us put the match on hold for a while.

Socrates: Very well.

Monologue

Surrounded by a sea of flames,

the two of us fled Eden hand-in-hand.

Amidst the scorching fire blocking our path,

Laito-kun somehow seemed happy.

At last...

We might just have obtained,

the freedom we’ve always wished for.

*TIMESKIP*

Monologue

In the end, it turned out that the one who set fire to Eden back then,

had been Shin-kun.

Afterwards, this escalated into an all-out war,

between the two Founders and the other demonic races.

The Sakamaki and Mukami brothers quickly became involved in this conflict,

with every day being just as busy as the last.

However, Laito-kun is the only one...

who insists that the war is none of his business.

He seemed to be enjoying his new freedom of mind to the fullest.

Perhaps they had realized this, 

but despite the many complaints from his brothers, none of them opposed his behavior.

I believe this might have been his brothers’ way,

to show that they actually do care about Laito-kun.

ー The scene shifts to the forest

Laito: ーー Phew. Now we just have to put a stone on top. ...There.

*Thud*

Yui: Done?

Laito: Nfu~ It’s complete. Come on, this way. I want you to be the first person I show this to.

*Rustle*

Laito: What do you think?

Yui: ーー I think it’s great. I’m sure Cordelia is very happy as well.

Laito: Fufu, I’m not so sure about that?

Yui: I’m positive.

Laito: When you say that, I’m tempted to believe it.

Yui: ( Cordelia’s grave. I was very shocked when Laito-kun suddenly said he would make her one. )

( This shows that Laito-kun was finally able to make peace with his past and move on, right? )

Laito: ...

Yui: I wonder if she’ll be able to rest in peace now?

Laito: Well, I doubt it.

Yui: Really...?

Laito: I mean, she was quite the fierce personality after all. The word ‘peaceful’ just doesn’t apply to her.

ーー However, now I’ve come to realize that this might have been what made her pain twice as bad.

Of course, I suffered too, and was hurt in many ways. However, by doing so...Sheーー

When I consider that she did those things, hoping that perhaps it would make Karlheinz finally look her way...

She suddenly seems so miserable..pitiful, and so very pathetic...

Yet incredibly sorrowfulーー

Yui: Laito-kun...

Laito: Her ways were wrong. However, that was a fate none of us could have escaped.

As a result, I was hurt. However, this is also what allowed me to eventually meet you.

Because I have had to bear many struggles (1), there was a truth to be discovered at the end of it all, don’t you think?

Yui: Yeah, I’m sure.

Laito: ...

Yui: ...

*Rustle*

Laito: ...

Yui: Um...Are you sure you don’t want to stay longer?

Laito: Yeah.

Yui: ーー Even though you’re crying?

Laito: Nfu~ These are happy tears because I’m thinking of our future together.

Yui: You’re joking around...even right now?

Laito: I’m not joking. How cruel.

...Come on, let’s go.

Yui: Yeah...

Laito: ーー See you. Mother.

Yui: !!

( Laito-kun referred to Cordelia as ‘Mother’ for the first time ever... )

( ...I’m glad. )

( With this...Laito-kun’s heart has truly been set free. )

ーー Where are we headed next?

Laito: Nfu~ I guess we should return to the human world for now? I’m pretty sure we’ll get involved in some annoying conflict if we stay here.

Yui: You haven’t made any concrete plans yet?

Laito: No. Not really. Disappointed?

Yui: No, Iーー

Laito: ‘ーーI will go anywhere as long as we’re together!’, right?

Yui: ...!!

Laito: Ah, I was right? I figured so. Well then, let’s depart to our lovely castle in the human worldー!

Yui: A castle in the human world...?

Laito: Nfu~ A wonderful place~ You’ve got nothing to worry about if you just leave everything to me.

Yui: ( That sounds a little fishy coming from him but oh well. )

( I also like that side of him after all. )

Laito: Ahー I’m so excited. Let’s do all things we’ve missed out on so far...Like ‘this’ and ‘that’~

Yui: What are you thinking of?

Laito: Eeh~? You’re curious? Sure, I don’t mind telling you...

Yui: N-No, nevermind, I don’t want to hear...!

Laito: Nfufu~ Oh come on, don’t say that. My precious Princess Bitch~!

Yui: Don’t call me that...!

Laito: Eeh~? Let me think? I can’t help myself when you protest like that though?

Yui: Laito-kun...Please...!

Laito: Nfu~ Then, ‘cutie’~

Yui: T-That’s kind of embarrassing too because I’m not used to you calling me that...

Laito: Eeh? Really? Then, ‘Bitch-chan’?

Yui: Yeah, that’s fiーー Wait.

That one’s getting a no too!

Laito: Fufufu~ I can’t believe you want to be called ‘Bitch-chan’. Honestly, you’re just so...Nfu~ 

ーー Very cute!

Yui: ...!!

( Laito-kun’s this happy yet he can still be himself. )

( That...makes me happier than anything else. )

( Since you remain by my side to this day, we can both vow our love for each other. )

( Now, until foreverーー )

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) He continues to use the ‘thorns’ metaphor here, saying that he walked a path full of thorns. 

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #dark fate #laito sakamaki #diabolik lovers translation #dflaitoending1

[free-pool-trash]

disappointment - peter maximoff

i’ve yet again lost my ability to write :D anyway here you go lovelies <3 idek know what this is tbh i just had to post something (it’s not good im sorry I seriously hate this omg anyway im going)

word count: 2k

warnings: senseless angst, WandaVision spoilers, swearing

comments are appreciated <3

masterlist

“Are you nervous about the mission tomorrow? ‘Cus I am.” Peter’s voice sounded beside your ear. His head was tucked between your neck and shoulder while his chest was pressed flush against your back, his arms wound tightly around your middle.

With a tired yawn, you rubbed your boyfriend’s forearm soothingly. It was late and you were half asleep but you’d been dating Peter long enough to know that he could never sleep if there was something on his mind. “You’re not even going on the mission tomorrow, baby. Why’re you nervous?” You lazily played with his fingers, stopping them from anxiously drumming against your stomach, as you slurred your words sleepily.

Peter let out a heavy sigh and hid his face against your neck, pecking the skin softly with his lips as he did, “I’m not going, but you are. M’worried about you…”

His confession caused your eyes to flutter open.

Peter Maximoff had the biggest heart of anyone you’ve ever met. He loved hard but he worried harder. So when you heard the slight shake in his raspy voice, you twisted in his grip to face him.

His lips were turned downwards, as were his eyes as he avoided your gaze.

“Pete…” You whispered, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. “I’m gonna be okay. Raven and Charles will be with me the whole time, we’ll be in and out. I promise.” You pressed your lips against his quickly before pulling away to look at him, his brown eyes finally meeting yours, his hands holding you tightly against him still.

“I just don’t get why Charles won’t let me come.” He complained with a childish pout.

You let out a quiet laugh before tugging Peter’s head down slightly so his forehead could rest against yours, “We really need this mutant on our side, Pete. Charles insisted that only X-Men with the “powers of persuasion” are going.” You explained, making air quotes despite the fact he couldn’t see them.

With another light kiss you continued, “And hey, what’s the worst that can happen?”

Peter scoffed at that, scrunching his nose up in distaste, “He could blast the only woman I’ve ever loved into a different dimension.” He grumbled, rubbing his nose against yours.

His worry wasn’t exactly misplaced. There’d been a group of mutants on a warpath lately, one of the group slightly friendlier than the others, albeit, still highly malicious. The man in question had the ability to open portals to other realities, and he’d been using said ability to get rid of anyone who stood in his way.

Charles thought he’d be an asset, Raven thought he should be taken out of the picture and you thought the man was more than just a lackey, like he let on.

So Peter, as much as he liked to overthink, was definitely onto something. There was a huge possibility that, if anyone was going to get blasted into another reality on tomorrow’s mission, it was probably going to be you.

Your mutation was mind control, you could make anyone do anything just by saying the words. Charles’ tactic was to try persuade the mutant and if that failed, yourself and Raven would be brought in to manipulate his decision.

“That won’t happen.” You tried to reassure him, letting your hands run through his hair but Peter remained on edge.

“But what if-“ He started but you cut him off with a gentle tug on his silver hair.

“No buts. I’m gonna go on this mission, it’s gonna be a pain in the ass but it’s gonna be fine. I’m going to come home with not even a scratch on me. Then I’ll find you and you’ll kiss me and welcome me home like you always do.” You rattled off the usual post-mission routine with a fond smile across your lips.

Peter let out a defeated sigh, a smile of his own beginning to form as you placed lazy kisses against his jaw.

“Fine. I believe you. But if you don’t come back I’m gonna be seriously pissed.” He jostled your body, chuckling happily when you let out an airy giggle against his neck. “Don’t go getting any ideas, sweetheart. Even going to a different reality won’t get rid of me.”

You continued placing short kisses against his neck and jaw until you worked your way back up to his pink lips, you ghosted over them with your own, only barely pressing them down and pulling a whine from Peter when you pulled away to look at him with a teasing grin.

“So say your lovely girlfriend does get sent to an alternate reality… would you follow?” Within a second of your question, Peter had flipped your positions so that your back was against the mattress and the man in question was hovering on top of you with a cheeky grin.

“Sweet cheeks, I’d follow you anywhere.” He told you and you giggled at the stupid pet name before pulling him down to kiss you.

Your eyes fluttering shut as you murmured against his lips, “I love you, idiot.”

Softly, Peter tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I love you too.

*

It was safe to say that the mission was a complete failure. As you’d thought, the mutant Charles wanted to befriend turned out to have plans of his own, one of those plans being to throw you head first into a different dimension, apparently.

As much as it pained you to admit; Peter was right.

Fuck, he was probably going out of his mind with worry. You kicked yourself internally, not believing that you’d actually been careless enough to get caught out by the burly mutant. Not that it was entirely your fault, now that you thought about it actually, it was pretty much entirely Charles’ fault for doing his usual; not listening to you. You warned him it wouldn’t work, yet he sent you in anyway. If he didn’t find a way to get you home soon you’d… well, you weren’t really sure what you’d do. Probably find Peter and tell him you love him then go kick Charles’ ass.

Dreams of giving your professor the biggest telling off of his life came to a crashing halt when you took in your new surroundings. It seemed you’d been regurgated out in the middle of some run down town, if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought you were still in your own reality, but unfortunately, you did know better.

There was something wrong, or if not already, something was about to go very wrong in the little town. You could feel it. Someone very powerful was about to lose control of themselves. You couldn’t exactly tell the future but you had something of a disaster radar that told you when shit was about to hit the fan.

With nothing else to do, you decided to follow the feeling as it led you to a red car.

Noticing a woman in the driver’s seat, you approached cautiously. When she noticed you walking towards her she rolled down the passenger side window, looking at you with a questioning gaze.

“Sorry to intrude,” You told her genuinely, “It’s just I thought that maybe someone needed help.” You bet around the bush slightly, you knew it was the redhead in front of you that needed help but it wasn’t in your nature to use your powers to demand someone to spill their souls to you.

When her eyes lit up red, you didn’t startle. The feeling of someone poking around your thoughts wasn’t a new sensation to you, Charles seldom knew when to mind his own business, so the fact that the woman before you was reading your mind hardly phased you.

“I’ve got abilities too.” You told her with a small smile before going on, her eyes back to normal and her form more relaxed.

She nodded in understanding, “You’re very far from home, no?” Her tone was sympathetic and you let out a humourless laugh.

“That might be an understatement. Pretty morbid thinking I’ll probably never find my way home.” It was only when you spoke the words that it really hit you that the chances of returning home were slim to none. You’d probably never see the love of your life again, you’d probably have to wave goodbye to any possibility of having a future with your speedster.

Catching onto your miserable train of thought, Wanda leaned over and opened the passenger door for you, motioning for you to get in. Gratefully, you took the stranger up on her offer.

“I’ve lost everything too.” She confessed and you weren’t sure why but you felt the need to comfort her, once again following your instincts, you squeezed her hand and to your surprise, she reciprocated the action.

“My name is Wanda, by the way.” She introduced herself and you responded with a kind smile.

“I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

With a deep breath, Wanda squeezed your hand one last time, then turned to face you. “I have to do something. Will you wait here until I come back? I believe we could be of some help to each other.”

“Of course. Take your time, I’ll wait for as long as you need.” You promised her. Watching as she took another shaky breath and got out of the car and made her way towards the foundation of a house.

After about a minute, Wanda fell to her knees. And then you saw nothing but scarlet.

*

Life in WestView was good. Sure, there were some holes in your memory, but other than that, things were good.

You had a nice house, right next to Wanda’s, your hair seemed to style itself most of the time and the nightmares that plagued you were hardly ever your own. Things were fine.

Being blissfully ignorant was good enough for you for a number of days, until a familiar face caused all of your hopes of living happily unaware to crumble to the ground.

