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tojivu · 5 months

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Megumi and reader after a two week separation because of megumis mission. He admits that he almost died to reader and talks about what happens after.

empty spaces ⋆ megumi fushiguro

an. argh sorry i got carried away LOL

cw. sfw, gn!reader, comfort + fluff

playing. bills by enhypen.

the bed's been useless these past few days.

it's as if the weeks have been drawn out, the universe adding new hours to each of the days so they're longer than they should be — that's what it's been feeling like.

you refuse to sleep in the master bedroom. the pillows next to your head smell too much like your boyfriend; hints of mint shampoo linger and enter your nose as you try to sleep, but ultimately fail to do so.

megumi's been gone for a bit now, and you haven't gotten much news, either. yaga's always talking about classified information and how 'the public shouldn't be concerned with jujutsu affairs' — anxiety pits in your stomach because why couldn't he just tell you whether your boyfriend was dead?

you try to distance yourself from places in the house that remind you of him, incase he's really gone this time; you believe it'll make things easier for you, but it feels as if someone's cutting away at the vessels closest to your heart whenever you imagine it — imagine megumi's body laying lifeless as they transport it back to tokyo.

megumi's never been gone for more than 3 days, especially on a mission. he's usually quick with it, coming home with a cut or two on the arms or face; it'll heal just fine, because he always asks you to take care of his wounds.

you usually sit on his lap as you bandage him up. he winces at the sting of the antiseptic, his fingers gripping harshly at your waist and then you'll tell him to sit still — he never listens, gets all grumbly with furrowed eyebrows — until you clean him up and put on the last bandaid, kiss him over the piece of clear film (and maybe an extra on the lips, if they aren't bleeding too); it's only then he finally shuts up.

you wonder how long you'll have to sit together on the kitchen island this time, if he comes home, that is — you don't think you'll mind the back and arm strain this time. you just want to see him.

"relax," gojo reassures over the phone. "he'll be back soon."

those words mean nothing to you. he's been gone for 14 days now, and he hasn't called — his location hasn't updated, either, you think he must've broken it during the fight or something.

a few sentences are exchanged between satoru and you, before your finger taps the red button at the bottom of your screen; unsatisfied doesn't, couldn't, describe your current thoughts — you were enraged that that was the only piece of information that was provided.

it takes a few hours for you to calm your thoughts. they make your head spin and heart sink, jump around like marbles on clean linoleum and deafen the shows you play on television.

you're watching megumi's favourite drama, which happens to be your favourite drama, too — he was the one who introduced it to you. you're seven episodes in when you hear the front door creak open; so loud that it reminds you to get the hinges replaced.

megumi was supposed to call the guy. it's clear you might have to ring him up yourself, now.

you wonder if it could be nobara. she didn't tag along with yuji or megumi, and you've been ignoring her calls for the past week or so — she must be here to give you a good lecture.

you hear faint groans and bags dropping to the floor, close to the entryway. you aren't greeted by a loud "[name]" as you usually would by nobara. a shiver travels down your spine, hairs on the back of your neck beginning to stand.

you throw the woven blanket off of your body and to the side of the couch — the socks on your feet lubricate your steps and you almost trip with how fast you make your way to the door.

"[name]," his voice calls, rasp voice barely reaching your ears. "i'm home."

megumi's lip is bloody, bandages wrapped over his right eye and around his head — his left arm and leg had some cuts, as well; but those seem to have scabbed already.

you want to call his name, but nothing comes out of your mouth; only a small whimper before your lover is wrapping his arms around your torso. "sorry i was gone for so long."

the pit in your stomach is gone now, almost instantaneously — instead, you begin to sob into megumi's jacket.

megumi feels the guilt but the comfort of having you in his hold overpowers it. if it didn't, he was sure he would be tearing up, too; he never liked seeing you cry.

"megs," you sniffle. "i thought you were—"

"i almost did," megumi cuts you off. he didn't want you to say those words, though he knows being a sorcerer had his fate sealed — but it didn't mean he wanted you to know that. "but i'm alright, see?"

megumi smiles down at you, as if it didn't hurt to move the muscles in his face: they stung like small needles, but he sees the relief wash over your face like a splash of cold water — so he thinks he can put up the act for a bit longer.

"you're all bloody," you mutter. "can i clean that for you?"

you point at his lip and he nods, wincing at your finger that tries to inspect the cut a little closer — it's a familiar feeling: your delicate fingers treating him like glass.

megumi's standing in front of you, and you're sitting on the kitchen island so you can actually reach his face. he lets you do your thing and he's fighting every urge to kiss your lips; he knows the cut will only get worse.

"i don't want you to go missing on me like that," you say. "never again."

"i won't," he assures, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt as you continue cleaning his cuts. "can't die yet."

"ever," you correct. "don't plan on dying, ever."

"i'm not immortal, [name]."

"that's not my problem to fix."

he smiles at your attitude — megumi might really have to figure out a way to become immortal now — freeze the cells that are dying in his body before his bones get too tired to move, stop the pigment in his hair from fading.

"okay." he breathes, hands finding their way around your waist — he taps your legs to open wider to let him fit between. " but you'll have to be immortal too, then."

"why?" you question. "i don't go around killing myself to chase curses."

"when you die, i'll be lonely," megumi explains. "need you to fill the empty space on the bed."

you laugh, trying to think of a witty comeback — you were still upset at your boyfriend for going MIA — but the look he's giving you makes it difficult not to give in.

"is that the only reason you're dating me?"

"maybe," he lies. "i didn't buy such a big bed for nothing. can't let it go to waste."

you gasp, too dramatic to be real — you put the gauze down and give him a stern look, and he lets a giggle slip through his lips before you get to nag him again.

"i'm just kidding, baby," megumi begins to kiss your frown away, pressing his blood stained lips to yours. "i love you for far more than that."

and it's just like that that you melt at megumi fushiguro's words — his red lips and blushed face making your heart skip more beats than humanly possible.

"whatever." you continue to feign anger, yet your arms are still wrapped around his neck. he knows your attitude will last for at least a week.

his lips hurt, and he thinks your hard work has gone to waste with the way he's peppering kisses all over your face.

your hands find his jaw and you lead him into an actual kiss, and you realise he tastes like antiseptic — a little blood in the mix, too — but you can't really complain.

"i'm serious."

you wonder if it's megumi who fills the void you have, or whether it's you who fills his. whether that be in the form of empty beds or an empty house, you know for certain that everything feels off without him — missing like a centre puzzle piece.

"i know," you run your fingers through his rough and matted hair. "i love you too, megs."

"think you'll have to wash my hair for me, too."

you shake your head. "probably has lice."

"we'll have lice together, then." your boyfriend shrugs his shoulders.

"that's so gross, megs," your face sours. "you're such a romantic."

200124 — WHY IS THIS SO LONG DAMN

#jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi fluff #megumi x reader fluff #megumi comfort #megumi x reader comfort #jjk comfort #jjk megumi #jjk imagines #jjk imagine #megumi imagines #megumi imagine

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libraryofgage · 7 months

Text

PJO Steddie Five

One | Two | Three | Four

Here it is! We learn El's parent in this one, and there's a wonderfully healthy dose of Steddie throughout the whole part.

There's a meme on this one, too lol

If you see any typos, no you didn't ^_^

-----

It should not have taken five days to drive from Athens, Tennessee, to Camp Half-Blood in Long Island. Eddie wouldn't be surprised if Chrissy and his bandmates thought he'd died some horrible death while on this retrieval. But Eddie would love to meet the person who can tell Steve and a gaggle of demigod children to hurry up and get to camp already. They spent two days at Hearth and Home just for the pool, and various stops along the way followed that same pattern.

It was, in all honesty, the most relaxed retrieval mission Eddie has ever fucking experienced. Only one monster ever gave them trouble (another harpy--go figure--that Steve dispatched with ease and no injury) while the rest would sniff around and eventually have their eyes glaze over like they'd lost interest or encountered something familiar. They'd then move on, leaving the group to continue their meal in relative peace.

But for as relaxed as Eddie and the kids are, Steve is ramped to the absolute limit. His shoulders remain tense, his leg bounces whenever he sits still too long, his eyes constantly survey their surroundings, and he seems to have placed a distance between himself and Eddie. It hurts to see, especially considering the literal spark between them, but Eddie tells himself it's just until they get to camp and Steve sees for himself that they're safe.

And that moment is getting closer as they hike up Half-Blood Hill, Steve's car left at the foot until Eddie can convince Chiron and Mr. D to let him park it in the camp itself. "That big tree there is where the protective barrier starts," Eddie explains, pointing at Thalia's tree. "It used to be a girl, but there was a whole thing with the Golden Fleece, and long story short, she's running around with Artemis now."

"Can I run around with Artemis?" Max asks, her voice eager as she falls back to keep pace with Steve and Eddie.

Steve snorts, and Eddie notices the way his hand tightens on his bat. His knuckles turn white and the muscles in his forearm straining slightly and Eddie has to look away before his mouth gets too dry. "Maybe when you're older," Steve says, "After you can beat me in a spar."

Max groans, stomping her way back to Lucas with hunched shoulders and a quiet mutter that she won't be winning anytime soon.

They reach the top of the hill then, and Eddie watches as the group slows down. El in particular falls back until she's next to Steve and can grip his hand tightly. Her beanie seems to be squirming, but the movement is so subtle that Eddie thinks he's probably seeing the air ripples from the heat. He hurries to the front of the group and grins at them. "Okay! You ready to enter Camp Half-Blood, AKA the best place ever?" he asks.

"Just get on with it already," Mike says, crossing his arms as Erica nods in agreement.

Eddie, in an incredibly mature move, sticks out his tongue, and he's rewarded with a quiet laugh from Steve. "As I was saying, once you pass by the tree, I'll introduce you to Chiron, the activities director here. After that, we'll get cabin arrangements, measure you for armor and swords, and give a full tour. Of course, I'll be the one showing you around, which means you'll be getting the best possible version of the tour."

