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hazbinfallinginaspiral · 2 days

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Hiya!

Love your works, 5 Stars!

Anyway I noticed you did a few Retro!Readers where they are in a Poly with both Vox and Valentino. I loved reading how protective Vox is to the point he'd rather Retro forget seeing him kill for them.

So my ask is in the Poly situation, what happens when Valentino is caught murdering someone who flirted with Retro by Retro? Unlike Vox he can't make Retro forget after all.

If you don't wanna do anything along those lines could you maybe do something else with the three of them, like Vox having to pick Retro up from the Porn Studio. (retro would be taking Val's backup glasses then get mad at what they see i bet)

Thanks!

“Don’t you dare insult mi pequeño querida ever again,” Valentino growled, looming over one of his workers. They were bloodied and bruised, beaten up, what little clothes they had been wearing were torn and frayed. “First you try to fuck them, then you’re making fun of their beautiful little ears? Asqueroso.”

I knocked hesitantly on the room he was in. “Valentino?” I asked, opening the door slightly. “Someone said you’d be in here, I don’t mean to interrupt, I just-”

He didn’t notice me. “Keep your desperate hands to yourself, bitch,” Valentino said to the worker, raising his hand to strike them again. “Or I’ll-”

“Val?” I asked, now standing in the middle of the doorway, the door ajar, light from the hallway spilling in. “What are you…?”

“Oh! Oh shit,” he said, snapping his attention towards me. “Fuck! You weren’t meant to- fuck, just look away for a moment, mi cariño.” He walked over and spun me around so I’d be facing away from the sight before me.

“Val! Hey, what are you doing?” I protested, trying to look back at the terrified worker. “Are they okay? Do they need help?”

“No! No, I was just teaching them a little lesson was all,” he said quickly, trying to steer me away from the room. “Clean yourself up,” he hissed to the worker, walking me out the door with me in tow. “Fuck. It’s normal, okay? They just needed to be put in their place. God, you weren’t- you weren’t supposed to see that.” He muttered under his breath, covering my eyes as he brought me to his office. “Vox was right, I shouldn’t have brought you here…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” I said quietly, nervously. “It’s fine, it’ll be fine.” I was still trying to process what I’d just seen. All I could register was that someone was hurt, he was worried, and that I wasn’t supposed to be there.

“No it’s not, mi amorosa,” he said quietly. He sat me down and paced nervously around the room. He picked up the phone several times, before setting it down. “Fuck.”

“Val, seriously,” I said softly. I stood up and took his hand in mine. “I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful… I don’t- I don’t know what you were-”

“That’s it!” Val said, snapping his fingers. He seemed to relax. He kept his hand in mine and brought me to his desk. “It’ll be okay, my love, I promise.”

“Promise? Promise what?” I asked, confused. He set me in his lap and held me carefully, gently. I watched as he took out a cigarette and I sighed, thinking he was just going to stress smoke again. “Val, you know I don’t have… I’ve not built up a tolerance to it like Vox or Vel, I’ll need to leave if you start.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he said with a smile, lighting it up. “Trust me, darling.”

“But-” my protest was cut off as he kissed me. I relented and kissed him back. When he pulled away, I felt so much more… relaxed. “Hm…?”

“That’s right, just relax,” he purred. He took a long drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke directly in my face. I couldn’t help but breathe it in. Sickly sweet, like honey, utterly overwhelming.

“Mm..” I mumbled, my body relaxing completely. My mind was all hazy, I couldn’t think straight. It felt so nice, so good. I found myself leaning closer to him, wanting to get as much as possible every time he blew another cloud of smoke towards me. He held me tightly, firmly, so I wouldn’t fall. “I love you…”

He chuckled as I buried my head against his chest, wanting to be near him more than usual. “I love you too,” he said, petting my head gently. All the worry and confusion I’d been feeling seemed to melt away, and as the smoke kept coming, I couldn’t help but begin to feel tired. It felt so nice, so comfortable. So good to be near him, breathing it in.

As my eyes fell shut, Val smiled, excited. It had worked! I was fast asleep against him, drugged out of my mind. I wouldn’t remember a thing. He was so goddamn proud of himself. He scooped me up, whispering sweet nothings in my ear as he carried me outside.

Vox pulled up outside the porn studio to see Valentino holding me. I was limp in his arms like a ragdoll. Vox opened the door and stepped out, slamming the car door shut behind him as he approached. “What the fuck did you do?” He asked Val, his anger evident as he reached for me.

“Relax, I just used my smoke,” Val replied, rolling his eyes. He gave me to Vox, if not reluctantly. “I know you said not to use it, but-”

“Your smoke?” Vox asked, horrified. “Oh my god, they’re out cold! Fuck! How much did you- oh my god are they dead?”

“No! No, fuck- Christ, calm the fuck down, mi cariño,” Valentino said, now a tad annoyed. “They’re a sea bunny demon, they’ll be fine. Any harmful side effects or toxins or whatever are just stored in their system for later use. All my smoke did was make them nice and relaxed.”

“What?” Vox asked. He paused, looking down at me. He thought for a moment. “And you’re sure? They aren’t hurt or anything?”

“Not at all,” Val said with a grin, looking pleased with himself. “Though, I’d appreciate some back up next time. I’ll need you on speed dial if they catch me again. I hate doing this to them…”

“I know,” Vox said with a nod. He opened the car door for the passenger seat and motioned for Val to get in. He did, and Vox set me down next to him, buckling me in. Val made me lean against him, as if I was just sleeping comfortably. “I’ll be there next time.”

“The look on their face…” Val said, sounding guilty as he looked away. He seemed uncomfortable with what he’d done, with how vulnerable he’d made me so easily. “God…”

“I know, Val,” he said softly. He gave him a small kiss, then got in the drivers seat. He sighed and started the car. “I know.”

(Val was going to kill the worker, he was just taking it slow. Now Vox will get dibs on them, since he’s the one who owns Retros soul. He’ll argue that Val already had his chance and fucked it up, so it’s only reasonable that Vox gets a try. Also! Retro can get endlessly drunk but it’ll never have a negative or lasting impact on their health and liver and whatnot. At least that’s how I imagine it.)

#hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #writing #vox x reader #my writing #x reader #reader insert #valentino x vox x reader #valentino x reader x vox #vox x reader x valentino #vox x valentino x reader #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #sorry guys #no im not #thanks anon!

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zeroeightzeroone · 1 day

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Hiyaa,

I have a request?

Producer!Bang chan x reader

Established relationship

Angst/comfort

Bang chan is in a bad mood so when he's at the studio he shouts at a co-worker he's close to/ 3racha member.

The co-worker/3racha member leaves and bumps into reader (who was already on the way to the studio? Because they haven't spent time together in a while?) and like hints at chan's bad mood.

Reader enters studio and chan starts to get mad but like reader is like "can I sit on your lap?" and he's like ❔ and she's like "you can continue working, can I sit on your lap?" and he's like "... Yeah?". Then it's fluff fluff fluff because fluff is the best 💯💯🚫🧢. Like a lot of fluff.

Oh also can you work in the reader saying something along the lines of "I get your frustrated but can you please not speak to me like that?" 🥺

And like chan gets more at peace/ relaxed/ less frustrated and apologies to coworker/ member and yeah and they all live happily ever after

creative differences - bang chan

genre: angst, comfort, eventual fluff

pairings: idol/producer!bang chan x fem!reader

warnings: chan is snappy, use of profanity

notes: thank you so much for your request <3 i hope i did it justice. this may also be the longest fic i've posted on this account with a little over 4.3k words

wc ~4.3 | moodboard

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:

since their debut, the company had already set expectations that the boys would have at least two comebacks a year–one in the first half of the year and another in the latter half. if they wanted to have more than two, they could, but two was the absolute least. the first comeback of this year for the boys went off without a hitch, resulting in topping multiple charts and receiving a handful of music show wins. however, the process for this second comeback of the year was already off to a rocky start, and the road ahead only looks winding and increasingly difficult.

the boys of 3racha have been in the studio every day for the past couple of weeks brainstorming and trying to put things together for the upcoming release. but they all seem to be hitting walls, or the ideas clash due to the amount of stress and pressures looming over their heads. so many people are counting on them–the members, producers, choreographers, and the jyp entertainment team, stay. and as the days in the studio pass, with the boys not agreeing on songs, arrangements, mixing, and more, the weight on their shoulders increases as well.

bang chan, the leader of stray kids and 3racha, felt the pressures even more so than changbin and han did.

currently, the three boys find themselves in chan's room inside the jyp entertainment building; chan is seated on the rolling chair in front of the multiple screens and mixing boards, while changbin and han are seated on either end of the couch. the three of them with their phones, laptops and notebooks opened up as they continue to brainstorm and discuss. but much like weeks prior, the progress isn't progressing, the progress is lacking or non-existent.

letting a deep sigh slip past his lips, han's eyebrows furrow in frustration as he scratches over old bullet points and writes new ones in his notebook, looking for ideas that could work. changbin is scrolling through his notes app and audio recording app, intermittently bringing the speakers at the bottom of his phone closer to his ear to hear the audio better as it's turned down to not disturb the other two, changbin tapping his fingers on his knee as he listens with his lip pursed in a tight line. chan is doing a mix of what the two are doing; writing and scratching out old and new ideas in his notebook, scrolling through his notes and audio recording apps to find something that they could work with, as well as filing through the production hardware on the system to find any drafts that could also be used to at the least, spark some inspiration.

at one point, chan feels like he's going to tug his hair out by the roots as he runs his fingers through his locks haphazardly. he's reaching the end of his patience; they've been working for weeks, and they can't even find a starting place for the comeback–he feels as if all the old material he finds in the apps aren't good enough, that they won't exceed the expectations or hype of the last comeback, that it won't even reach those expectations. it's frustrating chan to no end as he feels like he's reaching a dead end.

with a sigh, chan turns in his chair to discuss with han and changbin who are on the couch. when changbin notices this, he glances at han from the corner of his eye, surveys the atmosphere, and runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

"we need to figure something out," chan splutters out, his mind quite frantic, "we have to have some ideas–at least something?"

he looks between changbin and han on the couch, their faces look just as discontented and their minds are frantic but blank at the same time–mirroring chan's own face and mind. chan shuts his eyes in an attempt to calm down his bubbling emotions as he leans back into his chair.

"we could look through the demos again?" han throws a suggestion onto the table.

"which ones?" changbin questions.

han shrugs while at the same time he says, "all of them?"

"why would we look through demos we already vetoed?" chan scoffs, "that would be a complete waste of time."

"it's just a suggestion," han restates, this time his tone laced with hints of irritation, "maybe one of those vetoed demos could actually work; we just need to rework it."

"this isn't the first time we've gone through the demos in the past couple of weeks," chan reminds, "if one of those demos could actually work, we would've found it on the first or second round of looking."

