#gives you those sad dark eyes to lure you in

[yawarakaizai]

pm!dazai taking reader on a date after school, but it’s somehow awkward! tried to get you a stuffie from a claw machine but failed miserably, so he shot the glass out of frustration.. something like that hehe ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

ⵌ HANGIN' OUT THE PASSENGER SIDE OF HIS BEST FRIEND'S RIDE

SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT PM Dazai Osamu (BSD) CONTENTS You were a horrible pair. You two were unlikely and the path ahead of you could have never predicted such thing to happen. You aren't sure why or how, but you found yourself the centre of Osamu Dazai's attraction. NOTE fluff, reader and dazai are 16/17, brief chuuya, jealousy, young love COMPANY No Scrubs

A/N wrote th is thro ughou t th e sch ool d ay ;3; forgi ve any mist a kes or rush ed writ ing !!! eeeeeeE EEEE i lov requ ests ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

It was embarrassing at this point.

You disliked bringing any sort of unwanted attention to yourself more than anything else. And yet, you owe it to the brunette by your side who attracted stares like a magnet.

" Owwh, fuck! " His drawn out swear accompanied by the stomping of his shoe against the carpeted floor. It's biometric, vibrant patterns splattered across a dark black background sickened you to stare for too long.

" I told you, these are a scam ", you attempted to protest against his insistence that he was sure to win this time, no take-backs. " Why not buy a ticket to the bowling alley instead of wasting it on these? " You remained temperate in opposition to his rowdy and indecent behaviour. You adopted the traits of an older sister, or a mother.

" No way! I spent too much to give up now. " Your head ached. " Look, if I keep inching it closer to the drop, I'll be sure to get it. "

And so, the poor joystick would continue to be abused, 200 yen being inserted into the comparator with every miss, Dazai's agitation growing with each failure.

It had been a sultry evening after school. Gathering your belongings and preparing to take the daily commute home, the pitter-patter of heavy footsteps ran behind you to reveal none other than Dazai Osamu.

He was somewhat of an enigma to everyone who knew him, even those that never exchanged a word with him knew of his name.

Dazai had a horrible track-record and even worse attendance. With a mysterious bandage over his right eye.

Despite his lack of punctuality and participation in classes, he not once has ever failed an exam. Many rumours circulated that he'd cheat - though no evidence of such was ever received. Others thought he must've slept his way to good grades.

Or, he was just inhumanely intelligent.

" Y/N! Y/N! " His ecstatic voice beckoned you to stop walking as he had finally caught up to you, bending over to catch his breath. " Let's visit the arcade together! "

You didn't know what possessed you to accept.

" Oy! Leave 'er alone, moron. Some people actually have work to get to after school. "

And there was his companion, Chuuya. Underestimating him is like a death wish. He was short. Horribly, unfortunately short. Sometimes, you'd feel bashful for the fact he'd have to look up at you sometimes.

Unlike Dazai, Chuuya's absence from school wasn't intentional.

No, not at all. Chuuya never missed a day of school on his own accord. His record full of missed days were from suspensions.

Often getting into fights with anyone, he has never lost a fight.

The duo had a dynamic you couldn't quite grasp.

And then there was you in the middle of it all.

Dazai had lured you into the friend-group about two years ago, when you were all put in the same base class and Dazai, in his extroverted glory, made attempts to suck up to all in class.

You listened to how the girls would swoon and whisper amongst themselves about the legend that was Dazai Osamu, and once he reached you, you couldn't be less impressed than what he had to offer.

" Oh, c'mon Y/N! It won't take too long, we never hang out anymore! "

His sad attempt at desperate puppy eyes lightened your day a little, so you thought you should humour him, just this once.

You didn't know much about Dazai and Chuuya's private life and you didn't pry into the territory either.

All you knew was that they were filthy rich and had a connection to the principal, Ogai Mori. Otherwise, they would've been expelled a long time ago.

" Let it go, Dazai. It's not worth it. " You put your hand on his shoulder as he leaned forward, nose barely touching the glass of the claw machine as he tried to focus on getting just what he wanted.

" But you looked at it! " He whined, digging into his pockets as the machine played a sound of defeat. " And? "

" And that means I need to get it for you! "

He insisted profusely that it'll be worth it, and you continued to doubt him. You've been standing by his side for thirty minutes at this point and not once has he won a prize.

You remarked to him that the game was purposely rigged, pointing out how weak the claw was and estimating the plushies within were weighing a little over the maximum capacity something so weak would be able to grasp for more than two seconds. That, and also how the claw would never close properly, inching in barely and dropping what toy it had luckily managed to hold onto.

And that degrading sound of humiliation. A squeaky, robotic coquettish voice repeating itself 'Better luck next time!' over and over.

Dazai was not losing to a machine.

Your stomach grumbled with hunger, and it was becoming clear that you both were growing with unrest at this machine.

" You kids still going at that? "

An arm propped itself on top of the roof of the claw machine, you looked up to see a worker had made his way over to you both. Dazai, did not look up from the game.

" I tried to get him to stop ", you mumbled, looking away from him. You'd always get shy at people older than you. You weren't exactly timid, but you were raised to be respectful. " He wants to win it for me. " It sounded oddly romantic when you put it that way.

" Yeah? You sure he can do it? " The man laughed at the truth. " So you two are on a date? " He overstayed his welcome and you began to wonder if it was usual for employees to wedge themselves into customers business.

" Yeah. We are. " Dazai answered for you, slotting in more coins for yet another try.

" Here, move li'l man, I got this. " Shoving Dazai away by the hip, the white-haired man. Begrudgingly, Dazai said nothing.

And almost with no effort at all, the man easily got the claw to clasp around the exact seal plush you wanted.

He must have been watching you both for a while to know what you wanted.

Although you kept assuring Dazai you didn't need it, you couldn't help the way your eyes sparkled as the man handed it to you with a smug smile.

" Oh! Thank you, sir! Thank you! " You took it from his hand with joy, looking at the fat cushion with adoration. It was simply adorable! You bowed your head repeatedly in gratitude, though felt it was simply not enough.

You almost forgot about Dazai until your ears deafened with the sound of a loud bang and the crashing of glass.

On impulse, you dropped to your knees with your hands over your ears protectively, unsure as to what just happened. Peeking through your tightly shut eyes, you saw that you were the only one to have dropped down and everyone else was as normal as ever.

Before you were even able to question, you uncovered your ear to hear Dazai converse with the man.

" How sad, I guess when you're making minimum wage you figure out how to make your job interesting. " Dazai cocked his pistol like second nature, and behind the legs of the employee you were crouched behind, you peered between his legs up at Dazai with wide, lost eyes.

Looking down at you, Dazai looked pissed.

" Didn't mean to scare you. Get up, we're leaving. "

The employee and Dazai seemed to know each other. You figured by the way the older man was cool about the whole ordeal, almost like he'd done everything intentionally.

You shakily rose to your feet, at a loss for words, and stared with astonishment as Dazai began to gather multiple stuffed toys from the now-broken claw machine and hold them in his arms after tucking his pistol away.

" But- you- the- "

You tripped over your words and found yourself unable to comprehend what had just happened.

" Not gonna run way with your Clyde, Bonnie? " The employee joked, stepping out of your way.

You felt this to be illegal. Maybe because it was. You did not want to aid in a robbery even if the employee was not actively stopping you. Before you could even act, Dazai grabbed you by the arm and ran ahead of you, dragging you behind him as he laughed, your other arm held tightly around the seal plush, afraid to let it go.

" Holy shit, I was so cool! " He shrilled, your shorter legs barely able to keep up with his strides.

" Dah-zai! " You panted out as he kept on running.

Your adrenaline rang in your ears and the heart in your chest beat rapidly as the two of you ran, jumped, hopped over valleys, onto the stepping stones of the river and through the bushes of the dark forest.

" Y/N! "

Dazai yelled out to you. At this point, many plushies in his arms had fallen, yet your intertwined hands never once budged open.

" Whah! Wh-What! " You tried to match his energy, but you were far too exhausted.

Finally, you both collapsed into the cold grass surrounding by large oak trees.

The night sky looking down on wild star-crossed students.

" I think I.. think I love you, Y/N " He said between deep breaths, both your limbs spread out as you tuned to the sound of crickets, the birds and the rapid breathing of one another.

You didn't know what you were thinking, or if you were even thinking coherently, though..

" I think I love you too, 'samu. "

©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3

#dazai x reader #pmzai #pm dazai x reader #port mafia dazai x reader #bsd x reader

[little-diable]

One day you're gone – Tommy Shelby

Let's just ignore the fact that songs are my biggest inspiration, ok? Alright. Inspired by "one day you're gone" by "gavn!". I know this is super angsty, but I think it's a beautiful fic, so please give it a chance. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: She died years ago, and yet he still dreams of her, forced to relive their moments together every single night

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, loss of his wife (sorry for killing us off), this is sad, like really

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (1.3k words)

One day you're here and one day you're gone, you beat to the drum but you keep movin' on, ain't nobody knows when the next name's called, ‘cause one day you're here and one day you're gone

He dreamt of her, hands trembling from feeling his fingers interlaced with hers just moments before waking, heart racing from clinging to her like a blanket made to protect his shuddering body, lips tingling from kissing her breathless, at least in his dream. 

Those were the nights where Tommy woke with a cry, unable to wipe away the tears clinging to his cheeks as he choked on his gasps. Ever since he had been a little boy, he had been forced to let go of people, a dull pain Tommy had slowly adapted to. Until (y/n) had been ripped from his side, leaving him and the life they had begun to build together. 

He dreamt of her nightly, of their moments together, from childhood memories, to their wedding day. He saw it all so clearly as if he was watching recordings, though not in black and white and without sound, but full of colour. A bright splash of life like she had been, the light in his darkness, the colour in his grey life, the guiding hand that was now one with the soil he still felt clinging to his fingers. 

“Today we mourn the loss of our (y/n), daughter, friend, wife.” Tears blurred Tommy’s vision as he stood near the coffin, hands interlaced in front of himself to try and stop his hands from trembling. He, Arthur, some of their friend’s and (y/n)’s father had carried the coffin up to the grave, unable to speak as the weight of their sadness weighed them down. 

“Thomas.” The bucket filled with soil was reached out for him to take, forcing his eyes to find the dark ones of their pastor. With a shaky exhale leaving him, he let his fingers disappear in the cold soil, taking just enough to throw it down onto her coffin, covering a small part of the dark wood. 

“How could you do this to me?” His voice carried exhaustion, speaking to those who were listening, the holy Father promising to protect those finding his way to him, people like (y/n) who had been ripped from this life too early. 

Tommy rose to his feet as his fingers found a cigarette, alighting it before making his way out his empty bedroom. One of the places that held too many memories. One of the places he couldn’t part from just yet because his nose could still pick up on the scent of her perfume, because his eyes could still see her soft frame lying next to him, even though it had been years. 

“Oh, Tommy.” She had her back arched off the mattress, legs wrapped around his middle. The two had gotten married hours ago, saying yes to one another in the company of their families and friends, finally reunited after the war. Tears had been shed that day, tears that were falling now once again, though these tears were urged on by desperation, by love, by lust. 

His hips met hers with every thrust, drawing moans from (y/n) as his cock nudged her sweet spot. Tommy couldn’t rip his eyes from her features, the beautiful face he had thought of in France, clinging to his memories as if they were the oxygen he needed to survive. 

“My beautiful wife,” his words left (y/n) moaning, walls fluttering around his cock. The scent of her perfume wrapped itself around Tommy, luring him even further into the grasp she had on his body and soul, a promise made to last for eternity, a promise broken in only a few months time. 

“I love you, Thomas, I always will.” 

Rain was pouring from the sky, as if nature was sharing Tommy’s pain, missing the one who had spent most of her time in their garden, the one who had talked to the flowers as if they were her friends, the one who had watched birds pick up the seeds she had left for them as if they were pilgrims sharing her path. A kind hearted soul who had paid the price for a life Tommy hadn’t been able to protect her from. 

Tommy didn’t know how to make it through life without (y/n) by his side, he hadn’t lived a single day without her being part of his closest circle, glued together from birth, brought together by their mothers who had been friends for years. Ever since their first days together, Tommy had loved her, first as a friend, then as a lover, then as a husband, and now as a widower. 

“Can I kiss you?” Tommy’s voice filled the evening, forcing her wide eyes towards his bright ones. 

“What?” Nervous chuckles bubbled out of the young girl. She struggled to hold eye contact with Tommy, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, unable to rip herself away from the boy. It was Tommy’s fourteenth birthday, celebrating his day with (y/n) glued to his side, chasing him through the streets both knew like the back of their hands. 

“It’s my birthday wish.” Heat flushed through her as Tommy carefully cupped her cheek. She knew that he had kissed other girls before, locking lips with those she envied, but not once had she been kissed, waiting for Tommy to finally give in. 

“Do it.” His lips were on hers in an instant, drawing a surprised gasp from (y/n). It was a clumsy kiss both had to adjust to, but once her nerves finally let go of her, allowing the young girl to get used to the new sensation, she found herself enjoying the new feeling. 

With a sigh rumbling through Tommy, he plopped down on the stairs leading up to their house, stairs she had walked with naked feet whenever she had finished her garden work. The garden had withered away with her passing as Tommy hadn’t found the strength to step foot on the grass she had cared for. 

Whatever it was that now spurred him on, it forced Tommy back to his feet. The cigarette was long forgotten as he stepped foot on the wet grass, his shirt and underwear instantly soaked through by the pouring rain. He had his bright eyes focused on the weathered flowers, coming to a halt in front of one of many flowerbeds. 

His hands started working, reaching for the dead flowers to rip them from the lifeless soil. And for the first time in years, he felt connected to (y/n), clinging to what she had once planted. Tears once again ran down Tommy’s cheeks as he kept working, only halting his movements as his glassy eyes found the rising sun painting the sky orange and pink. 

“I’m sorry it took me this long, love.” The words were whispered, eyes unable to leave the sky as he made plans to revitalise their garden. He’d never be able to bring her back, but at least he could keep the memory of his loving wife alive. 

Broken bones, you live and learn, ‘cause we don't know that a good thing ends, but someday I hope that it'll all make sense, one day you're here and one day you're gone

#Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby x reader #Peaky Blinders

[hotpinkboots]

If it's ok to ask, could I please request headcanons of yandere Glamrock Freddy coercing human female reader, who's a private investigator helping Freddy and Gregory throughout the night, to become the mother of their makeshift family? 👉👈✨���

The world needs more yandere family dynamics

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~Yandere!𝕲𝖑𝖆𝖒𝖗𝖔𝖈𝖐 𝕱𝖗𝖊𝖉𝖉𝖞 x Reader Headcanons (Freddy attempting to force Reader into the "family")~

🎶CAN'T WAIT TO MEET YOU, SO JOIN THE ANIMATROOOONIC FAMILY 🎶

~Enjoy~

★★★★

𝕲𝖑𝖆𝖒𝖗𝖔𝖈𝖐 𝕱𝖗𝖊𝖉𝖉𝖞

★★★★

~He's actually very soft about it, very patient.

~Will hint towards it, or even make jokes like "Go with your mother, Gregory!"

~Freddy will also compliment you a lot on your "parenting skills" to try and lure you in.

~He is definitely NOT a violent yandere. He wants to make sure you're safe and protected, and he understands your needs as a human. He wouldn't be the type to kidnap you or hurt you. Under no circumstances will be do those things.