He waits for applause, but it never comes, and Eddie pouts at them. "Can't you be more excited? This is, like, the first time I've managed to bring back kids who aren't terrified."

"Oh boy," Dustin says, his voice high and fake, "I can't wait for Eddie to show us around Camp Half-Blood."

"Joke all you like, Henderson, I'm taking it as a compliment," Eddie says, darting forward and pushing down the bill of Dustin's cap. He moves back easily and claps his hands. "Okay! Step on through, please."

The kids all glance back at Steve, and he smiles encouragingly. As a group, they move past the perimeter of the tree until only Steve and El are left standing on the edge. Eddie flashes a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, it's gonna be great. El and the kids can meet more demigods their age, and you, Stevie, can relax since you won't have any monsters coming after you."

Steve nods and looks at El. "You ready?" he asks. She holds his hand even tighter--and Eddie is starting to worry about Steve's bones here--but nods.

Together, they step over the threshold.

Or, well, Steve does. El is stuck on the other side, Steve's hand still in hers but unable to pull her through. Her shoulders drop, and despite Steve's best efforts, she can't get an inch over the barrier that ripples between them. Resigned, she looks down at their hands, her grip starting to loosen some.

Eddie stares at this scene with wide eyes, and a few things suddenly make sense. No wonder Steve wouldn't say who El's godly parent is. She technically doesn't have one. The odd protectiveness makes a lot of sense now, too. And so does the way monsters would apparently move on like the gaggle of demigods was uninteresting.

"Well," Steve says, breaking Eddie out of his epiphany, "we gave it a shot."

With that, he steps back through the barrier, the rest of the kids quickly follow suit, and Eddie can feel them slipping through his fingers. "Wait!" he shouts, relieved when Steve looks up at him.

He's about to give El permission, to say everything is gonna be fine, to beg on his fucking knees if that will keep Steve--and the kids, of course--from walking away.

This is, of course, when the fucking armored and armed barrier patrol (a tradition that never really faded despite the camp's renewed safety) decides to show up.

Eddie just can't get a fucking break, huh?

-------

The moment arrows, swords, and spears (among other weapons) are aimed at them, Steve shoves the kids behind him. El sticks the closest, practically hugging his back, but he knows she'll pull away if it comes down to a fight. Steve twirls his bat, his eyes narrowed as he takes stock of his potential opponents.

The barrier shimmers between the two groups, a slight haze in his vision, and Eddie stands in the middle, one foot on each side of the barrier, looking a little frazzled. That's when a girl comes forward, her blonde hair pulled in a ponytail, a bow in hand, and her quiver slung over her shoulder. She smiles at Eddie, bright like the sun, and Steve feels a familiar-but-not kind of buzzing under his skin.

"Eddie! You're okay!" she shouts, dashing forward and hugging him tightly.

Steve's throat feels tight as Eddie hugs her back, his grip on the bat straining until he hears the reinforced wood groan and forces himself to loosen up. "Eddie," he says, a huge part of him relieved when Eddie immediately looks at him.

The girl looks between the two of them, and her eyes widen, and she smiles excitedly, and Steve suddenly feels a little better.

"Hello, I'm Chrissy," she says, walking over to stand across the barrier from Steve. "We got an alert that a monster was trying to cross, so we came to offer help. Everything looks fine, though, so come on through."

Steve feels El tug on the back of his shirt as the kids shift nervously. "We're good, actually," Lucas blurts out, unable to handle the silence.

Chrissy blinks, her smile still present but her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "You're...good?" she asks.

"Yeah," Steve says, licking his lips nervously, "I'm sure Camp Half-Blood is fun and all, but we can't stay."

"Why not? You'll be safer here."

Steve doesn't know how to answer that question, and El spares him the effort of trying to by saying, "I can't get through." He wants to spin around and grab her shoulders and ask what she's thinking, but it's El's choice to tell people, no matter how much Steve might disagree with her.

"Oh," Chrissy says, her smile dimming some before she brightens again. "Are you mortal? That's okay, we can just give you permission."

It's the perfect excuse, and Steve is ready to fucking run with it, but El shakes her head. "I'm not mortal," she says.

A heavy silence falls over the group on the other side of the barrier as the demigods understand what she means. "What kind of monster are you?" a boy asks, his hand twitching as though ready to reach for an arrow.

"Look, it doesn't matter," Steve says, a bad feeling forming in his gut. His nerves start buzzing on instinct, crackling and pulling at the clouds just a tiny bit. "We'll leave you alone and go our separate ways. You'll....you'll never see us again." And Steve can't help his voice softening, glancing at Eddie as he says that last part.

Because he wants to see Eddie again. He wants to learn about the literal spark they shared. He wants to know if Eddie's lips are soft or rough. But Steve always puts the kids first. Their safety comes before everything else, even himself.

"Wait! There's no need to go," Eddie says, holding his hands out to both sides but looking at Steve. "El isn't dangerous. We can still give her permission."

"Like Hades we are!" the same boy shouts.

"Jason!" Chrissy says, her tone hard as she whirls around.

Jason looks insulted and confused. "What are you yelling at me for? I'm not the one trying to bring a fucking monster into camp."

"She's not a monster! Stop saying that," Mike shouts, trying to push forward only for Steve to push him right back.

"Oh? Then what is she?" Jason asks.

"Her name is El," Steve says, his voice hard and unforgiving, "and she is my sister."

Several of the campers' eyes widen, and suddenly their bows are loaded and ready to shoot. "You brought two monsters to camp!" a girl shouts, glaring at Eddie.

Steve frowns, trying to control the building anger and wariness. Based on the slowly gathering clouds overhead, it's not working.

"Those things are dangerous," Jason says, his eyes narrowed. "I bet the rest are monsters in disguise, too."

"No!" Eddie shouts, "they got through the barrier."

"Oh? Prove it. Walk through right now."

The kids don't move an inch and neither does Steve. Chrissy turns back to them, an uncomfortable grimace tugging at her lips. "It would really help to diffuse things if you could just step over," she says softly.

"Not without El," Max says, glaring at the group.

"Or Steve," Lucas adds.

Despite everything, Steve can't help a wry smile and a joking, "Gee, thanks for thinking of me," thrown over his shoulder.

"Well, isn't that convenient," Jason sneers, "None of the monsters want to cross."

He pulls his bowstring back a little farther, and the clouds above them start to gather faster, tiny sparks jumping under Steve's hand on the bat. He grits his teeth, trying desperately to not get lost in anger, and takes a deep breath. "Listen, this obviously isn't going to work," he says, looking at Eddie. He smiles apologetically. "Thank you for trying, though. It was...a nice thought."

And then several things happen all at once.

Eddie's eyes widen, desperation seeps into them, and he shouts, "I give El permission to cross the barrier!"

El starts to move around Steve like she wants to talk to Chrissy herself, her beanie squirming obviously.

The rest of the kids behind Steve get caught up in El's movements and try to follow, pushing Steve forward a step and bumping El slightly to the side.

His annoyance flares, and dark clouds stretch above them with a quiet, nearly inaudible rumble of thunder.

Finally, an arrow is loosed from the group of demigods, and its path would have been true if not for the kids pushing Steve. Instead, it shoots El's beanie clear off her head and lands in the grass behind the kids, just barely missing Dustin and Will in the process.

Really, Steve can't be blamed for what happened next. Between El's snakes freaking out and the kids shouting and the arrow in the grass overpowering his vision, he really can't be blamed.

It's only understandable that he loses it, that his tenuous control fucking snaps.

A bellowing crack of thunder above them is the only warning the demigods get before a bolt of lightning strikes the ground right next to them. The sheer force of it creates a whole nearly two feet deep, knocking the demigods back a few feet as more bolts follow in its wake. Each one burns the ground where it strikes, and tiny fires feed on the grass.

Little arches of lightning jump across Steve's arms, his hair fluffing out slightly from the static. His chest is heaving from anger and electricity and the aftermath of so much tension finally breaking free as bolts corral the demigods into a tiny circle, striking all around them to prevent escape.

"Steve," El says, the sound of her grabbing his attention more than her words. But when Steve looks at her and sees the snakes on her head rubbing against each other and tasting the air and trying to stay as close to her scalp as possible, his anger flares again at the reminder of the arrow that could have killed his kids. Not only the arrow, but El's snakes could have hurt them, too. If not for the kids immediately squeezing their eyes shut, a few might be statues right now. Sure, it would wear off in a bit, and Steve is immune anyway since he's related to El, but it's fucking inconvenient and dangerous given the situation.

"Stay back," he growls, his words crackling with the lightning as he turns back to the demigods. They look scared shitless, and Steve hasn't even done anything yet. The only ones who haven't been corralled are Chrissy and Eddie, since neither of them actually did anything.

He steps forward, an arch of lightning stretching between his heel and the ground when he lifts his foot. The nails on his bat spark and glow red, looking nearly as angry as Steve feels. Steve crosses the barrier, feels it wash over him, and stops just on the other side. He smiles at the demigods, feral and unrestrained as a storm, and raises his hand to the sky.

Or he starts to only for his view to be blocked by brown hair in desperate need of a good shampoo and big brown eyes. Steve blinks, a tiny portion of his anger calming if only because he's looking at Eddie. "Move, Eds," he says.

"Stevie," Eddie whispers, his voice nearly drowned out by the rumbling thunder. So Steve pulls it back, forces it to quiet down so he can hear. "C’mon, sweetheart, there's no need to smite them. They've already peed themselves."

"They almost killed my kids," Steve says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What would you do if you were me?"

"Well, I wouldn't look nearly as hot, for one," Eddie jokes, flashing a shaky smile.