"what demos are you thinking of specifically?" changbin asks han, who shrugs.

"i don't know, but what harm is there to look again?"

chan groans in agitation, not understanding why han is so adamant about looking through the demos again: "this would probably be the fourth time–why waste our time with a fifth? we want to make progress, looking for a fifth time is a complete waste of time."

the older boy's tone is sharp, prompting an eye roll from the youngest in the room, his arms going up in protest: " hey. it was just a suggestion–at least something to get the ball rolling." he reiterates chan's words from the beginning of the conversation.

"how is doing something that hasn't worked the past four times for a fifth going to work? if it didn't work a majority, if not, all the past times–it's not going to work," the tension in the room continues to build.

"wouldn't it be better to start from scratch instead of looking through ideas that we already decided weren't working?" changbin chimes in.

at this, han starts to feel like the two older boys are ganging up against him, and he defends himself quickly, "once again, it was just a suggestion. i don't see either of you suggesting anything."

changbin scoffs, "did I not just suggest starting from scratch instead of looking through rejected ideas?"

han turns his head to face changbin on the other end of the couch, "haven't we also been trying to start from scratch these past couple of weeks? that also hasn't been working–if it did, we wouldn't be having this conversation!"

"how are we supposed to start from scratch if we have no ideas?" chan asks in a matter-of-fact tone.

"if we look through the old demos, put some together or play around, then maybe we can find ideas," han speaks slowly as if he's trying to enunciate his point to drill it into the other two's heads, "it's better than sitting at our notebooks and laptops and writing down, absolutely nothing."

han's method of slowing down and enunciating seems to have gone through changbin's head as he begins to see han's point. if they can't conjure something up from nothing, they might as well try to conjure something up from their old demos or many recordings of melodies that have come to mind in the past. putting things together could trigger some inspiration.

"no, i think han has a point here," changbin states, "if we have no foundation or starting point, we can't build anything on top of it. at least with the old demos, we can continue to build off of what we have."

a deep breath expels from chan's lips as he listens to both han and changbin bounce words of agreement off each other for this working with old demos plan.

"again," chan says slowly, "if it didn't work the past four times, why would it work now? the odds are not in your favour."

"but there's still a chance it could work," han argues, "if there's a chance, why not take it?"

chan tongues at his cheek, "because we have a deadline. we can't keep grasping at straws that are obviously not working."

"starting from scratch and coming up with absolutely nothing is also not going to help us meet the deadline."

"so you want to create an album of demos we've rejected? you want to release a subpar album?" chan taunts.

"that's not what i'm saying," han shakes his head.

"that's what i'm hearing!"

"look, hyung," changbin steps in, "just listen to us for a second."

"i'm listening," chan snaps, "and i disagree. we have a standard to reach, one to exceed. i'll be damned if we release something below that."

"why the hell would we release something below standard?" changbin scoffs, running his hands through his hair and over his face in exasperation. letting his hands linger on his face as he leans forward, elbows on his knees.

the youngest in the room snaps at chan, "the fuck? is this you saying you lack faith in our producing skills? that we can't rework old demos to produce something that not only hits that standard but exceeds it?"

the sharp change in han's tone and volume alerts changbin, who realizes this conversation–well now it's an argument–is getting out of hand. chan and han are practically at each others throats and they're both too headstrong but stubborn at the same time, neither of them will back down. obviously, avoiding conversation wasn't going to get them anywhere, but at this point, where emotions are high, and egos are even higher, no meaningful or productive conversation regarding the album will be shared. changbin realizes he needs to jump into action to diffuse the situation before it becomes a screaming match between the two heated bandmates.

"i'm saying we have a standard, we have expectations to uphold," chan speaks slowly, his voice deeper as he's practically sneering at han, "one that the company has for us, stay, everyone."

han snarls back, eyes throwing daggers in chan's direction, "i know that. i know that damn fucking well. i'm out here trying to innovate some sort of progress toward this album, progress that we have been severely lacking for the past couple of weeks. other than rejecting our ideas, what the hell have you been doing?" he raises his chin at the older boy in a provoking manner.

"han–" changbin starts but is quickly cut off by chan.

"what the hell have i been doing?" chan spits out the question, han nods, "i've been making sure all our releases since debut continue to surpass these standards–this upcoming album is no different. don't come into my studio questioning what the fuck i've been doing."

"hyung–" changbin tries again to no avail.

"maybe you should leave," chan hisses, and changbin's eyes widen, darting between the two other boys in the studio with fires in their eyes, "and come back when you have suggestions that aren't going to waste my fucking time."

"look, guys. hannie, channie hyung–" changbin is cut off again when han rises to his feet, jaw clenched as he stares down chan in front of him, eyes narrowed.

"fine. i'll leave," he declares, "this is a waste of my time. i'll come back when you've got your head out of your fucking ass and you're open to listening to anyone other than yourself."

chan spins back around in his chair, eyes rolling back in anger as he clenches his fists on the table. behind him, han is quickly packing up his laptop and notebook as changbin gulps, wracking his brain to think of who to attend to right now. when han stomps to the studio door, swinging it open and stomping out into the hall of the company building. changbin is quick to follow after him, leaving everything but his phone, keys and wallet in his pocket the whole time as he follows after han, shutting the door behind them, leaving chan to his own thoughts alone. he chooses to follow the younger boy to try to calm him down and ensure he's safe wherever he plans to run off to.

meanwhile, you're a couple moments away from the elevator reaching the same floor the three boys are on. your hands clasped in front of you as you keep an eye on the digital sign that changes with each floor, rocking back and forth on your heels to pass the time. you haven't seen your boyfriend in quite a while due to your conflicting schedules, work and life getting in the way of a relationship, but you were grateful for those moments in between the chaos where it was just steady love and happiness. you learned to cherish those small moments instead of grovelling over how much time you can't spend with your boyfriend–obviously you get sad once in a while when you're away from him but choose not to dwell on it. thankfully, tonight is one of those nights where you can spend your time in the comfort of your boyfriend's presence. but he has no idea that you were even planning on coming to the company building, he has no idea of this little surprise you've organized.

when the elevator dings, stopping at your floor, you exit quickly but you make your way down the hallway slowly. your head moving from left to right as you read the numbers on each door, ensuring you landed on the correct floor and were going in the right direction. when you hear footsteps and your eyes dart to changbin and han walking down the hall in your direction, a wave of relief washes over you until you catch a glimpse of the concern on changbin's face and the anger on han's. they notice you walking towards them belatedly, almost running into you, but you catch their attention before any collision.

"hey guys," you greet softly, concern written on your features at the sight of the two boys. eyes looking between changbin whose eyes are drooped with worry and han, who you can feel the anger radiating off of, "what's going on?"

they both exchange small greetings with you. given han's current state, his greetings are shorter and more reserved. his mouth shut and jaw clenched again once he's greeted you.

"creative differences," changbin says to which han scoffs, rolling his eyes, "ok well, that's how it started, but long story short, we got into an argument, and hannie walked out."

"we?"

changbin nods, "yeah, hannie, chan hyung and i."

your lips purse in a tight line when the second name rolls off changbin's tongue: "if you don't mind, could you explain what happened?"

not wanting to get into too much detail as changbin doesn't want further rile up the already upset han, he gives you a quick run down of the main points of the argument between the 3racha boys–mainly chan and han. you keep your mouth shut the whole time and nod, listening intently to changbin explain while han stands with his arms crossed over his chest, a prominent pout on his lips and his eyebrows knit together.

"you're on your way to see, channie hyung?" changbin asks for clarification and you nod, "okay, obviously after what i told you, he's in a really bad mood right now so proceed with caution. angry chan is scary chan."

you thank changbin for letting you know what happened from their perspective, bidding short goodbyes to both the boys as han and changbin decide to make their way back to the dorms. han needs some time to unwind and collect his thoughts after the spat with chan. you continue to walk down the hall, turning a corner and finding the room number that felix sent you earlier–103.

you knock on the door softly but hear nothing from the inside; you knock once again and hear nothing. you sigh and decide to turn the knob, letting yourself in.

chan heard the knocks; the first one sparked his annoyance, and the second continued to heighten it. the sound of the door being opened caused him to bark at whoever decided to come in when, through his silence, he clearly didn't grant the permission to.

"what the hell?" he mutters to himself before he barks out, turning in his chair, "complete silence after knocking is not an invitation to come in, fuckin–"

when chan fully turns in his chair to face the direction of the door, the words get caught in his throat at the sight of you. he assumed it might have been changbin, han or a staff member, but seeing you standing there took him by complete shock. you shut the door behind you and give chan a small wave that he reciprocates hesitantly, still trying to let it sink in that you're actually in the room with him and that he isn't hallucinating due to how long it's been since the last time he's seen his girlfriend in person. you move to sit on the couch that was once occupied by the two other 3racha members; now, one side is occupied by changbin's laptop and notebook while you sit on the opposite end. chan turns his chair, following your every move.

when you sit down, take the pillow and place it on your lap, you smile up at chan again, "hi."

"hey baby," chan speaks slowly, "what are you doing here?"

you hum before answering, "well, we haven't been able to see each other in a while cos of our schedules but some time opened up for me today, so i wanted to pay you a surprise visit."

chan feels his heart warm at the gesture, but he's still quite irritated and agitated from the argument with han and changbin. the lack of progress for the upcoming album, along with the plethora of expectations looming over his head and his patience begins to dwindle again.

"that's nice, but i don't really have time for this right now," chan's tone is stern, his voice deep in warning, "i've got so much shit to do for this upcoming album, and nothing is fucking–"

"can I sit on your lap?" you ask, cutting chan off and causing him to furrow his eyebrows together in a mix of confusion and irritation–irritated that you had cut him off but confused about whether he had heard you right.

"what?" he deadpans, blinking at you.

"can I sit on your lap?" you repeat, and now he knows he definitely didn't hear things.

"did you not hear what i said?" chan holds back from snarling at you in frustration. "nothing is done for the album, and i don't have time to take a break."

you nod, hearing his words but adding, "you can continue working. i just want to sit on your lap while you do."

chan opens his mouth to refuse, but his eyes lock with yours–your shiny, beautiful eyes with a perfect array of colours decorating the irises, gazing up at him with a splash of hope in the depths of love in your eyes. that's when his mouth snaps shut again, probably looking like a fish when it opens again, but this time he says:

"yeah? sure."

the bright smile that stretches on your face feels like a reward to chan. you make your way over, placing yourself on his lap while facing him; thankfully, chan's chair is big enough for you to practically straddle him in a comfortable position. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and nuzzle yourself into his neck.