~But he may guilt trip you with those big sad bear eyes, without even realizing he's manipulating you.

~Will definitely act like a lover to you even if there's nothing between you two yet. Very intimate towards you and is always trying to get you to stay low, even though you're trying to help them get through the night.

~No, he needs to protect his lover. You can't help, he'll give the directions, you just sit and look pretty! It's too dangerous!

~That doesn't mean he's gonna make Gregory do everything, don't worry LOL. He's not going to make you stand there the whole time, he just doesn't want you being injured or something.

~He trusts you to take care of Gregory, of course. You'd be the perfect mother! Freddy just knows it.

~Gregory can definitely tell something's off, too.

~If you two ever get to go be alone together while doing something, he'll bring it up and ask if you're okay, and will say that Freddy is acting weird.

~There isn't enough room for both you and Gregory in Freddy's chest cavity, so Freddy is terrified of something happening to you.

~So he'll probably try to force you into a nightguard outfit and explain to the other animatronics that you're a new nightguard.

~If they don't fall for it, he'll scoop you up and run away to safety :D

~Basically, he's not a dangerous yandere. He might make you feel a bit uncomfortable or nervous. He'll keep you safe and is skeptical about letting you do...well, anything. He can't let anything happen to Gregory's mother figure!

~Freddy is overprotective, and gives you over"BEAR"ing affection...While he's never shown any signs of anything cruel, there's always that underlying weird feeling you get around him. There's definitely a dark side to his obsession with you. He just loves you too much.

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Rules/Masterlist (Scroll Down For The Masterlist!)

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Join my Chat/Roleplay Server! Here, you'll get updates on my videogame/fanfiction, make friends, and meet new roleplay buddies!:

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~Love, PinkBoots

#glamrock Freddy #freddy #five nights at freddys #x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #fnaf #five nights at freddys x reader #FNAF x reader #reader #glamrock Freddy x reader #yandere glamrock freddy #yandere fnaf #fnaf headcanons

[demonslayedher]

Things that went through my mind while watching this episode: --Gotouge must had been in A Mood when writing these chapters, and the animators were probably like, "sweeeet! I love weeks like this!" with those silly and simple scenes of Tanjiro Being a Dork feat. Kotetsu, feat. Kotetsu/Haganezuka/Kanamori, feat. Genya, feat. Nezuko, feat. Nezuko/Muichiro.

--but then partway through they probably dragged themselves back to more detailed serious work like Hantengu dragging himself to work. Sniffle, sniffle, fine, they expect so much out of us, fine, here's all the bone and muscle fibers of Karaku taking shape from a head still falling through the air.

--Speaking of animation details--the glow on Muichiro's eyes as he runs through the dark forest? Nice. So nice to see him using a sword modeled after the one which his "ancestor" used, even if he did steal it off a doll modeled off his "ancestor." (Side note--wouldn't it be fun to see the Tokitou twins with inherited memories?)

--Also, I am pretty forgiving of the CG fish (of anything, I was impressed). They didn't totally meld with the 2D environment, but for what Gotouge gave them to work with, they moved them around in a pretty satisfyingly believable way.

--So anyway, back to this first round of Tanjiro being a dork, I love the range of emotion we get him in this episode, when he gets to relax and just be a teenage boy. SWORD, COOL!! I can has it? I no can has it. Panic-and-protect-the-child mode. Haganezuka-san was working hard for meeee? Panic-and-protect-the-child mode. Haganezuka-san said not to peek. You think I can go peek? Friendship senbei! Tooth. I'll bet I can figure out how to braid Nezuko's hair like Kanroji-san's! Zzzzz. Oh, hahaha, Tokitou-kun, surely you'd never attack me in my sleep! Now I can go peek on Haganezuka-san like I was totally going to anyway even though he told me not to. Hmmmm. Oh, wait, what, that's a demon, nevermind--

--It's just so nice seeing him be some annoying random guy sometimes instead of just The Eldest Son.

--So, Haganezuka-san. It's not just that he was physically training himself to smith a better sword for Tanjiro, but he in fact had already made a new one, but he didn't feel it was good enough. Perhaps he spent some of those nasty letters in his initial outrage at seeing the chipped sword, but then after being scolded for making something that would chip so bad in the first place, he felt dissatisfied with the sword he tried to make better, and maybe some of those "I have no sword for you" letters were just a way of expressing "I suck at this (because I am a perfectionist)"?

--More Haganezuka-san: He was essentially raised by Tecchin because his parents couldn't handle his fits when he was a child (which is very, very sad), but he practices a sword polishing technique that has been handed down through the Haganezuka family (and in real life, sword polishing is recognized as a skill totally separate from smithing (though smithing does involve some preliminary polishing stages), so I love that a later Taisho Secret shows him doing finger push-ups because yeah, he's gonna need those fingers ready for a lot of the detail work in the polishing process). While I would also love to see "inherited memories" explored more in Haganezuka, this more likely means that he learned from the father who essentially abandoned him. Oh, to be a fly on the wall in that workshop.

--But also... this three day polishing process which has killed people for how extreme it is. Tanjiro, if he says not to bother him, please, don't both him. Have you learned nothing about the risks of upsetting Haganezuka-san? And this is of course not endearing you to Genya, who at this point still has every reason to find you annoying. You keep giving him reasons to dislike you, too.

--Classic Muichiro-Nezuko Head Tilt

--I wonder if Kotetsu lured Nezuko away with toys so that she wouldn't interfere with Kotetsu nearly killing her brother

--But also, mad respect to Kotetsu, he really was doing his best against that fish

--Might I just say, that little gasp Muichiro has when he remembers Tanjiro's words? So elegantly subtle in the sound design. --Interesting that Gyokko does not appreciate the flesh of the swordsmiths, even though eating strong people would presumably be nutritious. Hard to digest? Maybe not as nutritious as a Breath-using Pillar? But also, what with "Kakushaku-no-Ko" culture among those who use fire, perhaps all their work with fire (which demons show a distinct dislike of), or more directly with the metal of Nichirin blades is part of what makes them distasteful?

--My favorite Hantengu form is his basic sniveling "woe is me, I'm so weak" old dude form, because it's so ironic. He is the Zenitsu of demons.

--And bam, we already have his full set of four! That didn't take long at all. Also, Tanjiro is now back in The Eldest Son mode and Nezuko is in oh-yeah-she-is-A-DEMON mode, that didn't take long either. Oh, and Genya has already sustained what should be a fatal injury. That also did not take long.

#KnY rewatch #my art #too many characters to tag

[oneshotnewbie]

Deal with the devil

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Reader

Authors note: That wasn't a request and it´s short but has been living in my head for a while so I had to write it out to make room and figured I'd post it ♥

Summary: When you make a deal with a dangerous gentleman, you capture the last moments of your life on video for your team and confess your feelings to someone special.

---

"I am afraid!" those were the first words your team heard when they played the video, which was brought into the BAU by a courier, a young boy who was paid extra to do it. "I am going to die.."

You had been swallowed up by the face of the earth for two weeks, your trail got lost in the sand and nobody knew by whom you were taken. But your team did not give up and ransacked every stone of your last place of residence several times.

Without a trace.

"Where is this video coming from? Garcia, can you filter anything out of the background?" Emily's words did not even begin to reach her. Shocked, with her mouth wide open and tears filling in her eyes at how exhausted and devastated you were, she was oblivious to the outside world.

Tears streamed down your thin face and you pressed your lips together to suppress a sob. Your face was sunken, deep-seated circles under your eyes showed the lack of sleep you had to endure.

"I made a deal with the devil to protect you, Em. And now he is come to kill me," you hastily wipe away a few droplets of salty water that have started to flow down your bloodied cheeks. "By the time you got this video, you will already be too late to save me and I know you are looking for me. No matter how hard you try, you will be too late."

The crew felt frozen in place, especially the hands and feet of the person addressed seemed to carry only a remnant of body heat. Her whole body felt like it was being pierced with needles. It did not hurt, but she could feel an uncomfortable and completely paralyzing burning sensation through every pore of her body.

"I am so afraid," you coughed quietly and looked around in the dark room, which was only surrounded by dim candlelight. The cold was gradually tearing your body into a deep tiredness, but with a remnant of your strength, you kept your eyes open with difficulty. From exhaustion, you slowly lowered your head to the side. Trembling fingers stroked your eyelids, which had briefly closed. "I wish you could set me free like you always do"

Emily could not move her arms or legs, they rested still at the sides of her body. Panic flickered in her fawn glassy eyes, her nose flushed from suppressing her feelings. After the first second of the video, she knew who had you.

Ian Doyle; he lured you in with lies and threats and had you in his power now.

Aggression mixed with deep anger, fear and sadness flowed in her head, leaving no room for clear thoughts. She narrowed her eyes and bit her lip frustrated, leaving a small mark on them that spread an iron taste in her mouth.

Doyle would pay for it. She would seek justice for you and wreak vengeance. When the one thing that kept her grounded gets yanked away so ruthlessly by someone she once loved, it was only in her nature to strike him down. That was something she was taught, something she has comforted herself with.

"I am sorry for causing you worry and suffering. But I will gladly give up my life if you keep breathing for it. There is not a day I regret with you, Emily. The only thing I regret is not telling you sooner how much I love you,"

You had to stop, a sea of tears welled up in your eyes. Only slowly did you realized how fleeting life and how powerful a human was. Especially in the hands of a psychopath.

It took a long time before you could pull yourself together and feel ready to continue talking. "You are the love of my life and every day I had to spend without you when you faked your death hurt so much. I love you more than my life, so much that I will sacrifice mine for it."

Frowning with concern, Jennifer stood next to her best friend, slowly leaning towards her and taking her hand firmly but tenderly in hers. Emily´s heart began to soar, dropping into the pit of her stomach while her eyes continued to fix on the screen as she tried to digest the latest information about your avowed love for her.

The black-haired woman leaned trustingly against the blonde and took a deep breath. She became dizzy and extremely nauseous while trying to hold back the tears that were coming. "I will find you, Y/n.." she muttered under her breath and JJ nodded carefully, understanding her sentence perfectly.

"I do not want the last of you to see me like this, but I am having a really hard time pulling myself together, uh.." your voice trembled as you smiled wryly, pulling yourself together as best you could. But no matter how hard you tried to smile for her, it just did not make it into your eyes. You stroked your long, brittle and tousled hair, that was plastered on your forehead and bare shoulders quickly, trying to put away the nervousness.

"Do not mourn for me too long, but briefly and intensely to live on afterwards. All I every wanted is for you to be happy. Even after my death. I will choose a cloud near you and always watch over you. And I hope that I will always live on in your heart."

You could hear footsteps getting closer to your position. Sobbing, you looked back at the camera with a lost and terrified look. A single tear, which was particularly noticeable because of it´s size and the light shining on it, ran down your cheek and wet the shirt that fell loosely from your body. "I love you, Em. I always did,"

You tried to position a sincere and wholeheartedly smile on your lips before you blew the camera a hand kiss and the video cut off, leaving the team without air in their lungs to breathe, collapsing in an emotional chaos they had never experienced before.

#criminal minds angst #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds #criminalminds #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fic #behavioral analysis unit #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss imagines #emily prentiss one-shot #emily prentiss oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfics #oneshot #one shot

[sunwarmed-ash]

Some prompts for ya, I'm thinking ST ships.

Polaroid Camera | Snow | Cold Fingers & Warm Lips

Leather Belt | New Bed Sheets | Chocolate Chip Cookies

Back Seat | River | Camp Trail

These are amazing I'm adding all of these to my tumblr prompt lists for later! My brain is the big sads so this is all like pre smut but there's still some cute shit in there <3 thank you this is just what I needed

❄️Snow | Cold Fingers & Warm Lips💋

Mungrove 

AN: I love the idea of billy and eddie being neighbors okay 

It’s cold today. And yeah, its always cold in Hawkins in the winter time, but today is like, record breaking cold, like ‘you should be worried about the effects on the planet as a whole,’ cold. It fucking sucks, but by some miracle, the camper still has electricity and heat.

Eddie's warming his extremities in front of a space heater in the living room when there's a sharp series of knocks on his front door.

He opens the door to his new (within the year new) neighbor, California transplant Billy Hargrove, who looks positively frozen on the spot.

“Powers out,” is all he says by way of explanation before shouldering his way inside. 

“Oh shit,” Eddie says, looking across the street to the Mayfields/Hargrove's dark trailer. “What about your fami-”

“Motel. They’re fine.”

“Oh. Well, not that I don’t like your company, but uh, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Do you really think I want to be stuck in a fucking motel room with them?”

“Fair point,” Eddie snorts. Red was cool, but he didn't know much about her mom. And he knew too much about Neil. So instead of kicking the man out, he says “Make yourself at home.”

Billy goes immediately for the space heater and pulls his gloveless hands out of his jacket. He’s not wearing anything thicker than that faded brown leather jacket Eddie’s seen him rock at parties and jeans.

“Dude…”

“What?” Billy snaps, rotating his blue, most likely numb fingers in front of the space heater. 

“You still haven’t gotten a proper jacket?”

“Didn't think I’d still be here,” Billy replies bitterly. And again, Eddie can't blame him. He knows how much Billy misses California. And how in Billy's twisted mind he misinterprets buying a winter coat as permanent as setting up roots and buying a house in Hawkins. 

“Well, you are,” Eddie says, walking over to Billy’s side and flopping down on the ground to his right. “And in addition to that, you're here, so at least let me help.” He reaches out to take Billy’s hands into his own. Gentle, because they were going to hurt once they got circulation again, and started to rub across the palm with his fingers. His fingers are colder than ice, and knowing Billy, they have likely been like this for a while. The thing about Billy is, he only asks for help when he's desperate, and he never, ever uses those words. 

Eddie looks over the purple digits again with a frown and brings Billy's hand close to his mouth. 

Billy’s yank back was not only predictable but expected.

“What are you doing?” he asks, and while his voice is harsh, angry, his eyes are terrified, searching for any indication Eddie is setting him up for ridicule. 

Eddie isn’t. He wouldn’t do that. They’ve already been about as intimate as you can be with a person in the 7 weird months of their new friendship, but that doesnt mean Billy stops being Billy. 

“Do you want to lose your fingers?” Eddie asks.

“What?”

“Look at em. That’s not a good color.”

“That’s why I went to the space heater!” Billy defends. 

“Suit yourself,” Eddie shrugs, not giving up, but knowing Billy needs to be lured in a very specific way. “Might be kinda hard to jerk off without fingers. Hey! Maybe you could have them amputate the whole thing and get one of those cool hook hands! Wouldn't really solve the jerking off problem though…”

“Oh my GOD,” Billy huffs before shoving his hands back into Eddie’s face. Anything to get him to just stop talking.  

Eddie tries not to laugh too hard or boast his victory but he can’t help but feel good knowing the holes in Billy’s defenses.  

Eddie takes Billy’s right hand back into his hands and starts to rub across the slightly frostbitten skin. 

“Keep your other one near the heater,” he instructs, knowing there's no way he would convince Billy to touch any other part of Eddie’s skin at this stage. Billy does, and Eddie continues rubbing warmth and circulation back into the blonde’s hand. “Let me know when you start to feel it, it’s probably going to hurt.”

“Yeah, I know,” Billy huffs, looking pointedly everywhere but back at Eddie. 

“Want to smoke tonight?” Eddie offers, hoping to lighten some of the tension. 

“You got some bud?”

“Course I do,” Eddie laughs, rubbing across Billy’s palm. “Can you fold your fingers towards your palm yet?”