"You're already plenty hot," Steve blurts, the shock of the words calming him down a tiny bit more. And, when he hears Lucas and Erica behind him complain as El thanks Will for retrieving her beanie, his anger finally soothes enough for lightning to stop striking the ground. The clouds are still hanging over them, though, and sparks still arch across his arms and through his hair.

Eddie's smile becomes a bit wider. "Seriously, sweetheart, there's no need," he promises. "I already gave El permission to enter. She can cross the barrier. Word will spread in camp that nobody can mess with her without getting their shit rocked by a very powerful son of Zeus. Don't you want to relax? Don't you want the kids to meet others like them? Don't you...don't you want to, you know, spend time together?"

Steve does want all of that. Especially that last one, because he's never been talked down from an unbridled, anger-fueled, lighting strike marathon this easily. Usually, the kids have to let him work through the anger and vent it all before he's back to normal.

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes to focus on calming down. When Eddie hesitantly takes his hand, Steve calms down even faster, and the sparks that pass between their palms are harmless. "That's it, Stevie," Eddie whispers as Steve's shoulders relax. "Besides, you can always beat Jason's ass at capture the flag later."

Steve can't help laughing at that, and he opens his eyes to see Eddie's smile. "Looking forward to it," he says, squeezing Eddie's hand. Then he looks over his shoulder at the kids. "Is everyone okay?" he asks.

The kids are all gathered around El, who has secured her beanie over her head. Unfortunately, the arrow made a larger hole than expected, and two of her snakes are poking their heads out, tongues flicking as they taste the air. They aren't strong enough on their own to actually turn anyone to stone, so none of the kids avoid looking at them.

"We are fine," El says with a tiny smile as she steps forward. Steve is about to tell her to be careful when she walks through the barrier without a problem.

The other kids follow, sticking close to El and then orbiting toward Steve and Eddie. "That was awesome!" Dustin shouts, his eyes bright as he looks at the scorch marks that create a circle around the demigods that haven't moved an inch.

"Yes, it was awesome," a voice says, old and wise and belonging to a centaur that has trotted over from the camp gates and comes to a stop before them. "Though, probably not in the way you mean, young one."

"Chiron, hey, how's it going?" Eddie asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he shifts to stand in front of Steve. "This, uh, was all a misunderstanding, really."

Chiron raises an eyebrow at Eddie, but Steve can see the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "I see. Is that so, Chrissy?" he asks.

"Yeah, it is," Chrissy says, nodding once as she glances at Jason, "because Jason was trigger-happy and wouldn't let anyone talk."

"I see," Chiron says again, looking back at Steve and the kids behind him. "Well, I look forward to hearing all about it and getting to know our potential campers at the Big House. Over some snacks, perhaps?"

He seems nice enough, and something about Chiron just makes Steve feel confident that nothing will happen to the kids. At least, not for the next hour or so, and that's good enough. Still, he can't help pushing just to see the extent of Chiron's patience. "Even if my sister's mother is a gorgon?" he asks, watching Chiron closely.

"Am I correct in assuming her mother is Medusa?" Chiron asks.

"Yes," El says, answering for Steve as the two snakes poking through rub their heads on Steve's arm. "She's very nice."

Chiron seems to be holding back an amused smile at that, and he nods. "I'm sure," he says, nodding once. "Yes, you are still welcome, my dear. After all, our very own Eddie Munson has vouched for you."

Steve can feel the kids behind him relaxing, and he glances at Eddie to see the relieved smile on his face. "Okay then," he says, looking back at Chiron, "lead the way."

----

Tag List

@mugloversonly, @mentallyundone, @hairdryerducks-blog, @carriethesaint, @lunabyrd, @weekend-dreamer7, @farfaras, @littlelady03, @my-tears-are-becoming-a-sea20, @mogami13, @a-little-unsteddie, @itsall-taken, @queenie-ofthe-void, @tinyplanet95, @littlebluejane, @hangoversandhandgrenades, @rabbitwhoeatsstars, @bisexualdisastersworld, @steddieinthesun,

@paintgonewrong, @sadcanadianwinter, @deehellcat, @blanketlicker, @angrydonutdestiny, @booksareportal, @fallingchemicaldiscos, @am-i-obssed-probably, @anne-bennett-cosplayer

@estrellami-1, @fandomcartographer, @steddie-as-they-go, @cris-wants-a-word, @potato-of-the-lord, @plasticcrotches, @enigmahaze, @melodymeddler

And now, the quality meme you've all been waiting for

#steddie #steddie fic #semi divine steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #my writing

260 notes · View notes

dyeher · 6 months

Text

includes| miya osamu x fem! reader x miya atsumu— smut (840 words)

content| Cream Pie, Praising, Degradation, Double Penetration, Their dicks do be touching (i,e do not read this if you are not comfortable with themes that may reflect hard incest).

notes| welcome back old ass content.

you’re spread open on the dining table of your apartment, left leg over osamu’s shoulder, right leg held open by atsumu. you want to say this situation started out purely by accident but, you’d be lying. getting fucked by the miya twins has been a fantasy of yours since you first met them. of course, you were never brave enough to actually say anything about it but, atsumu has never been very good at hiding his attraction to you and well from the way osamu usually glared at his brother’s forwardness you’d assumed he was equally attracted to you.

it never helped that they’d sometimes team up to tease you whenever they could. this turned out to be your downfall, and it was during a teasing session that they’d learned of your desire to be fucked by them both. you didn’t even say anything out loud, but it was your silence after osamu had jokingly pointed it out that you never complained about their tag team teasing, that it was almost like you wanted it.

it’s how you ended up here. the thick vein along the side of osamu’s cock dragging against your gummy walls whenever he was inside you, and the mushroomed head of atsumu’s cock bumping into the entrance of your cervix. it was…everything you’d imagined and more. you figured they’d be competitive at least but, they weren’t, they worked like a well-oiled machine to make you into a crying mess before they even begun to fuck you.

by the time you realized they were taking turns fucking into your slicked-up cunt, you were three orgasms in.

“she’s so fuckin’ tight,” atsumu hisses, “the tightest little slut, fuck.”

“she’s such a good girl,” osamu coos, “god, look how well her pussy’s taking my cock.”

the mixture of atsumu’s degrading words and osamu’s praise let you dizzy, had your cunt clenching around air when osamu pulled out in time for atsumu to guide his cock in. the process repeats itself until you’re full-on crying, sobbing for one of them to stay put, to fuck you properly.

“we’re both getting in there, princess,” osamu assures you, the meaning behind his words don’t register until atsumu chuckles.

“bet her pussy can do it,” he pushes against your legs until your knee is pressed against your side ono the bed and osamu mirror’s his actions. you realize a little too late what that means but your cunt clenches at the thought of them sharing you like that, filling you like that. osamu slaps his cock against your pussy before lining himself up.

“if ya can’t take it, just tell us to stop,” he says, “and we will.” you nod and he eases himself back into you, fucking your walls slowly, teasingly, coaxing your slick out, drawing breathless thank yous from your parted lips. he leans down to kiss you, it’s slow and gentle, but firm, grounding, he tastes like spicy shrimp and mayo, the kind he makes at Onigiri Miya, it’s delicious, per usual.

he pulls back and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch atsumu squeeze the head of his cock next to osamu. the sensation is new, and your body reacts immediately, squeezing and sucking at them.

“ah shit, “atsumu curses, he leans his head against his brother’s shoulder when he bottoms out.

osamu stares at your face, your eyes are rolled back, and your breath are coming rapidly, “ya okay pretty girl? want us to continue?” he doesn’t try to hide the strained quality of his voice.

you can feel them, atsumu’s deeper than osamu but the stretch, oh God, the stretch was maddening. you barely nod before they begin to move, atsumu pulling out and osamu grinding against your walls.

“fuck, ya feel s’good,” osamu moans, “so fuckin’ tight.”

“yer cunts fucking stretched,” atsumu smacks at one of your breasts, and chuckles when all you can do is moan. “this really the first time ya did this?” atsumu knows you can’t answer, as they both speed up.

osamu wipes at the tears that begin to trickle down your cheeks and coos about how pretty you are, while atsumu grunts about how much of a slut you are for being able to fit both of them in you. it takes them less time than you expected to have you creaming around them, especially with atsumu’s fingers shoved into your mouth and osamu’s fingers toying at your clit.

they cum soon after, filling your cunt together, pulling out with an embarrassing pop. astumu prods at your entrance experimentally and they make identical sounds of surprise when he easily fits four of his fingers inside of you.

they step back to watch the way your hole gapes at them, leaking their cum down between your ass cheeks and onto the dining table. it dawns on you in the recess of your mind that, they’ve probably done this before. you chuckle at the realization that despite their short-comings and teasing nature with each other, the miya twins like to share.

#atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu smut #osamu smut #osamu miya x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq: beyablade.

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bitchinbarzal · 9 months

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Open the door | M McTavish

part of Hey, Jude AU!

summary: Mason doesn’t like your boyfriend much but now he has a reason.

“How’s it going with your sisters weird boyfriend, Z?” Jamie asks from across the living room where the boys were playing video games all evening.

Trevor grunted “Meh, he’s- there’s something off about him I mean she keeps canceling our dinners and then griffin was supposed to stay with them and apparently the guy told Griff he just couldn’t stay there anymore so I had to pay for his hotel”

Mason rolled his eyes, not unnoticed by Trevor.

“What’s up McTavish?”

He shifts uncomfortably “I mean he’s an asshole Trev, I don’t see what she sees in him!”

Jamie laughs “Just say you’ve got a crush on her and get it over with”

Mason glares at him “I’m just saying the dudes weird, nothing else”

Jamie mumbles “Sure” in a sarcastic tone and turns back to his remote.

After the teasing had died down they got back to playing games, avoiding the conversation of you and your boyfriend further.