You’d been over at Wanda and Visions house for dinner when he’d knocked on the door. Standing on Wanda’s front porch was the one and only, Peter Maximoff. Your Peter. The person you loved the most and your ticket home.

The second his brown eyes locked on yours you’d been so sure. You would’ve bet your life that the person playing Wanda’s twin was Peter.

Perhaps your fatal flaw was wishful thinking as the hope of your love coming to rescue you, however romantic, was naive.

It hit you like a freight train, that realisation. You were truly and completely alone, for when WestView fell it took all of your hope with it.

He wasn’t Peter and he never had been. Sure, he had his face, his body, his personality and even his superspeed… but he wasn’t him.

When you’d uncovered his true identity with Monica, a part of you shattered on the spot. A familiar, decolate feeling washed over you in the moment and you weren’t sure if you’d even bother to carry on.

It was the kind of gut wrenching feeling of being so disappointed to the point where it physically hurt. It was the pain of truly accepting that he hadn’t actually followed you into another reality, that maybe your love wasn’t strong enough to warrent a visit to another reality and it was the pain of knowing that his life would go on without you.

The X-Men would encourage him to move on and, you had a fair idea of how it would go, he’d fight them relentlessly but eventually he’d cave, he’d let Jean set him up on a date and then he’d go from there, however reluctantly.

And you? You’d simply be a name lost in time. The one they think about, from time to time. You’d be spared nothing more than, “I wonder how she’s doing’ or ‘whatever happened to that girl? Remember the one?”, but life would go on without you.

That sting, you knew, would never leave you. As hope was dangerous and unreliable and painful you made yourself a promise, you wouldn’t hold out for a knight in shining armour to come rescue you. All you could do now was find a way to live. By yourself.

PART 2

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #peter maximoff imagine #x men x reader #x-men #wandavision spoilers #wandavision x reader #WandaVision #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff #marvel

[mollymawkwrites]

Geralt/Eskel/Jaskier: Geralt brings Jaskier to Kaer Morhen and Eskel/Jaskier get their shit together first (communication skills!!) and Geralt comes to a Realization - dp/spitroasting - the turn of seasons, contrast of bright/dark, warm/cold

... this took way too long and I am so sorry about that. As an apology, here’s more than 5.5k of feelings, pining and misunderstandings, with a sprinkle of smut (as an apology, and not at all because I have zero self-restraint). Thank you so much for the lovely prompt, I hope this lives up to expectations 💖

I’ll post the link to Ao3 in the replies when this is beta’ed, sorry if there are any big mistakes!

CW: post-Mountain break-up, smut, Geralt’s Canonical Self-Loathing.

Falling in love with Eskel is the easiest thing Jaskier has ever done.

It happens slowly, but with a certainty that Jaskier has rarely felt before. Like sinking into a feather mattress, silk sheets caressing your skin.

It was never that easy with Geralt. Jaskier fell in love with him fast, sure, but he also fell hard, had to pick himself up afterwards, bruised and bloody.

The first day he arrives at Kaer Morhen, two weeks after his rescue from Nilfgaardian spies, Jaskier is miserable. The trek up the mountain has been hard on him, but harder even was his underwhelming reunion with Geralt, who barely acknowledged him, grunting that he'd be safer in Kaer Morhen before leaving Jaskier to decide by himself what he wanted to do.

His heart aches with two years of missing his best friend, finding he misses him even more now that they’ve been reunited. He'd always told himself he didn't hold any hope of his relationship with Geralt ever evolving into something more, but getting his heart broken on the top of a mountain had made him realise he'd somehow managed to fool himself too.

So he's prepared to spend a winter avoiding his former friend, though Geralt would probably not even call him that, holing up in whatever drafty room he's been attributed, and then he'll find a new name and dye his hair a different colour and hope it's enough to fool the Nilfs. It's a hard choice to make, renouncing the name he's made for himself, the reputation he's built over twenty years of hard work and songs he's still proud of today. But it's all tied too tightly to Geralt, and neither him nor his heart will survive it. Maybe, if Jaskier the Witcher’s bard is forgotten by everyone, his heartbreak won't be so obvious.

That pathetical plan is countered as soon as he steps foot in Kaer Morhen, and Geralt's brothers and mentor introduce themselves to him. They are similar, yet so different to the Witcher he's known for more than half his life.

They welcome him, if not with open arms, at least with warmth and smiles and, in Lambert's case, snarky banter Jaskier takes great pleasure in reciprocating.

Eskel doesn't draw his attention much at first. The dark-haired Witcher is friendly, tugging Geralt in a bear-like embrace as soon as they've passed the gates, and shaking Jaskier's hand with a kind, genuine smile Jaskier can't help but return.

But over the next couple of weeks, Jaskier spends more and more time with the amber-eyed wolf, discussing music and poetry and history as they execute their respective chores. After only a few days, Eskel is the one who searches him out when Jaskier is helping Vesemir in the kitchen or feeding the chickens in the courtyard. He shows him around the keep, more than the customary tour Vesemir gave Jaskier on his first day here. Eskel is full of stories from his childhood in the keep, and he is not greedy with the details. Jaskier can sense the underlying grief when the Witcher talks about the boys who didn't make it in the Trials, but Eskel doesn't linger in the sadness and makes sure to tell Jaskier all about his and Geralt's most imaginative antics.

The Witcher's company is a delight, and a nice distraction from Jaskier's heartache. When he can't take Geralt's silence and avoidance anymore, he seeks Eskel and his warmth, bathing in the man's attention. After a month, he finds himself dreaming of tanned hands and dark hair as much as pale skin and silver strands.

At first, he feels guilty about it. Eskel does not deserve to be someone's second choice. What he deserves is unconditional, untainted love.

But as days pass, frost a little thicker on the blades of grass in the courtyard every morning, the mountains losing their warm autumn colours to shades of blue and grey, Jaskier and Eskel gravitate towards each other until they collide, softly and without a sound. It happens so naturally, Jaskier almost thinks he’s dreamt it when he wakes up one day at dawn, and instead of his freezing room, he opens his eyes to a broad, golden-skinned chest. His cheek rises and falls with the slow breaths where it rests on one plush pec, a pool of his own saliva glistening in a smattering of dark hair.

He hasn’t felt that relaxed in years, and only part of it is due to the frankly fantastic post-sex bliss he’s still basking in. There is no anxiety, no second thoughts. Eskel made sure to make his intentions clear before they fell into bed together, shocking Jaskier into silence with how open with his feelings he was. The bard still can’t help but compare how completely different Geralt and Eskel are.

They agreed to take things slow, to enjoy each other for the winter and then see where things take them. Jaskier knows he’s falling in love with Eskel, but it doesn’t feel scary. He won’t be alone once the time comes to make a decision.

It takes another week for him to move into Eskel’s room completely. They don’t bother hiding their new… entanglement, to the others. No secret can be kept in a keep full of Witchers, and neither Eskel nor Jaskier cares to pretend.

Lambert gives them shit, to no one’s surprise, and Ciri squeals in delight, the gossiping princess resurfacing for a few moments. Vesemir claps Eskel on the shoulder, before reminding all of them that they have chores to do.

Geralt doesn’t say anything.

Jaskier didn’t expect him to jump in joy, he’s not sure the Witcher is even capable of such displays of emotion, but the white-haired Witcher doesn’t even look at them, only ushers Ciri outside to the training grounds.

Over the next few weeks, Jaskier only sees him at supper. He’s gotten used to avoiding Geralt, to keep out of his way, but until then they would still meet in the hall when the weather was too bad for the Witchers to train outside, or at lunch when they would accidentally come in for a bite at the same time. Eskel and Geralt spend a considerable amount of time together, and Jaskier would often find them together doing whatever repair was needed, but these days, when he manages to escape his chores long enough to seek his lover for a stolen kiss or a quick fuck, Geralt is nowhere in sight.

When Jaskier asks his amber-eyed wolf one evening after they retired to their room, Eskel confirms what he already suspected.

“I haven’t seen him in a while, no,” the Witcher rumbles softly, a hand tracing arabesques on the bare skin of Jaskier’s back. “He goes hunting alone almost every day. He does that, sometimes, when he’s upset, though I’m not sure what it’s about, this time.”

Jaskier hums, pensive. His heart clenches at the thought of Geralt avoiding his own family. Guilt creeps on him, its long, sharp claws burying themselves under his ribs. How dare he come to Geralt’s only home, his only place of peace and acceptance, and claim a place in his brother’s heart? He’s done a shit job of fulfilling Geralt’s wish of having him out of his life, hasn’t he?

A strong arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him closer to the furnace of Eskel’s body.

“What’re you thinking of that makes you smell so sad, songbird?”

Jaskier smiles at the endearment. His wolf is generous with his affection, and Jaskier is selfish. He wants it all. But does he have any right to it, if he is taking it from Geralt?

“Do you think it’s because of us?” He asks, turning his head to rest his chin on Eskel’s sternum. “That Geralt is keeping to himself, I mean.”

Eskel frowns pensively. “I… don’t know. I suppose, in a way. But I think he’s mostly wallowing in his own self-loathing.”

“When isn’t he?” Jaskier teases.

The Witcher huffs, a sad half-smile tugging at his scars. “I was afraid he’d be jealous, or upset, hoping maybe it’d help him pull his head out of his own ass, but I’m afraid it’s buried even deeper than I thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I didn’t want to get between the two of you, but I know Geralt. He ain’t gonna do anything about it, and then he’ll regret it once it’s too late.”

That doesn’t make any sense. “Eskel, there’s nothing between me and Geralt.” Well, that’s not quite true. “I wanted there to be something, for a very long time, but… well, turns out I was the only one wanting it. If anything, I thought I was the one getting between the two of you.”

“Songbird, there hasn’t been anything but friendship between Geralt and I since before you were born.” Sadness clouds Eskel’s eyes for a second, and the piece Jaskier has been missing clicks into place.

“You and Geralt were together?” He asks, voice tight with emotion.

“Not sure we can even call it that,” a bitter smile twists Eskel’s scars in a painful grimace. “We found… comfort, with each other, when nothing else could give us that. But it hasn’t been like that in a very long time.”

“Why?”

Eskel shrugs with one shoulder, almost dislodging Jaskier from his position. “People change, songbird. And when you live as long as we do, well… you can’t expect things to stay the same forever. I’m glad we stayed as close as we are, despite him not wanting us to be anything other than friends anymore.”

The Witcher kisses the crown of Jaskier’s head and flicks his wrist, snuffing out the candles, a clear sign that the conversation is over. Jaskier doesn’t push, conscious this is a sensitive subject, but that doesn’t keep him from staring in the darkness for a long time after Eskel’s breaths have slowed and deepened, troubled by this new facet of the two men he loves.

Geralt’s reaction makes more sense now, why he would act so uncomfortable around Eskel and Jaskier now that the two of them are a thing. If Geralt still has feelings for his friend, then… seeing Jaskier, the man he hates and despises, whom he holds responsible for his every trouble (quite unfairly, in Jaskier’s opinion, but still), taking his place in the arms of the man he’s been in love with for longer than the bard has been alive… well, Jaskier can understand why he’d be upset.

There’s just a tiny bit of pettiness coming from the selfish, ugly part of him, that sings at the idea. Geralt broke his heart on that mountain top, isn’t it simple justice that Jaskier breaks his heart in turn?

But that line of thought is quickly smothered by guilt, and, more upsettingly, love. He’s loved Geralt for half his life now. No matter how hurt he might be, all he wants is for him to be happy. Or as happy as a self-loathing Witcher can be.

And it’s so obvious that Eskel loves him, too, now that Jaskier thinks about it. There’s a softness in his eyes and the corner of his mouth when he looks at Geralt that isn’t there when he’s around anyone else, an ease and a trust that Jaskier used to attribute to long term friendship but can only come from two bodies knowing each other intimately.

Jaskier can’t put himself between the two of them, can’t bear the idea of robbing both men of the little happiness they can find in a world that doesn’t accept them. And if he was Geralt, he would probably let Eskel down gently, taking himself out of the way and hoping the other two would get their shit together and talk, but he’s not, and if there’s a way that the three of them can find even a little satisfaction in this mess, then he’s going to try his best and make it happen.

He only hopes Geralt will listen to him.

*

It takes him a few days to work up the courage to approach the sullen White Wolf, and then another two to catch him alone, one night after dinner.

Unsurprisingly, he finds him in the stables, brushing down a Roach who seems more interested in nipping at Scorpion’s flanks than in the brooding Witcher in her stall. A wave of fondness overcomes Jaskier at the familiar sight, and he has to shake himself to remember what he’s come here to do.

“Geralt,” he says, softer than he intended. The Witcher doesn’t startle, but he tenses visibly, his grip on the brush turning white-knuckled. Jaskier lets out a trembling sigh, his resolve the only thing keeping him from turning away and finding shelter in Eskel’s arms to cry his heartache away. “We need to talk.”

Geralt doesn’t gratify him with an answer, like maybe if he ignores Jaskier long enough the bard will go away. How he didn’t learn that doesn’t work in the twenty years they’ve known each other, Jaskier has no idea.