Billy turns his palm in Eddie’s hand and folds all of his fingers at the knuckle towards the palm. He winces a little but it's progress from where he started. His fingers are still a darker color than Eddie likes so he cups the folded hand in both of his and lowers his mouth closer. Billy doesnt pull away this time. Instead, he feels Billy’s breath inhale sharply at the same time Eddie exhales localized heat across his fingertips. If he was any closer, he’d be kissing them.  

“Eddie…” Billy gasps, quieter than a whisper. 

It's not necessarily intimate, but to Billy it must feel it, because his voice cracks the way it only does when he’s heavily, emotionally conflicted about something. 

Fortunately for Billy, Wayne comes storming out of his bedroom and into the common area just then. Billy pulls his hands back into his pockets and Eddie sits back on his hands like they hadn’t just been touching. 

It's ridiculous really, Wayne knows about Eddie. But still. Billy is always abundantly careful for the sake of his life.  

Wayne looks stressed, and Eddie is suddenly worried something awful has happened. 

“Everything okay Wayne?”

“Yeah, Claudia Henderson got stuck on her way coming home. She had to walk over a mile in this snow just to call me. I’m gonna go pull her car out, take her home.”

Wayne Munson. Patron Saint, he swears.

“Uh, alright, well, you should be careful too.” Eddie says, because he knows his van sure as hell won’t make it out of the park let alone all the way across town to bail him out if he gets stuck too. 

“I’ll be fine Eds,” Wayne says, a little impatient. Though Eddie can’t really blame him. He would hate to have to leave the warm area of his home to brace the snow too. “Be good you two, you hear,” he says, looking specifically at Eddie. 

Eddie threw his hands up in a scouts honor and it at least made Wayne laugh. “Yeah yeah.”

-

As soon as Wayne leaves, Billy exhales the tension he’s been holding. His hands seek out Eddie’s now; the back of Billy’s hand smacking Eddie impatiently until he continued the previous warming treatment. It was so goddamn funny and so Billy Hargrove Eddie bursts out laughing. 

“You're ridiculous,” Eddie says, taking Billy’s other hand and resuming his previous actions. 

“Whatever, you're into it.” Billy says, a little mean, but then he smirks and Eddie just about melts in place. 

“I uh, I didn't offer this before because of Wayne, but-”

Billy can already read the writing on the wall and smirks as Eddie starts to move closer. The musician climbs into the blonde’s lap, taking each of Billy’s still chilled hands and moving them under his Hellfire shirt towards his stomach. As soon as his icy digits touch soft skin Eddie gasps, loud as the chill freezes him to the bone. It doesn't take long to melts into something so much hotter though. Billy’s hands move across his skin grip just above the top hem of his jeans. He squeezes tight, holding Eddie right where he wants him. 

“Fuck me,” Eddie pants, because it really is cold, but he loves Billy’s hands on him. Any way he can get them. 

“Funny,” Billy purrs, pulling Eddie closer as he starts an array of sharp nips up Eddie’s neck, “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“Please, Billy,” Eddie pants and that’s all it takes. Billy stands and lifts them both off of the leather sofa, holding Eddie against his body as he walks back into his bedroom, sharp teeth finally making contact with the meat of his neck.

#mungrove #st prompts #i loved these thank you so much #eddie munson #billy hargrove #mungrove ficlet #eddie x billy #find me on ao3 #sunwarmed ash #links in pinned #i post new stuff every sunday #sinful sunday #stranger things #you can also find all my ST fics on my pinned link

[caffinedragon]

Nobody Cares, but won't hold your hand.

Plot: Astarion is given permission by R'yleh(Durge) to use his "Journal" to speak with his mother, The Great Old One known as Noone. They ask to speak with him in person during a long rest at camp, where Astarion learns that not all gods act like gods.

Context: No one/Nobody is a home brew deity from an old Pathfinder Campaign of mine who looks after the invisible, the oppressed, the vulnerable, and those who hide in the shadows. Operates less like a god and more like an underground mob boss or invisible hand. LN-CG depending on how you look at her.

Heavily motivated by spite and petty, caring but pragmatic, values observation, investigation, insight, and the ability to think quickly on your feet. A deity that most often works behind the scenes but if dealt with directly will point you in the right direction but expects you to do the rest yourself.

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

"I am surprised you came after what you have been through, kiddo."

Astarion jumped as the Deity's liquid honey voice carried through the dark from behind him.

When he turned around, he expected some great horror, or a enchantingly beautiful woman with tendrils coming out of her back or any number of over the top and dramatic options but...

That wasn't what he found.

She was good looking, that was for certain. She was definitely where R'yleh had gotten his looks from but other than that...

She just looked like one of the members of the many Thieves guilds that populated the seedier sections of Balder's Gate.

No extra eyes or appendages or moving shadows just...a pale skinned Drow woman in black leather armor with way more blades than average and a long black cloak to hide them under.

It was...strangely comforting.

"You look a little surprised, Kiddo." Her tone was amused to say the least. Her solid black eyes lighting up with mirth despite the dark. "Expecting something a but more dramatic?"

"Well..." He chuckled nervously, "Compared to the 'gods' I have met recently you seem practically normal."

She smiled, a soft warm thing that relaxed him even more, "Well...it is easier to get things done when no one suspects who you are."

"I suppose that's true." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his feet.

When he looked back up, he jumped again, seeing she had closed the distance form twenty feet away to five in a matter of seconds.

"Ah!" He partially turned away from her on instinct but she didn't seem to mind as she searched his eyes like she was peering into his very soul. "What are you-"

A sad but understanding expression crossed her face. "My son wasn't kidding. You are afraid. But I don't blame you."

"I am not-"

The void black of her eyes reflected his own lies back at him.

The words died in his throat.

"You are afraid." She repeated gently but knowingly, "Your afraid in the same way many of those under my power are. It is fear i am quite familiar with. It is wielded like a weapon by gods and powerful mortals so that they can keep the status quo that lets them stay in control. The same fear, that perpetuates itself and just creates more of the same. Fear that breeds the need for control, that brings abuse, that brings fear, that breeds the need for control...and on and on it goes." She then gently placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him plenty of time to step away.

He didn't.

Something about her alowwed him to let h is guard down.

He knew deep down that somehow, she was different. That she understood.

That, despite being a so called god, she knew what it was like.

"But, you know that already. Don't you kiddo?"

Her words hit harder than he expected but only as hard as he needed.

He did know. It was why Cazador did what he did. It was why Vlaakith wanted to be obeyed. It was why every tyrant, noble, and religious zealot did what they did to others like him.

It was the same fear that made him lure all those people to their doom. That made him want to manipulate R'yleh into protecting him.

And with this being being his mother, he could see why he had seen through it as easily as he had.

But here with her, just as with R'yleh, he felt seen and understood.

And safe.

Like a child in the arms of his mother.

He felt the burn of tears in his eyes.

"Come here." She sighed as she gathered him in her arms, his face easily able to bury itself in her shoulder as she wrapped him in a gentle hug. "It will be all right. Your not alone. Were all victims to this shit. All we can do is find a way to survive, while trying not to become like the monsters that hurt us."

"Even you?" He mumbled into her armor.

"Yeah. Even me."

He was now beginning to understand where R'yleh's loyalty to this being came from, outside of the obvious.

Astarion pulled back to look at her face and rub his eyes, "Are you sure your a god?"

She chuckled, "There have been some days i wonder. Especially when i get more done in a week than most of the other gods have done in 50 years."

He laughed, "I can see that, honestly."

She smiled another wamr smile. "I mean, It's amazing what you can get done when you stop grandstanding and just get to work. If you knew how much reach i have gained in the last century alone because I got my hands dirty just as often as my followers, it would blow your mind."

He smiled genuinely, "If only more gods were like you."

"If only... But, at least i am not alone. Bahamut and I are on the same page when it comes to spending most of our time amongst mortals. So, if you see an old man just wandering around who always seems to have exactly seven birds surrounding him or following him wherever he goes, that's him."

"Does he do this often?"

"All the time. It is his favorite thing to do. He just always seems to attract some ass hole that wants to mess with him for some reason. it's real funny to watch him kick their ass."

"I will make sure to keep an eye out then."

"Oh definitely. And always accept when he asks you to join him for tea. He knows a lot of things about a lot of things and is really good about delivering a verbal kick to the ass when needed. Also he is just a really nice guy to hace a chat with and-"

A sudden look of confusion crossed her face that he was very familiar with.

"Wait...what were we talking about?"

Astarion couldn't help the undignified guffaw that erupted from deep in his stomach.

"What? What's so funny?"

Once he calmed down, "Oh gods...you are definitely his mother."

"What do you mean?"

"R'yleh, he...will start talking about something that will bleed into an unhinged ramble and then suddenly mid sentence he will just stop like you just did and ask that same question."

She started to laugh with him, "Like Mother like Son."

"Exactly. Too bad his father is such a monster."

He regretted saying it the second the last syllable was out of his mouth.

He saw sadness and guilt fill her eyes, "Yeah. A hard lesson learned in not to let your darker nature take hold."

"How did that happen, if you don't mind me asking?"

She exhaled nervously, "Bhaal and his cultists found one of my sanctuary's. It was A haven for unwed mothers and those escaping abusive husbands, old pimps etc. They raided the place doing horrible and unspeakable things to those inside and when i found out... I wanted to get back at him."

"How?"

"Made myself into a target he couldn't resist. I had planned on raising the child to take him down. He killed children and innocents in my care, what better irony right?"

He saw disgust at herself cross her face.

"But?"

"When R'yleh was born, I took one look into my son's eyes and realized what I had done." The disgust turned to anger as she crossed her amrs and looked down at the ground. "I realized what Bhaal's blood would make him do. I had done what every other god I hated did. What I swore never to do...and i did it to my own flesh and blood."

He could see the pain in her eyes as she spoke. The look of a mother who knew they had wronged their child in a way they couldn't fix.

It marveled him that a god could openly be so mortal. So willingly to admit when they were wrong.

It was no wonder how she had gotten so much traction in so little time.

"R'yleh said that it was the reason you formed the pact with him. To help mitigate his father's influence."

"Yeah. It was all i could really do. Thankfully, he inherited my mind so he could sort of compartmentalize the urges in his head and keep them under control. Or at least, until the tadpole anyway. Which is why i wanted to speak to you in person."

"Oh?"

"I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For being there for him. For not being afraid of what he is even while your so afraid of everything else. My son has felt alone for a very long time and you...have changed that. To see my little boy smiling and bouncing and laughing like he used to before Bhaal ripped him away from me I...fuck."

She turned away from him as tears of her own began to fall.

He repeated the gesture she had given him without a moments hesitation.

He had no idea what to say to comfort a god but the hug seemed to be enough.

She wiped her eyes as she pulled away, "Sorry...I..."

"No need. He has helped me just as much if not more than i have helped him. I swear that i will continue to do so for as long as he lets me."

She smiled, relieved. "I know you will. And I know my son. He is too attached to let go now. So, if you will allow, i would like to give you something."

"Of course. I am not one to refuse a god, especially my Darling's mother."

He watched as she reached into her cloak and pulled out the same, obsidian crystal, compass, and journal that R'yleh had. The only difference being that the journal had a bat on it instead of a kraken.

"Does this mean I am a warlock now?" He teased.

"No." She chuckled, "Only my son has that honor. But all of my Shadows-My 'Chosen' for lack of a better term, have these. You will be part of the family. This way, wherever you go, if you see my symbol, you will have a place to stay no questions asked. Just show them the compass and they will know."

Astarion took the items from her with a hint of suspicion.

"Does this mean i will be at your beck and call? Like Wyll?"

"No. Right now you and my sons priority is to save yourselves from the tadpoles in your heads. After that, if you feel the need to want to help, you can activate the compass and it will point you where your needed. It's strictly voluntary unless it is an emergency and in that case i usually show up in person."

He looked down at the items, his mind picturing R'yleh as he used them. How he got so much of his information from her but was rarely wrong or lead astray. A part of him wasn't sure after what he endured with Cazador but another part of him liked the idea of being part of this sort of shadowy but ultimately good organization that helped people like him.

"As i said before, it is voluntary and you are more than welcome to make the decision after the stuff with the tadpoles is finished."

Astarion nodded, clutching the items to his chest. "What do i do if i want to accept?"

"Have R'yleh show you how to attune them to you. And if you decide you don't, just give the items to him and he will give them back to me."

She then turned towards the shadows of the tree behind her as if listening to a hidden voice.

"Ah. It seems I am needed once again. Some more trouble in Baldur's Gate I have to attend too." She then gently patted his cheek, "It was good to meet you Astarion. Know that no matter what you decide, my shadows will always be listening for you."

"Thank you."

"Try not to get into any trouble you cant get back out of, yeah?"

"We will do our best."

With a warm smile he watched as she stepped into the shadow of a nearby oak tree and dissapeared.

"So? How did it go?" R'yleh's curious voice asked form out of nowhere.

"Ah!" He jumped, nearly dropping the gifts she had given him. "Gods! What is it with the both of you scaring me half to death!"

He had that cheeky grin on his face again, "We are naturally stealthy people. So?"

With a sigh he showed R'yleh what he was given.

He watched his eyes light up right before he quietly squealed and did his little happy feet dance Astarion found adorable.

"So? Are you going to accept or are ya still thinking about it?"

"I am still thinking on it. After being in servitude to Cazador-"

"Your leery about pledging yourself to someone else." His tone was understanding as he nodded. "That is perfectly valid and fair."

"Thank you."

"So, want me to hang on to them until you make the decision or..."

"No!" That came out more desperate then he wanted. "No. I will...hang on to them."

He could feel the knowing smirk now spreading across R'yleh's face.

"All right." He then began walking back to camp but not before saying, "Just let me know when you want me to teach you how to attune to them. The spell can be a little tricky for those that aint used to magic."

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

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #durge #bg3 durge #mom approved #welcome to the family #we need more down to earth gods #dnd homebrew

[shakespearean-fish]

Strange Light

(something for the @inklings-challenge Christmas challenge)

The dark seemed to fall earlier every day. It couldn’t be much past the eleventh hour, and yet the clouded sky was already deepening into blue dusk. He needed somewhere to shelter for the night, a place in the trees and underbrush where the snow had fallen less heavily. The second night had been the best; he’d found an abandoned burrow and curled up to sleep with a drift of dry leaves to cover him. But, of course, he couldn’t stay there.

Although it was never said, he’d known full well when they pronounced the banishment that they meant to let him die in the wild. The allotment of food they’d sent with him was only just enough for two days; he’d made it last for five, and this was the sixth. Nothing was growing except for the brambles of withered yellow berries that meant poison, blindness if he was lucky and a stricken heart if he wasn’t. He told himself that there might be another town soon and a house willing to take him in, but it grew harder and harder to believe. Even if any such place lay in his path, he was of no worth to anyone.

As he toiled on, with snow drifting around his ankles and stray twigs reaching to tear at his cloak, he heard a strange sound carried by the wind. Deep voices, singing a melody that he tried to follow, in words of a language he could not understand. The hope that he was not alone drove him forward, but when the trees thinned and a clearing opened ahead, what he saw there froze his heart.