The hate for your boyfriend didn’t come from a bad place it came from the boys watching first hand how he treated you. Constantly telling you what to do, telling you how to dress and whenever Trevor would try help your boyfriend would isolate you from your brother.

At one point in the night Trevor and Jamie had gone to get more beer from the garage fridge when Trevor’s phone began buzzing.

Mason peered over to see your picture on the screen, he leans over the couch and picks it up.

He goes to say a silly line when he hears your heavy breaths on the other side.

“Trevor?” Your voice is strained but quiet at once “Trev please-“

“It’s Mason”

“Oh! Sorry I-“

Mason sits up a little straighter and says “What did he do, y/n?”

You’re shaking your head “he didn’t do, what are you talking about? I’m fine!”

“I’ll be there in five minutes flat, just tell me what’s going on” he encourages.

You sniffled and throw your head back against the tile wall of your bathroom “He hit me, Mase”

You expect some shouting, some sort of outrage but the line goes dead instead. You begin sobbing.

You felt so alone, wondering who to turn to.

In reality you just wanted anyone to hold you right now and tell you it would be ok.

Minutes later you hear the front door bang open and you flinch before you hear heavy footsteps pounding towards your location in the house.

You curl closer into yourself when the door opens. It only takes moments until your body is pulled into Mason’s arms and in that moment you burst into tears of relief.

His hand holds the back of your head and cradles you “It’s ok Angel girl I’ve got you now, you’re safe with me”

You clutch to his hoodie, silently begging him not to go anywhere.

He sits there for hours swaying you back and forth until you finally fall asleep, puffy face and pout.

His fingers trail along your jaw “sweet girl, I’ll always protect you I promise”

He eventually calls Trevor, telling him everything that happened so he could come pack your bags. When he finds his teammate holding you while you slept he gives Mason a knowing look

“Listen, she’s complicated but just don’t let her down ever. She’s worth the world”

Mason nods in agreement “She’s in safe hands here”

#hey jude au #mason mctavish x reader #mason mctavish imagine #Mason x mama

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kaylatoonz · 2 months

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Evil grows in the dark and heroes bloom in the light

This idea feels more of an AU than a possibility of this happening in the SCU but it is fun to write/draw nonetheless.

This idea is inspired by the Sonic Fleetway comics, tangled, and Lion King 2: Simba’s Pride.

(I made this before I knew if Jim Carry was returning as Eggman in any future installment, just to let you know)

After the events of the third movie, Eggman is defeated once again this time at the cost of his life. Agent Stone is devastated at the loss of HIS doctor and wants vengeance against Sonic and his friends. Unfortunately, he would have to bide his time and lay low until the heat died down. With the ultimate weapon loss, he scavenges G.U.N base one last time in search of anything from Eggman or the government to use against Sonic in the future.

During the search, Stone discovers a brown hedgehog in a cryo-chamber similar to the one Shadow was found in. After looking into some files, he learns the subject, Project Rose seems to be a failed attempt at re-creating a more docile version of Project Shadow (to control better) years after Shadow was deemed too dangerous. At first, Stone was appalled by the idea of using another alien mutant to progress his plans for revenge, it hadn’t worked out the last two times! Not having a lot of options he took his chance with this creature, deciding that he would play his cards carefully this time and dispose of the beast as soon as possible if necessary.

Months later, Agent Stone, discovered like Shadow she has a connection to chaos energy, though a lot weaker and more unstable. Similar to when his doctor wielded the master emerald power, she can create anything from the material she’s offered. She also has supernatural strength, enhanced athletic/acrobatic, an unexplainable sixth sense, and cloaking abilities.

The only downside is that her powers are more limited compared to Shadow or Sonic and even seem to put a lot of strain on her body. He predicts that her body will expire in a matter of months or a year at best. Not that he cared as long as he got his revenge on Sonic, she would be one less problem to deal with once he was done, anyway.

Since Agent Stone doesn’t have the vast intelligence of his beloved doctor he settles with using Amy to create complex machinery. By night he causes trouble for Sonic heroes making sure they never forget the doctor (the team doesn’t know Agent Stone is the one causing trouble). By day he brings back material and blueprints he managed to scavenge during his nightly ventures.

Each day, Rose would create machinery, and weapons, unbeknownst to her that aided him in his conquest to destroy the blue pest and his friends. Unfortunately, for him, despite having many of the doctor's glorious blueprints and plans at hand, none have come close to destroying his foes.

Rose could easily see Mr. Stone’s frustration whenever he returned from his “night job”. Wanting to cheer her guardian up, she decided to sneak out and gather some material to make Mr. Stone happy. Rose, never having been outside, is quickly enamored by the luscious forest and flowers. So much so that she didn’t notice a blue blue until he was right on top of her.

Stone had relocated his base Of operation from the coffee shop to the depth of the forest of Greenhills. so it was a matter of time before Rose was at the “wrong” place at the “wrong” time resulting in her encountering the blue blur.

After untangling themselves they get a good look at each other and both are shocked. Sonic was in shock due to meeting another hedgehog who had hunted familiar eyes, leaving him gawking at the girl like an idiot. While Rose is shocked to meet another creature like herself but with such beautiful quills. Rose is quick to excitedly shoot questions out to the shell-shocked hedgehog. Before Rose could get a response from the blue hedgehog she sensed Agent Stone returning to the base so cut the meeting short. She quickly grabbed one of the daisies she dropped early and suggested they meet here again sometime to get to know each other better. Again before Sonic can respond the hedgehog girl disappears before his eyes (literally).

Upon returning to the base Rose decides to keep her meeting with the mysterious blue hedgehog secret for now, not wanting to get in trouble for sneaking out. She didn’t think a two-petal daisy would cheer up Mr. Stone or make up for running off. Things progress like usual with Mr. Stone, bringing in material and blueprints of bots to practice her creation ability. The session goes on like any other until Rose’s mind can’t help but wander back to the blue hedgehog. And unbeknownst to her it influences her powers to create the head of a metallic blue hedgehog head instead of a plain android like the blueprint. Noticing her mistake, roast quickly tries to apologize and explain herself though Stone calmly brushes it off. Stone smiles at Rose for the first time in a while (if ever) and tells her that she is on to something and this may be her best work yet. So before Rose could exhaust herself for today, he excused her from their session for today and sent Rose to her room.

Behind closed doors, Agent Stone was a bit furious that the insolent creature had shown its first sign of disobedience and interacted with the blue menace nonetheless! But that didn’t matter for now her day would be numbered soon enough. Now he had the perfect plan to destroy that hedgehog in the best way possible thanks to his little rose. He would build that robot in that blue rat likeness, using any information gathered from Rose and Sonic’s meetings ( assuming the ungrateful girl will sneak off to see the blue rat again). Then when the sonic bond with the rose reaches its highest stone it would tear it away from him(just as Sonic did to him) using Sonic's image. Then his friends and family before lastly the blue hedgehog who would most likely be more than broken when Stone strikes the final blow.

Unfortunately for Stone, his plans don’t go exactly as planned. With each meeting, sonic and Rose's bond grows stronger, and Rose learns and grows. Through Sonic she learns what real healthy love (familial, platonic, and romantic) looks like which eventually helps her realize something up with Mr. Stone. Sadly by the time she comes to this conclusion, Stone has initiated his plans leaving Sonic to believe that she betrayed him. Wanting to right this wrong Rose lends her aid to team Sonic to defeat the metal monster of her creation. With the chaos emeralds and Rose's help, they were able to defeat Metal Sonic and Agent Stone, but at the cost of Rose's life. The battle she had put herself through, pushed her body to the limit, exhausting all the chaos energy that was meant to keep her alive and stable. Devastated sonic kneels down to his rose, holding her close begging, her to wake up. Stone takes satisfaction in the fact that despite his failure he had given Sonic a taste of how he felt when he took his doctor away.

As Agent Stone is taken in by the G.U.N agents Sonic pays them no mind as he desperately tries to offer up as much chaos energy to Rose’s body in hopes of reviving her. It seemingly has some effect on the hedgehog girl as her quills go from brown to pink and when her eyes eventually open they are a bolder green compared to his own.

Bonus context:

Agent Stone is the type of man who would take satisfaction in a loss if it means, he leaves his enemy physically or mentally scarred. (in the IDW pre-quill comic. He was pretty intimidating so I wanted to go to extra step). he doesn’t care about ruling the world like Eggman (nothing matters if Eggman can’t be the one on top in the end). He just wants to hurt Sonic and his friends/family as much as he can.

In the beginning, Sonic keeps his meeting between him and Rose secret for selfish reasons. Sonic loved his brothers but sometimes he wanted some things or someone to himself (sonic still adjusting to sharing with his brothers). After the ordeal with Shadow, sonic also wanted some semblance of peace or escapism from the trauma. It isn’t until Sonic starts to notice that Rose’s home life might not be so great that Sonic starts to get his brothers and parents involved. Because of this sonic still feels guilty that he could’ve done something sooner.

After watching Disney’s Tangled with the Wachowskis, Amy teasingly calls Sonic her Rapunzel while Sonic insists that it’s the other way around.

Agent Stone is basically mother Gothel to Rose, so she has experienced a lot of gaslighting and guilt-tripping from Stone.

Rose takes up the name Amy as her first name a few months after she leaves Stone's custody. Despite her name coming from a dark place (Project Rose) she wants to keep it while adding something new to it representing the start of her new life as Amy Rose.

Sonic thinks Amy looks beautiful before and after her transformation.

After spending some time at the Wackowski‘s recovering, Amy takes off on her own leaving a note to Sonic explaining how she is going to explore the world for herself and promising that they’ll meet again. Sonic is a bit sad at first but lightens up in the hopes of meeting her again.

If Shadow is still alive and crosses paths with Amy, he would consider her his little sister and do anything to protect her after learning about her connection to him.

Agent Stone would be on Shadow’s kill list after finding out what that man put his sister through.