"you can go back to work now," you say, your voice muffled from the pressure of your lips against his skin.

chan can't help the lopsided smile that makes its way to his lips. he also can't help the way his whole body seems to relax with your touch; the longer he feels the warmth radiating off your body onto his, the more he feels the tension in his muscles deteriorating slowly. the feeling of your body pressed against his, his arms outstretched to continue typing or writing in his notebook, feels comforting.

moments pass when chan's room is quiet, and the occasional noise of chan typing on the keyboard, picking up or placing his pencil down to scratch down who knows what in his notebook. at the same time, you're still perched on his lap, your arms comfortably draped around him, and your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

chan isn't sure if the arguing with han and changbin or if the feeling of you in his arms sparked some ideas to come out of him and onto paper, but he would like to say both. despite the heated atmosphere and half-hearted words thrown around, he doesn't want to feel like that argument was completely unnecessary and a waste of time; instead, he wants to see it as a bump in the road that shows him how he can continue to improve as a friend, producer, bandmate and a person as a whole.

meanwhile, you're thinking about how comfortable you feel in the position your in right now, and how you could probably fall asleep at this moment. sure, maybe your back will hurt when you wake up, but right now, you feel your whole body relax in your boyfriend's arms. a couple moments later, your eyes are half open and you felt yourself falling asleep, but you jump a little in shock when you feel both of chan's hands sprawled on your back. his hands rub your back gently and comfortingly before he circles his arms around your body and pulls you closer. a deep sigh escaping his lips as he holds you, his eyes falling shut for a few seconds. chan turns his head, kissing the side of your head on your hair.

"thank you," he whispers, placing another gentle kiss as his hands rub circles on your back again.

you respond in a small, quiet and slightly sleepy voice, "for what?"

chan shrugs, "for this. being here."

you nod, pausing for a moment before you say, "i ran into changbin and han in the hall."

you feel your boyfriend tense up in your arms. you begin to reciprocate his comforting action as you trace circles on his back with the pads of your thumbs, his muscles relaxing under your gentle caresses. you continue to speak in a soft, timid manner that only chan can hear since your lips are so close to his ear.

"i know you're under a lot of stress and pressure preparing for the album," you begin, "i get that you're frustrated, but can you please not speak to me like that?"

the man feels his heart drop listening to your words. his mind rewinds back to when he heard the door opening, and how his first instinct was to bark and scold whoever came into the studio uninvited. chan remembers how you blinked and gave him a small smile, trying to hide your surprise, but it was evident in how your eyes widened the slightest bit for a split second before returning to normal.

you and chan sit in silence; he's dwelling on your words while you're still tracing circles into his back with your thumbs. chan wants to say that he didn't know you were the one coming into the studio, to use that as a defence, but he knows how weak that is–that regardless of who came into the room, he shouldn't have let his frustrations blow over, flipping out and greeting them by raising his voice. sure, his emotions were high, which is a factor in how he acted earlier, but he can't use that as an excuse to get away with snapping at people who have nothing to do with what he's emotional about.

you feel chan nod, and he says softly, "i'm sorry." you go to say that it's okay, but chan interrupts, "it's not, though. even if i didn't mean to speak to you that way, i still need to figure out how to regulate and control my emotions."

"you're human," you say, "when emotions are high, it's hard to find a way to keep them under control all the time. but the fact that you recognize your mistake–that's a lot more than many people can say."

chan pulls you even closer against him, if it's even possible, "i'll try my best though. i'll speak to you at a normal volume, respectfully and saying sweet things. that's what my girl deserves."

your cheeks heat up at the way chan calls you 'his girl'.

"thank you," chan repeats.

this time, you pull away, sitting up straight to look at chan's face, your eyes meeting his soft ones. his hands rub up and down your sides slowly, a slight smile on his lips. you cock your head in confusion, "for what?"

"you always know the right thing to say," chan moves one of his hands up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, keeping his hand on your cheek gently and the pad of his thumb swiping over the skin, "i love you."

you're blushing even harder now, "i love you too."

chan uses the hand on your cheek to guide your face so your lips meet his halfway for a sweet kiss. after quite a while, a smile breaks out on your face at the feeling of his soft pink and plump lips against yours. your hands move to hold either side of his neck, and the two of you spend the next couple of moments sharing tender kisses and giggles in between.

in the midst of all of the kisses, you and chan are gazing down at each other when he brushes your hair away again. this time, he opens his mouth to speak with flushed cheeks, "i'm starting to think han and his suggestions were right; it'll be better to build on something we already have and improve on it than to force ourselves to start from scratch and continue to hit a dead end."

you brush chan's hair out of his forehead, and he continues.

"my head was too far up my ass to consider his suggestion," chan purses his lips together, and his eyes flash with regret as he recalls the words thrown around between him and the younger producer earlier. chan lets himself linger in his head again before voicing his concerns, "do you think they'll forgive me?"

you nod.

"really? you're not just saying that?"

you nod again, and this time, you explain, "as long as you can identify and acknowledge where you went wrong and what you did wrong, and sincerely and genuinely apologize–which i know you feel sincerely and genuinely apologetic for–i believe they'll forgive you."

chan's eyelids flutter quickly as he thinks, nodding as he fully processes your words. still, a wave of nervousness washes over him at the possibility that han and changbin won't forgive him.

"they're your brothers," you snap him out of his thoughts, "brothers fight, but at the end of the day, they still love each other."

main masterlist

#nikkys inbox 💌#zeroeightzeroonerequests #stray kids one shots #stray kids imagines #skz imagine #stray kids imagine #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids bang chan imagine #stray kids bang chan imagines #stray kids bang chan oneshot #stray kids bangchan oneshots #stray kids bang chan one shot #stray kids bang chan one shots #skz bang chan one shot #skz bang chan imagine #skz bang chan angst #requests

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midnightsxblue · 2 days

Text

LUCKY

carl grimes x reader

tags: angst but then fluff !

masterlist here!

─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ───

When the apocalypse started you’d lost all your family and were on your own for what felt like ages but you eventually found someone who made you feel safe and her name was Natasha. She was a stranger but she used to be a mother and had lost her son at the start. She’d protected you like you were her own; like you were blood.

She was everything to you, but she left too soon. She was attacked by a walker and you did everything you could. You got bit in the process and got so choked up over the fact you knew you’d die within the next twenty four hours, you let Natasha get swarmed. You ran away as fast as you could, basically sobbing. That night after finding shelter you patiently waited for the infection to take over. You couldn’t take the easy way out, you were too scared. Nothing happened for about two days straight when you realized, you might’ve just been lucky.

Ever since Natasha, you swore to yourself you’d never let anyone you cared for die like that again and you’d make sure of it with your immunity. Granted you could still get ripped to shreds but you knew you’d never let it get that far. Not after seeing what happened to Natasha.

After that, you traveled long and far, eventually finding yourself at a large gated community with a sign at the front that read “Alexandria Safe Zone.” They had let you in very kindly. You struggled to bond with anyone there, most of them had been there since the start and never had true experience in the world around you. Except Carl.

He, to you, was the most normal of all of them; your definition of normal at least. He’d seen it all, his whole group did but he was different from his group. He’d grown up in the apocalypse just like you. It wasn’t just a part of your guys’ lives. It was all you could really remember. It almost makes you feel bad for his baby sister. She’d never know what the world was really like.

So you two grew closer. You’d go out into the woods to ensure you’d never forget. You read comics, listened to music, anything that you could think of. It never occurred to you that maybe you should tell him about your immunity. You hadn’t told anyone before and you knew if you kept bonding like you were then he’d figure it out himself. You didn’t want to take the risk of him telling someone else, you don’t know what would happen to you.

You tried to ignore the topic as much as possible, you only have ever worn long sleeves and did whatever you could to ensure they would never see it. Carl had just assumed you were mostly comfortable that way so he never mentioned it.

One morning the two of you decided to go out to the forest to read. Although you’d heard talks of a horde of walkers that were supposed to travel through that day, you didn’t really listen. The communities horde tracking system wasn’t always accurate as it would usually be a couple days ahead.

You guys walked through the forest, your hands interlocked as you looked for your spot. You approached your fallen log and you settle into the ground as Carl begins to dig through a large black box filled with anything to entertain you both. “What do you wanna read?” He asks, focused on rummaging through the pile of comics. “I’m fine with whatever. Maybe Deadpool if you want.” You reply, also digging through your bag for the pretzels you had packed for you two.

He finds the comic and sits back next to you and you lean into his shoulder while you read. You loved this, reading with him. His presence helped you forget everything you wanted to. Losing your family, watching Natasha die, getting bit. Everything washes away when you’re with him. You focus on the comic for a while until you heard the irritating noise of walkers nearby. You completely forgot the warnings you’d heard this morning.

The both of you stand up and Carl tosses the comic back in the box. You look around to see that there’s a small horde. On a regular day you would go hide in the hallowed tree trunk behind your log but the walkers had already noticed you. “Shit. We’re just gonna have to take them.” You tell him. He pulls his knife from his belt and you do the same, preparing for the next step.

You handle a few, unfortunately not quite easily. Some of the skulls weren’t too soft and also you got quite a bit of blood on you. You handled about six of them, Carl handled 9. There was one final walker that you handled before you two could take a breath. You turn to Carl with a content look, almost proud of the work you accomplished. He nods and you’re interrupted by another walker which seemingly came out of fucking nowhere.

The walker pushes into Carl and your immediate instinct is to pull it off of him. You grab the walker just below its neck and before you know it, its teeth plunge right into your forearm. You didn’t know it but Carl’s heart completely shattered. His eyes went wide and he helped get it off of you. Your knife shoves into its chin and it’s finally dead.

You let it fall to the floor and for some odd reason, tears begin to flow from your eyes. It was too close of a call but you’d survived, Carl had survived. You were relieved; relieved that you’d saved someone from the fate Natasha had faced.

“Y-you’re bit.” He mutters. You look to him and wipe your tears, smiling slightly. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. How could you be smiling? “Why…what’s there to smile about?” He asks, his voice still quiet. You roll your sleeve up from your other arm, showing your old bite wound. He steps closer to see it and he gently runs his fingers over it.

“I-I don’t understand how’s that…” His voice trails off and he looks back to you for any answers.

“It’s from a while ago. I’m immune. I know I should’ve told you earlier but I didn’t know how, I didn’t know what people would do to me.” He looks back down at your arm before his hands move up to your shoulders. “I would never do anything to hurt you…I wouldn’t let anyone do anything to you.” You nod knowingly and look back at the floor as your tears continue to flow. “Why are you crying? You’re gonna survive.” His hand moves up to wipe your tears off.

“I guess I was just scared of losing you.” You explain. He tilts your chin up to look at you before kissing your forehead, leaning his on yours afterwards.

“You’re not gonna lose me.”