Five figures sat around a bright fire. They were taller than any man, with coats of grey fur and a pair of curling black horns on each head. The woodspeople, those in the town called them, although there were other, worse names. He had never seen one before, but he’d heard the stories. Hush, mothers would say to unruly children, or the woodspeople will come and take you away. It was said that they were savage, no better than beasts; that they would kill travelers and hang their bodies from the trees. The five ended their song. He was about to draw quickly back into the forest when the smallest one caught sight of him and shouted. “Look! What is that?” it said curiously, in the manner of a child. “It’s all hairless like a new cub.”

The other four turned to see him. “That is a man,” one replied. “And not quite full-grown.”

The tallest of them rose and stepped toward him; he would have run, but he had no strength left. To his own shame, all at once he began to weep, finally undone by fear and hunger and weariness. The creature gazed at him with dark eyes. “Poor little one,” it said. “Come.”

A pair of strong yet terribly gentle arms lifted him and set him down by the fireside. He sat there too stunned to move or speak, too numb to think of anything but the warmth beginning to loosen the dayslong ache in his bones. Perhaps it was a trap, a lure to keep him from escaping, but he no longer cared. They kept silent around him until his weeping stilled. The one on his right, who had answered the child, brought out a leather flask from a pouch at its side. “This will better you.” He drank and found the taste sweet but poignant on his tongue, and his hunger eased. “Where are you from?” the creature asked.

“From the town to the west.”

“What led you here? Where are you journeying?”

“I—I don’t know.” He was unsure of what to say, no more wanting to give them the truth than to lie.

The tallest looked at him keenly, but its face was grave and sad, as if remembering what it did not wish to. “They cast you out,” it said. “I have seen others in these woods.”

Under the creature’s eye, he couldn’t deny it. The words choked in his throat, and he only nodded in answer. “But that’s cruel,” the child cried.

“There is much cruelty in this world.” The tallest sighed. “Stay at least the night with us. In the morning, we can set you on a path to the next town, if that is your intent.”

“You are very kind. They always said you were dangerous,” he faltered, before he knew what he was saying. He thought they might be angered, but another of the creatures shook its head.

“Men are determined to fear us, and so they do. We did not expect one of them to come so near.”

“I followed your voices. Please, what were you singing? It—it was beautiful.”

“It is an old song for the coming of the Light.”

“What is the Light?”

“Who is the Light,” said the tallest in surprise. “Little one, has no one ever told you?”

The darkness was now drawn close around, the flames glowing golden on their faces, and they began to tell him a story that he did not know. And as he listened it warmed him more than the fire did, and filled him more than food.

#inklingschallenge #inklingschristmaschallenge #inklings christmas challenge 2023 #Fish writes

[s0lemnhypn0s]

So like, I'm insane, so let me share some songs I think are very Crochawk

-Smooth by Santana

"And if you said this life ain't good enough // I would give my world to lift you up // I could change my life to better suit your mood // Because you're so smooth // And it's just like the ocean under the moon // Oh, it's the same as the emotion that I get from you // You got the kind of lovin' that can be so smooth, yeah // Give me your heart, make it real, or else forget about it"

-Your body, my temple by Will Wood

"Amen, I'm only a man // Howling at your face in the moon // Hot damn! But no holy man, kneeling in the stained-glass tomb // As all hell breaks loose, as all hells always do // Oh, what the hell can I do // To have a little more heaven with you? // Hot damn, you are a part of my plan // Cataclysmic Catechism catch-22 // Your body, my temple, baby // Your body, my temple // So, when the cattle fall dead and the waters run red // I'll be your lamb's blood on the wall // God isn't dead, but that's exactly what I've been dreading // After all the meek inherited fuck all // If you help those who help themselves // My superstitions, your visage, my visions // Your body, my temple, baby // Your body, my temple"

-Sex dwarf by Soft cell

"Isn't it nice, sugar and spice // Luring disco dollies to a life of vice // I can make a film and make you my star // You'd be a natural the way you are // I would like you on a long black leash // I would parade you down the High Street // You've got the attraction // You've got the pulling power // Walk my little doggie, walk my little sex dwarf (here doggie, doggie!) // We can make a scene, we'll be a team // Making the headlines sounds like a dream // When we hit the floor you just watch them move aside // We will take them for a ride of rides"

-Paralyzer by Finger eleven

"I hold out for one more drink, before I think // I'm lookin' too desperately // But so far has not been fun, I should just stay home // If one thing really means one // This club will hopefully be closed in three weeks // That would be cool with me // Well, I'm still imagining a dark lit place // Or your place or my place // Well, I'm not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you // I wanna make you move because you're standin' still // If your body matches what your eyes can do // You'll probably move right through me on my way to you"

-To err is human so don't be one by Will wood

"Mm, I could take your life, if you're done with it, sweetheart // You still picking at that? only ate the good parts // Hey, whatever works, I'm a cheap date (Check please!) // Falling off the bone, I'm awful glad we met // We only ever notice what's in front of us // Read over my shoulder, breathing down my neck // Are we on the same page yet, I'm getting old here! // Come on don't you get it? What the heck? // Oh, I could drink your blood if you let me, baby // Drain you o' your love until you hate me // Yes, to err is human, so don't be one // This was a mistake, I'll take my leave // But, before I go, let me know if you see // A little black bag with a toe tag please // If you don't hate me, then reanimate me // Prove it to me baby, lightning in my veins // These instincts I've managed to stave mean // Monsters must be people too, so oh geez! // Oh, I could drink your blood if you let me, baby // Drain you o' your love until you hate me // I will drink your blood 'till your lips turn blue // Drain you o' your love, if you want me to"

-GOOD OLD FASHIONED LOVERBOY BY QUEEN

"I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things // We can do the tango, just for two // I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings // Be your Valentino, just for you // Ooh, love, ooh, lover boy // What're you doing tonight? Hey, boy // Set my alarm, turn on my charm // That's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy // Ooh, let me feel your heartbeat (grow faster, faster) // (Ooh-ooh) can you feel my love heat? (Ooh-ooh) // Come on and sit on my hot seat of love // And tell me how do you feel, right after all // I'd like for you and I to go romancing // Say the word, your wish is my command"

"Dining at the Ritz, we'll meet at nine // (One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine o'clock) precisely // I will pay the bill, you taste the wine // Driving back in style, in my saloon, will do quite nicely // Just take me back to yours, that will be fine // Come on and get it // Ooh, love (there he goes again) // Ooh, lover boy (he's my good old-fashioned lover boy, ooh) // What're you doing tonight? Hey, boy // Everything's all right, just hold on tight // That's because I'm a good old-(fashioned, fashioned) lover boy"

#1pc #one piece #sir crocodile #dracule mihawk #crochawk #wanitaka #t4t #mlm #added lyrics

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Princess of dragonstone, chapter 17:

FANFICTION au: Rhaenyra has a daughter with Harwin as well who gets lured into a dangerous trap and becomes Aemond property, aemond and aegon chat about daella's duties and aemond teaches his pet some fun new things

Child death, violence, Helemond, dark!Helaena, blood, mention of Blood and Cheese, pregnancy for mc, mc considering ''ending'' her child, childloss, stillbirth, aemond loses his children, cheating, alys rivers,

5 months later Daella’s pov. I am anything but a quitter. But those few weeks I felt close to giving up. It all started when Aemond returned me from the red keep… He feels me up a bit. He grins and tells me I was a good girl for getting myself fucked by him. I didn’t pay attention to it, but there were guards everywhere. We walk through the gates. Again, guards everywhere. And finally when we enter the castle, Aemond looked around suspiously as well. We walk inside, to the throne room and instantly, hands grab me and throw me on the floor. Aemond is grabbed as well, protesting and trying to break free. Helaena steps forward from the throne, her nightgown has red stripes and spots. Her eyes are red from the crying. She points to me. ‘Kill her! She did this! She killed my children!’

I see it. There are three bodies by the throne. All beheaded. ‘Your grace, I was out with your brother. None of us saw-‘ ‘Silence you whore! I know you have magic! You had an hand in this.’ She smiles sinister at ser Criston. ‘Take their heads. I want them impaled at the gates!’ Aegon finally speaks. His eyes are burning with tears. ‘Brother, did you murder them? Is it true? ’ Aemond shakes his head. He breaks down crying as well. I never saw him cry. ‘I would never have hurt them. I loved them as if they were my own.’ He says and tries to control his very emotional voice. I almost feel guilty. Almost. Aegon nods. ‘I believe him. Release him and his whore. They are innocent unless proven differently.’ Helaena screams and tries to get me beheaded but ser Criston intervens. Aemond was a wreck that night, when we went to sleep. I read his journal and found out why. He wrote down years ago about taking his sister’s maidenhead. All the children were his bastards. He was their true father. If we had known, we would not need to send assasins. They are bastards. They could never inherit the throne. Not soon after finding out about the death of his children, Aemond left for the riverlands with Alys. She promised me she would return him safely. I joked I would kill her if she didn’t. Aemond is fighting for weeks. He came back for me one time, when he slew my aunt Rhaenys and killed her together with Aegon. He took me that night as well, claiming I was his rightful reward. For the time after that I have little memory. Days were bleak and went by quickly.

Until one morning I was invited to see the former queen, Alicent Hightower. There is a lot of good sweets on her desk. I can’t really help myself and try my shot at everything that seems full of sugar and caramel. The former queen smiles at me, sickenly. ‘When was the last time you bled?’ I nearly throw up. ‘Months ago. Aemond gives me Moontea.’ I say, pretty certain of my case. The former Queen simply blinks. ‘Does he? Your belly is swollen.’

‘Must be because I eat bad.’ I lie, to myself. I am not dumb. I can clearly see I am pregnant and I am far in my pregnancy at that. I feel the baby kicking and I feel sick most of the days and eat too much. Alicent pretends to be my friend. ‘Daella, you are pregnant. Shall I write Aemond for you? Surely he likes to know-‘ ‘Aemond won’t be in the picture. He had his chance. He prefers to fuck witches and to fed servants to his dragon.’ It’s true. Aemond wrote me he wont be coming back, and neither will Alys. He apologisies to me for everything he ever did to me, but I don’t want his aplogies. I want him, damn it. I was very mad and sad I was pregnant so I kind of hoped that the gods would take it away before it was here. I prayed that It would be stillborn. Alicent’s guards kept their eye on me or I would have ended this pregnancy illegally.

But after a while, I convinced myself that a baby would lure Aemond and me back together. He would see his son, he would love them and he would forget his stupid bitch witch. When my time came, he was there. He burst into the room where the maids had just left me in the birthing bed. He rushed to my side, smiled at me and told me he wanted to see him. ‘Where is my son? Alys told me it’s a boy.’ I didn’t have the courage or the engery to tell him what happened. I gave a weak nod to the crib. Aemond nearly tripped over his own feet and looked down in the crib. He let out a scream.

I was so hopeful this baby would bring us together. So you can imagine how gutted I was when I gave birth to a stillborn boy with monsterous wings that missed both his eyes. ‘No, no no!’ Aemond groans before picking up the little monster. ‘My son. My beautiful baby boy.’ He softy kisses his forhead where his eyes are supposed to be and kisses it. I turned away from both. ‘Get that monster out of my sight. He is not our son. He died the second you lay with that witch.’ I spit out to him.

Aemond gently puts the monster back. ‘He is our son. He damn well is. We will cremate him, and you will fucking name him.’ Cremate the little monster? I will not waste time thinking of a name. I grit out. ‘I will not. He doesn’t exist. Not to me.’ its true. I have been pretending that I am not pregnant at all.

He grabs my hand. ‘I understand that I hurt you with leaving and with Alys but she is gone now. I am loyal to you.’ He tries to kiss it but I slap him and turn away. I don’t cry. I don’t care. I don’t feel anything anymore. For a long time now. ‘You killed our son. Its your fault he is dead.’ I say and I know its true. He doesn’t like hearing that and tears up. Thinking of his own other children he also lost. ‘We’ll make a new one.’

‘No we won’t.’ I firmly say. ‘Your time abusing this body has come to an end. If you want any babies you can return to the riverlands and fuck your witch or your Baratheon whore.’ ‘Yes, we will! I own you! You will do as I say!’ he screams but thanks to his tears the voice becomes unsteady. I simply shrug. I didn’t even respond to him. He finally left the room crying. I picked up the baby from the crib and walked to the window. Out of spite, I would throw it down. Watch the miserable little ugly thing burst into hundreds pieces just to spite Aemond.

But the moment I held him, the moment I had his little tiny body in my arms, something broke in me. He was so little. So cold. Like he was asleep. The baby felt so cold in my arms. He might have been a little monster. But he was my monster. I sank to my knees and I just… I just screamed until there was no sound left.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #dark aemond targaryen #house of the dragon fanfiction #dark aemond targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen #dark aegon ii targaryen #Aemond targaryen #The princess of dragonstone fanfiction #Child death #violence #Helemond #dark!Helaena #blood #mention of Blood and Cheese #pregnancy for mc #mc considering ''ending'' her child #childloss #stillbirth #aemond loses his children #cheating #alys rivers #dark! #head the warnings #dubcon #possible triggering content #She/her reader #AFAB Reader #DarkFantasy #Possible noncon

[camaro-and-smokes]

Nightmares

Chapter 2: Eddie

Warnings for this chapter: Major Character Death Tags for this chapter: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Implied/Referenced Character Death. See all tags and warnings etc for the whole fic on AO3.

Moodboard by the wonderful @a-redharlequin

HEADS-UP: If you're triggered easily, as a general head's up: there's graphical descriptions of injuries and how they happen, though everything is pretty much canon, and also there's canonical character deaths mentioned and described but all characters end up living.

Other chapters on tumblr >>

Also on AO3 >> Unfortunately my posts on AO3 are available only to registered users for now. It might change in the future. Send me an ask if you want an invite to AO3, I still got them left.

Summary: Being eaten alive by the demobats hadn't been the way Eddie had thought he would die. And it wasn't. It was the accidental slip of a surgeon's knife that did that.

::::::::::

He's laying on his back on the ground, in front of the trailer, looking up at the sky. A lightning strikes, and the plasma travels through the cloudy sky, turning the dull blue darkness into bright red. He's in the middle of a storm, but there's no hard wind or rain. Just the sound of distant thunder and the lightning.

It's almost calming, and it makes him sad. He might actually enjoy this grotesque show if the circumstances were different. If he wasn't about to die.

He can already see the swarm and hear its screams. It's a massive living organism flying towards him, morphing into different shapes as it aims in his direction. If he didn't know what they were and what they were up to, he might even think it was beautiful.

But he knows they're coming for him and there's nothing he can do to stop them. So he just lays there, waiting for the inevitable.

Suddenly, the swarm vanishes and everything goes silent. He can only hear the rush of his own blood in his ears. The noise intensifies and becomes overwhelming. His blood boils and he feels it burning his veins and the fire seeping into his tissues.

He's never been in pain like this before. He tries to roll on the ground to extinguish the flames, but what burns inside him doesn't have flames. So, he screams, louder than he ever thought he could.

Now the burning is in every single nerve-ending of his body, still reaching deeper inside him and turning his existence into pure anguish. He wishes for death, but he's trapped in this agony. His lungs still work and his heart is still beating, and the horrible thought of actually not dying but instead of being in this agony for the rest of time pierces his mind.