Shadow would probably gatekeep Amy from Sonic.

#amy rose #sonamy #sonic movie 3 #movie amy rose #sonic the hedgehog #procreate #shadow the hedgehog #sonic movie 2 #agent stone #doctor eggman #sonic movie au

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gauloiseblue · 3 months

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Specific songs for COD character's scenarios

I was listening to my playlist, and my brain randomly threw ideas at me. I was too lazy to write those fics, but I just had to get it out of my system. Anyway, here's a list of songs that I associate with COD characters, along with the summary of the story.

I will add more in the future, but for now, I think it's pretty much it. To the imaginariland we go.

Price

The Girl In The Yellow Dress - David Gilmour

Unwinding at a bar leads him to a pleasant meeting with a girl. Evening turns into night, as he becomes more and more enamored by the girl. Until the band stops, and she leaves him in the dark. Never once told him her name.

Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd

Old married couple AU, where Price has retired. His kids have grown up, leaving him and his wife alone. After all they've been through—big arguments, strained relationships, and long months deployment—they realize they still love each other to the end.

Ghost

Hyper-ballad - Björk

Whenever Simon comes home, he struggles to live in normalcy. His partner is unchanging, while he's never the same man after all the missions. To keep himself grounded, he made the habit of leaving the house at the dead of the night, to stare at the darkness of the forest in the backyard. Sometimes, he lets his mind wander to the possibility of him walking into the forest and disappears, but it soon dies down when he looks back to his house.

During one of his mission at a secluded village in Germany, he encounters a strange girl by the river. She's a human, but her demeanor seems to suggest otherwise. Though he doesn't believe in myths, he begins to think that the cautionary tale of a Nymph in this village carries a grain of truth.

König

It's Possible - Piero Piccioni

There's a reason behind his lack of commitment to love, and no one knows it except for his best friend. He might’ve been too hot-headed and reckless, but he's loyal. That was until a certain girl from his childhood betrayed him. And yet, after all these years, his heart still belongs to her.

Alejandro

Eye Hate U - Prince

Before Shadow Company became what it is now, Graves had a loving wife and a perfect home. She's smart, and capable of giving him advices. Until his pride took him over, and he became neglectful, ignoring her warnings on certain missions. She left him before the Al Mazrah Incident happened, leaving him bitter and regretful.

Graves

The Next Best American Record (Demo) - Lana Del Rey

National Anthem - Lana Del Rey

In the height of his career, money was never an issue for him. He could buy any weapons he wanted, and he could afford the most luxurious lifestyle. He can still afford it, but he has to work harder for it. He doesn't mind it, after all, it's only right for him to treat his wife, right?

Young Lust - Pink Floyd

Though he refuses to admit it, his relationship with his wife has gone cold. Over years of infidelity and neglect, she decided to leave the house, and moved to her old apartment. He thought one day she'd change her mind and come back to him, until one night, he heard a man's voice when he called her on the phone.

Coming to a high-school reunion opens an old scar in him, as he sees his high-school sweetheart in the arm of another man. Their relationship was great, it was great, but sadly, she thought otherwise.

Gaz

Love Is A Laserquest - Arctic Monkeys

#cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #john price x reader #ghost x reader #konig x reader #gaz x reader #graves x reader #might turn them into songfics #idk #call of duty #Spotify

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venus-haze · 11 months

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Dawn Patrol (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: You never thought you’d see him again. Your soulmate, your other half, your partner in crime-fighting, the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. It seems like the universe is giving you a second chance when you end up in this place with Homelander. Except, this one isn't quite like the man you remember, but he's not letting that stop him.

Note: Gender-neutral reader, and no descriptors are used. This is based on an anonymous request and also a different take on the “love of your life died and came back but something's wrong” horror trope. Title comes from the Megadeth song (which is about living in a dystopia). Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: Extremely unhealthy relationship. Intense feelings of loss, confusion, and self-doubt on the reader’s part. Some elements of unreality? Homelander is extremely manipulative, possessive, and gaslights the hell out of the reader in this, but no physical harm is done. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The man standing in front of you wasn’t John, not your John, at least. He acted strange whenever you called him that. Homelander felt so impersonal, though, a title and persona rather than the man you loved your whole life. You silently scolded yourself. You shouldn’t complain so much, not when he believed you, against all reason, despite never having met you before in this version of reality. If it were even real.

You had crumbled the first time you saw him. Weeks of being locked in a lab, poked and prodded and tested before he entered with an unfamiliar coldness. It had to have been a cruel trick, these people using your greatest vulnerability against you. John had been presumed dead for years. The ache that consumed you at his loss made it hard to even breathe sometimes, and you’d spent countless nights alone in your formerly shared bed, wracked by guilt for not doing more as you silently implored the universe to give you one more chance. You should have known it’d come with plenty of strings attached.

His name echoed through the room in a desperate howl. You strained against the titanium cuff you were chained to, and he froze upon hearing one of the links break. Rabid, desperate, tears streamed down your face in your delirium. You needed to touch him, to feel for yourself that it wasn’t your brain tricking you again. It has to be real this time.

His breath hitched as he approached you, the way animal control does a feral dog–cautious and gentle, but still regarding you with a level of distrust. Your struggle subsided with each step he took, until he was finally in arms’ reach. Looking into his blue eyes for the first time in years, your hand trembled as you lifted it to caress his cheek. Soft and warm like you’d remembered.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I’m your–Gemini,” you said. “‘Cause I can–”

“Make duplicates of yourself, they told me. Who are you?”

“Not here, but somewhere else, I'm your partner in, well, everything. We grew up across the street from each other,” you told him. “Your powers showed up sooner than mine, but your mom always said we were a package deal, so when we started fighting crime together, it just made sense that we’d fall in love too.”

“My mom?” he whispered.

“She was the one who came up with the name Gemini for me.”

His gaze softened, his eyes turning cloudy. You recognized that look. Deep in thought, a million miles away, the only place John wouldn’t take you. This one didn’t seem eager to do so either. Did he and his mom not get along here? Was she dead, even?

He cleared his throat. “Go on.”

“We called ourselves Dawn Patrol because we’d get up before school to do our superhero stuff, and it stuck.”

“How did you end up here, then?”

“I already told them–”

“I want to hear it from you.”

You recoiled a bit. Your story began at the end, and while you managed to tell it to a group of seemingly indifferent white coats, recounting it to the man himself, or some version of him, was almost too much to bear. Still, you pushed through.

Phantom, that’s what he called himself, selfish and conniving with the ability to teleport in the shadows and seemingly shift reality itself. He was a particular menace that you and Homelander could never quite get the upper hand on, the situation imploding when Homelander, your Homelander, tackled the supervillain mid-teleport. The last thing you saw of him was his back as he disappeared with Phantom.

No one had seen him since. Despite Phantom’s insistence that he didn’t know what happened to Homelander, you kept an irrational, unrelenting grudge against him for taking the love of your life away from you. Guilt and rage fueled you, and in your most recent, and presumably last encounter with your arch-nemesis, you made the same mistake Homelander did, and ended up wherever the hell you were.

“Either you’re telling the truth, or you’re an unprecedented liar,” he hissed through his teeth, grabbing your wrists, “but I believe you.”

A beastial imitation of your first and only love transformed before your eyes over the following weeks. In his absence, your yearning had grown teeth, long and sharp, hungry to tear through flesh and for your flesh to be torn. This new man’s rib cage cracked open to offer part of himself to recreate you. You looked into the crimson void and saw his beating heart, a long-suffering shrine to you as yours was to his, or at least some memory of him. A loneliness you were all too familiar with was already settled deep within him. Why needlessly suffer though a monastic existence any longer?

You, in turn, indulged in him. Allowed your hunger to overtake you and break your involuntary fast as you devoured him. Insatiable, your lips pressed against the skin of this stranger that nevertheless you knew by heart. In your grief, in your anger, you’d pulled him out from the ether. You wondered if you could put him back together as the man you knew he could be, bloody your hands raw clawing back the damage that had been done to him by whoever came before you.

The first few days, you tried as much, the two of you hardly letting up from your entanglement in his bed. You stared at the mirror on the ceiling, taking him in with the attentiveness of the crowds that gathered around the tragically small Mona Lisa in the Louvre. Then, in the quiet moments, in tones hardly above hushed whispered, he’d ask you questions about this other life and upbringing he never got to experience, pensive at your answers, almost bothered at times.

Most of his questions seemed to be about his parents, especially his mother. Though your phone had been returned to you, it had no signal, but you were able to show him photos. Some of the last ones of you and John together was at a Fourth of July party in his parents’ backyard. One of his aunts had taken a candid photo of you, John and his parents sitting together at one of the patio tables, smiling and laughing. You had everything documented, from weddings to birthday parties to school days. John always poked fun at you for taking the phrase “take a picture, it’ll last longer” so seriously.

Now, reflecting on these times with his other, you clung to him as you watched him swipe through this other version of himself’s life. Studying it, silently reflecting on your stories and anecdotes as if to memorize them, be able to recite them by heart.

Despite the distorted period of reunited bliss, you could tell something was off about Homelander. He talked his way around your questions about his own upbringing, never quite giving you a straight answer and occasionally snapping at you when you pressed for more details. Your eyes widened the first time he did so, heart skipping a beat or two, you couldn’t recall John raising his voice at you like that before. Homelander noticed your reaction right away, soothing you with reassurances that he wasn’t mad at you, he could never be.

It seemed like he was mad at a lot of other people, though. He’d go on long rants about people at Vought, this corporation that didn’t exist where you were from but somehow controlled so much of his life and that of every other superhero. Walking around the tower with him, you noticed the way people’s demeanors shifted when he was there, a nervous submission he seemed to bask in but made your stomach feel sour.