─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ───

a/n: yall it felt like going to WAR to get this shit out omg i literally couldn’t finish writing it for the life of me bc i’ve been soooo unmotivated BUT I FEEL BETTER NOWWW so i’m down to take even more requests i think i have one left in my inbox that will be worked on today and tmr and will probably be posted tmr :> THANK U ANON FOR THE REQUEST IT WAS PERFECT!!! (sorry for the ending being so shitty fhndnfnfnfn)

#carl grimes #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes the walking dead #the walking dead carl #twd fanfiction #fanfic

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tipsyleaf · 3 days

Note

The relationship between Violet and her mother since she’s an angsty teen now I feel would just worsen a little when she found out she was having a little brother. They were probably so close when she was little. It was already a little rocky (what teen girl didn’t have a rough patch with their mom at that age. Ik I did) but the addition of a new baby just means less attention for her. She was probably too young to process it when Cecilia was born cause she was little but being a teen and the idea of having a new baby must be rough. Especially as the months pass on and her mom tries to bridge the gap between them before he’s born, only thankfully it was fixed after he entered the world :)

(Oh it be so sweet conversation though. I can only imagine the moment they finally talk it out.)

It's late at night. You can't fall back asleep after waking up for Scottie's 2am feeding and you're down in the living room, watching TV in the dark. Violet comes out of her room to get water and sees her mother awake on the couch. She just walks past with her water bottle not saying anything at all and grabs water from the fridge. Moving to go back to her room you finally say something.

"Not even gonna say hi?" Violet stops as she's about to step into the hallway, looking over her shoulder and nods.

"Hi..."

"You wanna sit with me for a few minutes?" Violet nods again, walking over and sitting at the other end of the couch. This is the farthest she's ever been from you in a long time. The air is thick and tense as you both watch whatever you have on.

"You okay?" Violet takes a sip of her water, nodding again, but she won't look at you.

The silence fills the room again, making the TV way too loud to you as you start thinking.

"This reminds me of when you were 3..." You smile, finally getting her attention to look at you.

"You got so mad at your father for giving me kisses first before you when he got back from a work trip and you refused to talk to him for 2 hours."

"I don't remember that." She moves closer, curling up into your side. You put your arm around her and kiss the top of her head. Smelling her lavender scent with an even bigger smile.

"Of course you don't, you were too little... Are you mad at me?" Violet tenses up under your touch. You look down lifting her face up, her eyes meeting yours. Slightly damp.

"Not mad just... Left out." The realization hits you. Ever since the baby was born you'd been so preoccupied making sure Cecilia knew you still loved her and take care of Scott... You forgot that your oldest still needed reassurance, even at her age.

"Aw, sweet pea... I'm sorry." You hug her tightly, rubbing her back as she hugs you for dear life.

"It's okay."

"No it's not. You deserve time with me... I know you sure as hell need a break from your father... He's so far up your ass he could tell you what your insides look like." She chuckles, smiling for the first time in a while as you kiss her forehead.

"Can we spend time together?"

"Of course honey! If you want to spend time with me or ever just need me we please tell me. I grew up with grandma and I'm thankful for her but she smothered me... So I thought giving you space was the right idea. I guess I gave you too much."

You sit back, continuing to rub her back as she relaxes into your side, thinking about anything and everything you could do together.

"Okay... How about instead of you doing daddy daughter day with your sister you come out with me? You always look so miserable when you come home from those."

"Ah... We always do such... Kiddie stuff. It's boring but I just can't tell Dad."

"Well, we can do more adult stuff together... Like, get a Mani Pedi... Go shopping, eat and maybe a movie? Would you like that?"

"I'd like that a lot actually... Thanks."

"Of course baby. Anything for you." You hug her tight again, squeezing her to you as she groans.

"Mommy please, I can't breathe." You let her go, smiling and holding her at arms length.

"Did you just call me Mommy?!" She looks embarrassed for a moment.

"Felt right... Just don't tell Dad or neither of us will hear the end of it."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #🌿 ivy replies #🌿 ivy writes #leon s kennedy #resident evil x reader #🏡 domestic life with leon kennedy

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hbyrde36 · 3 days

Text

for @penny00dreadful

Ch 1 <-

Chapter 2: Yellow Brick Road

WC: 4946 | Ch 2/4 | AO3 <-

They’d been walking for quite a while, nothing to see save for the fields of corn spread out on one side of them, wheat on the other, when they came upon a fork in the road.

Steve stood in the middle of the intersection, peering as far as he could down one path, and then the other, but there was just no way of knowing where each of the winding roads led. He threw his hands up in frustration before settling them on his hips. “Great, just great. Now what do we do?”

“Convenient how no one thought to mention the road split off.” Eddie grumbled.

“Right or left?”

“Flip a coin?”

Steve shrugged, it was as good a way to decide as anything else. “Sure, why not.”

Eddie stared at him expectantly.

“What?” Steve asked.

“Well, I don’t have any money on me.”

“Then why did you suggest flipping a coin?!”

Eddie bristled, as if Steve were the one being ridiculous. “Because you’ve always got spare change on you!”

“It’s those damn kids, always begging me for quarters for the arcade.”

“Did you ever think if you stopped carrying coins, the little shits would stop hitting you up for them?”

Steve frowned. “That’s… hmpf.” Because no, he hadn’t, actually. He started to rummage through his front pockets—a feat, frankly, given how tight his pants were, and wondered how big a fit Dustin would pitch if he were to actually stop handing out free money like he was a goddamn ATM machine.

“Hey!” A voice called out. “Dingus one and Dingus two!”

Steve startled—they hadn’t seen another soul for miles.

He looked all around for the source of the sound and finally spotted something—a lone figure mounted to a pole just inside the split-rail fence, nestled between a few stalks of corn. One of its arms was propped up, pointing, the other resting at its side. He grabbed Eddie’s hand and rushed towards it, swinging his legs easily up and over the wood planks, glimmering heels and all, before helping the other boy do the same.

As they got closer he could see that it was a girl made of straw and burlap—a scarecrow, his brain supplied offhandedly, though her face looked remarkably human and alive.

She winked, and smiled down at them.

Steve gasped, his eyes raking over the dusting of freckles painted over the girl’s cheeks and nose. “No—No way.” He shook his head, taking another step closer. Was every person in this place a version of someone from home?

“Robin?”

The Scarecrow frowned. “Never heard of her.”

Steve deflated. “Right.”

“Is that the way we’re supposed to go? The way you’re pointing?” Eddie asked, getting right to business as if he were unfazed at this newest encounter. Which was fair. It was pretty tame compared to the horrors of the last alternate dimension they’d been trapped in.

“That way’s okay.” She said with a small shrug, before dropping her left arm and raising her right—rotating it like a windmill in the process. “But that way’s pretty good too.”

“Very helpful.” Steve deadpanned.

“Of course,” she went on, ignoring him as she crossed one arm over the other—pointing in opposite directions at once. “People do go both ways.”

Eddie snickered, immediately clapping a hand over his own mouth to stifle his laughter.

Steve felt a rush of heat as he broke out in a full body flush, cheeks flaming. Surely The Scarecrow hadn’t meant—

The thing was, Robin—the real one—had been talking to him a little bit recently about the possibility of going both ways, as it were. He’d been starting to suspect, for no reason in particular, that he might not be as entirely straight as he’d previously thought.

Okay, fine.

There was a reason, and the culprit, cause, and source of his suspicion was standing right next to him, looking at him with those big brown eyes, sparkling with the last remnants of laughter, and smiling in that very particular way that showed his dimples to full effect.

It made Steve feel wild, like a swarm of butterflies had taken flight in his stomach.

He wondered if Eddie knew, if he should tell him, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

It wasn’t the possibility of being bisexual that frightened him. More than a possibility, he supposed—clearly that ship had sailed—what with the way he practically salivated anytime Eddie raised his arms to stretch or reach for something up high, exposing that delicious little strip of tummy and—

Yeah… definitely not straight.

And he knew the other boy was gay, Eddie and Robin had both come out to the rest of the group a few months ago, so, the possibility was there, but just because Eddie liked guys didn’t mean he liked Steve.

All of that to say, his fear lay more in the worry of ruining their friendship if Eddie didn’t feel the same way about him.

“We’re looking for the Emerald City, do you know it?” Eddie was asking The Scarecrow when Steve tuned back into the conversation.

“I can’t say that I do, no, but that’s not much of a surprise. I haven't got a brain, you see.”

“How can you talk without a brain?” Steve asked.

“Seriously?” She quirked a brow. “Have you heard what comes out of most people's mouths? It’s not that hard.”

Well, she had him there.

“The thing is, my words come out faster than my thoughts sometimes, and I just wind up rambling on-and-on until I stop making any sense at all! No one understands me, and I just know if I had a brain it would solve all my problems. “She sighed wistfully, staring off into the middle distance for a moment before seeming to remember that they were there, and snapped back to attention. “What’s in the Emerald City anyhow?”

“A wizard, hopefully.” Eddie said.

“We’re going to see if he can help us get back home to Hawkins.” Steve added.

“Hawkins, huh? That’s a funny name.” The Scarecrow mused. “Well, if he’s capable of interdimensional travel, surely he could handle one measly brain. I’ll even take a second hand one, I'm not picky! Can I come with you?”

Steve resisted the urge to point out that her figuring out all on her own that multiple dimensions even existed was proof enough that she did, in fact, have a brain. He didn’t mind the idea of her tagging along, even if she wasn’t Robin.

“It’s fine with me,” he said, looking to Eddie, who nodded his agreement. “We should warn you though, there's a witch after us.”

“I ain’t afraid of nothing except rabies and talking to girls, which is completely normal.” The Scarecrow paused, thinking it over. “And maybe a lighted match.”

With a little finagling they managed to get her down with minimal damage. Steve held her around the waist while Eddie loosened the nail in the back of the pole, and it would have been fine, but in the heels his center of gravity was a little off, not to mention the uneven ground, so when she was set loose and suddenly he was holding all her weight, it put him off balance, sending them both sprawling to the ground.

She lost a little hay in the fall but quickly shoved it back in, rearranging it this way and that in the front of her top. Steve looked quickly away—it was like watching his sister adjust herself in her bra or something.

“What? You don’t like boobies?” The Scarecrow asked, finally done fluffing herself up.

“Not yours!”

“Well that’s just rude,” she huffed, pushing herself to her feet. She vaulted the fence, and started slowly making her way down one side of the yellow brick road.

Steve glanced up to find Eddie already above him with a hand out ready to help, and he let the other boy tug him to his feet, his skin burning where their palms touched. But Eddie accidentally pulled just a bit too hard and they wound up chest-to-chest, while Steve struggled to find his footing.

“Thanks,” Steve said softly, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his gaze flicked down to Eddie’s mouth, heart beating like a jackhammer.

“Anytime, Stevie,” Eddie whispered back, sounding just as breathless as Steve felt.

They were so close, it would take nothing at all to just lean in and—

“You dweebs comin’ or what?” The Scarecrow shouted from a few yards away.