---

Eddie felt a warm hand on his cheek luring him back into the real world. He opened his eyes and was met with two blue sapphires boring into him. Billy smiled. ”You were muttering in your sleep,” he whispered. ”Sorry,” Eddie mumbled. ”It's okay. I wasn't sleeping, anyway.” ”Are the scars aching again?” ”Mm-hmm. It's the motherfucking anniversary day after tomorrow." Eddie reached for his phone. ”It's almost eight!” he gasped. “Fuck! Steve left without me. Again." ”You were twisting and turning all night. He knew you'd be tired anyway, and I was awake, so I drove him to work.” ”I bet you even had sex,” Eddie scoffed as he tossed the phone back on the nightstand. ”Hey, Mr. Grumpy-Jealous, we can have sex right now too, you know.” ”So, you two had sex, then?” ”No. We had breakfast, and I drove him to work. He told me to give you a kiss on his behalf. If you're like this, I won't do that. Is there a problem?” ”No,” Eddie muttered and turned his back to Billy.

Billy moved Eddie's hair away from his neck and kissed it softly. ”That's the one from Steve.” He pulled the blanket down from Eddie's shoulder and kissed the tattoo of Baldrog on it, moving closer to Eddie's ear by dropping tiny kisses on his skin along the way. "And those are from me," he whispered straight into Eddie's ear. ”Wanna tell me what's going on, baby?” ”He feels so distant. It's like I can't reach him at all,” Eddie whispered after a while. ”He should wake me up. It's our deal. I take him to work and pick him up if I can. What's so hard about that...” Billy interrupted him. ”Bambi, there's no need to get all worked up about it. He just didn't want you to...” ”Steve is a fucking people pleaser and always putting everyone else's needs and worries before him," Eddie exasperated. ”Baby, it's just one day...” ”He's done it the whole week.” Billy was silent for a while. ”I didn't know. He hasn't told me.”

Eddie turned on his back and stared at the ceiling. ”He's slipping away from me.” ”No, he's not.” Billy sighed. “Have you talked to him about how you feel? How him not waking you up and thus keeping you from keeping your end of the deal makes you feel?” When Eddie didn't reply, Billy rolled his eyes. ”Jesus Christ, Eddie, talk with him if something bothers you. I can't intermediate between you two.” ”But now that you know, you'll tell him?” Eddie asked quietly. ”Eddie. He loves you.” Billy sighed. “Fuck. Why is it I always have to be the one opening the doors between the two of you?” ”Because we love you and when it's not about you, you can't but to be chill about it?” Eddie said and looked at Billy pleadingly. Billy tsked. ”Don't you fucking dare give me the doe eyes, Munson! Ugh!” He flopped onto his back on the bed. ”I hate you idiots.” Eddie turned on his side and snaked himself under Billy's arm, wrapping his arm around Billy's waist and laying his head on his chest. ”I love you, peaches.” Billy snorted. ”Yeah, I love you too.” After a while he asked, ”Do you have a client today?” ”Yeah. At one.” ”Is it the dragon you drew the other night?” ”Mm-hmm.” ”It was beautiful.” Eddie leaned up on his elbow and looked at Billy. ”You're beautiful,” he whispered.

Billy smiled a wide smile, the kind that made Eddie feel all mushy inside. Eddie gave a peck on Billy's lips. ”I gotta take a leak, but stay here. I'll come back.” Billy raised his eyebrow. ”And then what?” Eddie got up. ”We are going to have a round of...wait for it...sleeping,” he said, doing jazz-hands. Billy laughed. “I can't believe I always laugh at your lousy jokes. You always hit me at the lowest point,” he said and threw a pillow at Eddie.

Billy's laughter was the best thing Eddie knew, and he was determined to make Billy laugh as often as possible. Having accomplished his goal, he smiled all the way to the bathroom.

When he returned, Billy was asleep, hugging Eddie's pillow, his legs sprawled on the bed, hogging the whole mattress. It always exasperated Steve when that happened because he didn't want to disturb Billy. The thing was, Billy didn't mind being disturbed, as long as it was done the right way.

Eddie sat on the bed and traced the scars on Billy's back, his touch light as a feather. The scars were numb to the touch because the mind flayer had fried the nerves underneath them. But the skin between the scars again was overly sensitive. Eddie moved his finger from the scar onto the soft skin, touching it gently just with the tips of his fingers. After a while he saw what he was waiting for: Billy's skin rippling on goose-bumps. "Mm-hmm," Billy let out. "You're hoarding the entire bed again, goldilocks," Eddie said, and stroke Billy's back with his hand. Billy turned on his side, and Eddie slipped under the blanket next to him. Billy glued himself against Eddie, wrapping his arm around Eddie’s waist. "I missed you." "You missed me the whole five minutes I was in the bathroom?" "Yeah." "I'm here, peaches. Not going anywhere."

Soon Billy was snoring lightly, but Eddie couldn't sleep. Not after seeing the fire dream again. Not after being reminded of yet another experimental treatment that was waiting for being injected into him just in a week’s time.

He'd been miraculously saved from the Upside down, but just barely, thanks to Dustin dragging his body through the portal in the trailer into the normal world. He was alive, and the wounds the demobats had done had eventually all healed. That was the good part. The only good part.

The bats had infected him with a virus no one could recognise. Not even Dr. Owens, who'd seen a fair share of medical conditions and viruses that weren't common. And it was impossible to study the virus because whenever it was extracted from Eddie's blood cells, it dissolved. Owens reckoned it didn't survive in the normal world outside Eddie's body. Unfortunately, there was no way to do any long-term medical research in the Upside down, for obvious reasons.

So, he was stuck with the virus. For years he'd been stuffed with antivirals, treated with tailored vaccinations and been given all kinds of experimental treatments. They all worked, sure—for a time. Then the infection flared up again.

He wasn't able to do much of anything when it did that. The burning under his skin was sometimes unbearable, but it couldn't be treated all the time. Otherwise, all antivirals lost their effects. It had happened in the past, a painful way to find out. So, he just had to live with the pain until he could be treated again.

But he was stubborn and didn't allow it to stop him from doing things he wanted to. So, he made tattoos, played the guitar and made songs for Corroded Coffin. The band had become one of the most famous metal bands in the world. When Eddie was better, they played some gigs—a very rare treat for the fans that ensured that all concerts were all sold out within minutes. And they were also a rare treat for Eddie, who loved nothing more than being on stage and interacting with fans.

But the worst was that the virus made his life difficult in the most painful of ways. Because all three of them had been wounded by creatures from the Upside down, Dr. Owens couldn't guarantee that Eddie wouldn't infect both Billy and Steve anytime they had sex. So, they had to be extra careful. Which had been difficult at first. Especially because he'd fallen for Billy before Steve. Billy, who was fragile.

Eddie had met Billy in the therapy group for people who had experienced death first-hand.

---

“We have a new participant in the group today,” the nurse said as she welcomed the patients into the group. “Eddie, would you mind introducing yourself and telling a bit about yourself?” “Sure. Uh, hi. I'm Eddie, and I died.” That was pretty much everything he could reveal of his experience. The events leading to his death were part of his NDA that in return guaranteed that Dr. Owens would keep him alive by any means necessary. “Hi Eddie,” the participants said, more or less at the same time. “So, who would like to start today? Just tell us what's going on today in your head.”

Billy glanced at Eddie. “I had another nightmare last night,” he started. “I was falling, and the fall was the best thing I'd ever experienced—before I felt the pull of gravity. And with that I remembered everything that had led into the fall. But mostly what I remembered was regrets, things that had nothing to do with the reason I was there,” he said quietly. Some of the other patients, including Eddie, nodded. “While I was laying in the ground, waiting for death, I just hoped I'd made my uncle proud,” Eddie said. “At least of something.” “Is that a regret too?” the nurse asked. “That I never hadn't had a confirmation of it. That for sure, yeah.”

After the session ended, Eddie found Billy smoking in the hospital yard. He sat on the backrest of the bench Billy was sitting on. “So, gloom group, then?” he asked as he lit a smoke. Billy nodded. “Been here for long?” Billy rubbed his free hand to his thigh, pondering an answer. “Been coming for the group since last autumn, when I was released from the hospital.” Eddie tilted his head. “Aren't you the guy who survived the mall fire?” Billy nodded slowly. “That's the one.” Eddie chewed his lip. “Was it a fire, really?” Billy turned to look at Eddie, slowly. He blinked slowly. “That's the story.” Eddie looked at Billy for a while. “No bats?” he finally asked. Billy glanced at Eddie and snorted. “No bats. Just three degree burns on most of my body. It's a miracle I survived.” Eddie's brows knitted together. “You don't look like you had burns.” Billy stared at the amber of his smoke before taking a drag. “Curiosity killed the cat.” Eddie raised his hands in a placative gesture. “Didn't mean to pry.” He was quiet for a moment. “I'm Eddie.” “'m Billy.” “Hi Billy,” Eddie said, parroting the tone of the group's greeting. He grinned when he saw Billy smile a little at that.

“So, what happened to you?” Billy asked after a while. “Accident with a motorbike.” Billy grinned. “You don't look like it.” Eddie smirked. “Should've my head fallen off just because I flew off a bike?” Billy stumped his smoke into the ashtray next to the bench and turned to look at Eddie. “That's the story,” Billy drawled. “Right?” Eddie looked at Billy, frowning again. “NDA?” Billy squinted and then nodded once. Eddie raised his brows. “To be honest, that makes more sense than a fire.” He took a drag of his smoke that was almost burned out. “How did you come back?” “A friend. Kept me alive until the paramedics came. Apparently I was brain-dead by then.” “Impressive. A group of friends fought like hell to make me come back. I died for two minutes when I was being operated in the hospital though.“ Billy's face lit up. “You're that Eddie?” Eddie looked at Billy, confused. “Uh...” “Steve. It was Steve and Dustin who brought you back.” Eddie's eyes grew wide. “You know Steve?” Billy's cheeks turned light pink. “Yeah...” “Oh. Well, that's great.” Billy leaned his elbow to the backrest of the bench. “This stays between us, right? NDA and all that?” Eddie flicked the butt of his smoke on the yard and lit another one in a sudden need for more nicotine. “Yeah. One hundred percent.” “I know what happened down there. The concert on the roof and all. Hell of a stunt, by the way.” “Steve told you about that?” “When you know people who know the horrors you've gone through, you do that. You gotta share that shit with someone.” “Has he ever gotten the being dead and coming back part, though?” Billy looked at his feet, then at the hospital buildings surrounding the yard and sighed. “No.” Then he looked back up at Eddie. "But maybe you will."

---

Soon after, they'd become friends. Bonding over what they'd experienced, but mostly music, at first. Billy had become the number one fan of Corroded Coffin ever since Eddie played their music to him for the first time. When the band got noticed more, Billy had been on every single gig he could when he wasn’t in too much pain.

Then there were the books. Fantasy, sci-fi and philosophy. Eddie and Billy could spend hours on end talking about human condition from different perspectives—or what Sauron would've become if he hadn't become what he was.

At that point, Eddie fell for Billy. He fell hard, which was bittersweet, because by then he knew Billy was with Steve. But when he confessed it to Billy...

---

Eddie was sitting on the side of his bed, picking his fingers as he and Billy listened to the latest Metallica album for the first time. Yet, he hadn't heard one song—because all he could think of was Billy leaning against the wall on the other end of the bed, listening to the music with his eyes closed. “Uh, Billy?” Eddie asked. “Yeah?” Eddie looked at him. “I like you.” Billy opened his eyes and smirked. “It would suck if I was here as much as I am and you'd hate me.” Eddie looked down at his hands. “Yeah, of course we're friends. But I...I didn't mean it like that.” Billy's smirk turned into confusion. “How did you mean it, then?” Eddie looked back at Billy, getting up and sitting next to him. His heart pounded in his chest and his hands were sweating, so he wiped them on his thighs nervously.

Billy placed his fingers on Eddie's chin and turned it towards him. “Like this?” he asked and kissed Eddie. The kiss was light, not rushed and intentional. When Billy let go, Eddie looked at him wide-eyed. “What about Steve?” he whispered, worried. Billy's cheeks turned light pink. “Um...we talked about it. He's okay with it.” Eddie's eyes widened even further and his mouth fell open. “You two talked about...me and you? Together?” “Yeah. I wouldn't cheat on him. And I wouldn't have kissed you unless Steve was okay with it.” “You like me like that too, then?” “Isn't it kinda obvious now?” “And Steve is okay with it?” “Yes.” “Can I hear that from Steve himself?” “You don't trust me?” “It's not something...you know...that you're with someone and then it's okay if they're with someone else, too.” “Of course he didn't like the idea at first. But me liking you doesn't mean he's missing anything. I love him just the same. And he wants me to be happy.” Eddie took a deep breath. “Wow.” Then he frowned. “He's not jealous?” “Oh, he is. But when it's just us two, he can be as possessive as he likes with me.” “You're into that?” Eddie asked, surprised. Billy turned beet red. “It's okay,” Eddie said, and turned to Billy, kissing him softly. “I hope you're into something gentler too.”

---

Eddie was still staring at the ceiling when his phone alarm went off at eleven am. “Snooze it,” Billy groaned and tightened his hug on Eddie. “I gotta get up, peaches. I have to open the parlor today.” Billy took a deep breath. “Ever thought of just not doing anything else than doing music?” “Thought of it, yes. Not being able to, though, as long as I have to chip in to us three living together. And for you.” “Yeah. Don't remind me,” Billy scoffed and tried to pull away from Eddie. “Hey, peaches,” Eddie said and pulled Billy back, “Everything I do, I do it for you,” he sang quietly, and kissed the top of Billy's head. “I love you,” Eddie whispered. “I don't say it often enough, but it's all for you. I can't imagine life without you, and I'm fucking crazy about you, still.” “And what about Steve?” Billy muttered. Eddie grinned. “You two were a package deal, so I got two with the price of one." "Ever been sorry for it?" "Nah. Ok, well maybe once..." Billy tickled Eddie's side making him let out a squeal. "I said once, did I?" Eddie laughed.

#billy hargrove #steve harrington #eddie munson #harringroveson #harringrove #mungrove #steddie #metalsandwich #harringrove fic #angst #emotional hurt/comfort #major character death #suometar writes #nightmares

[lyopichiisai]

As the Iron Heart

NOTES: I've been playing a DnD campaign for the last 3 years, this is my fica about my character backstory and situations that were left... for the imagination. Dnd usually is a way to cope with my stresses. So I had 2 options, develop maladaptive daydreaming, or imagining and writing fics, now we get this :D

[P.S sorry if english bad, me no english good sometimes]

Rated: Mature, maybe, idk, 16+ just to be sure

TW: trauma, loss, child death (kinda descriptive), grief, some descriptions of blood and wounds, be aware!

Ch 1. Wounded Friend

"Aida..?" A male voice calls. Its a deep voice, strangely sweet for how low it goes. Sunddenly a warm touch on the shoulder. "Aida, are you good?". It calls again.

It's a friendly touch, only the tips of large fingers, as if it was afraid of the proximity with her shoulder.

Only one of her eyes opens, a mossy green iris reflecting the cold sky, her left eye is covered by a thin piece of cloth wrapped around her head, the cotton fabric has been dazzled with medical oils. That's not the first time she senses these aromas. They were a common fragance through her lessons in herbology. Her Ma made sure to teach her every little detail about it. "Magic can heal, yes, but treating an infection or desease in traditional ways are necessary in such a small village. We don't have many healers, it takes one undead's bite to stop someone from recovering magically". Aida heard this lesson at thirteen years old.

She tries to sit up and Marshall got her back, her head still spins and the deep cuts on her face keep pulsating painfully.