His attempts not to scare you, to put you at ease with the prospect of spending the rest of your life with him were never quite as successful as he hoped. The warning voice in your brain knew something was off about him. You ignored it as best you could, figuring you could manage a way to handle him and chalking it up to the loneliness he was entrenched in before you came along. One night, a rarity wherein you were alone in his suite and finally had a chance to think the situation through, you panicked, hatching a messy escape plan.

Leaving a duplicate of yourself behind in the living room, you slipped out of the suite, walking down the long hallway to the elevator. The tower was so tall that it required switching elevators to get from the top floor to the lobby, and so you made the initial descent to the 50th floor.

The ride down was excruciatingly long, and every time the elevator stopped to let someone in, you felt yourself freeze up. No one acknowledged you at any point during the descent, filtering in and out, minding their own business.

When you switched elevators, you knew you were in the home stretch. Your heart raced as you pressed the ‘L’ for the lobby, the star next to the button assuring you that the ground floor would be your ticket out of there. By the time you were on the single-digit floors, you were alone again.

At least, you were until you reached the lobby. The doors opened, revealing Homelander waiting for you behind them. You backed into the wall on the opposite side of the steel box, as if that’d do anything to protect you.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “And where do you think you’re going?”

He entered the elevator, reaching over to press the button back up to the 50th floor. Silence for nearly twenty floors, though you were sure the sound of your rapidly beating heart was deafening to him.

Finally, you spoke. “How did you know?”

“Your duplicate’s pretty convincing, but they don’t have a heartbeat,” he said.

John had never told you that. Your duplicates were perfect copies of you, your abnormal physical strength sapped to create each one so that they could take damage from attacks in your place. It never occurred to you that they were so blatantly lifeless.

The doors opened on the 50th floor, and instead of going in the next one over to continue the ascent, Homelander pulled you into an empty office. He closed the door, darkness engulfing the room. When you reached for a light switch, he caught your wrist in his hand instead.

“If you have a problem, you talk to me about it. You do not try to fake me out and run,” he hissed. “Do you really think the fucking white coats I saved you from would just let you walk out of here? You’d end up right back in that room. All of those things that he had, the loving parents, the pretty suburban life with your childhood sweetheart that's straight out of a fucking romcom? I didn't get that because of them."

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "You didn't deserve that."

"No," he said, almost shocked at your acknowledgement of how horrific his upbringing was. "I didn't. You're here, now, though, so we're both getting what we want."

Not like this. Not you.

Yet, you were stuck with the hand you had been dealt. This corrupted imitation of the man you loved, who nevertheless was so desperate for the intense emotions you felt for him otherwise that he was willing to believe you despite all logic telling him otherwise.

The way he spoke about the people back in the lab you’d been held in, as if he knew, experienced what you did and even worse. Saved you from it. Maybe you could try. Maybe that could get you somewhere.

You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. Being around him rendered you emotionally vulnerable. He looked just like him, and at times acted almost exactly the same. If you closed your eyes long enough, you could convince yourself it was him. How long could you go on doing that before you walked around blindly?

“Babe, did you hear a word I just said?” Homelander asked.

You looked up at him. “Got distracted, sorry.”

He rolled his eyes, the slightest smile on his face. “I’ll chalk it up to my good looks. I know you’ve been cooped up for a while, so I want you to do a team-up with me tomorrow night. It’ll be Dawn Patrol, just like old times.”

Old times? There were no old times. Not with him.

Nevertheless, you agreed. “Yeah, it’d be nice to get back out there. Haven’t done it in a while.”

“Once you’re back at it, you won’t even have to think about it, like riding a bike,” he paused for a moment, “I guess.”

His excitement the following day was infectious. You hadn’t done any crime-fighting in a long time, and doing so with him would surely help you ease into it again. He was always the best of the best, but it seemed like here, not only was he deified, but he reveled in it.

When he brought you to his superhero team’s private gym to train, he was almost shocked at how well your powers and fighting style seemed to compliment him. Elation filled your chest. Maybe you’d jumped to conclusions too soon about him. You just had to be more flexible, willing to compromise to make it work.

You were thrown off upon being presented with a crime-fighting schedule that night. A self-professed crime analytics team explained their methodology to you. When you looked to Homelander in disbelief, he seemed unfazed by the information. Being able to predict crime down to the minute just to bolster careers and social media followings seemed far from ethical, but from what little you’d learned of Vought in the weeks you’d been there, that wasn’t a concern of theirs.

Flying with him again was almost too overwhelming, bringing back memories of you and John in your teenage years. Instead of partying with your peers, the two of you would pick up fast food late on Saturday nights, sitting on suburban rooftops with your police scanner, eating burgers and listening for trouble. He’d grab you by the waist, flying off with you to stop some bad guys. Of course, people complained to your parents that you’d leave chicken nugget boxes and ketchup packets on their roofs in your haste.

By the time Homelander landed in an alley just a block away from where the crime would supposedly take place, you were crying.

“You okay? I thought you’d be used to it.”

“I am. It’s just been a while. Brought back a lot of memories.”

He smiled, kissing your forehead. “You won’t have to go so long without flying with me again. I promise, babe.”

You sniffled, giving him a weak smile. “Let’s go get some bad guys.”

“That’s the spirit!”

The next few minutes were silent as Homelander listened for the sound of a bank alarm. Late-night robbery, the crime analytics team had told you, it couldn’t be easier. You weren’t sure what time it was when Homelander grabbed you, the familiar gesture of his arm around your waist making you feel overwhelmed again.

When he landed, you could see the glass doors leading into the bank had been smashed, leaving shards of glass scattered on the sidewalk that crunched beneath your boots. There’d be three bank robbers, one lookout while the other two took what they could from the vault. You and Homelander already agreed that you’d take on the lookout and then join him in subduing the others.

You hesitated for a moment when you and Homelander split up, but you didn’t let it distract you too much. The lookout froze upon seeing you duplicate, his hand shaking as he pointed the gun between you and your temporary clone. Whichever one he shot, you’d heal fast enough, though you’d get less damage if he shot the duplicate rather than you.

His impulsiveness proved to be his downfall, as your duplicate began to walk toward him, and he pulled the trigger, nearly passing out when the clone de-materialized before him.

In his moment of distraction, you knocked the gun from his hand, grabbing a nearby desk phone and hitting him in the temple with it. You kicked the gun to the other side of the room before he could reach for it and hit him in the head again. He dropped to the ground, unmoving on the floor.

You set off to find Homelander. The vault was empty when you got there, a mess of valuable and still smoldering scorch marks in the wall where either the thieves had used explosives to break their way in, or Homelander had lasered them into oblivion. Regardless, there was no sign of anyone.

“Homelander?” you called out.

No response. You looked around frantically for any sign of him.

You couldn’t lose him again, not even this terrifying version of him. “Homelander, where did you go?”

Silence again. Your pounding heart rang in your ears as you turned around, setting off for another part of the building in hopes of finding him. There wasn’t anyone else you could count on here, and for all his faults, he was the only person you trusted.

Just when it felt hopeless and your brain was about to implode on itself at the sinking notion that maybe he was gone, a loud bang came from the other side of the bank where the vault was. You rushed over without a second thought for your own safety. Besides, the injury your duplicate had taken on your behalf was already healing. You'd do it a thousand times over if it meant keeping him safe.

Homelander stood in the middle of the previously empty vault, the two thieves knocked out, or maybe they were dead. It didn’t matter, because he clearly wasn’t.

“Where were you?” you asked, your voice cracking.

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

“No you haven’t. I came over here and there was no one. I called out for you and—“

“And what?”

“I wanna go home,” you cried, clinging to him. “Please, let’s just go home.”

He nodded, his superhuman strength allowing him to scoop you up in his arms with ease. You always felt safe in them, and you pressed your head to his chest, trying to focus on the sound of his heartbeat as he flew back to his suite at the tower.

His heart always beat faster than anyone else’s, having to maintain the life of the most powerful superhero to ever live. It was a heavy burden, though you tried your best to offset it, you sometimes felt too reliant on him. He never made you feel bad for it, neither version of him did.

You were still a bit dazed when he landed, shuffling into his living room and leaning against the back of the couch. He said he had been in the vault, but you knew it had been empty when you walked over to it. You knew what you saw.

“You did great with the lookout. I can help you train more, and we’ll try again in a few days,” he said. “I’ll get the crime analytics team to find us another softball one.”

“Homelander,” you began tentatively, “back there did you–did you do that on purpose? Disappear on me?”

“Of course not, darling, why would I do something like that after everything you've been through?” he asked, his voice soft enough that if you let yourself, you could pretend for a few moments he was your Homelander. “I told you, I was in the vault the whole time.”

“I can’t lose you again,” you said, your voice cracking. “I can’t—“

“You won’t. I’ve always been here. I love you.”

He’s lying, the voice in your head screamed, he’s not your John. There’s something wrong.

You ignored it, choosing instead to kiss him, to drown out the rational with the feeling of your lover’s lips again. You would take this Homelander over none at all. “I love you too.”

#homelander x reader #the boys x reader #homelander #the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #homelander x you

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nymphiria · 2 years

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𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐎?

[ ❤︎ ] - 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑!𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐑𝐄𝐕 𝐌𝐄𝐍

⸝⸝⸝ 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆:: chifuyu, ran & rindou, taiju

WARNING: nsfw content ahead! MDNI 18+!

ᨳ - 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐘𝐔

being surrounded by customers and pets all day really takes a toll on him — the stress of being a store owner putting strain on his shoulders. that’s why coming home every single night to you, his little sister, is a blessing for him. it warms his heart to see your saccharine smile as you greet him at the door, wifely in every aspect. apron tied around your waist, warm food laid out on the dining room table — chifuyu might think he died and went to heaven if this wasn’t the usual routine.