They broke apart in surprise, sharing an awkward laugh, and hurried to catch up with their strange new friend.

“It’s Steve and Eddie, actually.”

“I’m starving.” Eddie griped for the dozenth time in the last half hour alone.

It wasn’t like Steve couldn’t sympathize, he was hungry too, but Oz didn’t exactly have a convenience store on every corner, and whining about it incessantly wasn’t helping anyone.

Even if he did find Eddie’s whining to be sort-of… cute.

God, he was in so deep.

Thankfully, as they walked, the scenery began to change and the fields that had been flanking them on either side for so long gave way to a grove of trees, and not just any trees–

“Oh!” Steve tugged on the other boy’s shirt and pointed excitedly ahead. “Eddie, look, there's a bunch of apple trees.”

Eddie curled his upper lip in disgust.

“Were you, or were you not, just complaining about our lack of food?”

“Yeah, but I was hoping for a cheeseburger or something, not… fruit.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Steve rolled his eyes as he stepped off the path, heading towards the nearest tree, and reached up to pick one of the many shiny, red, and delicious looking apples.

Before he could even register what was happening, the tree moved, a cluster of its branches wrapping around his wrist like a hand, squeezing tight.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A deep voice croaked.

A voice that seemed to be coming from The Tree.

Had Steve not faced down a demogorgon, demodogs—plural—the Mind Flayer, an entire swarm of demobats, and fucking Vecna, before, he probably would have been terrified at the prospect of a talking goddamn tree, but when he got over the initial shock he was mostly just annoyed that he couldn’t get himself free.

He wrenched and pulled but it was no use, until Eddie appeared at his side, taking hold of The Tree’s other arm—if you could call it an arm.

“Hey man, let go!” Eddie yelled at it. “You didn’t have to hurt him, we were just hungry!”

“How would you like to have someone come along and pick something off of you?!” The Tree barked.

Eddie snarled, bending back several of its smallest branches until the thing squealed in pain. It released Steve abruptly and he stumbled sideways, right into Eddie’s arms, and together they backed up to where The Scarecrow stood.

“It’s alright, Steve. You don’t want any of those apples anyway.” She said, looking down her nose at the offending plant. Er, creature?

Whatever.

“Are you hinting my apples aren't what they ought to be?!” The Tree grunted.

“That depends, are they supposed to have little green worms?”

“Get out of here or I’ll–”

“You’ll what? Grow at me?” She taunted.

The Tree growled, struggling in place and waving its branches at her.

The Scarecrow stuck her tongue out, blowing a raspberry at it, and pulled the boys away by their collars.

They were only a short distance away when she stopped on a dime, whirling back around to face the small orchard. “Get bent by a stiff breeze you weeping willow!”

“What are you doing?!” Steve hissed.

“Getting you some apples, duh,” She shot back. “Come on, catch!”

Steve turned, and sure enough The Tree, along with several of its brethren, were now hurling perfectly ripe apples straight at them. He caught as many as he could, cradling them in the front of his shirt until he couldn’t hold anymore, while The Scarecrow hid behind him.

Eddie, for his part, tried his best, but sports had never been his thing, and it showed. He wound up on hands and knees chasing after a few of the fruits that had rolled away in the soft grass.

The other boy was only out of sight for a moment, but Steve’s heart still dropped when he called out from behind a tall shrub.

Steve rounded the overgrowth in an instant, bracing for whatever new threat had come to find them. He was prepared for a lot of things, a pack of rabid bunnies perhaps, or a sentient rose bush, what he wasn’t prepared to see was a girl made out of tin, and not just any girl—Nancy.

“Nance?”

“I… don’t think that's her name.” The Scarecrow said, circling the other girl’s still form. “I’ve heard of these things. She’s a Tin Woodswoman!”

Steve stared. The girl was frozen like a statue with one arm held aloft wielding an ax, and though she couldn't blink or move her head, her pleading eyes were looking right at him, following him wherever he went.

Suddenly, a sound much like a squeaky wheel came from between her unmoving lips.

“Was that… did you try to say something?” Steve asked.

“Ooooooool ca,” The Tin Woman tried again. “oooooooooil–ca”

Steve snapped his fingers. “Oil can! She said oil can!” It didn’t take long to find the small container with its built-in dispenser stashed behind a nearby tree trunk. “Where should we oil her first?”

“You should probably get her consent before you start in on all that.” Eddie muttered.

“Eddie,” Steve glowered. “Be serious.”

“Not that I know much about these things, but maybe start with her mouth so she can talk?” The Scarecrow suggested.

“Right.” Steve aimed the end of the spout, dispensing a small amount of the liquid to the corners of her mouth.

Within seconds the oil went to work and her lips loosened. “Oh thank goodness I can talk again. Can you oil my arms next, my elbows?” The Tin Woman said.

Steve worked quickly, lubricating all of her joints, but still her one arm was stuck up in the air. Seeing her struggle, Eddie grabbed it and yanked. The limb finally fell, axe and all, the sound of it like an old car door being forced open.

Eddie grimaced. “Oh shit! Sorry, did that hurt?”

“No, it feels so much better, I’ve been holding that ax up for ages.” The Tin Woman assured him, taking a few tentative steps. She only creaked a little.

“What happened to you?” Eddie asked.

“Misread the forecast. About a year ago I came out to cut a tree down when it started to rain. I rusted solid—mid-chop!”

Curious, Steve continued to examine her, wondering what enabled her to walk and talk. Not that it was any weirder than The Scarecrow, really. He knocked on her middle, the sound reverberating like a drum.

“Wow! What an echo! How’d you pull that off?” The Scarecrow asked.

“It always sounds like that.” The Tin Woman shrugged. “I guess the tinsmith forgot to give me a heart.”

The Scarecrow gasped, “no heart?!”

“No heart,” The Tin Woman sighed, hanging her head. “It’s not that I mind not having one exactly, they are easily breakable from what I understand. It's just that, well, it makes me come off kinda cold, y'know?”

Now, this wasn’t Nancy, Steve knew that, but damned if he hadn’t had the same thought about her once or twice after she’d so thoroughly crushed him, calling him and his love bullshit that night in the bathroom at Tina’s Halloween party—and the betrayal that had come after.

Heartless.

He knew it wasn’t strictly true. Those were the thoughts of a boy who’d had his heart stomped on by the first girl he’d ever given it to. Nancy had the capacity to love, and fiercely. He’d seen it in the way she protected the people she cared about, willing to do anything to keep them safe—including him. She just didn’t love him in the romantic way. It had taken him a long time to accept that, to be okay with it and get over her, but as he looked into Eddie’s eyes over the top of The Tin Woman’s pointed funnel hat, he knew it’d all been for the best.

Nancy had a heart, she just didn’t always know how to show it, and he was willing to bet this Tin Woman had one too.

“You should come with us!” The Scarecrow said.

The Tin Woman tilted her head. “Where are you going?”

“We’re going to see a wizard! Eddie—that’s the long haired one.” The scarecrow leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. “And Steve here are trying to get home. I'm in the market for some brains, and I’m sure the wizard could manage a heart for you too!”

“Do you really believe he’ll get you home?” The Tin Woman asked, turning to Steve.

“I hope so, we’ve come such a long way already.” He said.

A shrill cackling laughter filled the air, and in a plume of red smoke The Wicked Witch appeared out of nowhere, atop the roof of a nearby log cabin.

“Long? You call that long? Why, you’ve only just begun!” She sneered down at them, turning her attention on the two newest members of their little party. “And you two lovely ladies, helping them along are you?”

“Yeah, what of it?!” The Scarecrow taunted.

“Stay away from them, or I'll stuff a mattress with you!”

“And you—” The Witch paused, pointing the tip of her broom down at the Tin Woman. “I'll use you for a beehive.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” The Tin Woman growled.

“Oh, the crumpled up wad of aluminum foil wants to play with fire, huh? Let’s see how your highly flammable friend fares against this—” The Wicked Witch raised her hand palm up, conjuring up a fist full of flame that she hurled at their feet.

The Scarecrow shrieked and threw herself to the side, even Steve and Eddie shrank back from the heat of it, but The Tin Woman, who had nothing to fear from a little unfriendly fire, quickly put it out, using her hat to smother the blaze. By the time it was done, The Wicked Witch was gone.

“You weren’t kidding about a witch being after you!” The Scarecrow said.

“About that,” Steve began, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think it would be best if Eddie and I traveled the rest of the way alone. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to either of you because of us.”

The Scarecrow narrowed her eyes. “Not a chance. I'll see you safely to the Wizard, whether I get a brain or not.”

“Me too!” The Tin Woman agreed.

Not long after their confrontation with The Wicked Witch, they continued on their journey down the yellow brick road, where their surroundings changed yet again. The scattered trees thickened into dense woods, dark where the canopy blocked out most of the sun, and the air was filled with the sinister sounds of unfamiliar wildlife.

“I know I said I wasn’t afraid, but I don't like this forest. It’s dark and creepy.” The Scarecrow said.

Steve shrugged, bumping his shoulder against Eddie’s. “We've seen worse. Anything is better than a sky full of demobats, right?”

“What’s a demobat?” The Scarecrow asked.

“It’s like a regular bat,” Steve began. “Except… not at all? They’re bigger than you might think, with gray leathery flesh, and wings, and these long tails they like to choke you with. Their mouths are small but don’t let that fool you, they’re full of razor sharp teeth.”

Eddie glanced at him sideways, a crooked grin playing on his mouth and a light blush spreading across his face. “I dunno, Harrington. I’d pay good money to see you take a bite out of one of those little fuckers again.”

Steve grinned back, cheeks burning under Eddie’s attention. “That so, Munson?”

The Tin Woman gaped at them. “What is wrong with you two?”

If possible, Steve’s face grew even hotter, but as luck would have it a series of bellowing roars sounded off in the distance, and their flirtation, if it was indeed that, was quickly forgotten.

“What was that?” The Scarecrow whisper-shouted.

“Lions?” Eddie guessed.

Deep growls filled the forest next.

The Tin Woman hung onto the Scarecrow’s arm. “And tigers.”

Steve strained to listen for what else might be out there, and heard a long huff and a distinct gnashing of teeth. “And bears.”

“That doesn’t seem right, all in the same woods?” Eddie murmured skeptically. “Lions, and tigers, and bears?”

“Oh shit.” Steve shouted as something came barreling out of the trees and onto the path, coming straight for them.

They all reared back, cowering away from the oncoming threat and The Tin Woman stumbled in the process, dropping her axe to the brick road with a clang.

Steve scrambled to pick up the fallen weapon, twirling it out of habit as he took up a spot in front of his people, stepping between them and the overgrown stuffed toy who for whatever reason seemed to mean them harm. In hindsight he should have known better than to expect Eddie to stay back with the others and let him handle it, for as much as the guy liked to call himself a runner and a coward, not once had he backed down from a fight when the safety of his friends was in question.