"What.. where are the others?" She says, her voice is fragile. "Marshall, are they-"

"They are alright. Don't worry" he responds fast, then a quiet laugh. "You try acting all tough, but as soon as your patrol goes wrong, you ask for the others before looking at yourself. You should respect your limits more." He crosses his arms on hid chest.

"For real? You'll give me fucking life advises right now?" A sarcastic breath comes out. "You're unbelievable, Marsh."

He caress her back as she holds the bedsheets a little tighter. She knows she fucked up this time. She looks back at the male figure next to her. A human male with a full dark-brown beard, an earring on the right ear, shaved head. Dark circles around his eyes, probably from taking care of the village affairs.

"Joy was caring you back, you know?"

"I didn't asked to be brought back, did I?" Marshall looks at her, ready to ask if she feels better.

"Don't." Her tone is agressive, but he knows her too well to know why. "Just leave me here a while, with my sad ass and my regrets and.... fuck" tears are rolling down her cheeks, but she is inconsolable. Without Elryn and Brie, it was hard to do anything about her, really.

"You want to talk about-"

"I said don't" her tone is firm while interrupting him. She looks back at her hands, her vision blurried from the tears. "It was that bad..?" She holds the bedsheets once more, looking now through the window, seeing her reflection.

She also has dark circles, but for a different reasons. Living on a small village next to the montains can be dangerous, so everyone has a role in taking care of Ick Mak, but Aida took things a step too far. She lost control over her patrols, getting to the forest way more then it was recommended. Foul creatures lured on those woods, Crimson marked ones. One bite or scratch can turn you into a monster. Call it a curse, a disease, or a punishment, it was a death sentence. It was what took Brie from her. A small, crystal like wound that never heals. It gives an intoxicating fever and a rough pain throughout the body.

The crimson Mark.

Aida still remember the smell. Burned flesh mixed with a nausiating blood scent. "It" was not her daughter. Not her precious little Ladybug, not her moon and stars. It wasn't Brie, it couldn't. She was fine, she didn't get a scratch or a bite, how did it happened? How? She wasn't there when Brie was forced to stay in the house, well aware of jer fate. It's all her fault.

"Your mother did a fine job with the surture, if that's what you want to ask. Tho it will be a large scar." He knows she can take the news about her disfigured face.

"It came from the old mine, used to be a montain lion, large mark on its back, probably level 2 infection." Her tone is professional now, the analysis of a specialist that dedicated years of patrols to identify and kill these beasts. Her favorite prey, as if killing one by one would vengence her late daughter.

He sighs, there she is, this version that can only talk in ranger language. The one shifting her feeling for a hunt, for revange.

"We'll keep an eye out, it might be close still." He gives her shoulder a thigh squeeze. "You better get your ass better before even thinking about it"

"Even if I wanted to, you, Joy and Dhalia would probably stop me anyway, bunch of pebbles in my shoes" as snarky as she sounds, he knows its just a deflection.

If it was any one of them getting as badly hurt as she got, Aida would've been carrying them across the contient to save them. She made a promise after all.

Elryn was her promise, her late husband. Marshall was Brie's blessed guardian if, heavens forbid, something happened to her parents. Elryn's death was Aida's promise, Ick Mak would remain intact, it would grow and prosper as long as Aida could be responsible for it, sharing its tasks with her folks and friends alike.

She still takes care of her home, in a distant and self deprecating way, but deep down she couldn't stop carrying about Ick Mak.

As the silence settled between them, Aida looks back at Marshall, face still swollen from tears and the new wound she got. From how much she was hurt in body and soul, she kept a subtle smile, deep down, even if it looked like she wanted to die or didn't care for herself, she was glad to be breathing. Even if it stings her lungs to remember the pain of loosing, she wanted to be there.

"I'll get some sleep, can you give our little green guy a 'thank you' kiss?" Looking at her thay way, for a second, Marshall saw the old Aida. His best friend's wife, his partner in drink and games. The way she played with her words to make everyone unconfortably laugh with cheeks burning from her direct and even flirtatious tone.

"Maybe you could return the favor, with a beer at the Sleeping Oak"

"Sure, then I'll give him a kissy kissy from saving the damsel in distress" she laughs.

"Don't you mean rag in distress" he laughs back.

"Pardon my Elvish, but pukta nornye" She smiles faking being offended.

As he stands up from the chair next to the bed, he wraps his arm next to her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"We are glad you're here."

Her lips curls on a subtle smile, it's an akward one. She is and is not happy at the same time. To live in constant pain is a kind of hell on itself. Marshall waves her a quick goodbye before closing the door on the infermary room of Aida's house.

Her chest feels heavy again, being alone and quiet is an open invitation for her mind to linger deeper into her sorrow.

Voices call her out for her faults, the blame is umberable. A deep breath and her cold persona comes back.

She stands up, her head spins with the sudden motion. She gets a mirror next to the medical cabinet. Untying her bandages, Aida takes a close look at the looking glass. Her dark circles seems bigger and more tired than she remembered, her mossy green eye takes notice of its pair, closed and badly bruised. Her skin is colored with a sickned red from the bottom of her jaw, going on a diagonal, passing on her nose bridge to her forehead getting really close to her right eyebrow, spliting in an Y shape from the cheek to her left eyebrow. How lucky, her left eye is swollen shut, but she can see the light through her eyelids.

The other scar running through her lips is long, but it didn't got swollen or form a keloid. It's just a red line across her smile. a present gifted by the wild animal. Her eye was way worst in comparison.

A mess. A lost kid in the woods, trying to hunt when clearly she was the prey. She remembers bits and pieces, after getting the creature to backoff using a thorn growth spell, two of the other rangers in patrol saw her almost passing out near the south river. Joy quickly meet her and carried her, she was so small compared to him, a 6.8ft half-orc with dark green skin, large thusks going over his top lip, brown eyes, a full dark, almost black beard and pointy ears.

She can't figure out what he whispered to her, but she was sure it was a worried pray for the gods. He's embrace was strong and fearful, he didn't want to see her loose herself like that, not by this level of self destruction.

"I'm here" she whispers, recolecting the words of that big half-orc, remembering how sad Joy got seeing her, his friend, badly injuried.

______________________________________________________________

thanks if you read it!

#dnd #dnd character #oc fanfiction #dnd oc #my ocs #original character #dnd fanfiction #dungeons and dragons #dnd5e

[siren-x-saint]

Fate

He's drawn to the Kyber Crystal. Even though it wasn't his, to begin with. It belongs to Luthen Rael. For the longest time, it was out of sight, out of mind. However, he sees a glimpse of it once more. The dark blue base lightens up to sky blue before it's practically clear once more. It's wrapped around Luthen's wrist while he's talking to another member of the Rebellion. He thought he would have sold it by now. Perhaps give it to another person.

Yet he holds onto it. Maybe to deploy the same old trick that lured him into his scheme in the first place. To most people it's just a pretty rock to look at. To those more knowledgeable it's a crystal, to those who know about the once-powerful Jedi, it's a Kyber crystal they used to power and color their lightsabres. To those who live in the present, it is simply known as Kyber and it's said to power some weapon the Empire is building. He doesn't know how it works but if the Jedi managed to create a weapon from it. It makes sense that the Empire would.

It makes sense by the amount of Kyber they've been stealing that it's something big. Cassian feels cold, something deep within the pit of his stomach makes him sweat just thinking about it. Though his eyes dart away. He shakes his head, fighting off a yawn. He knows he's just tired. He needs to rest. Rest is a luxury when you are on the verge of war. Though he knows he's much more useful well rested than not so he makes his way to his room, which is more like a small room with a bunk.

The door opens with a swish as he begins to take off his weapons and places them nearby. Always have them nearby, then his vest, followed by his belt and boots. He lays himself down and stares into nothing, the ceiling at first as he becomes lost in thought once more. He's been moving up the ranks of the Rebel Alliance, he wants to say luck is on his side. How long before his luck runs out? He doesn't know, he thinks about how they're always sprouting the words. "May the force be with you," he scoffs.

He wants to say the force died a long time ago with the Jedi and their council. His mind wanders back to luck. Maybe it's all just luck because to believe in anything like Fate, would just make things complicated and questionable. Why would Fate lead to the destruction of the Jedi? Why would Fate let the Empire grow this powerful and why would Fate let so many good people die? He doesn't want to believe in it and his eyes finally start to tire and finally they close.

His dreams are filled with so much sadness and faces of great people whose lives were cut off short. Places he once visited and running, so much running in his dreams that it's a wonder he ever wakes up rested. Then it shifts, the same warm sun, the same sense of comfort and he sees her hand, it's small, it's feminine and he knows it belongs to a woman. Though he never sees her face and she always pulls out a crystal. A Kyber crystal, soft and clear just like the warm sun that shines lightly on it. And whenever this dream comes to him, it brings him a familiar sort of comfort, a comfort that reminds him of home.

Though the dream never lasts. It's always there to bid him farewell. A dream that only comes before he wakes.  So he wakes with a soft breath and it's morning and it's miracle he feels rested. He takes a deep breath before turning to his side and placing a hand under his pillow. The dream and crystal linger in his mind and he can't help but wonder if there's such a thing as Fate.

#andor prompt #rogue one prompt #jyn x cassian #hinted #rebelcaptain #i'm just a sentimental bitch #fanfiction #andor #rogue one

[werdlewrites]

Season of The Witch (Steve Harrington x OC?)

Chapter Seven: Been Here Before

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Please do not repost without credit or permission.

Summary: She wanted to know more, wanted to see and touch - and with fingers reaching out, there’s almost a pulse emitting from it, reaching back out to her.

Warnings: panic?? LIL BIT OF SAD

Word count: 2,185

The bright light of the afternoon sun cast through small windows, illuminating the small doll in large hands, making it appear even smaller. It’s worn down, fur pulled on with at least one ear from the stuffed bunny hanging loose from long nights spent cuddled up against her chest. She’s been here before. Fingers twirling at the dangling ear, though pausing to take in the remainder of her surroundings. Those small legs that kicked out for the console were now grown, tightly tucked behind the two seats with just enough room for comfort. In those brown leather seats, two figures. Rather than looking up to them like she once had, she was now at eye level, leaning in her seat in attempts to get a look at either of them in the mirror but the heavenly light continued to hide them away. Autumn gives in, allowing herself to sink back into the cushioned seats with eyes now focused out the window, where you can only see small glimpses of green pass through the vivid light. It was evident the pair, along with the child she was previously seeing the world through prior to this moment, was on a journey, but to where?

From her peripherals, she sees movement, pulling her attention back towards the front where the woman was now looking back to her, just like the dreams before yet there was no smile to be seen. There was only the look of worry, concern. Fear.

Autumn tries to ask who she was, but as the words fall from her lips they simply vanish into the air, evaporating like water on a hot day, going unheard by both parties. She tries again and again, each time the force causing more strain, leaving her to clutch at her throat as an ache creeps in. And without warning, the car lurches forward with a sudden stop, two hands reaching out to grip at the seats to keep her from crashing forward and all seems so eerily still. There’s no movement, no voices to be heard or loud crash as cars collide. She’s left anxious, stomach twisting into knots at what could await her once she lifts her head to take in new surroundings.

It was that all too familiar nothingness - the void. Tense hands were no longer gripping at the seats, but instead raised into thin air like the car had simply disappeared, leaving her alone and now settled on two feet, small shards of glass scattered all around her. With no guidance, she stood and waited. Waited to wake up, for the next step, for anything at all. In this space, Autumn swore she felt sick with anticipation - trying to keep out memories of nightmares from before in hopes they wouldn’t creep back in, chasing her away.

In the infinity, it isn’t strikes of lighting or screams in the darkness to lure her away. It’s not another smiling face or a cluster of voices attempting to smother her. It’s a glimmer in the pieces on the surface beneath her, a hue of red shimmering from clear movement just at her back. The light kissing at her fingertips and simply ghosting over her shoulders. There’s uneasiness, a feeling of panic settling in as she begins to turn - wide eyes settling on something one could only describe as an open wound ripped through space, bleeding. The color was painfully bright, vivid and filled with what appeared to be vines, either crawling their way out or working their way in, like a suture to an open cut. It all seemed so alive, so mesmerizing and terrifying that Autumn was locked in a trance, inching closer despite the warnings she felt all around her.

She wanted to know more, wanted to see and touch - and with fingers reaching out, there’s almost a pulse emitting from it, reaching back out to her.

“Help me!”

She’s pulled back. Head quickly turning towards where she felt the distorted voice had cried out from. But it carries in the space, pittering out through the air and guiding her gaze every which way. “Hello?” She calls out, not fully expecting to hear her own voice but surprised as it echoes out. But all falls into silence, no response comes yet the girl still moves out into the barren plain, waiting with bated breath.

“Someone, please help me,” it cries again, sounding more defeated than before. Although the voice is distorted, and unfamiliar, it sounds like it comes from someone much younger. Someone weak, tired, and hurting. It’s enough to send her feet flying out into the unknown, searching through the heavy fog of her mind.

“Where are you?” she calls out, running deeper and no longer able to see the vibrant red that once tickled her skin. She was lost to the maze now, wandering aimlessly. “C’mon, kid,” she groans, quickly groaning frustrated, and terrified of running in circles where there was no up or down - only forever. “Talk to me!”

“I want to go home.”

She was practically spinning on her heels, the dizziness sinking in as she frantically looked for any signs of something or someone. “Can anyone hear me?” the child sniffled, moving closer into full surrender of his predicament, whatever it may be. “Yes, I can hear you.” Desperation and a fear of failure overwhelmed her, hands sinking deep into her hair with nails dragging along the skin only to pull at the strands. “Just tell me - tell me where you are.” Autumn easily trips over herself - one foot getting caught by the other in her haste and she tumbles down into the blackness, hands pressed deeply into the surface. There’s nothing to take hold of. No loose rocks, grass or water that spill into her hands to give her any sign of where she may be.

Like the mysterious child, the unknown voice that calls out into the vast space, she feels her mind, and spirit growing frail. Arms coil tightly around her form, sinking into herself as dread sets in. She was lost with the child - lost in infinity and unable to find them, to help them. “I want to wake up,” she whispers. The words heavy and pained, like a hand reaching inwards to grip at her heart until it shriveled into dust in their palm. “Wake up, wake up,” she repeats, feeling a heaviness slowly begin to build as she began to crawl her way out, fighting against stormy winds that want to keep her grounded.

Light is creeping in, eyelids fluttering with the struggle of a deep sleep being pushed away with great force. And even with eyes open, now fully awake, Autumn feels paralyzed, simply floating. It takes time for the chill of the air to tickle at her skin, or the ache in her dry throat to make itself known. But as pieces of herself come back to life a little at a time, she slowly rises from the massacre of blankets she’s tangled herself in, sweat soaked into the sheets and bunched up balls from where her hands fisted the cloth. The sedative had both unfortunately and fortunately, worked. The pain that fogged her mind had dissipated, but at the price of leaving her trapped within a nightmare, without an escape. Her rest was so strong, that if it hadn’t been for the sheer will to return to reality, she would have slept right through her alarm - which was inching closer to going off.

Finding some form of strength, she pushes herself up onto her palms, still feeling heavy and sluggish. A twinkle of dust danced through her hazy vision, just along the floor and she hastily blinked to better clear her sight, seeing that an assumed hallucination or piece of her dream was very much real.

Even in a better mental state than the night prior, she was unable to understand why. Things with spiritual ties could break as they took in negative energies - would she have been the cause? Sensing the turmoil that spilled through her like an overflowing river, breaking down a dam. No matter the case, she tiptoed around the shards and began to clean them all up with care. Surprised she hadn’t stumbled through them in her sedated state to at least piss once or twice in the night.