“fuyu-nii!”, you chirped at the taller, dark-haired man as you took his coat from his shoulders. “come sit down you had such a long day!” the moment he sat down at the dining room table he could feel the tenseness in his shoulders disappear almost immediately. multiple dishes laid in front of him including those that you knew were his favorite. you always tried so hard to please him and make sure he was comfortable when he stepped foot into your shared home.

you filled the void that many women failed to do for him in his past relationships. you brought him a sense of fulfillment, a sense of affection. no matter how many times you’d greet him at the door in that tight-fitting apron that accentuated your figure, he would never grow tired of it. sure, he was your brother but your bond didn’t feel like that of two siblings.

especially not when he wanted to bend you over the table and have you for his dinner.

ᨳ - 𝐑𝐀𝐍 & 𝐑𝐈𝐍

oh, how they loved to tease you. if you thought it was worse when you were younger, in adulthood it got ten times more annoying. you couldn’t even wear a cute skirt around the house without it being flipped up by ran or rin whenever they passed by. not wearing a bra at home? you’d better believe they’re groping your tits from behind and trying to play it off as a hug. your big brothers are absolutely insufferable. but when the tears bubble up into your eyes, their mood does a complete 180.

“aw is our sweet baby sister upset? we’re sorry, pretty, we were only joking with you,” coos ran in your ear as he strokes your tear-soaked cheek. unlike ran who apologizes with his sweet words, rindou prefers to let his actions do the talking. with ran pressed against your side and rindou in between your legs, your mind is much too occupied with how good he feels inside of you to care about how mean they were. the stretch of rindou’s fat cock always does you in quicker than you’d like — ran pinching your pebbled nipples never helps, either.

keeping their little sister happy is their top priority aside from pounding her pussy.

ᨳ - 𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐉𝐔

one of life’s greatest mysteries: taiju shiba’s affection for his youngest sister. you’re brash, bitchy, and loud mouthed — an abomination that he’s forced to deal with on a daily basis. body adorned in skimpy clothes and a permanent frown, you always give him a filthy look even though he’s the one who gives you the money to buy all your outfits. you stay up until the crack of dawn laughing with your girl friends on the phone about him knowing that he can hear you from his room across the hall. it’s absolutely maddening for him.

“tch. at least you’re good for something,” he grunts as your experienced mouth sucks his thick cock. “looks like you being a whore paid off, after all.” the doe-eyed look on your face as you deepthroated him always drove him closer to his orgasm the longer he stared at you. as your head bobs up and down, the saliva on your chin drips down onto your low cut tube top that did nothing to hide your cleavage.

as disgusted as he feels knowing you’ve fucked more guys than you can count on one hand, a part of him feels relieved that he didn’t have to teach you. taiju can look past your whore tendencies as long as he’s one of the guys you get on your knees for. he feels like he deserves it. he spoils you like a sugar daddy would his sugar baby — his spoiled little whore.

it’s only natural that he would want to cash in for some favors.

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fandomfluffandfuck · 1 month

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Hallooooooo I'm just here again to tell you how much I love your writing and the way you portray Bucky as one whiny bitch has got me gripping my sheets NGHGGGGG Absolutely fucking love him in Here Kitty Kitty!!!!!

But I've been suddenly hit by a massive Subby!Steve beam and he's an even bigger whiny bitch than Bucky soooo

I present to you- Haunted Steve Rogers :>

Here me out!!! I read a post about ghost fucking and I can't stop thinking about Fresh faced Steve in the twenty first century with Ghost!Bucky Barnes who died in the early 2000s. They never met as children and Steve is mortified to find himself being haunted by a particularly perverted and thirsty AF ghost

Just imagine Steve out in Public, maybe in a mall or inside a packed train and he's just minding his own business until he feels cold wispy hands start groping him. Shivers breaks out of his skin at the cold touch and his complaints dies a quiet death when said cold touches slip down his nether regions.

Just Steve Rogers trying to keep quiet while Bucky molests him, squeezing and stroking his cock while he shakes with pleasure, barely standing and absolutely sweating under his clothing. He's pleading quietly, curling into himself and straining at the effort to not make a noise because Buck! We're in public! Not here please-

Just Steve Rogers trying to listen to a conversation happening in front of him while there's fingers stuck up his ass, cold and opening him roughly. The way his voice would hitch and a gasp leaves him once in while and him shakily telling the person in front of him that he's alright and that he's totally listening as if his prostate isn't being abused.

Just Steve Rogers in a meeting, continuously shifting in his seat. To other people, he's too pent up to sit still properly. The truth? He's got ghost! Bucky's dick buried in his ass, grinding into him and filling him up to the point he thinks he might choke on it. Steve can't beg, can't moan, can't even move because how the fuck is he gonna explain that he's being fucked by a ghostly being in the middle of a meeting?

The risk of being caught riles him up as much as Ghost!Bucky whispering filthy things in his ears like yeah you like that? Look at you, filthy as fuck and taking this dick up your tight ass- You're that desperate Stevie? That you'll have a ghost fucking you everywhere and anytime you want? Come on, open your eyes and look at all of these people in front of you, not knowing that Captain America's gagging for some ghost dick to screw him 24/7! How would they react knowing you're getting filled right now huh, practically a slut for it-

Imagine the mess on Steve's side, how he can go so many times even after coming!!! Just Bucky wringing one orgasm after another while he desperately fights for composure, barely standing and not making a sound, boxers absolutely drenched with his own release-

Or how easy just Bucky slips into him (magical ghost powers Ajdheje), accosting him and groping him wherever whenever he likes, leaching off Steve's warmth and life!! ACKKKKKK AIDHSIRJEORJFJ HEEHEHEHEHEH

-🫠🫠

"Here Kitty Kitty Kitty"

I'm glad you enjoyed whiny Bucky, lmao. He's a favorite for suuure 😏

And as for the idea of ghost!Bucky with freshly thawed Steve, I--

Holy fuck, I have seen some ghost-fucker content here and there (much with public stuff which is fun 🥴) but I haven't ever considered that with stucky and... I'm obsessed (possessed perhaps, lmao).

I'm especially obsessed with thrill seeker ghost!Bucky and stuttering, subby Steve, though. Goddamn.

I am enthralled with what you wrote! I have to say, though, my immediate thought--my immediate mental image, really--with this pairing was Steve with his leanly muscular, fawn-clumsy legs spread wide on his bed in the middle of the night, hips up, back arched, seemingly all alone and exposed. Moonbeams slip through his curtains into the room, lighting him up, dragging across his flushed, pale skin like a spotlight. His bare, shaven face is pressed hard into his white sheets--contrasting gorgeously, blank sheets, and the blood-hot flush painted with so much pigment, thick and wet, across his face. He's blushing from high on his cheeks all the way up to the hot shells of his ears. And for the most part, other than his quivering, open mouth and his heaving chest--face down, ass up--he's perfectly still. Debauched and statuesque in the middle of the night.

He should be chilled with the night air caressing his skin, but he isn't. He's burning up. The phantom hands on his skin are freezing but he's alive with flames, they're licking and scorching his skin, leaving him gasping, his hands scrunching the sheets into a wrinkled mess, fisting the fabric right by his head, both trying to hide the dirty ecstasy written over his pretty face in vain as Bucky's fucks him and just trying to have something, anything, to hold onto as his world is torn apart from overwhelming, crashing waves of pleasure.

Too much. Too good.

He can't see Bucky, but, oh, god, can he feel him.

Touching him. Fucking him. Groping him. Making handprints and bruises and bite marks appear on his warm, pink skin out of thin air.

He can hear him, too, whispering to him, fuck, he can almost feel it on the back of his neck, but he can't really. Of course not. Bucky isn't breathing down on him. He can't. He's just playing with him, drawing his pleasure out, pushing his nerves to the brink--Steve doesn't know what's hot and what's cold is anymore, Steve doesn't know what's real and what isn't, Steve doesn't know anything but pleasure like he's never felt before, given to him in the middle of the night when he's alone save for Bucky who makes him feel more alive than anyone else with a beating heart in their solid chest could.

(If anyone else were to walk in, though, god, it'd be a show. Steve writhing on his sheets without any influence. Completely stripped bare, exposed, and untouched..? Except, anyone can see the fingertip indents in his thighs as Bucky gropes him, anyone can see the wet, hot, open gape of his hole as Bucky fucks him, taking him from behind, anyone can see the tremble in his muscles as he crumbles under the influence of the unseen, anyone can see sweat glistening on his skin, anyone can see his fever, pink all over, anyone can see how much he loves it, his face twisted up in pleasure, lips hanging open, taking it like a good little slut. So desperate for dick he'll get it anywhere, anytime. He can't live without dick.)

Anyway--

I fucking love your idea. I love the thought of public ghost play, too!! I was just immediately on the bewitching hour, haunting ghost fucking vibe, lol.

I can just imagine Bucky always messing with Steve at the worst times, and when Steve tries to talk sense into Bucky behind closed doors, well, he just ends up a pile of mush as Bucky continues so there's not really any talking. What? They're in private now, isn't this what Steve wants? Isn't this what he was asking for?

Jesus.

They're trouble. They're both so hungry for touch, and they find it so easily in each other that no one else understands. It's kinky as fuck and it's sweet as fuck. I love it!!

Thank you for this! 😘

#asks #🫠🫠 anon #anon provided writing #semi-public sex #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #fic #ghost fucker #tw death #tw slight dubcon #tw dubious consent #ghost bucky #big sub steve

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themeepyfreak · 9 months

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Day 3: Love Languages

Neal/Bae: Physical Touch

Neal/Bae's love language is the easiest to parse out in canon because it's prevalent throughout. Ever since Bae was a baby, physical touch was how Rumple expressed his love to him. In every flashback scene with Rumple and Bae, Rumple has a hand on Bae, silently supporting and protecting him.