Now being a prime example.

Armed with nothing more than Steve’s tied-together discarded sneakers, which he was swinging around wildly like every teen boy who saw The Karate Kid in theaters and decided to try their hand at nunchucks, Eddie joined Steve at his side, facing their foe head on.

“Put ‘em up, put ‘em up!” The Lion sneered.

Steve was pretty sure he’d had footie pajamas that looked like this guy once.

Mid swing, the laces on Steve’s sneakers came loose from their knot, and one of the shoes went flying out of Eddie’s hands, beaming the lion right in the forehead with a loud smack.

The beast’s paws flew to his head, cradling it as he began to cry hysterically. “What’d you do that for, I didn’t bite him!”

Eddie furrowed his brow, looking from the pathetic sobbing creature to Steve and back again. “Were you… going to bite him?”

“...No?”

Steve scoffed.

The lion moved his giant mitts from his face, tilting it up into the light. “I-Is my nose bleeding?”

“It would serve you right if it was!” The Scarecrow scolded.

Now that Steve had a better look at the guy, he realized he’d seen The Lion’s eyes somewhere before. He peered closer, squinting into the oddly humanoid looking face when it clicked.

He looked back at Eddie and mouthed, ‘Jonathan.’

Eddie snorted.

“Hey, can’t you see he’s just scared?” The Tin Woman said, pushing them both gently aside. She gazed down at The Lion with a telling softness in her eyes, and took up the end of his tail, drying his tears with it. “There now, that’s better.”

He blinked up at her in awe. “I-I’m sorry.”

She patted his hand and smiled. “Now, do you want to tell us what that was all about?”

“Oh, I'm just a stupid coward is all.”

“I don’t know about that,” Steve cut in. “I mean, you did come after the four of us all by yourself.”

“Naw, that’s not being brave. I saw you coming and I got scared, like I always do, and decided to lash out first before you could do the same to me. If I was really brave I'd have just come out and said hello.”

“Well, no harm done I guess, but we should really get going.” Steve said.

“But we can’t just leave him here all alone.” The Tin Woman insisted. “What if we brought him along? Maybe The Wizard can help him too. Even if not, the world is much less terrifying when you’re not alone.”

Steve couldn’t help but look Eddie’s way at that, feeling the truth of her words in his soul. They’d been through so much together since their fraught beginnings at the boathouse—made countless trips into the Upside Down before it’d been destroyed, faced Vecna and his hoard of monsters, twice, and it’d all been that much easier to bear because they’d been together.

Eddie nodded as if he’d heard all of Steve’s innermost thoughts though he hadn’t said a thing out loud, and he knew they were on the same page.

“The more the merrier, I guess.”

Before long they reached the edge of the forest, which opened up into a sprawling meadow full of bright flowers in shades of red, pink, purple, and orange, growing right over the yellow brick road. That sight alone was enough to take Steve’s breath away, but it wasn't the only thing that caught his attention. Just on the other side of the vast ocean of blossoms was a cluster of tall brilliantly green buildings, a city, shining just like the emerald gemstones it was named for.

“There’s The Emerald City!” Steve shouted, pointing towards the horizon excitedly. “Oh, look! Eddie, we’re almost there!”

But Eddie didn’t respond, he was squatting down at the edge of the growth, eyeing the colorful blooms with suspicion.

“What is it?” Steve asked.

Eddie turned concerned eyes up at him. “Something doesn’t feel right about this, like maybe it’s some sort of trap?”

“How can flowers be a trap?”

“Well, for one thing they’re not just any flowers, they’re poppies.”

Steve crinkled his brow. “Okay…”

“Poppies? Y’know, the thing they use to make opium?”

“Oh!”

“What’s opium?” The Scarecrow asked.

“I don't think they have drugs here.” Steve said.

Eddie tilted his head thoughtfully, and shrugged. “That’s fair, no need to trip balls when you already have talking trees.”

“So what do you want to do?” Steve asked.

“I don’t like it, but it doesn’t look like we have much choice. The only way to the Emerald City is through it, so.” Eddie shook his head, pushing himself back to his feet, and reached for Steve's hand. “I guess we’ll go as quickly as we can, and hope for the best.”

The unlikely quintet formed a chain of linked hands and ran together as a unit through the vibrant meadow. At first Steve thought Eddie had been wrong, that it was just an innocent field of wildflowers, but by the time they’d reached the top of the first small hill he was gasping for air, and his legs felt like they were pushing through molasses, unusual for someone who exercised regularly, jogging at least four times a week.

“Wait, wait.” Steve panted, leaning heavily into Eddie as he tried to regain his breath.

“Steve?” Eddie looked him up and down, worrying his bottom lip.

“I can’t run anymore, I–I’m,” Steve cut himself off with a yawn. “I’m so sleepy.” He wobbled in place, knees going weak. The other boy caught him around the middle, lowering him gently to the ground.

“What’s wrong with him?” The Scarecrow asked.

“I don’t know.” Eddie said, studying his face as he hovered over him, eyes wild with panic.

“I have to rest for just a minute.” Steve babbled, knowing it sounded ridiculous. They were so close to their destination, he could practically see the individual windows on the buildings of the Emerald City, and suddenly he wanted to take a nap? Something wasn’t right, but he couldn't seem to fight it.

The Lion yawned loudly. “Now that you mention it, catching a few winks doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” He swayed on his feet, kept upright only by The Tin Woman’s grip on him.

The next thing Steve knew, Eddie was gently prying his eyelids open, though he didn’t remember closing them. “Fuck, I knew something was off about these flowers. It’s that damn Wicked Witch, it has to be!”

Not that Steve was paying much attention to what he said, because god was Eddie pretty like this—his big brown eyes even larger and more beautiful up close, so dreamy, with his dark curls hanging down around him like a curtain.

Eddie's lips parted in surprise as his hands still cradled Steve’s face. “What did you just say?”

Oh shit, in his tired stupor had he actually said some of that out loud?

“Eddie, I–” Steve managed to force out, but Eddie swayed above him, eyes rolling back in his head for a moment before he tipped sideways, falling gracelessly to the ground beside him.

It was becoming harder and harder to keep his eyes open, and Steve knew it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to the magical sleep that was pulling him under. He turned his head and found Eddie looking at him too, doing the same long blinks, both of them fighting a losing battle.

With his last bit of strength Steve reached out, and Eddie reached too, clasping their hands between their bodies, fingers entwining with practiced ease like they were made to fit together.

As Steve’s eyes slipped shut there was another thunk nearby, the distinct sound of a body hitting the ground, something he had unfortunately heard enough times to know, and could only assume The Lion must have been felled by the same thing that’d gotten them.

The last thing he heard as his consciousness faded away, were the terrified shouts of The Scarecrow and The Tin Woman calling out for help.

Chapter 3

Thanks again to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for all your help with this!

#steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie wizard of oz #adventures in following the yellow brick road with your crush #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fic #stobin #stobin in every universe

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altocat · 2 days

Note

Plz make us cry Alto

Seph and Lucrecia reunion 🥹🥹

RAISED

PART 7

Vincent settles in with the group during the brief journey to the mountains. He is confused at Sephiroth's often childlike, messy mental state but Zack explains everything, right down to the entire plot of CC up until now. Vincent gradually ingratiates himself with the group, determined to help heal Sephiroth as atonement for his sins. And now that Cloud is out of commission and Genesis has been dormant for some time, the group is confident they can safely make it to the cave in one piece.

Sephiroth is nervous, naturally. Nibelheim really reopened a lot of old wounds. He's still trying to place together how much of himself is human, an alteration under Hojo, a false memory, or part of Jenova. The idea of him coming from Jenova sickens him to his core, makes him angrier than ever about all the things Shinra did to him. Rather than turning his anger towards humanity though, Aerith continues to emotionally strengthen and encourage him, telling him that regardless of whatever answer he finds, it's up to HIM to decide who he truly wants to be. She eventually reveals what she is (she finds out during one of the early Shinra encounters) and why she feels she's beginning to truly understand her place on this planet. To pave the way to a brighter future. She and Sephiroth are relics from an ancient world. They've come into existence in order to lead the way to a NEW world, a KINDER world.

Zack, meanwhile, is still trying to figure out what role he plays in all this. What happens after they heal Sephiroth? They still have no idea where to go. And that's not even telling what's going to happen with Genesis or Cloud. How do you begin again when your world is so messed up? His relationship with Aerith is getting closer. But Zack is tired. And he's been really pushed to the brink this entire journey. More than anything, he needs time to process all the trauma he's witnessed, and in even bigger need for a bit of hope.

They arrive at the cave, Vincent leading the way as they weave through walls of crystal. Sephiroth becomes increasingly more agitated and on edge, sensing something, something that tugs at his chest, something lost, brutal, shattering. His mangled mind twists for clarity, nearly falling into full insanity again before the group manages to tug him forward, dragging him step by step. They can't turn back. They're so close now. And while Aerith and Zack don't know what's going on, they can FEEL it. It's here. It's real.

And at last, through years of agony, abandonment, loss, and confusion, Sephiroth finally finds what he's looking for.

He finds HER.

After breaking through the emotional formalities of greeting the group (and Vincent) Lucrecia reaches out to her son. She apologizes for everything, for the experiment, for her foolishness, for her absence. She shows Sephiroth everything from the very beginning, unfiltered, unrecognizable from the hellish truth he'd uncovered in Nibelheim. And as she envelops her son in ways she never could have before in life, she finally lets him know what he needed to hear--that this was never his fault. And that she loves him. And that maybe, in some small way, she can finally atone, find peace at last.

With the last of her energies as well as utilizing the full power of the Jenova cells inside her, Lucrecia embraces her son, restoring his mind to full sanity before fading away to finally rejoin the Lifestream, her suffering finally at its end. Sephiroth has little time to really feel her, clarity finally snapping into place just as he feels her receding from him. He can only watch as she leaves him for the second and final time, surrounded by his allies, finally healed and fully aware of the person he truly is.

He cannot have her. And he never will. But he knows now that he is not a weapon. He is not a mindless tool. He is not an alien or a monster or a victim to be brutalized by Shinra. He is wanted, cherished. He was sheltered, raised back to completion by people who truly care about him. And he will continue to protect them, help them find a new home and regain a new sense of purpose. After all, they brought him here. They never gave up on him. They are a testament to humanity's worth, to the life Sephiroth always wanted. He loves them. Just as he would have loved her. And he will fight for them, die for them if the situation calls for it.

He is human. He survives. And he survives with his friends, his family.

And for now, that's enough.

END OF PART 1

#asks #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephcanons #crisis core #sephiroth #zack fair #vincent valentine #lucrecia crescent #aerith gainsborough #AU #longfic #RAISED

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jjkamochoso · 2 days

Text

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Fluff

Rengoku Kyojuro x gn!reader

Reader has cold hands… do you think the Flame Hashira would stand for such an injustice?!