She’s emptying the third pan into the garbage when a loud, thunderous knock echoes into her quiet home. It’s startling, the pan nearly falling from her grip into the glassy pile mixed with the rest of the trash. The girl remains frozen in place for a moment, fearful and allowing a racing heart to settle. Visitors at this hour weren't all that likely unless it was the police to give grave news, or a forgetful father who left his keys behind. But the latter was even less likely as the key hook was just as empty as it was last night. The stranger knocks again, leaving Autumn to abandon her supplies and hastily shuffle towards the door, fiddling with the locks until they give way, face hot with building anxiety.

All worries seemed to wash away as she drank Jonathan in, like fresh water or sweet air to fill her lungs after drowning in poison. And she would have given him a full smile in thanks for his presence, but while he was normally relaxed with a slouched posture, today he seemed to be weighed down by tension. Hands tucked deep into pockets, shoulders tightly pulled in and mouth left agape, like he was on the verge of speaking without being able to form the words. His tired, sunken eyes from the lack of sleep after working through the night were filled with worry, trying to relay the message for him, begging for help in silence. “Miss me already?” she muses with a lopsided grin, a sense of unease settled deep in her bones as arms crossed over her chest, pitifully guarded from the November air. He doesn’t say anything, still stuck in his own mind, at war with himself as the words come to a halt on his tongue and never fall through. “Do you want to come inside?” Autumn asks, her body leaning away to invite her friend across the threshold. “I have to get ready-” “Will,” he suddenly says, the name flowing out on the heavy breath he was holding in. “Have you seen Will?”

The girl can feel a steady heart race forward, leaping over the cliff and diving into the nothingness - still, dull, and aching with a pain she couldn’t describe. There was a sensation of nausea that struck her as her stomach devoured itself with fear. “What’s going on?” “Have you seen him?” he asks again, his tone now firm, bottom lip trembling as reality was sinking deeper. “N-no, Jonathan. I haven’t seen him since yesterday.” Again, she’s met with silence. The boy was now shuffling anxiously in the space, shoulders slouched with defeat and hands running through dirtied locks. His gaze was wandering, looking out into nothing in either hopes of seeing the young boy, or afraid their connection may simply shatter him to pieces on the welcome mat. “Jonathan,” she says, clear and soothing as she takes a cautious step forward, reaching out to touch the rough material of his jacket. “What’s happening?” “I-I don’t know, I-” it’s all suddenly spilling forward, overwhelming and crashing into him with force. “I don’t know where he is,” he admits, looking to her with saddened eyes, full of fear. “Mom is at the station right now. I-I just,” his breaths are quickening and despite the weakness Autumn feels rapidly consuming her, threatening to have her knees buckle right out beneath her, she grips onto him. Not for support, but for reassurance that she was with him. “Please just come. I don’t know what to do.”

The girl cannot breathe. Every muscle frozen and her last breath was captured in her chest, building in pressure until her body began to ache, crying out in a desperate plea for life. She nods hastily, feeling the burn in her face before all air passed through in a heavy exhale. “L-let me get dressed.” Her friend nods, running the sleeve of his jacket along the underside of his nose before hastily making his way back down the driveway, not daring to turn back to the girl that struggled her way back inside, an almost zombie-like appearance as she could feel every ounce of strength she had slip away the moment the door closed behind her. And finally, her knees gave way.

Autumn hit the wooden floor with a hard thud, knees and hands throbbing from the force, uneven nails digging into the wood as emotions rocked through her. She would need to remain as the support for Jonathan, to not panic when in reality she was drowning in it. Thinking of the light the younger Byer’s child brought, and how now, there was a chance that light would go dim.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #stranger things #steve harrington slow burn #steve harrington angst #jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers x oc #jonathan byers x original character #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 4, Chapter 38″

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"Isn't it a shame this ain't a movie? Then you could rewrite my every line I'll take all the blame, yo baby, I'm sorry But I didn't like the way you were, so I had to make you mine

Baby I just can't stand to see you happy More than that I hate to see you sad Honey if you left me I just might do something rash What's this strange relationship-ship-ship-ship?"

Prince – "Strange Relationship"

She was late.

Disa left the radio station a few minutes early and walked the long way to the New House building to avoid the drizzle of rain across the M.I.T. campus. She ducked into a coffee shop to grab a cappuccino before venturing back out to meet up with her homegirl Jennifer, the Graduate Resident Tutor at New House. She would be there waiting for Disa with Yamilet and Tatum before they headed off to a new semester mixer in the common spaces there. The campus was a whirl of excitement and new student business. Fresh faces eager to fit in were all around her.

She arrived at New House with not too much damage done to her make-up from the precipitation outside and her once flat-ironed sleekness had shrunk into a riot of curls. She dipped into a restroom and fluffed out her tresses to give them a semblance of put-together cohesiveness. Studying herself in the mirror, the rain had done her a favor. Her hair actually looked better curly with the dark top she had on. She adjusted her bra straps to lift her breasts higher, used a lip brush to freshen her tinted lip gloss, and dashed out of the restroom to find her friends. New House was abuzz and crowded with loud freshman and rowdy seasoned upperclassmen.

Surveying the first floor, she glimpsed Jennifer's twenty-seven-piece maroon pixie hair. Yamilet stood near her and Disa plowed her way past the whirring bodies. A tall, nutmeg-brown-skinned student blocked her path toward her friends. The dude wouldn't even move out of her way, just stood there like a big ass bump in the road. She pulled back her lips in a half snarl as the annoyance of her momentum being blocked agitated her.

"Excuse me," she said.

"Huh?"

"You're blocking my way," she said, annoyed.

The obvious newbie simply stood in there with big puppy dog eyes and a lopsided grin on his fleshy lips. She honed in on those lips. They were a distraction. Her friends called to her in the distance. Disa stomped around the youngin and he stepped back in front of her, blocking her way once more.

"Rude ass," she muttered.

"Are you Buttafly?" he blurted out after her.

"What?"

She placed a hand on her hip and that lush-lipped pouty mouth of his worried her a bit. They parted, and she noticed two gold slugs on his lower canine teeth. Sharp and dangerous like a wild cat.

"Are you Buttafly? The radio DJ? I listen to you all the time."

Her eyes softened.

"Yeah, that's me."

"Disǎ!"

Jennifer, Yamilet, and now Tatum were impatiently waiting for her.

"Sorry to hold you up. I just wanted to say that I enjoy your work. You know music, even the obscure stuff..."

The young man rattled off a bunch of praise for her radio show and her encyclopedic knowledge of music history from several genres.

"Thanks for listening to the show. I'm glad you enjoy it. I need to get to my people," she said, pointing toward her girls.

His eyes narrowed for just a second, and his lower lip raised up, turning his mouth into a haughty pout. Beautiful lips. He had beautiful lips. Kissable, pillowy lips. The third time Disa had ever seen Erik in person, she had forgotten about how sexy his lips were as they flashed peeks of his menacing slugs. Yamilet had to remind her of how succulent they were when he first came to her house in Cambridge, but that very first time, she admired them and they lured her into remembering the feeling she got from wanting a mouth like that brushing across her own plump lips. Hindsight brought clarity as Disa walked toward Erik's new palace office. The rain had slowed her down back then so that she could meet him. It was a flash of what was to come. He tried to hold her there with him, but her life had other things to enjoy besides being stopped by a very attractive man. She walked away from her future fate with an annoyed bounce in her step. But that man kept coming back to her. Always.

The West Palace was a massive enterprise with over eight hundred people working in just that one building alone. Half that number worked inside the East Palace. Offices, meeting rooms, housing for staff, dining rooms, ballrooms, public tourist rooms, and elite guards roamed the halls of the structure. It moved at a brisk pace and Disa was happy that her office was higher in the building, away from the hustle and bustle of the lower floors. Erik's new office was several floors higher than hers, and she took a private elevator to drop off his Ogum figurine. She kept the priceless gift years after she left him, and had always been tempted to mail it to him, but feared he would take that as an invitation to dip back into her life. Three times she offered to mail it to his grandfather, but Dante refused to take it. Even Marisol refused to take it back. Disa knew Erik stayed in touch off and on with his extended family, and every single person she knew would not take Ogum away from her. They all hoped it would be the beacon to bring them back together. Ironically, she ended up taking the totem back to him herself.

Every floor of the palace was expansive, and Disa loved roaming through them. She had been living in the double palace for months and still only saw a small portion of its regal splendor. It was like living in a posh museum. Art, architecture, and history flowed up and down every inch of the twin structure. There were still things there that made her gasp with wonder. It was her home. Her child's home. She would officially become a dual citizen in time for her birthday and for the first time, she actually felt like a Wakandan. The ease with which she shed all pretense of being an American was a welcome relief. Unlike most Black Americans, she had somewhere outside of the American Farce to call home. Africa, the entire continent, meant so much to her people. Of course, they always romanticized it as the motherland, but the connection was always there. Most Black Americans her age could look at continental Africans now as mere foreigners, and not long-lost cousins with an automatic fictive kinship floating around them. This was unlike her father's generation, who grew up on Pan-Africanism and glossy eyes full of hope of visiting the Motherland one day. But Disa grew up a world traveler and had great affection for the continent the way her elders did. Living in Wakanda taught her that the old heads were right in longing for a reconnection with their ancestors. Continental Africans may have forgotten them too, or even brushed off their connection as the fate of a slave/colonial past, however, Disa stayed rooted to the ancient land and wanted Joba to grow up fully Wakandan and fully present with her Black American heritage too. No more lost tribe vibes. Found tribe realness was the order of the day. Erik would remind Wakanda of that soon.

She knocked on the door of the new office, and a gorgeous steely-eyed woman answered. Her curious gaze dragged over Disa's form with a touch of disdain until she recognized who it was.

"Lady Abdullah," the woman said.

"Yes. You are?"

"Tlotliso Qhobel."

"The new intern?"

"No, I am Prince N'Jadaka's new lady—"

"Excuse me?"

"Inenekazi elilindileyo… mmmm… lady-in-waiting… personal assistant."

"Oh. I see. Glad you cleared that up," Disa said.

Tlotliso smiled and there was a coolness there that Disa detected behind the shiny white teeth. The assistant also held herself in the doorway like she was deliberately trying to block Disa from coming in.

"Is the prince here?" Disa asked, glancing over Tlotliso's shoulder.

Erik's new assistant pushed the door forward to block off access.

"He is not here right now. I can take a message for him."

Disa grew miffed at the frosty reception.

"I'd like to leave something for him. A personal gift that he once cherished."

Disa held up the silver gift bag she packed Ogum inside of.

"Is there a reason why you are denying me entrance?" Disa finally asked with a curt tone in her best formal Wakandan.

"I am sorry, Lady Abdullah, I was told by Queen Ramonda not to allow anyone in yet, not until the prince had arrived and inspected the office himself. I want to follow her directions and not upset Prince N'Jadaka. It is my first day on the job and I want to make a good impression."

Tlotliso lowered her gaze, giving deference to Disa. The woman seemed nervous, and Disa knew what it felt like to want to start off right with a powerful boss. Despite having a hand in designing the interior, Disa hadn't seen the entire set-up put together all the way. She and Yani had looked over holo designs and blueprints, but never had the opportunity to savor the final product. Erik was also easily irritated if orders weren't followed on his behalf by people. No sense in getting the woman in trouble. She held up the gift bag.

"Please make sure Prince N'Jadaka receives this. It is very important and belonged to him a long time ago. He would be angry if he didn't get this hand delivered the moment he arrives."

Tlotliso took the bag carefully.

"I will do so," Tlotliso said.

"Thank you. I'll be off then. Have a great first day."

Disa took three steps, then turned back around.

"Here's a little friendly advice, Tlotliso. Do not upset Prince N'Jadaka. Get on his good side early or else he will eat you alive."

At last. That bit of coolness in the assistant's eyes faltered with Disa's words. She sashayed away from Erik's office and wondered how he would act around that icy exterior Tlotliso possessed.

T'Challa cradled his forehead in his hands. Court papers, unanswered messages from diplomats outside of Wakanda, and daily palace inquiries from heads of staff sat unanswered on his cluttered desk. His personal assistant Uuka wandered in from time to time with his comm tab at the ready, waiting for the king to give priority to selected memos and requests for an audience. His office manager, Fundiswa, brought in a tray of refreshments for him to drink and snack on to help him regain his energy. Her tender, smoky eyes showed him pity, and she didn't bother him with her usual office banter to give him some peace.

The press conference went well. He had nothing concrete to give his people, but his father encouraged him to speak with a bold throat to at least give the illusion that things were under control.

Things were not under control.

Despite offering his apology to Mosa Dlamini, she refused to accept it until he cleared her mother's name and brought her home. She truly believed T'Challa had her mother in custody somewhere. The accusations about his father kidnapping citizens to quiet them wreaked havoc on his mind. Intense rage that brought his hand across Mosa's face settled in his chest and all the doubts he carried from the time Zuri confessed to what his father had done to Prince N'Jobu surfaced like sour bile in his throat. The urge to vomit was ever present the deeper he fell into the rabbit hole. What had his father truly done?

T'Challa sent some of his office staff to research old edicts in the royal law library where there could be clues and a historical record of King T'Chaka having a legitimate complaint against dissenters and naming them in old court documents.

"Your Highness, the coroner is here with her report," Uuka said.

"Bring her in, please," T'Challa said.

He took a sip of calming tea and stared at the pink color of the liquid to settle his mind. Dr. Mxenge slipped in quietly, clutching a folder in her hand.

"I prepared a hard copy for you, King T'Challa," she said.

"Sit," he said, pointing to the seat in front of his desk.

Dr. Mxenge was a handsome woman of fifty with twenty years of experience under her belt. Whatever she found must've been important for her to hand deliver a report in person. T'Challa took the hard copy and placed it on his desk. Dr. Mxenge touched her kimoyo and brought up a vid screen that displayed the body of the bomber on an examination table, fully nude.

"This man is Chuma Inam. He is a member of the River Tribe. A welder who lived in Birnin S'Yan. He used the corrosive and highly disfiguring sap of the khosoti tree to burn away his original tribal markings. Khosoti trees are only found in the Border Tribe territory. His hands were completely covered in the explosive powder residue that matched what they used at all the bombing sites. The corrosive nature of the material singed his fingers, leaving nerve damage that would have become permanent had he lived. He is forty years old and his tattoo has been on his skin for at least twenty years. From his personal records, we found he has a history of hostile behavior towards co-workers and his own family members who work in various jobs that are supportive of the royal family, from the military to the palace hospitality staff. Chuma has been estranged from his immediate family for the last three years, often taking trips out into the Border Tribe territory to vacation. He was in good health and had a fiancé, but the engagement ended soon after the civil war."

"What about his social life outside of the fiancé?"

"Very few friends, but he enjoyed spending most of his time at a private gentleman's club called The Oasis. We have dispatched a team to investigate that club further to question his associates. His family has been very forthcoming and is distraught that we have tied him to this case. From what we have gathered thus far, he was a bitter man with a chip on his shoulder. His former fiancé had a restraining order placed on him."

"I would like her questioned further and please keep me informed of the findings with The Oasis. General Okoye and the heads of the elite units will examine the Border Tribe territory. We may be able to flush out his accomplices once we reveal his picture and name. I will inform the public of the identity of the bomber tonight. Perhaps it will put fear in others working with him and they will slip up. Thank you, Dr. Mxenge."