“It’s about Eskel.” That, at least, has the merit to catch Geralt’s attention, the Witcher turning his head just enough to peek at Jaskier from the corner of his eye.

“He told me, about… about the two of you. What you were to each other.”

Geralt sucks in a harp breath. “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”

And Jaskier can see this is a lie even with the Witcher turning his back to him. His heart clenches, for his best friend, despite everything that happened, and his lover, who have not allowed themselves to have what they both so visibly crave. “It does, though. It does matter. I’m not… I have no wish to keep you from each other, Geralt. I… I love him.” Jaskier chokes out, and something painful flashes in Geralt’s eyes. “And I… I…” he almost lets himself say it, bare his heart for Geralt to see, but he’s gotten too used to protecting himself, to hiding his most shameful truth. “I know you do, too.”

Geralt hangs his head between his shoulders, face hidden in the shadows, the warm, low light of the oil lamp he brought with him playing in his pale hair. “You’re making him happy. The two of you… you’re good, together. I am glad you found each other.”

“Are you really, Geralt? Because you’ve been avoiding us for weeks. It’s hurting him.” It’s hurting me, Jaskier doesn’t say, because none of this is about him. “Listen, I… I know you don’t want anything to do with me, I got that loud and clear, but if there’s a way… for us three to… to find satisfaction, then maybe…”

“Speak plainly, bard.”

Jaskier exhales, nerves making his throat tight. “You know I don’t believe in exclusive relationships,” and Geralt doesn’t, either; Yennefer and him both had lovers on the side, it was no secret between them. “If you and Eskel wanted to… start again where you left things, I see no issue with that. I want him to be happy, too. I… I want you to be happy, Geralt. You’re still important to me, even after everything.”

He’s said more than he wanted to, and Geralt doesn’t even deign to look at him. That’s so familiar it hurts. Jaskier smiles, an ugly thing full of regrets and unspoken words, and turns on his heels. He’s done his part. It’s up to Geralt to make a choice, now.

“Jaskier,” a broken voice says as a hand wraps around his wrist. He startles, and turns to find Geralt watching him with pleading eyes. It’s such an absurd sight, it leaves him speechless for a minute, and Geralt takes it as an encouragement to speak. The Witcher clears his throat. “I don’t… You’re…” the way he interrupts himself in obvious frustration, brow furrowed and lips thinned, is almost endearing. “You’re important to me, too.”

Tears swell in Jaskier’s eyes, and he tugs at his wrist to free it. Geralt lets him go without resistance.

“Please don’t lie to me, Geralt. I can take the hurt, I can take the rejection. But I won’t take the pity.” He almost spits the last sentence, and a surge of bitter satisfaction warms his painful heart at Geralt’s flinch.

“I’m not, I swear. I… I’ve missed you, Jask, I’ve missed you so much.” His voice is husky, weighed by shame and regret, and Jaskier has no doubt he is saying the truth. Geralt is a lot of things, but a good actor is not one of them. “There hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought about what I said to you after the dragon hunt. None of it was true, I… I was furious, but it wasn’t your fault. I’m so sorry.”

When Jaskier let himself dream of this moment, while walking down of the mountain or in the dark of the cell the Nilfargiaans kept him in, he’d imagined how he’d make Geralt grovel, how he’d tell him about every little thing Jaskier had ever done for him, to make his life easier, to show him how he could find happiness even on the Path.

As it is, Jaskier only stares at Geralt for a few seconds before tugging him into a crushing embrace. “Fuck, I’ve missed you too, you stupid Witcher.”

Geralt makes a wounded noise but lets himself be engulfed in Jaskier’s arms, tucking his nose in the hollow of his throat. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out, warm breath humid against the bard’s skin. “I wanted to come looking after you, but I had to make sure Ciri was safe…”

“I am glad you did,” Jaskier says, petting the hair at the nape of Geralt’s neck. “But why didn’t you say anything once Yennefer brought me to you? Geralt, we climbed up those damn mountains together. It’s been two months since we’ve been here. I thought you didn’t… that you didn’t want me here.”

Hands twist in the back of Jaskier’s thick woolen cape. “I didn’t know how to. While we were still on the Path I was worried about Nilfgaard catching up to us, about keeping Ciri and you fed and safe, and I thought this could wait until we were here. But then…” Geralt makes a frustrated noise so familiar it has Jaskier smiling in the crown of his head.

“Words were hard to find?”

He feels more than he sees Geralt’s nod. “And once you and Eskel became… involved, you seemed so much happier. I thought I’d only make things worse, and that you deserved to move on. To… forget about me. But I do want you here, Jaskier. If I had any right to it, I’d want you by my side always.”

A breath catches in Jaskier's throat, and tears prick at the corner of his eyes. Those are words he's dreamt of hearing for so many years, and he's finally hearing them now, in a stable smelling of horseshit and hay. It's so simple, so mundane, and yet he can barely bring himself to believe this is truly happening.

And maybe it's because he is stunned, or maybe because he's done hiding, but suddenly it feels so important that he says the truth.

"Geralt, you… you must know…" he pulls back, putting just enough distance between them that he can see Geralt's suspiciously red-rimmed eyes, that he can see how the Witcher reacts to his words. "I would have followed you anywhere, until my feet could carry me no more. You know that, right? I've never been subtle," he laughs wetly. Geralt is looking increasingly confused, like he has no idea what Jaskier is talking about, and that just doesn't make sense.

Making a frustrated sound, Jaskier twists his hands in the lapels of Geralt's thick winter coat, tugging him forward slowly so the Witcher can stop him if he wants.

But he doesn't, and their lips meet, harshly enough that Jaskier hopes it'll carry his meaning even through Geralt's thick skull.

It must work, because next thing he knows, he is being ravished quite thoroughly by an enthusiastic Witcher, a hand at the back of his head and another at the small of his back, under the hem of his cape. A thumb rubs circles at the base of his spine, and he's slowly melting into a puddle of contentment, his only thought a constant stream of this is happening, oh my fucking gods this is happening.

There's little time for the realization to set in, though, as a draft of cold wind fills the stables, and a soft "oh" pushes Jaskier and Geralt to separate.

Just outside of the circle of light cast by the oil lamp, Eskel stands watching them, eyebrows drawn up in surprise. Jaskier's guts clench in guilt and he steps away from Geralt hurriedly. "Eskel, it's not-" what you think, he doesn't finish, because that is a lie, and Eskel deserves better than lies.

But there's little else Jaskier can say to justify how Eskel just found him, kissing his best friend and former lover passionately in the middle of the night, when he should have been back in their shared bed an hour ago.

He knew he'd fuck up somehow. That's so classic.

The three of them are silent for a heartbeat, the horses shifting in their stalls the only noise in the cramped space, and Jaskier wants to cross the space between Eskel and him so badly, but he knows he doesn't have the right to, and it's killing him.

Just when his agony reaches a peak, Eskel's mouth curls at the corner, softness blooming in his eyes. "I see you've gotten your shit together," he says. " 's about time."

This is so completely out of what Jaskier expected him to say that he doesn’t manage to find a suitable answer. Surprisingly, Geralt is the one to talk next.

“I’m not going to take him from you,” he says cautiously.

“I know,” Eskel grins. “I know that if I asked you you would never even look at him again.”

Jaskier spares a glance for Geralt, and a pit opens in his gut at the acceptance he finds in his eyes.

“But that would make the three of us miserable,” Eskel adds. “And I won’t do that to Jaskier, or to you.”

“Eskel, what are you saying?” If his soft-hearted Witcher is suggesting what Jaskier thinks he is…

“I don’t see why things between us should change, songbird, if you wished to spend some nights in Geralt’s bed. Of course, if you two want to be exclusive to each other,” the first glimmer of doubt insinuates itself in Eskel’s kind voice, but he keeps speaking bravely, “then I will not impose myself.”

“No!” Jaskier says, a little too loud, his hand shooting up to grip at Eskel’s wrist. Roach nickers irritably in her stall at the disturbance.

“I… I mean, if both you and Geralt are amenable, there is space in my bed for the two of you.”

Eskel’s dark eyebrow arches. “Don’t you mean in my bed?”

But his hand closes around Jaskier’s reassuringly, warm and soft as he looks at Geralt. “What do you say, Wolf?”

And Geralt is watching them both with equal part fear and want in his eyes, like his deepest desire is just in reach but he isn’t sure if it’s not going to burn him at the first touch. Jaskier extends his free hand, and he can feel Eskel tensing infinitesimally beside him, careful to keep a relaxed posture, but as worried as Jaskier that their white-haired Witcher is going to bolt out the door to a more familiar loneliness.

Geralt surprises them both by taking Jaskier’s hand with an air of firm resolution, crossing the space between them slowly until he stands close enough to share their warmth. Eskel raises his left hand, cupping Geralt’s jaw with infinite softness. Jaskier can see in his eyes the same pride he is feeling himself, at their white wolf’s bravery.

The air leaves Jaskier’s lungs in a rush when the two men’s lips meet like they weren’t ever meant to part. The contrast of Eskel’s golden skin against Geralt’s milky one is the most beautiful work of art he’s ever been given to see, and the tight heat in his lower belly tells him he wants to see more of it, now.

The two Witchers kiss for a long minute, Jaskier watching them with naked hunger and want, but for once not in a hurry to claim the attention back on himself. He makes an involuntary noise when Eskel nips at Geralt’s lower lip playfully, and two burning golden gazes turn on him. It’s so intense, so heavy, that another breath leaves Jaskier with a wheeze. A grin is spreading on Eskel’s handsome features, and Geralt’s eyes sparkle with interest.

“What do you think, Wolf? Do you think the two of us will be enough to satisfy our little bard?”

And oh, Jaskier does so want them to try.

*

Jaskier often prides himself loudly and brazenly of his carnal exploits as an Oxenfurt student and travelling bard. He’s had sex with numerous people of all genders and races, sometimes several at the same time, and has been praised for being a generous and enthusiastic lover.

Never has he been so overwhelmed after only a few minutes of foreplay.

There’s a cock down his throat and fingers in his arse and he’s trembling all over. Eskel is soothing him with a palm to his side, murmuring praise as he pushes three thick, oiled fingers to Jaskier’s prostate.

Geralt is brushing a hand down his cheek, feeling his own cock through the stretched skin. Jaskier sucks and licks with single-minded focus, moaning and wiggling when Eskel executes a particularly well-aimed thrust.

“Look at him, asking for more even when he’s stuffed full,” Eskel smugly says to Geralt as he gives a sharp slap to the bard’s arse. Jaskier yelps and jumps forward, Geralt’s cock hitting the back of his throat. He chokes and gags but doesn’t relent, breathing through his nose expertly. Geralt wipes the tears from his cheeks, the tender motion in stark contrast with his curses and animalistic grunts. It’s a contradiction Jaskier is quickly becoming addicted to.

He's so focused on his worship of Geralt's glorious cock he doesn't notice Eskel's fingers slipping out of his hole before they are replaced with the fat head of his prick. He gasps, letting Geralt's hard length slip out of his mouth, resting his temple against his hip as he breathes through the intrusion. He still hasn't gotten used to Eskel's girth, the stretch leaving him drooling and dazed every time.

They're all still as Jaskier accommodates it, testing the sensation with little clenches of his arse that have Eskel grunting and squeezing the plump flesh of his cheeks.

"'m good, you can move," Jaskier mumbles in the dip of Geralt's hip, and Eskel pulls out to execute a few shallow thrusts, getting the both of them used to the new sensations.

When he picks up speed, a hand threads in Jaskier's hair, pulling him to look up and meet a painfully tender gaze. Geralt holds him with one hand, the other grasping his own cock and guiding it back into Jaskier’s begging mouth, smearing a trail of pre-come on his cheek on the way.

It's easy to lose himself into it after that. He is full, warm and content, and he wishes he could stay that way forever, pinned between his two lovers, pleasing them with his wet mouth and his tight arse. Used for their pleasure alone.

He's only human, though, and his stamina can't compare to two Witchers'. He spills almost as soon as Eskel gets a hand on his cock, his wails muffled by Geralt's.

Geralt is caring enough to let Jaskier breathe as he comes down, cradling the bard’s face in his hands, but Eskel doesn't pull out. They've talked about each other's boundaries at length, he knows Jaskier can take more.

He's brushing his thumb where Jaskier and him are connected, hole fluttering with the last spasms of his orgasm. Jaskier whimpers at the sensation.

"Damn, you always get so loose and sloppy when you've come… do you think you could take the two of us like this?"

Jaskier's chest swells with a sob at the thought, arms trembling where they struggle to keep him up. The fingers around his jaw squeeze lightly, demanding his attention, and he meets Geralt's gaze once again.

"Answer to Eskel, pretty lark," Geralt rumbles. "Is it too much? Do you want more?"

"Yes," Jaskier manages to slur. "More, please. I want… I want both of you."