Warnings: none

You sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day, focusing your energy on hanging up the laundry in front of you. Your job as an assistant to Shinobu at the Butterfly Mansion was keeping you on your feet, busy as ever, but you still couldn't warm up. By all accounts, your hands shouldn't be as ice cold as they were since it was a mild spring day, but you had always had this problem so it just became a constant in your life. You tugged on your uniform sleeve in hopes of it reaching over your hands a bit more, but you found no relief in the thin fabric. Irritated, you finished your work and decided to stay outside for a short break, hoping that basking in the sun would help thaw your freezing phalanges. Looking around to see you were completely alone, you raised your palms toward the sky in an attempt to speed up the warming process. If anyone were to see you right now, they would most certainly brand you a fool. You relished the tepid air flowing around you, closing your eyes to allow for maximum relaxation-

"Y/N! HOW ARE YOU TODAY?"

Your eyes shot open as you yelped in surprise. The Flame Hashira had snuck up on you and practically given you a heart attack. If he took notice of your flustered state, he was too kind to mention it, instead beaming at you with a kind smile.

"Rengoku! You took me by surprise, I didn't hear you behind me. I'm doing alright, thank you. How about yourself?" You wanted him to take over the conversation for a moment so you could calm your breathing, your heart still racing from his unexpected arrival.

"I am doing well! I just came back from a mission and came here in search of something to ease my sore muscles." His usually unwavering gaze faltered a bit, looking to the grass you stood on for the shortest moment before landing on you once more. "I also wanted to see you."

It was a shock that you were cold before because now it felt like your whole body was on fire after hearing Rengoku's words. Was he just being friendly? Or did he hold some sort of romantic feelings toward you? You would be content either way but truly wished it was the latter. You had a crush on the man for many months now but were too shy to make your affections known, too afraid of losing your close bond of friendship.

"That's very kind of you. Is there something in particular you wanted to see me for?"

Rengoku took a step toward you, shortening the gap between you but not enough to invade your personal space. "No. I just enjoy your company very much. I would like to spend some time with you before I have to leave for another mission. That is, if you'll allow me to take up your time, of course."

You couldn't believe your ears. This handsome man desired to get to know you better? You were beyond flattered and definitely weren't going to turn him down.

"You are the most pleasant company I could ask for, Rengoku. Please, take a seat on this bench with me and rest for a bit." He followed your lead and sat next to you, your legs touching ever so slightly.

He was the first to break the comfortable silence that had fallen between you. "May I ask what you were doing when I first joined you? It looked like you were worshipping the sun. If so, I would like to learn about this custom and partake in it myself!"

You couldn't hold in the laugh that escaped your lips. "Oh, no, no. It wasn't anything like that. My hands were extremely cold so I thought that the closer to the sun they were, the warmer they would get."

He nodded in understanding like it was the most normal thing on earth for a person to reach for the sky like a desperate flower. You were glad Rengoku was the one to find you in such a silly position because he was never one to judge people for things like that. He approached most situations with an open mind and willingness to learn, traits which you found admirable.

"Have they found their warmth?"

You shook your head and he gestured his own hands toward yours. "May I?"

You tentatively brought your hands in front of you and Rengoku, with the lightest amount of force possible, scooped them into his grip. You were immediately met with a cozy feeling emanating from his skin, heat finally entering your body. Rengoku's touch was astonishingly gentle for a man of his stature and status as one of the best demon slayers. Though you knew of his benevolent disposition, it wasn't your first thought that the hands of someone who's seen such horrendous things and taken so many lives (all justified, of course) could be this soothing, or... loving, almost. As he held your hands, the look on his face could be described as nothing less than full of serenity, like you two were lovers reuniting and expressing your fondness for each other. Slowly but surely the icy chill dissipated from your fingers but the feelings that were left behind in its wake were harder to figure out. Actually, maybe it wasn't so difficult after all. You had never seen Rengoku treat anyone like this before. Sure, he was overly friendly to his allies, but he never initiated physical touch like this. Beside the fact, he could clearly tell your hands had warmed up and yet was still holding on like you were a floating piece of driftwood and he was drowning in a stormy sea. You were reluctant to let go, too. You had never felt so safe, so protected, in your entire life and it didn't have to do with the fact that he was a Hashira.

"Y/N, would it be alright if I confess something to you?" Rengoku asked, his red and yellow eyes glinting in the sunlight and making your heart skip a beat.

"You can tell me anything," you replied earnestly.

He took in a steadying breath before starting. "Over the years we have known each other, you have been a wonderful friend. You're reliable, smart, and kind hearted. However, lately I find myself thinking of you in different terms. I take notice of how your eyes sparkle like stars when any source of light touches them. I envy the rain as it falls upon your soft skin. Even now, as we are surrounded by nature's most beautiful work, this scene pales in comparison to you. You have bewitched me, ensnared my soul. Would you grant me the great honor of being your partner?"

"Oh Kyojuro," you said, softly smiling, "How I've waited for the day to hear those words come tumbling from your lips. You are the sun to my moon and the only man to have ever captured my heart. It will be a privilege to be loved by you."

You felt his hands squeeze around yours a little tighter in reassurance as you exchanged lovesick grins. You hated your cold hands for many years but now, with the Flame Hashira by your side as a personal heater, you would never have to worry about it again.

#rengoku x reader #demon slayer x reader #kyojuro x reader #rengoku x reader fluff #kyojuro rengoku #kyojuro rengoku x reader

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mango-forest · 1 day

Text

inspired by A Second Life by Die_Erlkonigin6083

“—lo?”

What?

“—an you hear us?”

Go away.

“The levels are stable. We should see if—”

He can’t move; he’s floating in place with wires attached to him. He can’t breathe; there’s some sort of liquid all around him. He can’t see; the liquid gel substance presses against his eyelids, forcing them shut.

“Process starting in three, two, one!”

What process? Just let him sleep.

“WARNING: SUBJECT F-4N70M DESTABILIZING. PLEASE CHECK ACTIVITY LOG.”

It’s getting warmer. He wants it to get cooler. Why is it getting warmer? He hates it. It only gets warmer when they’re doing tests. People are loudly talking to each other—or is it to him?

Is this another test?

He slowly opens his eyes. It is bright, in the way all of the Rooms are, sterilized white the only color on the walls. But there’s blue curtains surrounding the bed he’s in. They never let him have curtains.

Actually, there are a lot of differences between where he is and the Rooms. It’s hard to move, but when he turns his head to the side, it’s not only chairs and machinery that he sees, but there’s also a small table with flowers in a vase, and pillows stacked next to it. There is a tube connected to his nose, and another one leading to his arm. But the discomfort cannot compare to the awe he feels when he looks through the window and sees the darkness outside, speckled with lights.

He can see millions of lights past the window, glowing, tauntingly beyond his reach. It is overwhelming. It is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

He has to get closer.

Getting his body to move is the hardest thing he’s ever done. He clumsily paws at the tubes until they fall off and in the process tumbles out of his bed, crashing onto the floor. The machinery has gotten louder now, a constant screeching that he ignores as he painstakingly makes his way to the window. He has to slowly drag himself most of the way, but it’s worth it when he props himself against the wall, closer to the lights.

He hasn’t been there for more than a few minutes when someone sits next to him. “Hello,” the person—who was not there when he woke up—says. “What are we looking at?”

Why does the person have to look with him? He was looking at the lights first! “The lights,” he says. It’s quieter than he meant it to be. His voice is hoarse, and it actually hurts him to talk.

Something cool is pressed to his hand. “It’s water,” the person says. He doesn’t look away from the lights as the person sighs. He can’t curl his fingers enough to grab it. A hand presses against his chest, leaning him back into an embrace. Another hovers a few inches in front of his face, blocking his view of the lights.

Angrily, he looks at the other. The person smiles indulgently and uses the blocking hand to then grab the cup of water and raise it to his mouth. While he’s forced to slowly drink, the person says, “We call those lights ‘stars.’ Do you like stars?”

Carefully, he nods his head, a bit of water dribbling down his chin. Stars.

“I do too. Did you know there are other planets out there? My name actually came from one of those planets: my name is Nightwing. Do you have a name?” Nightwing asks slowly, placing the empty cup on the floor and then wiping the wet off his chin.

He also seems disappointed when all he gets in response is a blank stare.

“Okay then, kiddo,” Nightwing says. “Let’s get you back to bed.” The man shifts so that he’s now held against his waist. Then he gets up and they move back towards the bed with the blue curtains. They’re leaving the stars. Why are they leaving the stars? Is it because he didn’t answer? He weakly struggles against Nightwing, a whine leaving his throat. “Shh, shh, it’s alright, it’s okay. You can still see the stars from the bed.”

But it isn’t the same! Frustrated, he tries to bite Nightwing’s shoulder to get him to stop, because even the biggest scientist stopped when he did it, but even that doesn’t work because Nightwing’s stupid black and blue suit is too tough!

“Aw, baby don’t do that. This is special material, you’re just going to hurt your teeth.” Don’t tell him what to do. He stubbornly bites down harder.

The sheets are cool against his skin and Nightwing uses his hand to press against his chin and cheeks in a certain way that loosens the bite enough that he can detach him.

Ignoring the glare directed at his whole being, Nightwing then tidies some previously unnoticed papers on the bedside table and hums a little tune. “You know, if you don’t have a name, then I can name you. What about. . . Babywing? Or . . . Pythagoras?”

“Name?” he asks, unable to have before. “What is. . .?”

He trails off at the end, but Nightwing seems to have understood, frowning for a moment before smiling again. “A name is what people call you. It’s who you are, in a way.”

He doesn’t know what a Pythagoras was, but he does know he doesn’t want to be called that. “‘M not a baby,” he rasps.

Nightwing pauses and looks at him with a smile, probably pleased he was talking. “Well, your charts say you’re seven. So you’re basically a baby. A baby with no name, which I shall now fix by naming you. . . Small Boy!”

“You’re not good at naming,” he informs the adult. He’s forced to drink more water before he continues, unimpressed. “I have a name.”

“Nuh-uh,” says Nightwing. “I would’ve known, Small Boy.”

“Yes, I do.” His throat has gone dry and Nightwing seems to notice as he produces another cup of water out of nowhere and helps him drink again. “They called me Phantom.”

Never to his face. Never when talking to him. But sometimes, they would shorten his label to Phantom when talking to each other, something easier for them to say. To him and to the lab recordings, he was referred to as Subject F-4N70M only. But the thought of Nightwing—the only person to treat him like a person—using his label, a string of letters and numbers. . . it gives him a weird feeling of shame.

Nightwing blinks. “Phantom? That’s. . . a very nice name.”