Dr. Mxenge hesitated before she stood up to leave.

"Yes?" T'Challa asked.

"I have a bad feeling about this, King T'Challa. We have never had anything like this happen in our country before. To think there are others willing to do this out there. It frightens me."

"I am doing everything in my power to protect all of us. With your help, I have the information needed to solve this."

Dr. Mxenge nodded and quietly slipped out of his office. Fundiswa walked soon after and held her comm tab up for him. It glowed bright neon blue.

"King T'Challa, one of the border security agents has an urgent message for you," she said.

"Patch him through," T'Challa said.

He swiped his vid screen, clearing the information Dr. Mxenge shared with him. A dark orange secured link popped up, and the king tapped it. A youthful-looking lieutenant gazed at him with serious eyes and a rugged-looking beard.

"Your Highness, we have a private transport trying to enter the border from the Canaan side. They request permission to enter."

"Lt. Thela, no one can come through, you know this—"

"It is me, Your Highness."

T'Challa's eyes became wide like mobolo plums.

"Nakia," he said in a breathless whisper.

"I apologize for seeking your permission to enter Wakanda. I learned of the attacks from my father and I had to come home. May I please be allowed through?" Nakia said.

"Lt. Thela, escort her to the palace immediately," T'Challa said.

"As you wish, ukumkani."

"See you soon, Nakia," T'Challa said.

T'Challa swiped his screen and walked to a side door in his private suite. He passed by his gym and dining room to get to his spa room, where he showered and changed into fresh royal robes. He smoothed a hair oil onto his curls and rubbed his beard, debating about shaving it. It had become thicker, but he liked the look. It brought maturity to his face, which appeared stunning on TV.

Nakia had been in America for nearly three years, working in Oakland and along the coast of California, cultivating community centers and making inroads into local U.S. politics on the West Coast. Unfortunately, their plans to influence the lives of Black Americans were daunting. The U.S. government didn't like anything set up specifically for Black people, and other non-Black marginalized groups, namely Asians and Latino communities, complained that they wanted the benefits of Wakandan resources too. Some groups fought Wakandans through legal action, suing them for discrimination, while others blocked them from buying property in Black areas so that they would have to set up shop in more affluent areas that catered to white Americans too. Any properties they sought to buy suddenly became unavailable for purchase or were bought from private entities and taken off the market.

Nakia had become disillusioned with Americans, but she kept trying to help N'Jadaka's people. The goal was to make California the blueprint that they could duplicate worldwide. The message became clear. Wakanda was welcome to do good in America. Just not for Black Americans solely. White protesters, along with non-Black PoC's who felt slighted by the attention given to the Black community, picketed in front of the five community centers from Oakland to San Diego with signs that said "We Are All Americans", and "Support All Americans". T'Challa suspected that the FBI, CIA, and the President funded the protesters to put pressure on Wakanda to become neutral on the needs of Black people. The GOP and their supporters accused T'Challa and his people of trying to brainwash Black Americans into socialism and satanism, even though they knew nothing about his country. There was even a "Go Back to Wakanda" campaign that used insidious images of monkeys and cartoons of grossly exaggerated African features online to encourage Black Americans to repatriate to Africa.

The U.S. government wanted to control how and who Wakanda supported with their resources. Already hyper-visible because of poor race relations in the country, Black leaders became cautious in dealing with Nakia and the Wakandan team that worked for her in the country. They withstood the adverse publicity and public scrutiny. There were only a handful of Black women leaders who ignored the controversy and eagerly sought to work with Wakanda. Black male leadership waffled too much, afraid of white backlash and a lessening of their control over their communities. Nakia called white men, white women, and Black men the weak links of progress for the Black community. All other groups stood aside and watched with knives and forks, ready to feed off of the labor of Black women who moved progressive ideas forward with Nakia.

T'Challa sat in his meditation room near his small gym and stared out of the window. Birnin Zana looked the same as always, but it would never be the same. Too many things had changed. He pondered his leadership abilities and remembered how his father had handled things with such finesse and confidence. But underneath all of that polished exterior, had King T'Chaka betrayed not only his family but his own countrymen too? For what? What had been so egregious that he had to act in ways that Mosa claimed he did? Was there a death threat? A secret assassination attempt? He didn't want to believe the heresy. However, a man who could kill his own blood was capable of far more if his mind was set to crush a rebellion against the Udaku throne. Where the hell was Sita? For forty minutes, he watched the skyline for a transport aircraft to shuttle Nakia to him.

"King T'Challa, Lady Galiber is here to see you," Uuka said over the intercom.

T'Challa strode back out to his office and found Yani sitting in front of his desk.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

She was still dressed in her work uniform.

"I was given the rest of the day off from my supervisor. N'Jadaka had a long visit with her and she rewarded me with time off to come home early. I wanted to know from you how things were. With everything going on."

"I am dealing with a lot, but there's no need for you to worry. I will give an update tonight. Go home and relax. You can spend time with Riki and Sydette soon."

"Erik will take them for today. I am free until I call him. You look drained."

"That bad?'" he said, touching his face.

He had hoped the shower and fresh cologne would perk up his appearance, with Nakia being on her way. T'Challa tapped his fingers on his desk.

"You need a good meal and some sleep," she said.

He sat down across from her.

"I force myself to eat, but I will not sleep until I apprehend everyone involved with this crime. Three lives were lost, and there are citizens recovering in hospitals because some entity wants to destroy the monarchy. The wicked do not rest and neither shall I."

Yani stood up and walked to his side of the desk. She placed a gentle, warm hand on his cheek.

"As a medical professional, I advise you to take a few hours off for yourself to recharge and rehydrate fully."

He closed his eyes and touched her hand.

"I thank you for your suggestion and I will consider it later, but now—"

"King T'Challa."

Nakia stepped into his inner office with quiet footsteps and her hands folded and resting on the front of her thighs. He jumped up and glanced at Yani for a moment before stepping away from his chair.

"Nakia," he said.

His first love's midnight velvet skin sparkled with a hint of gold make-up along her cheeks and chin. Her hair was shaved on the sides with tightly coiled puffs at the top, twisted into a thick bun tied up with a black netting that lined the start of her hairline. Shimmery blue lipstick traced and colored her luscious lips that gave him a hint of a smile. Her stunning beauty trapped him in a bubble of confusion as he realized how much time they had been apart once she left Wakanda after N'Jadaka was put into cryostasis. T'Challa kept word of his cousin's return a secret from her until she witnessed N'Jadaka's speech from the palace over the Wakandan intranet that stayed closed off from the rest of the world.

Yani gave him a slight grin when she heard his voice go all fluffy and off-key. Nakia lowered her head slightly in the presence of another person. Her gimlet eyes took in Yani's closeness to him physically and her attire.

"Nakia, this is Lady Galiber. The mother of Prince Riki and Sydette."

"Hello," Nakia said, with a cautious tone. "Was I interrupting something important?"

"I was leaving," Yani said.

She glanced at T'Challa and wagged a finger in his face.

"Please nourish yourself and take at least a thirty-minute nap. You need to be at your best," Yani said.

Nakia stepped away from Yani politely and watched the other woman leave his office.

"That is Killmonger's woman?" Nakia asked.

"One of them."

"Until she spoke, I thought she was Wakandan. She's built like a Merchant Tribe woman."

T'Challa pressed his lips together.

"You two seem rather close," Nakia added.

T'Challa leaned against his desk in front of her. He folded his arms and couldn't hide the smile that spread open his lips.

"She is a gracious person."

Nakia tilted her chin higher.

"Why did you allow him to live? Everything that he did to you and our people… unforgivable."

"There are things happening here that go beyond what N'Jadaka tried to do."

"Is he a part of these bombings?"

"No. This is an old grudge that came long before N'Jadaka and I were even born. Our fathers too. I am happy to see you, Nakia."

"I am happy to be home, but not under these circumstances. I am here to offer my help. America is not going the way I had hoped, so I would rather be here helping my own people."

"Will you go back to the states when we fix the problem here?"

Nakia plopped herself on a chair and touched the side of her face.

"Americans are exploitive and predatory. I went there thinking that all the resources and open arm energy we brought would make them appreciate the effort. The people we try to help are thankful and work hard to build bridges with us, but their local and federal government handling of our presence is too suspicious. Very reactive."

She closed her eyes and exhaled the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"I was naïve. Killmonger… he was wrong for coming here the way he did… but… I am understanding the rage in him. In that country, the rich and powerful smile while they slit your throat and then place the knife in your hand, pretending not to know why you are slowly bleeding to death. There are only the haves and have-nots. They also pretend that the ills of their society are not purposely systemic. I don't know what to do anymore. I am tired of trying to convert them to our way of thinking. How do they live like that and not go mad?"

"We must keep trying. You have not been up and running that long. Two years is not enough time to see results."

Nakia glanced around his office, then stood up and moved closer to him. He smelled her perfume, and the oils used to twist up the bun on her head.

"I am here to work. You can tell me what is going on now or…"

She touched the side of his temple with the knuckles of her right hand.

"… after you get some rest. Lady Galiber is right. You are exhausted. It shows in your eyes."

T'Challa reached for her hand and held it to his lips. He kissed a knuckle and then picked up a file folder on his desk. Handing it to her, he then walked over to a wall-sized vid screen and pulled up images of the bombing and aftermath. She walked over to the screen and watched all the intel they had available. He shared the autopsy report of Chuma Inam and every bit of vital information she would need to get up to speed.

Nakia took in all the intel and looked over the reports with a keen eye for detail.

"I will go after Chuma Inam's associates. He is a member of my tribe," she said.

"That may be tricky for you. You are the niece of Bhira. People may be afraid to talk to you knowing your uncle is on the Council of Elders."

"You forget, T'Challa. I was once a War Dog. I know how to hide in plain sight. This man has brought shame to my people's good name. I will not tolerate a terrorist among the River Tribe."

"This is a dangerous mission."

"No more dangerous than what I have encountered before on the outside. I will find his co-conspirators and bring them to justice."

She transferred the digital files to her kimoyo then turned to him.

"I will go visit with my uncle in his office downstairs and then check in with the head of strike team," she said.

T'Challa tapped a comm tab embedded in his desk.

"I will get you clearance now," he said.

An awkward silence permeated the room when there was nothing else to say to one another.

"I will see you at the debriefing before your next press conference," she said, then headed to the door.

She was gone before their mutual discomfort became unbearable. He touched his chest. His heart did beat faster, but he pretended it was because his blood sugar was low and he needed more fluids to pump his energy back up.

Fundiswa walked back into the room with a new pitcher of cool ice water and a bowl filled to the top with ice cubes. The grin on her lips annoyed him.

"Wipe that smile from your face. She is here to work on uncovering evidence," T'Challa said.

He poured water into his empty glass and drank his fill. Fundiswa gazed at him with a ridiculous expression plastered on her face.

"Fundiswa, please."

"King T'Challa, I have not spoken one word about you and Nakia flirting with one another."

"We were catching up on this case, not flirting."

"Mmhmmm."

"Leave," T'Challa said in a gruff tone.

"Eh, eh, do not snip at me just because your face tells the complete story."

"There is no story. Do you not have work to complete out there?"

Fundiswa sucked her teeth and took her time leaving his office. T'Challa turned to face the images of the case sliding across his vid screen. He had one of his best spies back in the country, and it made him breathe easier.

Chapter 39 HERE.

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#Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Volume 4 #Wet Sugar 2 #Killmonger Fanfiction #Black Panther Fanfiction #Marvel Fanfiction #Erik Killmonger #Erik Stevens #Pantherverse #Uzumaki Rebellion

[rachaelnpc]

I'm Learning

Being vulnerable can be dangerous. People are able to use your deep desires, hopes and dreams to manipulate you. Giving you the things you want if you give them what they desire, hope and dream. For some that is power and control, to feed their ego, to make them feel better about themselves. It may not be about you. They may love the way you make them feel verses them loving you for who you are and what you have to offer. They may love what you provide and try to change you by holding back what you want - love, acceptance. In turn, to feel those things being withheld, you will abandon yourself to feel loved and accepted.

This is where boundaries are important. To protect yourself from compromising your morals, values and yourself.

We have all been conditioned to want a family. To rely on another person to create home. Someone to be our home. This becomes problematic when you place your heart, whole being into someone and something that is a trap. Something that is luring you in dangling your dreams inside a box. You run in, hopeful. This is it, what you have always wanted out of life and with such a wonderful caring..... person?

As the door shuts behind you leaving you alone in the dark you try your best to find the light, to keep the hope alive, to reach your dreams. You realize you need to get out of this box. This isn't where you were meant to be. You try to get out. Every time they are right there to hug you, give you those eyes, sometimes they even cry begging you not to leave. How their dreams will be nothing without you. Every time you go back into the box they abandon you. There are times you refuse to go back in... They grab you, they push you, they force you back in. Then they bring you flowers or something basic that feels like they are moving the Earth for you. Your soul ignites for a moment - You can see your dreams again, but only for a second, just enough to restore hope. In one of the ignitions you catch yourself in the mirror, what have you become?

You can hear them outside of the box talking about how awful it is with you. How your expectations are too high, how you are never satisfied. Then it is how sad and unmotivated you are, how much weight you have gained, how you work too much, how they want more... money... They were enough for you, so you have convinced yourself, yet you will never be enough for them. No matter what you do for them. You give up your whole being 24/7 to make it work. To try to light up that damn box they have you in.

You have become nothing. Sad, lonely, empty existence while they are having the time of their lives at your expense. If you try to stand up to say, 'hey, I need...'

They kick the box and tell you how they are trying so hard and how hard it is to please you. How you are not enough. How ungrateful you are. How inconvenient you are. You lay back down, silently crying. One day, when they are out doing what they do, you peak out to see what you can before they return. It is a whole world. You had forgotten what it is like to really be free, to live. You see other boxes in the distance, burning. Burning? You think, 'I can... burn the box?' But this is your home. This is everything you put your life into. You look around the inside of the box as the rays of sunlight illuminate the dark corners you never see. The box.... it is... empty. You wonder, 'What have I been fighting for? Am I fighting for... nothing?'

You hear them approaching. You scurry back into the box closing the lid. You tell yourself, 'You are okay. Count to ten. Breath in. Breath out.' A seed was planted that day. It began to grow. You venture out farther and father each time. Longing to leave the box for good. Trying to figure out the best way. You don't want to hurt them. They are trying the best they can. What will people say if you leave after all this time? Will you find another box? Who would want you? You have wasted away in a box...

As you plan how to leave, you begin to paint beautiful images on the wall. What you feel would look beautiful anyway, while in the dark. It feels good to create again. When you finally leave, you look back on the beauty you tried to create. It isn't what you thought it would be but it is beautiful in it's own way. It tells a story of overcoming the odds, of fighting for something more because you know deep down there has to be more to live than being taken advantage of in the name of 'family'.

In life we have been conditioned to put family first, to do what we can for our family. What if your family is broken and breaking you? What if your family is an illusion covering ugly truths? What if you are supporting something that isn't healthy? When you try to communicate to make it healthy and it bites back? It makes you question yourself, am I the problem? Am I hard to love? What can I change? What if it is everyone else that needs to self-reflect, evolve and not just you? Who knows, maybe I'm on the wrong vibration... Where do I fit? Maybe I am not worth it?

The spiral.

No, you are wonderful just the way you are. You matter. You are valued. Believe in yourself. We can only control how we react to things.

#Spotify