Geralt's pupils expand impossibly larger, and he bends to kiss Jaskier languidly.

He's a very thorough kisser, grunting at the taste of himself on Jaskier's tongue. Tears well up in Jaskier's eyes as emotion seizes his heart. Finally, he thinks, finally, I get to have him.

He shouts in the kiss, breaking their connection, when Eskel's thumb slips along his cock in Jaskier's hole.

The stretch is intense, even with how relaxed Jaskier is from his climax, and his arms give out, his face squashing into the mattress with a moan.

Geralt chuckles above him before gathering the weak bard into his arms, shuffling them so Jaskier is propped against his chest, while Eskel keeps opening him from behind.

It’s too warm there, pinned between his two Witchers, but Jaskier doesn’t have any complaint. Geralt resumes kissing him to distract him from the almost too intense stretch, and it works. When his breath grows too ragged, Geralt frees his lips and lets him rest his head against his shoulder for a second, lungs expanding with deep gulps of breath. Geralt and Eskel talk in hushed voices, but he can’t focus on what they’re saying, his every thought gathering around the point where he is stretched wider than he’s ever been around Eskel’s cock and fingers.

He is manhandled without difficulty, until he is straddling Geralt’s lap, Eskel still buried hilt deep in him, Geralt mouthing at his neck, two pairs of large hands roaming his sides, his back, his stomach.

“You ready, songbird?” Eskel rumbles in his ear, the low timbre of his voice piercing through the thick fog in Jaskier’s fucked out brain.

The bard nods into Geralt’s shoulder, whining pitifully.

“Did you actually manage to fuck words out of him, Eskel?” Geralt says with a hint of humour, squeezing Jaskier against him affectionately. “Might have to give you a medal for that.”

“Hm. What about a kiss?”

Jaskier smiles groggily at the sounds of intense making-out next to his ear, turning his head to admire the view. Geralt and Eskel truly are gorgeous together, skins lit by the candles, sweat beading on their foreheads, a drop rolling down the crease of one of Eskel’s scars to where his lips join Geralt’s. Their kiss is all teeth and tongue, playful and nipping, fighting for a control none of them truly cares about. It’s a sight Jaskier hopes to be graced with every day of his life from now on.

But for now, impatience is making him clench and grind around Eskel, who breaks his and Geralt’s kiss to grunt. “We haven’t forgotten about you, songbird, don’t worry.”

He cups Jaskier’s cheek in his hand to meet his lips, tasting of Geralt and himself.

There’s a new pressure at Jaskier’s entrance and he gasps in Eskel’s mouth when he realizes it’s Geralt’s cock pushing inside him. The three of them moan in unison when it gets past the ring of muscles and slides besides Eskel’s prick. They stay still, panting for a few moments, until Jaskier garbles a “move” and Eskel complies, taking the lead. Geralt, carrying most of Jaskier’s weight, is slower at the beginning, but picks up speed, moving in counterpart to Eskel, never leaving Jaskier empty even for a single second. They hit his prostate with every thrust in, overwhelming him so quickly he’s only a ragdoll between the two of them after only a few minutes of the same treatment.

Eskel and Geralt lavish his throat and shoulders with soft bites and soothing licks, meeting for a kiss over him once or twice.

Jaskier comes quickly, his cock rutting against Geralt’s toned abs, the friction barely enough to have him tip over the edge, coating the rippling muscles in thick white come. Eskel follows him rapidly, his thrusts growing erratic until he spills deep into Jaskier’s ass, whispering his name reverently in the short hair at the nape of his neck. Geralt joins them after a few more thrusts, grunting his release into Jaskier’s collarbone, goosebumps breaking over the skin of his back.

The Witchers’ softening pricks slip out of his ass and Jaskier hisses at the sudden chill of emptiness. A dribble of come drips from his sensitive hole, gaping and fluttering, and Eskel takes a sharp intake of breath at the sight, fingers coming to brush the abused flesh. Jaskier whimpers in protest, too tired to move, and Geralt shushes him with a kiss to the tip of his nose.

They bring him down to the mattress, arranging his limbs comfortably. One of them - Jaskier doesn’t open his eyes to check which - gets up and brings back a rag to clean him up and a waterskin, bullying him to drink even though all he wants is to lie down and sleep.

Finally, they all snuggle up together on the bed that is slightly too small for three grown men, the room stinking of sex.

There will be a lot to talk about, tomorrow when they wake up, but for now Jaskier buries his nose in the crook of Geralt’s neck, Eskel plastered to his back, both their hands meeting on his chest, over his slowly beating heart. Content. Warm. Jaskier drifts off with a smile on his face and a new song in his mind.

#the witcher #jaskier #eskel #geralt #jaskier/eskel/geralt #geraskel #my writing #prompt fill #nsft #greyduckgreygoose

[mara-xx217]

Okay, first off I wanna wish you and everyone a Happy Valentine's Day!~ 💝🎈💘 so in theme of this special day, could it be possible to get some headcannons for the survivors who were given V-Day outfits (I think it was just David, Dwight, and Kate(?) getting stood up on their original dates, only to bump into a Valentine-less reader as well? I really wanna give them all chocolate~ 🍫

Awww... Whoever stood them up don't know what they are missing out on!

You were alone on Valentine's Day. Were you a bit sour about it? Sure, but it wasn't like you were stood up, or anything like that.

You decided to do something with your time other than sulk around, so why not get some coffee?

You see all the happy couples in there and think: Eh, maybe not... You're not so pathetic that you can't stand to see other's happy, but it felt terribly awkward to just go in and sit alone. You were going to leave, only to have something- or rather, someone catch your eye.

They are all dressed up, much like how the rest of the happy couples are, only... they are alone and looking simply miserable.

Were they stood up? That sucks... And they are all dressed up too. Well, it's not like you can do anything- aaaanndd you're going in why are you doing this you're gonna make a fool of yourself-

David King

His misery was quiet, but very noticeable. It would be one thing if his date were merely late, but after a whole hour? Yeah, he's been stood up. And looks like a fucking idiot, now doesn't he?

David notices you awkwardly shuffling around but pays it no mind. What does catch his attention is when you nervously clear your throat and ask: "Is this seat taken...?"

He genuinely, for a fraction of a second, wonders if he just forgot what his date looked like- but no, you aren't them. David quirked a brow, surprised that someone seeming so nervous would ask something so boldly. Though, it certainly wasn't a turn off by any means, and since you asked-

"Not at all."

It was an awkward first date, but it was one of the more pleasant ones David has ever had. Not only that, but the two of you really seemed to hit it off! You ended up exchanging numbers after your impromptu date, and you've even made plans to meet up next week!

He might have been stood up originally, but David's kind of relieved. After all, he's met you.

Dwight Fairfield

He should have known better... Nothing ever good happens to him, especially in the realm of dating.

Dwight fiddled with the flowers resting in his lap, resisting the urge to cry. Really, he didn't want to be bitter and resentful. Something could have happened, but then again... He's Dwight Fairfield for God's sake. The only time anyone takes interest in him is when they stand to gain something form him...

"E-Excuse me? Can I, uhh..."

"Y-Yeah...?"

It was unbearably awkward when you sit down. You almost start to second guess yourself, when you realize this guy looks so nervous that he might actually pass out. It probably wasn't the first time he was stood up, so you tried to break the ice with some quiet introductions and conversation.

Dwight didn't know how to react, but the fact that you were a stranger and you were being so kind really touched him. Yeah, it was a painful hour and a half, but at the same time, Dwight didn't really mind so much.

You exchanged numbers and continued to talk regularly. A date has even been set up for the future! How exciting!

Kate Denson

Being stood up hurt. Maybe it wasn't their fault completely, maybe she was too pushy or...

Those tears stung her eyes, forcing her to keep them closed lest she starts sobbing openly. She doesn't notice you nervously shuffle up to her table, and she doesn't immediately hear you ask if the seat across from her is taken. As you apologize for bothering her and begin to turn around, does she finally hear you and clumsily says:

"W-Wait! S-Sorry... What did y-you ask just now...?" you reiterate your question, and though Kate is surprised, she happily offers the seat to you without hesitation.

You introduce yourself, and offer a terrible joke in an attempt to lighten the heavy mood. Kate genuinely laughs at it. You both hit it off and decide that you'd very much like to do this again, sometime in the near future.

@prettycutebunny

@gore-loving-whore

@kennbb

@cherrysodalite

@dead-bxtch-walking

@space-arsonist

#dead by daylight #dbd #dbd david king #dbd dwight #dbd kate #ask response #happy valentine's day

[lucifers-horror-harem]

Mine

I’ve been obsessed with The Blissfield Butcher (or Quentin Shermer as he is named in the movie) ever since watching Freaky and I knew I just HAD to write something with him. He is definitely going on my character roster for requests once they’re open again! He is way too much fun to write! Plus there are just NOT enough gifs of him so I had to make my own sdfgngfdedfgfd

Warnings: Fighting, violence, and cursing (surprisingly tame for me)

Word Count: 1.6k

The Blissfield Butcher x Gender Neutral Reader

Water droplets slowly dripped down into the bathtub below. Vanilla candles placed around the bathroom flickered ominously. Even though the bath water was scalding hot, all you felt was the cold chill that raised the hair on the back of your neck.

Something felt wrong. 

He was gone. Dead. He wouldn’t hurt you any longer. You were back in your own body. And yet, this skin felt odd ever since you returned. You thought you would feel immediate comfort when you returned, but all you felt was the way your skin crawled. He had lived in your body, worn your flesh, and while you knew you were fine besides the bruises and cuts you had inflicted on yourself trying to face off against the Blissfield Butcher, he had violated you simply by existing under your skin.

Yet something else felt wrong. Your gut twisted uncomfortably as you had the sinking feeling that things weren’t fully settled. But you had seen him die. It was impossible that he could survive as many bullets as he had and still come back for you. 

Shaking your head, you rose from the bath, drying yourself off with a towel and throwing on a bathrobe. You decided you would make yourself a pot of sleepytime tea to calm your nerves, that always helped. As soon as you left the bathroom, that eerie feeling intensified. Your apartment was small, only one bedroom, and you could see most of it just by standing in your room. But you had shut the bedroom door before your shower, you swore you had. You couldn’t help but close every door now, just to feel like you were putting distance between you and every potential threat since the Butcher had come into your life. 

The door creaked as you pushed it open the rest of the way, glancing around the room as you tried to decide if anything else was amiss. Your door was still dead-bolted, and you breathed a sigh of relief. You were just being paranoid. Mentally chastising yourself, you made your way to the kitchen to fumble around in the pantry for your tea. 

As you rifled through the box you kept so many of your teas trying to find the right one, your breath caught in your throat. Your heart pounded in your chest. Danger. Your body was frozen in place, afraid to even turn around because you knew exactly who was there. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Your throat tightened, your hands shaking as you held the box of tea. You couldn’t stand here forever, in limbo between safety and demise, though you desperately wished you could.

Everything went slow and fast at the same time, nothing registering in your mind properly. You spun on your heel, the figure looming over you in your peripheral. His hands coming up to grab you. You threw the box of tea at his face, little packets strewn into the air like confetti as your ears are filled with the sound of an angry grunt. The shriek caught in your throat as his hands wrapped around your body, attempting to restrain you as you thrashed around against him. As a large hand raised towards your neck, attempting to choke you, you were able to get enough momentum to elbow him in the ribs and stumble away. But the apartment was small, only a few steps backwards and you flipped over the back of the couch, rolling over as you gasped in shock at the sudden lack of equilibrium. An unlit candle sat on your coffee table, and before you could think you grabbed it, holding the hefty jar tightly in your hand as you spun around to meet your attacker.

You stopped dead in your tracks. The Butcher stood mere inches away from you, his dark eyes boring into yours as he glared down at you. After a few moments of fear completely taking over your body, he straightened up slightly, a curious expression on his face. “Well?” he asked, his voice husky and deep in your ears. “Why did you stop? Keep going.”

When you didn’t make a move, he simply strode forward, closing the gap and gripping your wrist, twisting tightly as you cried out in pain. The candle dropped to the ground as you tried clawing your way out of his grasp. He simply watched you struggle futilely, his expression almost bored as he stared down at you trying to free yourself. 

“Why bother fighting this much?" His question only made you fight harder, teeth clenched tightly. No matter how hard you struggled, he wouldn’t budge. "Why struggle to fight for a life that's so depressing?" 

You couldn't help the hurt look you suddenly shot up at him as you looked into his face, expecting a sneer as he beat you down. But he was deathly serious, his face radiating the tiniest hint of… pity? 

"Why act so shocked?" He asked. "I've been in your body. I've seen your life, I know how you must feel." 

Leaning forward, he met your surprised gaze, your mouth gaping as you listened to the words that were coming out of his mouth. The words that made you ill, knowing he was speaking from a place of truth. And truth from the Blissfield Butcher of all people made you want to retch. 