He shrugs. It’s not like he chose it. “It’s not a normal name,” he mumbles. None of the people in the lab have names like Phantom.

Nightwing sits on the edge of the bed, giving him a gentle look. “Well, I think it’s fine. Nightwing isn’t a very normal name, either. Phantom sounds cool. Like a hero’s name.”

“What is a hero?”

The frown is back again for a second before the gentleness replaces it. “Someone who helps and saves people. My hero name is Nightwing.”

“You’re a hero?” he says in slight wonder. “You saved me. You were the voice I heard.” It makes sense: if anyone fits the label of hero, it would be Nightwing, he thinks.

“You could hear us when you were in stasis? Well, I was the one there, and I am a hero! But hey,” Nightwing quickly adds, “If you want to have a different name then you can! You don’t have to keep the name they gave you.”

“Really?” It is barely above a whisper.

“Really,” Nightwing responds, firmly.

“Can I,” he starts, voice small, “have—there’s this name I—“ He swallows and looks around nervously. Waving Nightwing closer, the hero indulgently leans over. He says it so quietly it might have been a murmur: “Can my name be Danny?”

“Danny?”

He nods. He’s never said that name aloud before; it’s only ever been floating in his mind—in fact, he’s never really said it even in his mind. But he knows, as soon as the name leaves his mouth, that it’s his. “Yeah. Danny, not—not Daniel, Danny.”

Nightwing smiles widely, warmly. “Danny with the bluest eyes,” he coos.

Danny smiles back, shy but undeniably happy. A yawn escapes him, making him a bit surprised. When another one escapes him, Nightwing laughs and says, “Time for bed, I think.”

“I am in a bed already,” Danny says.

“No, like—I mean it’s time to sleep.”

Danny tries not to flinch, although he probably wilts judging by how Nightwing’s face goes a bit worried. “Oh. Where’s the capsule?” he asks, looking around as if he just missed it the first time and it was in a corner he hadn't thought to check.

Nightwing frowns. “Your capsule?”

“Yes. Where else would I sleep?” Danny asks. Nightwing’s face does something complicated. Danny hopes this isn’t when he finally gets upset and angry at him.

#danny’s like seven or smth btw and in an alternate universe #genuinely do not care if anyone adds to this feel free #dc x dp #also really go check out a second life it’s so good #dick seeing his sort of son already flippant about hospitals: yeah i can see it #dick left to get water so of course that’s when danny woke up

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cricketnationrise · 2 days

Note

Hiiii! for the ficlet fest c: 5:21am. Kensington Palace. Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor. Song Lyric: "Even though this white wall is unchanging. The morning sun shines on it, and the clock moves forward. I keep moving further away. From the seasons we spent together"

OH HELLO FRIEND. sorry in advance, this one is a bunch of arthur feels. you have been warned.

read the rest of the ficlets here

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

5:21am, kensington

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

In the hours of false dawn, the only sound in Henry’s room is the ticking of the ornate, heirloom, and completely gaudy grandfather clock. Every swing of the pendulum marks another moment that Henry should still be asleep—another moment closer to his next event.

Another moment that his dad has been gone.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Henry’s insomnia didn’t appear until after the cancer had ravaged his father’s body, had hollowed out his mother, had transformed Philip into someone he didn’t recognize, and had sent Bea careening down a path Henry could not follow. Even now, months after he and Bea clawed their way back to each other and settled as much as possible into the new normal, it seems the broken sleep is here to stay.

He’s doing better, on the whole. Regular therapy appointments—despite the Queen’s disdain for the whole endeavor—and medication have gotten Henry to the point where he can get through most days. He can put on a media face (bland, inoffensive, stoic, proper) and get through whatever nonsense The Crown has sent him to attend without visibly crumbling to pieces. It’s at night, with no distractions or witnesses, that Henry can let the mask fade away—can feel.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

It's still strange to think that his dad is gone. Every day is another one that Arthur won’t be there for. He won’t get to do another puzzle with Bea. He won’t see Henry graduate from uni. He won’t be there to see the next season at the Globe. He won’t be there when the Queen starts insisting Henry join the military. He just won’t be there, his absence a dark cloud over every triumph and fall, every mundane moment and milestone from here on out.

But Henry will be here, stuck in this gilded cage of tradition and expectations—staring at the white walls of his bedroom, unable to fall asleep.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The sun is actually coming up now—a wearily familiar sight. As much as Henry wishes he could sleep like he used to, the golden glow on his bedroom walls is beautiful. The sunlight is dappled today, peeking through the leaves of the tall trees on the grounds of Kensington, creating an intricate, ever-shifting pattern of shadows as the sun rises.

Henry thinks could write an entire anthology of poems about sunrises, actually. There’s something poignant about the juxtaposition of a new day while he’s still looking out of the chasm his dad’s death left inside him. He can see clear sky at the rim, but the light feels so far away.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

He knows Dad wouldn’t have wanted Henry to be so despondent, would have wanted Henry to be living his life as much as possible. Would have wanted Henry to find a way to move forward into his future. He knows that Arthur would have been the most excited to meet Henry’s therapy dog later today.

The idea was brought up by his therapist a month ago, and today it is finally happening. Henry was going to meet the dog that had been picked out for him. Hopefully he and the dog will be a good match or the whole process will start all over again. Henry would be stressing about it, but—

With bright sunlight climbing up the walls, the gentle ticking of the clock, and the memory of his father’s smile at the forefront of his mind, Henry has a good feeling about the day ahead.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

#cricket writes #read-and-write-#ficlet fest 500 #rwrb #pov henry #arthur feels abounding

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meimi-haneoka · 3 days

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Do you guys ever think about how many times CLAMP tiptoe around the word "death", in Clear Card? (you: what kind of question is that???)

Because it's an awful lot.

The actual verb 死ぬ (to die), the classical one, is never mentioned* to indicate "death", and I totally see the reasons why: mainly target and "world view" of the series (lord, if there's something I learned during these 8 years of observing the reactions from the JP fans is that the 世界観, the "world view" is EVERYTHING and if the authors dare doing something that goes against it, they won't forgive them. Especially for a series rooted deep in everybody's childhood).

* (Actually, it is used in chapter 43 in a funny skit with Kero, Suppy and Nakuru, where Kero says "I thought I would die!!!" because he's too embarrassed by the SyaoSaku scene he had to forcefully witness hidden in Sakura's bag 😂but it's a foolish scene)

I think the first time where they actually start to dangle it in our faces is in chapter 28, when they make Momo scream in panic: "If you rewind that far, the repercussions will be immesurable!!" and then Kaito confirming right after "Time magic shortens the caster's lifespan". 命を削る indeed means "to shorten one's lifespan", and what else does that mean, if not that he's killing himself little by little, by using time magic? Sure, magicians have a longer lifespan, but...

Another instance where they make us "sniff" the smell of death but they don't serve the actual meal is in chapter 33, when Kaito goes out in the garden to counter the attack coming from the Association. He condescendingly says 力不足と己の身が滅ぶのを恐れて, mocking them for not including time magic in their collective attack because they're afraid their power won't be enough and they'll literally wreck their bodies in the process. Kaito doesn't straight up say "they're afraid to die", but the verb 滅ぶ means "to perish, to be ruined, to be destroyed" and we all saw what effects time magic had on Kaito's body. He's basically calling them p*ssies, yes.

And excuse me, but the most apparent one....when Kaito (or the Clan) says multiple times "Her soul will break", should Akiho write on herself more power than her body can sustain....isn't that just a very generous way to avoid saying "Akiho WILL DIE" to not scare the young readers away? Because, think about it...if her soul breaks...what is left of her? What is left of Akiho, as we know her? Yes, just a shell, a corpse for use and consumption of the Association/Clan, exactly.

And what to say about the scene of chapter 41 when Nadeshiko is trying to mom-talk Kaito into reason and the guy answers "I guess it's because I'm getting closer to become the same kind of entity as you", meaning, a ghost??? Hence, he's basically saying "I'm about to die"? I always snicker when I read that part because I'm like "OH COME ON, CLAMP, MAKE HIM SAY THE WORD" 😂

Another instance where the characters dance around the concept of death is in chapter 51, when Momo gets to have this very mom-son talk with Kaito (yes, exactly, Kaito set into motion several mother figures throughout the story - Lilie, Momo, Nadeshiko herself - that should tell you SOMETHING). Momo is trying to make him understand that he's literally betted his life away when he made the contract with her, so that should give him an idea of how important this mission is to him, and for whom he's doing this for. She says "When you made the contract with me, you revealed your true name. We could say I hold your heart as magician in the palm of my hand". Here Momo is basically already mentioning the concept I've been saying time and time again when Kaito revealed his true name to Akiho in chapter 80: in CLAMP works, revealing your true name to someone is like placing the most vulnerable part of yourself in their hands. The "imagery" Momo suggests here is actually pretty disturbing: the word 心臓 (heart) is the one commonly used to indicate the actual organ, more than "heart as core of the emotions", and so what she's suggesting is that at any moment, without notice, she might close that hand and crush his heart, basically killing him. Of course Momo would never do that, but she wants to remind him of what damned situation he's put himself in, how far he went for the person he still isn't ready to recognize at this point of the story.

I think the closer they went to say the "forbidden word" was when Lilie in chapter 72 explained to Sakura the extent of her premonitory dreams: "I know things that will happen shortly ahead...things way far ahead in the future...and even things that will happen when I'll be gone".

Another instance where they TOTALLY dance around the real situation (that is, Kaito should've been dead-dead-dead by then) is in chapter 80 when Eriol explains to Akiho what Kaito had been doing: I'm not sure if it's Eriol who sugarcoated it in his speech, or Akiho herself while recounting it to Sakura, but she says "He messed with lots (of dangerous magic), so his condition wasn't supposed to be that good", another polite way to say "he should've been dead by now". In fact, what's keeping him alive is literally the fact that the pocket watch (and therefore, his time) is frozen for now.

And sometimes I wonder if the "unhappiness" or "grief" that Yelan foresaw for Sakura, in the eventuality she couldn't gain control of her own powers, included....death too....NAAAAAAAHHHH

(well, I mean, who didn't think of THAT when they made Kaito say that he could see Nadeshiko because he was close to dying?? Well knowing that Sakura could suddenly see her too?? they did that on purpose jfc)

#card captor sakura #ccsakura #clear card arc #just very randomly musing about stuff #I've been keeping tabs of how many times they've danced around the concept of death in this arc #and it's surprisingly a lot #lmao I feel like Barbie asking THAT question while they're dancing in the movie #but fear not cause even like this the arc never crosses the line #it's like saying well it's time for children to get accustomed with the concept and we'll gradually start to introduce it #gently very gently #but it's useless to keep avoiding it forever #I mean we got someone who was literally throwing his life away as one of the main characters and themes in this arc #sooo...

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