"You feel weak. Defenseless. At the mercy of everyone else. So meek and fearful of what others think." You couldn't look away from his darkened brown eyes, his stare mesmerizing and unsettling all at once. "I know you felt powerful in my body. Probably for the first time in your life you knew that you could fight back and if someone started shit you could defend yourself." When you didn't respond, he asked, "Wasn't it?"

"Shut up." Even the command sounded small and pathetic coming from your mouth. 

The smirk that pulled at his lip made your stomach flip. It wasn’t just that you were bracing yourself for his teasing, it was the fact that there was some sick part of you that found his smile almost cute. For a serial killer with such a gruff exterior, there was almost something boyish about his smile and how it crinkled the sides of his eyes when he did. You wanted to slap yourself for even thinking of him being anything resembling cute or handsome in this moment. 

“Deny it all you want, you know it’s true.” His head cocked slightly, his eyes hooded as he looked down at you with such a smug expression. “You know, you could have done so much damage in my body. Could have killed anyone you wanted. And it would have been blamed on me. Those miserable bastards you work with at your shitty minimum wage retail job? Hell, how about your mother, that cunt deserves it with the way she treats you.” A pause. With a whisper, he asked, “You know what I did to my mother, right?”

The threat hung heavily in the air, your body trembling horribly in his grip. His hold hadn’t slacked the entire time, and yet he wasn’t actively crushing your wrist anymore. All you could do was nod, the words unable to come out. Her decapitated head was found at the local Dairy Queen. Everyone knew that. 

His face softened as he leaned down so you didn’t have to crane your neck up at him. A soft whimper left your mouth as you weakly tried to pull away from him as he urged you closer, your bodies mere inches from each other now. You didn’t know what this was, what he was going to do. You were terrified of the lingering feeling that this was going the way you thought he was taking this. Even scarier was the fact that you were praying for this. 

“You and I both know we’ve dealt with the fucked up shit this world has thrown at us. We’re the only ones who have looked out for ourselves this entire time. And now, the only one who knows just how much we’ve been through is each other.” As you tried to look away, he brushed his hand over your cheek and turned you back to look into his eyes. “No one else can ever begin to know you as well as I know you. I know just how fucking lonely it is with only yourself to keep you company. We’re lucky enough to have this opportunity right now. And you know it. Whether this is what you ever wanted or not.”

He was so close to you, and you couldn’t help the tears that welled up in your eyes that threatened to spill over. He was right. You absolutely hated him for it, but he was right. You had no idea what this even meant, what could even happen from this. But before you knew it, his name blurted from your lips, the name that you had heard so often on the news over the years as the town talked about him every time something new happened in his case. Quentin. 

He closed the gap, his lips crashing into yours as you gasped softly. His hands held your face, hungrily devouring you like a man starved. You held his wrists, not to push him away but to steady yourself. The years of the lack of physical affection for the both of you only amplified each other’s touch. You were almost afraid the lack of genuine affection in his life would destroy you with the sheer force of his desire and need in this moment.

By the time the two of you organically parted, lips parted and panting as you tried to catch your breath, Quentin looked at you with an almost reverence in that moment. “You’re mine,” he panted, large hands brushing your hair back. “All mine.”

#slasher x reader #the blissfield butcher x reader #quentin shermer x reader #the blissfield butcher #quentin shermer #freaky 2020

[madlymiho]

Participating to the wonderful @nakunakunomi​‘s event! Congratulations again for the milestone, it’s always something! But you deserve it for sure! 🥰

“i’ve been falling in love with you since the first day we met”  

random word to include: skilled

I decided to pick a Zoro x Reader scenario for this one! Gender neutral is applied here, so the reader is qualified as “you”

words: 1800

( read after the cut )

Those things are never easy, he thinks, a firm hand gripping his bottle of booze with a certain strength, his only valid eye staring at the raging waves of the ocean. Another day stuck in the middle of nowhere, the tempest sending the Sunny Go far from any kind of shelter. The everlasting pitching of the boat has been hard to handle for some of the Straw Hat, and the general atmosphere has been more than tensed for a few days. They love each other so much, but it’s not always easy to compose with the various characters and behaviors onboard, especially when they have been unlucky for a week now, the tempest far from being done. If Nami remains the most skilled and capable navigator in the world, Zoro believes that her tensed features and her incapacity to drag them out of the hurricane is proof of the violence of the elements in this particular part of the world. Of course Luffy is thrilled by the adventure, and the feeling is somehow shared by everyone onboard, but all of them now wish to reach an island to have some proper rest. Even Zoro finds it hard to have a nap in these conditions, often awakened because he fell from his bed. Training also became quite impossible, and despite his best efforts to remain sociable and friendly, sometimes, his words are turning into something harsher than usual. 

Of course, he didn’t mean to hurt you tonight. He thought you would understand that it was just joking, but he saw the look in your eyes - and he felt that slap from Nami. What he believed to be genuine and friendly has been nothing but a catastrophe, and now that he’s facing the ocean, gusts of wind fondling his green hair intensely, he definitely feels miserable. He doesn’t know why he always has to act so meaningly with you, it’s a sensation he can’t fully explain. Maybe it’s also increased by the fact they are all trapped here for a week, but if Zoro is honest with himself, this kind of situation has already happened in the past, and he never had talked to someone the way he did with you tonight. Another bitter sigh escapes his throat while he presses the neck of the bottle against his lips, droplets of the transparent liquid disappearing into the sea. Life is more complicated than expected since you’re among the Straw Hats, and this is something concerning. He never had difficulties accepting a new member, but when it came to you, all of his instincts yelled at him to send you away. Your presence is unbearable since day one, and it’s not the same as his squabbles with Sanji. Something profoundly different, changing a side of him he wasn’t ever aware of. Bullshit, for him… Yet the feeling wouldn’t fade. 

“Don’t you think you owe me apologies?” A voice calls behind his back, resulting in Zoro tightening his fingers on the bottle of alcohol. He doesn’t manage to hide the tension within his muscles. 

He hears footsteps on the wooden deck heading in his direction, louder than the wind yelling around them, while he eventually understands that you’re now by his side. He clicks his tongue impatiently, and takes another sip on his bottle. 

“It was just a joke, Name, if you take it so personally, I can’t help you with that.” He answers, his voice as cold as the rain falling from the sky. 

God he’s such a jerk, he knows it. But he wants you to go away and leave him alone. He believes it would be enough to hurt you and force you to abandon the idea to have a conversation with him right now. Because deep down, having a conversation could expose his deepest emotions, and he doesn’t know if he’s ready to confess whatever he’s feeling for you. 

“Why are you like this?” You eventually ask, fingers clenched on the barrier of the Sunny. “Why are you always like this with me?” 

The question leaves your lips before you could control it, Zoro immediately turning his head to have a look on your face. You seem miserable. Of course you don’t understand ; he doesn’t either. He wishes he had an explanation, but his mind only leads him to directions he doesn’t want to explore. He doesn’t want to feel his heartbeat increases whenever you’re around. He doesn’t want to have that wrench within his guts whenever you’re talking to someone else. You’re the one responsible of his own misery, and he doesn’t believe he should make the task easy for you. 

“Because you don’t belong here.” He snaps again, his voice emphazed with the loud thunder over your heads. You shiver, shocked, but Zoro doesn’t take it back. “You should leave.” 

He wants to slap himself for pronouncing those terrible words, the two of you facing each other with an intensity he has never seen before. He looks at the rain falling all over your hair, dripping on your features, probably hiding the tears running down your cheeks. Your expression is more than heartbreaking ; something between sorrow and rage, and he feels profoundly despicable at this particular moment. He anticipates a new slap, something fair he would have earned with his miserable statement, or a burst of deserved violence coming from you. He wants you to hit him, to force him to understand that he has been too far with you, but your silence is the most terrible pain he has to experience. And your eyes. He handles your stare but it pierces him like a spear.

“I have all the rights to be on this ship.” You eventually answer to his cruel words, taking a step forward, your eyes gleaming with a certain wrath. “All the rights to be a member of the crew! How can you be such a jerk? Luffy wouldn’t have recruited me if I wasn’t wanted in the first place! Everyone on the Sunny is okay with that! So why?! Why are you like this with me?” 

Zoro clenches his jaw, unable to find the proper words now. He expected you to run away, because it’s the easiest answer, yet in front of your determination, he finds himself speechless. He raises his bottle back to his lips, but before he can appreciate the bitter taste of the alcohol, your hand crashes on the precious jar, throwing the more than needed liquid into the depths of the ocean. As he widens his valid eye, Zoro quickly catches your wrist. 

“Oï!” He growls impatiently. “What are you doing?!” 

“Answer me!” You snap, voice breaking at the end of your plea. 

With the rain, you believe it’s easy for you to escape his grip, pulling on your wrist because now you want to go away. Zoro feels it. This time it’s entirely different ; this argument could be the end of everything. A part of him wishes that it would be the final answer to his own torment, but on the other side, right now, he doesn’t want to let you go. He doesn’t want to be a coward anymore. So he holds you still, fingers digging in the skin of your wrist to maintain you there. He’s probably harming you, but he has no control over his emotions at the moment. 

“You’re hurting me!” You gasp, wiggling on your legs for him to stop. “Let go!” 

“I’m sorry!” 

His voice has been so loud that you immediately stop struggling, eyes focused on his features. He looks so different than usual… unsettled, and weak. 

“I’m so sorry, I’ve been such an asshole with you…,” he mutters one more time, as he loses his grip on your wrist. You instantly pull it against your chest, massaging the hurt skin. “I have no excuse…”

You frown, forearm still plastered against your body, while you try your best to understand this sudden statement. 

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” 

He sighs because of course you don’t. He grips the barrier of the Sunny, and stares at you right in the eyes.

“I’m sorry, for everything, for all the words I said to you. The truth is, I’ve been falling in love with you since the first day we met.”

For once, the words came smoothly, as if the struggle he has been living for months is now finally over. There’s nothing else coming from his mouth right now, the heavy rain and the powerful wind escorting this moment with their chaotic music. Ironic, after all… Everything has been chaotic with you since day one. He notices the incomprehension in your irises, looking for a taunt, something, anything familiar. He witnesses your body tremble under the revelation, your expression shifting into something entirely different. You definitely look like a lost puppy right now, and Zoro strongly hopes that he wouldn’t have to repeat himself. 

“I don’t - ” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

He doesn’t want to waste anymore time, as he takes a step forward, one hand rolled around your waist, while the other one finds its place on your nape. He pulls you against his chest, crashing his mouth on yours, because apparently, words and statements aren’t working anymore. There, lips sealed for the very first time, Zoro is able to offer you the real intensity of his own desire, until you eventually surrender to the plea. As you tilt your head, he feels your fingers coming up to disappear in his green locks, both of your bodies even more flushed than before. After a moment, he even dares to open his mouth, the tip of his tongue asking for permission, fondling your own lips with that everlasting lack of gentleness which is definitely typical when it comes to this swordsman. You indulge him, both of your tongue meeting as well, your breathing heavier than before, until you eventually have to part to seek for some fresh air.

“You… So you…” You begin to stutter, unable to escape his grip. 

“Don’t you fucking say another word, you’ll ruin this.” He groans impatiently, despite the smirk plastered on his lips, before he steals another kiss, then another one, the both of you forgetting the raging elements surrounding you, unaware of the curious stares coming from the kitchen’s windows, and Nami collecting her money after they have all bet (except Luffy who doesn’t understand what’s going on) Zoro wouldn’t confess before months. 

#one piece scenario #one piece imagines #roronoa zoro #zoro one piece #zoro x reader #one piece imagine #one piece writing #one piece prompt #writing prompt #cliche with Hazel #queued

[catxsnow]

ADMIT IT D.W.

Summary: You crush on the great Boy Wonder was a little more than obvious

Warning: Older!Damian fLiRtInG

A/N: Damian is like early twenty’s here. 

GIF not mine

Word count: 2k

It was a stormy night in Gotham. Rain poured from the dark sky and thunder boomed continuously. It seemed like any other night in that dreaded city. Day in day out, nothing but clouds and overcast. It was like the sun never shined in that city. If this was God's cruel punishment against the city, then you couldn't blame him.

Between the crime rates, the horrible citizens, and the corrupt police force, Gotham was no sanctuary. It was a city made for sinners, thugs, and those unfortunate few who had no chance of escape. You hated Gotham, you hated it enough to try and fight against the dreaded nights and sorrow days.

You worked by yourself, but it wasn't a surprise if part of Batman and crew showed up to your fight scene. They allowed you to continue your fight against crime as a vigilante, but they didn't dare trust you enough to take down important missions on your own. Sometimes you appreciated their help, most times, it was a nuisance.

It had been only a few years since you started this gig. Slowly at first, taking down petty thefts and drunk assholes. Then you started reaching the bigger leagues, the crime lords and mobsters. Soon, you became popular enough to be within Batman's radar.

The night was quiet, despite the loud thunder that rolled across the clouds. You saw the outline of Robin standing along the building edge. His cape flowed in the wind and his shadow cast upon the city as lightening struck behind him. You scoffed to yourself, but nonetheless flipped over to him.

"Dramatic much?" you asked. Judging by Robin's build, his voice, even the way he moved, you guessed that he had to have been around your age. At least, he was the closet out of all the others. You were nearing twenty-one, just shy of being able to buy your own drinks.

"Quiet out there tonight, huh?" You asked as he didn't reply. Robin seemed to tolerate you, nothing more, nothing less. He spoke very few extra words than needed and always had a snarky tone. You couldn't tell if that was because of his facade, or if that was who he really was.

Even so, after working with him several times, you couldn't help but be attracted to him. His voice, his actions, the way that he beat the ever living hell out of douchebags. Robin finally turned to face you, jumping down from the small ledge that he once stood.

"It is," he agreed. Truth be told, around you - it was an act. He would never admit that he enjoyed time with you. "That doesn't mean that you need to come bother me."

"But you're my favourite person to bother," you approached him. Damian stood still as you dragged your gloved hands up his chest and rested them at the bottom of his neck. "Why can't you just admit that you like my little visits."

"Because then I'd be falling into Batman's footsteps with Catwoman," Robin scoffed. He would never allow himself to admit that he did enjoy seeing you on the rooftops. Most times when he was on his own, he wished that you would show up to see him, even if it was just a coincidence.

His eyes would linger on you, the suit you wore was tight around every perfect curve of your body. Even the way you swaggered towards him like you knew god damn well that any man watching was eyeing you up. Damian wanted his eyes to be the only ones on you.

"Ugh," You rolled your eyes. You had a few run ins with Catwoman, none of them ending well. "I'm nothing like her. She's a thief, I fight for the good guys. I'm on your side, it's okay to admit it." You took another step closer to him so your chests touched.

You had a bad habit of shamelessly flirting with him. Robin was well aware of your attempts to flirt with him - and if he was any good at it he would have flirted back. Instead, his words came out cryptic. You often were confused by what he was feeling - his body was relaxed near you but his words said otherwise.

"Come on, Robin. Just one little word, just admit it," a Cheshire grin covered your cheeks as you stood on your toes. Your lips just barely brushed against his before pulling away. Fuck, did Damian want to pull you in, to kiss your properly after all these months of teasing him like this. You never gave him the satisfaction of what your lips truly felt like.

Damian's shoulders stiffened. He knew very little about you. Hell, he didn't even know your name, where you came from, how old you were. Yet, without knowing anything about you, he still found himself wanting to agree to your pleas. To admit that he enjoyed your company was to admit that he liked you. How could he like someone without even knowing them?

"I'll get you one day," you promised him. Damian watched as you backed away from him. The sway in your hips was entrancing and he couldn't look away. You stood up on the ledge that he was previously at. With a wink in his direction, you flipped off and soared down. Damian's breath caught in his throat, worried that you were going to fall to your death.

Not even a second later, you came flying back up again. A grappling gun was secured in the palm of your hand and your laugh echoed through the stormy night. Damian furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at his belt. You had stolen the grappling gun from him. Had you just used him to get the tech? Or did you genuinely want him to admit that he liked your visits? He wouldn't know.

"Fuck." Me.

><

Damian wished that he could get you out of his head. As Robin, as himself, he couldn't do it. He spent hours at night thinking about you, who you really were. He wanted to meet you, the real you. He tried finding out who you were, but you were careful - careful enough for Batman to have not figured it out yet.

He wanted to see you again. At night, he searched for you rather than searching for crime. He needed to see you again. This ache in his chest was driving him crazy and seeing you again was the only thing that was going to fix it. Damian was only frustrated by these feelings, he didn't want them to affect his everyday life but here he was.

It was over a week since your last encounter. He hadn't seen you, or any signs that you were even out on the streets. Damian was getting worried about you, he always saw that you were protecting the city at least once every few days. It was far too long to have no signs at all.

Damian overlooked the city from one of the tallest buildings in Gotham. It was stormy out again, this time the rain pounded against his skin, soaking him to the bone. He was cold, miserable, and was ready to call it a night and head back home.

"The Boy Wonder," a voice from behind him spoke. Damian nearly sighed in relief at the sound of your voice. He spun around to see you leaning against one of the arches. The grappling hook that you stole from him was tightly secured around your waist. He looked down at it. "Sorry, I don't exactly have the money to get one of my own, figured you'd have lots."

You weren't wrong. There were tons in the batcave, he just wasn't particularly excited to tell Batman that you had taken one from him. You strolled up to him, wiping some of the water that drenched your face off. It was useless, the rain wouldn't stop.

Damian noticed the stitches that laced up your cheek. His hand went up to your face, skimming just below where you had been cut. "What happened?" He asked, concern in his voice.

"Didn't realize you cared, Robin," you joked. As he moved his hand once more, you winced in pain. He went to lower his hand but you placed yours on top, forcing him to stay there. "Got myself into some trouble right after I saw you last. Thought I could take them, pulled out of pair of brass and well..." you trailed off. "It was nothing bad. Just a cut and some bruises. Had to stay home for a few days."

So, he was right to be worried. You were fine now, but what about the next time? What about the time that you aren't going to make it out with such ease?

"I'm fine, now," You told him, as if you were reading his thoughts. The brief look of sadness in your eyes was instantly replaced. "Better now that I'm with you.” You tried to reach for another one of his weapons but Damian was too quick. He latched onto your hand before you could steal something else of his.

You tried to interlock your fingers but, Damian pulled away and he once again went back to his rigid form. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were up here looking for me." You gestured to the high skyline and then looked back at Robin.

"I was looking to see if there was any criminal activity," Robin corrected. Lies. He was looking for you, but he wasn't going to tell you that. "But I am glad to see you aren't dead."

"Why because you'd miss me?" You teased. You jumped around him, flipping here and there to get some of the pent up energy released. Being forced to stay at home had you going stir crazy. However, with the rain making the roof top more slippery, you had lost you footing and nearly fell right off the edge. Robin had grabbed your wrist just in time, pulling you with so much force that you landed into his chest.

"Because you owe me," he referred to the grappling hook. He didn't mind you keeping it. "Twice, now."

"Mhmm, I could make up for it, right now. Up here, on this rooftop, with no one around," you suggested. The only reason that he knew you weren't completely serious was the joking tone in your voice. Yet, he swore he could feel your finger traceing his chest plate right on his skin. His thigh trapped between your legs, and you were nearly begging for attention. "Just the two of us."

He was tempted. God, was he tempted. Damian didn't care if anyone would show up, he would gladly accept your offer. But he couldn't, he knew he couldn't. So, as much as he wanted to, he denied. You pouted at him, which had made it even harder for him to decline your idea.

"Come work with Batman and I," Robin suddenly countered your offer. "The tech, the protection, at least someone will have your back so this doesn't happen again."

You pulled away from him. Batman had already offered to become a part of his team. You were sure he had a stickler for having young kids under his wing but you weren't eager to become one of them. It was easier to work alone, at least that way you would never have guilt of messing up with them.

"It was nice seeing you again, Robin," you had done the exact same thing as last time, flipping off the roof to dive into the streets. This time however, as you left, the playful smile wasn't on your face, but a frown. Were you really that offended to be working with a team? Damian was sure that you would have jumped on the opportunity to be able to see him more.

Damian frustratingly sighed. He ran a hand through his soaked hair. What was it going to take for you to join him? He just wanted you safe. Damian would never be able to forgive himself if you died while trying to save the city because you couldn't agree to work with him.

><

Avoiding Robin was easier said than done. Firstly, you didn't want to avoid him, you wanted to be there with him, teasing him like you always did. Secondly, between him, the Bats, and the others, it was near impossible to get anything done without being spotted by them. Yet, you managed.

Not being able to see Robin made you realize how much you actually liked him. It wasn't just playfully flirting, but a hope that he would in fact be able to recognize your affection. You wanted to know who he was, as a real person not as some side kick of Batman. Whoever was hiding under the mask was your number one goal to find out.

Maybe the only way to do that, was to join him.

You didn't want the pressure that being on a team came with. People relying on you? No, that wasn't something you were ready for. But maybe, with their help you could be ready for it. Maybe if they were so adamant on you joining, then they needed you just as much as you needed them.

So, instead of avoiding Robin, you searched for him. It had been weeks since you had seen him last. The gap in your visits was hard on you. It made you wonder how you could care for someone who you didn't even know. Robin thought the same thing, you just weren't aware of it.

"You must be getting tired of this rain too," You nearly jumped at the voice from behind you. Robin was leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed over his chest and a satisfied look on his face. Finally, he found you. He just wasn't aware that you let him find you, you wanted to see him again.

"By this point. I'm used to it," You answered. "Besides, getting to see you all wet like this? Mmm, that's a treat all in itself." You dragged a hand through his wet hair, having to stand up on your toes to even be able to reach. God, did you love when he got flustered to the point of not knowing what to say.

"It's been a while," Robin stated. You shrugged at him, pretending that the time that you spent away didn't bother you. Of course it did, but seeing the disappointed look on his face that you didn't seem to care? That was worth it.

"I was busy," You nonchalantly informed, waking away from him and back into the rain. It was true, you did have several busy nights but for the most part, things had been quiet, boring even. "Who do you think put Two-Face back in Arkham?"

"I figured as much," Robin stalked back over to you. He stood right by your side, brushing against your suit.

"You miss me?" You smirked up at him. He should have expected that question, you asked it nearly every time. However, the tone in your voice, the way that you were holding yourself up, it caught him off guard. You were genuinely wanting him to say that he had missed you - and after all these times that he denied it - he admitted it.

"Yes."

You looked up at him in shock. Robin always found a way to change the subject or come up with some sort of quip that ensured you that he didn't miss you when you disappeared. You could always tell that he was lying when he denied it but hearing him finally admit that he missed you meant everything to you.

Damian finally looked down to you. He didn't mean to blurt out the answer but he couldn't hide the truth any longer. Seeing you was always the highlight of his night, he couldn't deny that any longer.

"I want to see you, as much as I can," Damian continued on. He was surprising himself by these words, it was rare that he spoke of his emotions. "These little visits, they're not enough for me any longer. I need to see you, to fill this void in my chest when I'm not with you. Come work with me, please."

You were nearly as shocked by his words as he was. Robin never uttered a word of how he cared for you, how he craved to see you. Hearing him say this was everything that you ever wanted to hear. You cared for him, but could never accept that he cared for you back, he never proved it to you that he did.

After a moment of silence, Damian began to panic. Did you not feel the same way? Was the flirting just a trick? A game? No, it couldn't be.

Damian watched as you reached up towards your face, peeling of that mask that covered half your face. You met his eyes when your face was bare, revealing who you were and what you truly looked like. Damian was in awe of your beauty, everything about you was just as perfect as he had imagined.

"(Y/N)," You told him. "(Y/N) (L/N). I proved to you that I care enough about you, now prove to me that you care enough for me to join." You didn't expect him to do the same action as you - maybe one day but not yet. However, you also didn't expect what he actually did, either.

Damian kissed you.

His hands cupped the sides of your face, wishing that he didn't have these gloves on so he could feel you. Rain drops raced down your skin, between your lips that parted when needing a breath of air. Bodies pressed so close together that nothing could have broken you apart.

He kissed you with all this pent up desire that you constantly left him with. The worry that he had for you when you were on the streets by yourself. The neediness that he felt every time he was near you. He kissed you like he had cared about you for years.

Damian pulled away from you, his fingers still resting your facing. He rested his forehead against yours. This small taste of getting what he wanted didn't come close to fulfilling his desires. He needed you, constantly.

"I'll join you, Boy Wonder," you spoke barely above a whisper. "Just admit that you've been wanting to do that since the day we met because I've wanted you to do that since then."

"I admit it."

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne oneshot #damian wayne x reader #older!damian #dc imagine #dc one shot #dc #batfam #batfam imagine #fluff #batman

[spookyboywhump]

Pre-surgery Bad Timeline prompt mayhaps??? A bunch of pretty doll outfits being put in front of Cain and him being asked to pick one for Wren?

 Thank you so much for the prompt, anon!! I thought this was gonna be short and now it’s 1600 words-

CW: Pet whump, dehumanization, forced to strip (nonsexual), noncon touching (nonsexual)

***

 The two pets knelt side by side as they had been ordered to, Cain more resigned, used to this by now, while Wren sat up straight, glaring at Nicholas from his spot on the floor. In a way he was used to it too, Cain had always made them kneel and he’d always try to make himself as small as possible. He didn’t like giving Nicholas that satisfaction though, even if he kept his mouth shut, he wanted him to know how pissed he was just based on the way he looked. 

 “Darling, come here.” Nicholas said, and almost instantly Cain was on his feet, obediently making his way over to his master. He was looking over some clothes laid out on the bed, Wren hadn’t been able to see what exactly they were and he didn’t particularly care either. It seemed like he wanted Cain anyway so it didn’t matter to him, once again he found himself thinking it was ridiculous he was here at all. 

 Cain on the other hand, was miserable. He had been ever since Nicholas had brought Wren in, and he hated to admit it, but he was jealous. Wren was everything that Nicholas wanted, he was small and pretty, he still had enough fight to be interesting, he seemed to remind him so much of his precious Doll. The little pup that Cain had tortured and berated, dehumanized and belittled, he was Nicholas’ favorite, even as he swore and snapped and lashed out. The only thing he could be thankful for was that he didn’t have to deal with that defiance. 

 He stared down at the clothing Nicholas had laid out, tiredly looking the outfits over. They weren’t for him, he already knew, even when Nicholas chose to dress him nicely it was usually dress shirts and tight pants, harnesses and restraints over clothing. This was all much nicer, much lighter, pretty clothing meant for a doll, pale blue colors among the black and white, nice silk and bows. Honestly it all looked ridiculous to him, and he found himself lucky that he wasn’t meant to wear it.

 “Would you do me a favor and pick something out for Love to wear tonight?” Nicholas said, his hand resting low on Cain’s back. He hated to hear him call Wren that, one of the sweet nicknames he used to use for him, and Wren didn’t seem to like it either, looking noticeably irritated when he said it. “You always had a good eye for clothing, I thought I could use your help here.” He said, and the praise did ease the sting of everything else, even if only a little bit. 

 He kept his arms crossed over himself, only briefly glancing between Wren and the outfits laid out in front of him. Honestly he found it hard to picture the boy in any of them, he always kept him in loose, plain clothing, that’s what he was used to seeing him in anyway. Wren might have been cute, but he didn’t see what Nicholas seemed to see in him, the more bitter part of him, the part of him that still felt like he owned Wren, felt like the boy didn’t even deserve this, not after how he’d been behaving. He didn’t own Wren though, Nicholas did, and he valued Wren far more than he did Cain. He forced himself to bury his feelings over the situation, for now anyway. He’d been given an order, after all, and he didn’t put much thought into the one he chose, that soft blue sweater that would likely still leave him cold paired with the short black skirt. He didn’t care, and he almost didn’t care how Wren felt about it either. Wren hadn’t done anything to him, but he found himself almost hoping he disliked it. 

 Wren didn’t really care what he chose, he knew he’d hate it no matter what. Anything Nicholas could’ve picked out had to be horrible, Cain’s input really didn’t matter. Still, he felt sick when he finally came to a decision, and a sick smile crossed Nicholas’ face. 

 “Love, come try this on for me.” He said, glancing over at him.

 “Nope.” He said bluntly, staying exactly where he was. 

 “Come here.” He said, much more stern this time, but Wren wouldn’t even look at him, sitting there with his arms crossed like a stubborn child. He hoped he was getting on the man’s nerves, it would be at least one small victory because he knew he wouldn’t just get away with this. Any small act of defiance felt better than giving in though, anything was better than earning praise from that bastard. His victory didn’t last long though, as he expected Nicholas left his spot by Cain, and though Wren tried to scramble away from him, he was roughly grabbed by the hair, dragged over to where Nicholas wanted him even as he cried out in pain, trying to free himself. He expected to be thrown to the floor, he was used to that by now, but instead Nicholas grabbed the hem of his shirt, wrestling it off him. 

 “Fucking- Let go of me!” He yelled, trying to jerk away even as Nicholas kept a tight grip on his thin arm, likely to leave a bruise. 

 “Darling, hold him still for me.” Nicholas said calmly. 

 “I swear to fucking god, Cain, if you touch me I’m going to beat the shit out of you.” He snarled when he got near him, and he was smart enough to back off, worriedly looking between him and Nicholas, who was quickly getting sick of Wren’s struggling, hitting him hard on the back of his head and forcing him to his knees. A different shirt was forced over his head, the material softer than the clothes he’d been wearing before. It was slightly too big for him, or maybe just designed this way, slipping off one shoulder to reveal his brand, and he tried to adjust it to hide that as best he could. He was dragged to his feet again, but he shoved Nicholas away when he tried to get his pants off him, trying to dart away only to be grabbed by the hair again, Nicholas roughly yanking him towards him.

 “Stay still.” He ordered him, sounding like Wren was on his last nerve though. “If you had behaved I’d have let you do this yourself, this is your fault he reminded him. He had to get Cain to hold his wrists behind his back, somehow through his struggling and kicking Nicholas got his pants off and the skirt on him, and while he didn’t actually mind the idea of wearing a skirt, the idea of wearing a skirt because Nicholas made him do it pissed him off more than anything. 

 “This is fucking ridiculous, I’m not your fucking doll to play dress up with!” He snapped, trying to get away from Cain who was genuinely doing his best to keep him still. He was caught off guard when Nicholas suddenly slapped him, his head snapping to the side as the stinging pain spread across his cheek, only for him to grab his face, forcing him to look at him. Despite the tears in his eyes he glared at the man, refusing to look anymore scared of him than he had to. 

 “I know you’re not very smart, Love, but you need to understand that you’re my pet, and I’m allowed to do whatever I fucking want with you.” He told him, his voice low and steady, threatening even. “It would be in your best interest to stop this little fit you’re throwing and do as you’re told.” He warned him, and rather than grace him with a response, Wren decided to accept whatever punishment this would earn him, he spit in his face without a second thought about it.

 Even Cain wasn’t able to keep him standing, he was on the floor the instant Nicholas hit him. 

 ***

 Wren stood there seething with anger, his wrists cuffed in front of him. He was just barely following Nicholas’ rules, staying quiet and not causing trouble for him or his guests, simply there to look pretty- and he hoped the scowl on his bruised face would be enough to ruin that. He hated everything about this, he hated the pretty clothing he’d been forced into, he hated that all of his struggling and defiance before hadn’t been enough to make Nicholas give up on him, and he hated that people kept looking at him. 

 “Well he’s certainly pretty.” A man said, one of Nicholas’ friends he assumed, he grabbed his face with no concern for the very obvious bruise and Wren winced from the pain, wanting nothing more than to give the man the same treatment he’d given Nicholas. He silently glared at him, but he seemed to find it more amusing than anything. 

 “He is, as long as he’s keeping his mouth shut.” Nicholas said, and while it was a relief to be pulled away from the stranger, he wasn’t happy with the way Nicholas kept an arm around his waist, holding him close so he could keep an eye on him, keep him from lashing out or snapping at anybody. Right now Wren wished he could trade places with Cain, the fucker had looked hurt to be left behind but Wren would’ve done anything to get out of this. He felt trapped with Nicholas’ arm around him, he wasn’t sure if it was his anxiety or if people were actually looking at him enough to make him feel uncomfortable, and the only way he could hide that fear and discomfort was with anger, a scowl plastered on his face, a tactic he picked up from somebody else he knew. He could only hope that it would be as effective for him, wanting nothing more than to keep people away.

#whump #my writing #my oc's #Wren #Cain #Nicholas #Bad Timeline #pet whump #forced to strip #Anonymous

[staticscreenwriting]

Skin deep - Chapter One || B.H.

Synopsis: Billy survived the battle of Starcourt but is left with a body full of scars. Scars that remind him of the pain he had to go trough and the horrible person he has become. In order to forget about all of that and move on, he wants to get them covered up. Good thing Hawkins has a brand new Tattoo studio and the girl who works there might just be the help Billy has been looking for.

A/N: I needed a TattooArtist!Reader x Billy story so I wrote one and you know me, I can’t keep it short and simple. There will be several parts to this. Don’t ask me about an updating schedule because I don’t have one. I try my best to be consistent but I make no promises. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. 

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Billy’s palms are clammy as he steps out of his car. His eyes wander towards the sign hanging above the door, welcoming him to “Little Bear Tattoos” as an American traditional bear face grins back at him.

This isn’t his first time getting a tattoo, by all means, he shouldn’t be as nervous as he is. But things are different now. Everything is different. Things change after you almost die because you sacrificed yourself to an otherworldly creature to save a little girl.

He had just turned 18 when he got that stupid little skull inked onto his arm. That’s now just a little over a year ago but it seems like a lifetime has passed since then. Sometimes, Billy thinks, sometimes It feels like that was another person altogether. That dumb little boy who thought he knew shit. The one that paraded his tattoo around like a complete and utter douchebag. He thought it made him look rough and cool and dangerous.

In retrospect, it just made it more obvious that he didn’t know shit about anything. Not life. Not death. And most definitely not about what it means to look rough and cool and dangerous. Sometimes he wishes he could go back to that moment and just relish in ignorant bliss. Most of the time he tries not to think of the past though because thinking of the past means thinking of all the things lost that night in July. Most of all himself.

Back then, getting a tattoo was easy. Now, it feels like the entire world is resting on his shoulders. It feels like he can barely keep it all from crashing down on him. 

The bell above the door chimes as he steps inside the tattoo parlor. It’s a relatively small shop but it looks clean and the walls are covered in framed drawings of very intricate designs. If those have been drawn by this place’s artist, he’s in good hands.

A fluffy little brown dog is lazily resting on a pillow by the shop window and only raises his head as the sound of footsteps approaching fills the room.

“ Hi, welcome to little bear. “ a cheery voice calls out to him as a girl steps out from behind a curtain leading to some backroom. She has a big radiant smile on her face though it exudes a certain warmth that only genuine smiles do. 

“ Hi uh — I was wondering if you have a free spot. “ 

“ Hmm… that depends. What are you wanting to get? “ 

To be quite honest, he hadn’t really thought much about it. All he wanted was something to cover up the ugly scars still streaking most of his body. When before, he felt a certain kind of pride whenever he passed a mirror, now it sends a sharp pain straight to his heart. Everything about him, from the perpetually tired look in his eyes to the scars, it’s al a reminder of the bad things he’s done. And the worst part is that he can never talk to anyone about it. Ever. No one will understand but the people who’ve been there, and though he and Max are getting along much better now, he still doesn’t fancy having long profound conversations with her about his demons.

“ I uh — I’m not sure but it needs to cover something.” 

“ Old tattoo? “ 

Billy swallows audibly “scars.” 

He’s not sure what reaction he’s expected from her but a casual “Okay, we can figure something out. “ is not it. Though he avoids wearing short sleeves these days, whenever someone manages to catch a glimpse of his damaged skin he got 1 of two reactions. Either people started regarding him with pity or disgust and he honestly wasn’t sure which was worse. At least those disgusted by him left him well enough alone and didn’t hold a million questions they expected him to answer in great detail.

“ Let’s sit down and we can talk about some things you like and see how we can incorporate those into a tattoo. Also, I would have to take a look at the area you want me to tattoo and see how bad the scarring is just so I can take that into consideration when designing the piece. Scar tissue is harder to tattoo but don’t worry, I promise I can do it. “

“ You’re gonna be tattooing me? “

It seems like a dumb question but honestly, Billy hasn’t met or seen that many female tattoo artists in his life and this girl seems to be about his age. That’s not something you see every day.

“ Yup. I’m (Y/N), this is my shop. Now, do you want something to drink while we discuss the piece? I got all kinds of sodas, I got water and I got non-alcoholic beer. 

“ Dr. Pepper? “ 

“ Good choice. Coming right up. “ 

She walks behind the counter with the cash register and reaches into a small fridge taking out two cans of Dr. Pepper before leading him towards a little seating area by the window. 

The fluffy little dog lifts his head once again regarding the two of them with only mild interest before plopping back down. 

“ Oh, you okay with dogs? I can take him to another room if you’re uncomfortable. “

Billy shakes his head. Nah, he loves dogs. Always wanted one but Neil, being the miserable bastard he is, never allowed the kids to have any pets. Too much work, too much responsibility. What an asshole. 

Though Billy is never going to admit it, the bedside drawer, that was once filled with issues of Penthouse magazine, now holds a bunch of self-help books and magazines dealing with topics of PTSD and trauma. A lot of them mention getting a support animal whether that be a specially trained dog or just a hamster to keep you company. It makes sense, it gives you someone who listens to you vent about all your problems and insecurities. If only his dad cared enough about his mental state to reconsider his stance on pets. Then again, when has Neil ever cared about him?

“Nah, it’s fine don’t worry. He’s cute.”

“Thanks. His name is Bear and he’s kind of the mascot of this store.”

There’s a twinkle of pride in her eyes while she talks about the shop and her dog. Something Billy is infinitely envious of. Everything he’s ever felt any hint of pride in is gone. His car. His looks. All of it.

“Okay so tell me a little about yourself. Is there anything you can think of that you’d like to get inked? Any interests, hobbies? Maybe you wanna tell me a little about yourself.”

Back before, when things were different, Billy would’ve packed as much ego enlarging words and compliments into it as possible. Would’ve mentioned his car and his most satisfactory performance skills in the bedroom. But now, he hardly knows who he is these days. 

“ Um … my name is Billy. I’m 19, I’m from California. ‘Bout two years ago my dad packed us all up and had us move out here to the end of the world. Then … things happened.”

“You miss California?”

“Every day. The thought of going back one day is the only thing that keeps me fucking going. I miss the ocean. I miss surfing. I miss home. I miss all of it.”

She looks at him intensely for a moment, sizing him up, contemplating her next words. He can almost see the creative gears running in her head. 

“Alright. I might have an idea. I’d have to see the area first though.”

He expects pity in her voice though there is none. Her words are comforting and warm and calm. Billy wonders how often she has to deal with clients like him. Those who come to her with painful and ugly reminders of their past.

His hands are shaking as he pulls off his denim jacket and reveals his left arm to her. The skin is streaked with scars. They’re the same paths that used to wind up and down his arm in inky black hues like poisonous vines. Now they’re a faded pink but that doesn’t mean he hates them any less.

Billy can feel his heart beating in a fast rhythm as anxiety floods his system. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe -

“Okay how big would you want to go,” (Y/N) asks, her voice gentle and soothing and her eyes switching from his arm to his eyes. She doesn’t ask him what happened and that’s a relief.

“As big as you can. I know you can’t make it disappear but I’d like as much of it covered as possible.”

“ I won’t be able to do an entire sleeve today but if that’s something you want we can start with a bigger piece on your upper arm today and then work our way to a full sleeve in the future?”

“Sounds good. I just want the scars gone. I need them covered.”

“Well my guy, you’ve come to the right place. It’s my specialty. You’re in luck too, I’m free all day so depending on your pain tolerance and the trauma of your skin, we might even be able to finish the first piece today.”

Pain tolerance, he wants to scoff at that. What he’s been through, the pain and the anguish and the emotional trauma, nothing will ever compare to that. Not even close. He’d get a 100 tattoos all at once and it still wouldn’t measure up.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

“Cool awesome! Imma go over to the drawing board and you can feel free to keep yourself entertained in the meantime. We have an arcade machine in the back. There’s records in the corner if you want to listen to some music. I’ll even let you choose.”

“Is that an honor?” Billy asks, a small smirk on his face. Every once in awhile a flicker of the person he used to be shines through. But then it’s gone and he’s left as this shadow of his former self.

“Oh you have no idea.”

As (Y/N) settles behind a big wooden table and starts scribbling away, Billy wanders over towards the corner of the studio. A bright red record player is resting on a sideboard surrounded by several boxes filled with vinyl records. They’re sorted by band name then chronologically. There’s all kinds of genres too. AC/DC and Judas Priest but also Stuff like The Mamas and the Papas and the Monkees.

“Anything, in particular, you wanna listen to? Kinda hard to make out your taste with this selection. There’s … everything.” Billy calls out to her, leaving through the records.

“What can I say? I like a bit of everything. Don’t like to limit myself.”

Old Billy would’ve raised his eyebrow and asked her if that extends to her love life as well. But old Billy is gone and so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I know it seems like just your kinda music, but maybe stay away from the hard rock. Maybe something a bit more mellow.”

He hasn’t really listened to a lot of music since … well since everything. He mostly sleeps or reads and sometimes when it’s a good day he even attempts to do a bit of writing. It’s nothing spectacular but it’s - something. An outlet really. The stories vary from an autobiographical retelling of the incident to silly tales of young boys going on space adventures. It's a way to get lost in the save parts of his mind. The ones that can create make-believe worlds and happy thoughts. Not the ones tainted with gruesome images of the past.

The opening notes the Monday Morning by Fleetwood Mac fill the air and Billy doesn’t miss the smile tugging on the corner of (Y/N)’s lips. 

“Nice. Didn’t really think you were a Fleetwood Mac fan.”

Billy shrugs his shoulders casually “they’re a classic.”

He sits back down in the seat by the window, watches as the clouds pass the sky and the people go about their day. That’s until a furry little ball of fluff settles down in his lap and demands to be cuddled.

“Oh hey, you.”

“Sorry about that. Bear does not understand the concept of personal boundaries. He thinks everyone is only here to pet him. If he bothers you just set him down.”

But he doesn’t mind one bit. In fact, combing his fingers through the curly brown fur fills Billy with a sense of calm and it grounds him a little. He really needs to adopt a dog for himself. 

“It’s fine. No bother.”

Time passes with Billy cuddling the dog and ever so often glancing over at (Y/N) while she’s working on the sketch. She’s drawing then erasing then redrawing. Copying then throwing it away then doing it all again. All the while she’s dancing along to the music. There’s a lightness about her that Billy wishes he could possess. Even before the Stacourt situation, he never had this unbothered lightness about him. That’s just not the person you turn into when you grow up in a house with Neil Hargrove.

A light drizzle falls outside and Stevie Nicks sings along to it and life feels … almost peaceful right then. Billy lives for these small moments of normality. These glimmers of what life used to be. 

“Okay, I’m ready. Wanna have a look?” 

There’s a bright smile on her face as she looks at him and waves the sketch around. “I think I nailed this one. I hope you’ll like it.“

Billy can see that she actually means it. It's not just a silly phrase she’s tagged onto her sentence. She’s genuinely nervous for him to see it.

Bear follows Billy as he walks toward the counter, a smiley (Y/N) watching their every move. There’s something about how passionate she is about her work that makes Billy both happy and sad. There used to be things in life that he was passionate about. His car. His clothes. The music he loved. Now it’s all dull and trivial and he’s lost. So damn lost.

His eyes wander towards the sheet of paper. Delicate black lines run across the page, swirling and arching and creating a beautiful composition. It’s a lighthouse. A tall and sturdy one. It shines it’s light out into the distance to guide the ships safely around the sharp edges of the cliffs. It’s a beacon of safety and hope surrounded by the rough sea and crashing waves.

“I thought it was a nice symbol, you know. Light in the dark. Guiding ships to safety.” (Y/N) explains. She’s biting her lip nervously and Billy thinks it’s insanely adorable. This piece is perfect, to think she’s uncertain and nervous about his reaction …

“I tried to incorporate the ocean and the crashing waves. You know, as a reminder of your life in California.”

Billy is speechless for a moment. Everything he wanted. All the ideas swirling around in his head. She put it down on paper, made them visible. And he didn’t even have to voice them. They were all just mushy gray clouds in his head, non forming a coherent picture. Just a feeling. A feeling of peace and belonging. Of being strong when everything around you tries to push you down to your knees.

“Do you like it? I can change it if you —“ 

“I love it!”

Her mood immediately changes after hearing those words. As if a switch is suddenly flipped and sunshine floods her face. Her eyes light up and her smile widens.

“Okay perfect! Wanna get started?” 

“Sure, let’s do it!”

The black leather chair is soft underneath him as (Y/N) puts the stencil onto his skin. She has a soft gentle touch which only matches the tone of her voice. Very calming. A complete opposite to the rest of Billy’s life.

“Okay, so it’s not gonna be pleasant since I have to tattoo over scar tissue. If you wanna tap out or take a break just let me know.”

He’s fairly sure that whatever pain he’ll have to endure, it will be nothing compared to what he’s already been through. Pain has a completely different meaning to him now. 

“I’ll be fine.”

And he means it. Not just about the tattoo, about everything. It feels like this is the first step into a new life. One that won’t be determined by his past mistakes. By the trauma.

The buzzing sound of the tattoo gun fills the air and (Y/N) starts pulling the first few lines. Short strokes. As if to test his pain tolerance. Her eyes wander up to meet his, a silent question shining through them.

He grants her a nod. One of pure determination. One that says, without question: “I’ll be fine!”

For a while, they sit in comfortable silence. There’s just the humming of the machine and the raspy voice of Stevie Nicks to lull them into a soft tranquility. 

“ I’m not gonna ask about the scars but can I ask about the skull on the other arm?”

Billy lets out a mix between a laugh and a scoff. “Sins of my youth really.”

“ Oh geez, that makes you sound so old. You’re what, 19?”

“ Almost 20.”

“ See. You’re still in the prime of your youth!”

Billy shrugs his shoulder as she dips the tattoo gun back into the ink. Truthfully, it doesn’t feel like he’s in the middle of his youth. He feels so damn tired. He never got to be a kid. Never got to be a teen. Always wandering in between it all, lost and disillusioned with no one there to guide or help him.

“ How old are you?”

“ Just turned 20 a few days ago.”

“And you already have your own shop. That’s impressive.”

“Yeah well, it’s all I ever wanted to be. Worked my ass off. Spent all my free time at my cousin's tattoo studio up in Carmel. He taught me everything I know. Worked after school and on the weekends and then when I graduated my cousin gave me a little loan and I had enough to open the shop. He believed in me when no one else did and it means everything to me. Hope I make him proud. I just always felt like this is what I'm meant to be. An artist. And this way my art gets immortalized on people’s skin and in some cases it can help them overcome difficult times in their lives. I hope I can make even the smallest change in people’s lives. “

It doesn’t get lost on him, that she doesn’t mention her parents. Something must be up there but it sure as hell isn’t his place to ask about it. Families, he knows quite well, can be a touchy subject.

“Well, you’re definitely making a change in mine.”

“Yeah?”

She looks almost bashful as the question tumble from her lips.

“Yup. I … I need to make those scars disappear. They — they remind me of the worst time in my life and of a version of myself I never want to be again. Having you cover them for me with this art piece that’s so fucking cool, it means everything.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“You should be proud of yourself.”

There’s a connection there, one he can neither grasp nor explain. It’s like she understands parts of him he doesn’t even put on display. And it’s both scary and exciting. And maybe, he understands parts of her she’s not aware she’s putting on display either.

“Okay. I’m done!”

There’s an infinite sense of pride exuding from her words. Billy wishes there was something in his life that he was good at. Something to let him be proud of himself.

“Wanna take a look?” (Y/N) asks with the most radiant smile playing on her face.

“Absolutely!”

His legs are stiff from sitting in the chair for so long but he can’t wait to see the finished piece. Slowly he walks towards the full-length mirror, (Y/N) hot on his heels.

His eyes fall onto the artwork now permanently inked into his skin. There are vibrant shades of blue and dark black lines. The sea is alive, it’s unforgiving and rough. But there’s the light from the lighthouse, the hope, the safety. It’s all there’s and it’s beautiful. Where there used to be ugly pink scars thick and burning, there’s now a beautiful painting. The scars are gone. The pain is gone. All that’s left is beauty and hope.

He doesn’t realize that tears are running down his cheek until she hands him a tissue. His first reaction is to wipe them away and pretend they weren’t there in the first place. A Hargrove man isn’t allowed to cry. Not in front of people anyway. Especially not in front of women. Hargrove men are bitter and numb. They’re stoic. Silent. Angry. Above all they’re sad.

But isn’t that the person he wants to leave behind?

So he lets himself feel it. Lets the tears fall as if it were nothing. 

Maybe this can be the next step into becoming the person he wishes so desperately he can be.

“I take it you like it?”

“I love it.”

And he hugs her. Pulls her close and tight as if he’s known her forever. She reciprocates the hug in no time. Softly oats him on the shoulder.

She smells like flowery perfume and clean cotton. Soft. Sweet. Intoxicating

“I can not thank you enough.”

“Billy, trust me this means as much to me as it does to you.”

He doesn’t disagree with her but he’s sure that’s not true. It means everything to him.

They talk for a little longer then he pays her, way too little if you ask him. She deserves way more and he suspects that some kind of personal sympathy plays into the price. But he’s not one to argue. Not when he’s sure he’ll come back. There are more scars. More pain. He’s not fixed but he’s at least a work in progress now.

She takes a few Polaroids of his tattoo, to put on her wall. To show people she can cover scars. Can help them. Help fix them. Make them feel less broken. 

“They’re burn scars.”

Billy finds himself sharing a piece of his story. One he’s kept so close to him, sometimes he almost wondered if it was true. But it is. And there are more reminders all over his body. It feels right to share it though. She helped him cover part of it, without judging. Without questions. She deserves to know.

“Huh?”

“My scars. They are burn scars.  Not — not from the outside but from the inside. Like fire going through my veins. I uh don’t know how to explain but that’s what they are. You can tell that to your clients. That you covered burn scars. That you’re that talented. “

For a moment she just stares at him, a deep sense of affection shining from her eyes. It’s comforting and nerve-wracking all at once. But he lets himself feel it. He promises himself to let himself feel the good things even if they seem scary.

“That’s … hey, would you like to grab some dinner with me? I could really go for a burger at the diner round here. It’s real good. “

And with the way she smiles, how the hell is he supposed to say no to that.

“Sounds good to me. Lead the way!”

The sun hangs low above the horizon almost dips behind the line to vanish and make room for the moon but not quite yet. They step out into the dawn, Bear pattering alongside them his leash grabbed tightly in (Y/N) hand. 

As hues of red and pink and orange surround them and dip the world into a golden haze, Billy feels like maybe this is the way. Maybe this is his path leading into a new future. With less pain. Fewer scars. More color and more smiles.

And maybe a beautiful and talented girl and a little dog by his side.

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