And the show writers use this nonverbal interaction to parallel Bae and Rumple's relationship as it becomes more strained. When Rumple becomes the Dark One, his touch becomes more possessive. This continues until Bae starts rejecting Rumple's touch (as he rejects the Dark One) when Rumple tries to reach out to him in "Nasty Habits" and "Manhattan". In both "The Return" and "Manhattan", Rumple's abandonment of Bae is described as Rumple letting go of Bae's hand- a very physical action. That's why the moment when Bae grabbed Rumple's hand in "The Miller's Daughter" is so impactful- because it is the first time that Bae wholeheartedly accepts his father's touch and affection in centuries, even if he is still angry. As season 3A progresses, Bae physically distances himself from his father in Neverland when he finds out about the prophecy and feels like he can't trust him in "Nasty Habits". However, once Bae forgives his father in "Save Henry", he enthusiastically hugs him. In season 3B, Bae and Rumple literally share a body due to Rumple's love for Bae- their physical closeness once again symbolizing their repaired relationship. When Bae dies in "Quiet Minds", his hand falls out of Rumple's, representing their permanent separation. Bae no longer needs Rumple's physical touch and affection because Bae's no longer there.

Using touch to portray affection and genuine care is a theme for Bae throughout his life. In "Second Star to the Right", Bae uses physical touch to comfort Wendy. And later in "Tallahassee", Bae is more physically affectionate with Emma the more that time passes and the closer that they become. Even as early as their first "date" in "There's No Place Like Home", Bae plays with Emma's glove when he's being vulnerable to feel closer to her physically without crossing her boundaries and touching her.

Bae's need for physical affection in "Tallahassee" (especially after being touch starved in Neverland for centuries) is complemented by Emma reciprocating that physical affection despite not being a touchy person. Emma starts out being standoffish in the beginning of "Tallahassee" and "There's No Place Like Home", drawing into herself and avoiding any physical touch. However, as time passes, she gets more comfortable with being physically affectionate and even initiates it, especially when Bae is upset. One canon example is when Emma grounds Bae with physical touch when Bae is agitated about the wanted poster. When Bae starts arguing against Emma going for the watches, she swings her arm around him which seems to calm him down to the idea more.

I headcanon that Emma and Bae did a lot of hand-holding and non-verbal communication throughout their relationship. I think that they had signals to each other to make sure the other person is alright (which would have helped during heists as well) to complement Emma's innate ability to read Bae. I think that Emma realized early on that the best way to comfort Bae after nightmares was physical touch (hugs, gentle kisses). I can also see Emma sidling up to Bae whenever she sensed that something was bothering him and just quietly grabbing his hand and lacing her fingers in between his to remind Bae that he's not alone and make him relax almost instantly.

Just like physical touch is used to display the progress in Bae and Rumple's relationship, it is also used to show the progress in Bae and Emma's relationship when they reunite.

Bae has a tendency to fidget with his scarf, especially when he is vulnerable around Emma, which I think is a self-soothing technique. He longs for her physical touch, but too much has happened between them for him to reach out to her, so he physically touches his scarf to comfort himself. It isn't until the penultimate episode of season 2 after he breaks up with Tamara that he finally reaches out to Emma, hugging her when she's about to fall through the portal. This continues in season 3A when he hugs her after getting out of the cage in "Ariel" and stays beside her to support her throughout.

Emma, on the other hand, tries to be standoffish around Bae but fails miserably- just like how she tries to deny her love for Bae but fails. Since they reunite, Emma is always pictured by Bae's side (which is seen in many stills from season 2B and 3A). Not to mention that other than Henry, Emma initiates physical contact (even if it is just casual) with Bae more than anyone else in canon in the earlier seasons. In season 2B, she physically pushes him in "The Miller's Daughter" when he stops to stare at the magical chalk barrier, and she physically grabs him to stop him from going after Henry when Henry confronts Regina in "Welcome to Storybrooke". In season 3A, Emma hugs Bae in Neverland after they get him out of the cage in "Ariel", Emma sidles next to Bae to hug him after his father dies (which encourages Henry to do the same) in "Going Home", and Emma's the one who initiates the hug with Bae at the town line when they are about to be separated yet again. When Bae dies in "Quiet Minds", Emma pulls Bae into her arms and lets Bae die being physically comforted by her- being loved. And lastly, when Emma reunites with Bae briefly in the underworld in "Souls of the Departed", Emma caresses Bae's face, showing that she still loves him even though he is dead.

This behavior especially stuck out to me because in the earlier seasons, the other person usually has to initiate physical contact for Emma to return it. But with Bae, she's a lot more liberal and initiative with physical touch, even when she "hates" him.

Finally, to cement how Bae associates physical touch with love and affection, Bae is very physically affectionate with Henry. From their first meeting, Bae mimics Henry's body language and leans in close to him when talking, showing his love and interest through nonverbal communication. As they get closer, Bae is always touching Henry- ruffling his hair, patting his shoulder, carrying him, hugging him, wrestling with him in the background of "The New Neverland", etc. And Henry returns it readily, appreciating physical affection just like his father does (though probably not as desperately as Bae seems to crave it). The blatant physical affection between Henry and Bae is what makes their relationship seem so close and loving, even if they had a limited time together.

#sfweek2023 #neal cassidy #baelfire #nealfire #rumplestiltskin #papafire #emma swan #swanfire #henry mills #daddyfire #ouat #once upon a time #ouat analysis #rant #sorry this is so long #i cant seem to shut up

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free-for-all-fics · 9 months

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The Phantom of the Opera (1990 Miniseries) Prompts! These got very long but this is one of my favorite adaptations and my brain wouldn’t stop. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of these ideas and I’d love to read it! 🎭🧡

1. In Erik’s lair underneath the Opera House, he has a room that contains a fireplace, a portrait of his mother, and a baby’s cradle. Inside the cradle is a headless baby doll. The baby doll’s head is shown disfigured with angry red scars, probably mutilated by Erik to resemble his own face. Erik found love and happiness with you as his wife and you later discovered you were with child. Even though you and Erik fashioned it into a suitable home as best as you could, it was no place for a child so small. As Gerard said, the catacombs underneath the Opera House aren’t exactly a healthy place to live in. Your child unfortunately died in infancy of an indeterminate cause. It was nobody’s fault. It just happened suddenly overnight. They were fine…until they weren’t.

“You sleep well?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Me too. The baby didn’t make a sound all night.” You give Erik a kiss before getting out of bed to enter your baby’s room and rouse them from their slumber. They look to be fast asleep in Erik’s old cradle.

“Hey you, it’s time to wake up and greet the morning,” you coo with a smile, but you notice something’s wrong when you touch them gently. They’re snuggled underneath soft baby blankets and the fire in the fireplace is still burning strong, but their skin feels cold. Far too cold. “Baby?” When they neither gurgle nor stir, you scream for your husband. Your voice is strained, as if your throat is full of cotton. You’re panicking and are about to cry at any moment.

“Erik? ERIK?! There’s something wrong—There’s something wrong with the baby.” Your husband enters the baby’s room in a flash, rushing to your side. He reaches into the cradle to inspect your child while you take several steps back, not wanting to see. Not wanting to believe what you already know to be true.

“Oh, God. Oh, my God. Dear God. They’re dead. Our baby is dead.”

“No. They can’t be! No! My baby! NO!”

2. For something much happier: You fell in love with and later married Erik, happily living with him underneath the Opera House as his beautiful bride. Usually nobody who’s seen his face is allowed to leave. Up there is where Hell is and Erik wouldn’t dare send an angel such as you to Hell, but you were able to change his mind. You’re his best friend, his wife whom he loves and trusts with all his heart. Despite knowing all the terrible things he’s done as the Opera Ghost and what his face looks like beneath the mask, you still love him unconditionally. He’s perfect in your eyes. So he lets you ascend and takes you back up whenever you wish.

Gerard wasn’t getting any younger and only had a few years left - both you and Erik knew that. It was Gerard who found an officiant who was more than happy to marry you and Erik properly. The officiant told you himself that you’d be surprised how many marriages he did for forbidden, star-crossed lovers such as yourselves. You and Erik were glad Gerard could be there to witness your vows, but he couldn’t help his son forever so you needed to step up and be the one to run errands. When you reached the hidden passage to the surface and Erik could go no further, you’d kiss him goodbye with a promise of returning soon. An hour or two later and you’d come back with food and other necessities, which Erik would help you carry to your home down below. You’re happy with the way things are for a year or so - but then you discover you’re with child and, suddenly, the catacombs under the Opera House doesn’t seem like a suitable home for you anymore. It’s not the healthiest place to raise a child, so you start coming up with ideas for better living arrangements.

If it’ll make Erik more comfortable, you’ll find a cute little house out in the countryside and away from the city. When you tell Erik you’re pregnant with his child, he cries tears of happiness and tears of fear. He never dreamed he’d be blessed with a wife or a child but, oh God, what if the child is cursed with his face? You run your fingers through his hair and rub his back as he cries and whimpers into your lap. The only other time you saw him in this state was when you consummated your marriage for the first time.

Erik has spent his entire existence believing he’s fit for nowhere but these gloomy vaults bereaved of light, like blackness itself. For he is blackness itself, isn’t he? You try your best to convince him that you both need to move forward with your lives. You need to re-enter Paris society to give your child their best chance at a healthy and normal life. You want to give them the proper education, socialization, etc. They’ll need sunlight, plenty of space to run around and play, and the opportunity to make friends. They wouldn’t thrive down here, isolated in the dark tunnels beneath the Opera House.

You know it’ll be a big adjustment and incredibly scary for him, but you assure Erik that all of you will be perfectly safe. You promise him that it’ll be good for his health. He’ll get used to living in the world above, surrounded by fresh air and sunlight. He’ll even grow to love it, in time. You’ll be right by his side and he won’t have to do it alone. He’ll have both you and the baby, and hopefully more children will follow. Erik knows you’re right, but he’s just so apprehensive of change. The Opera House has been his home for so long, it’s all he’s ever known. He doesn’t know how he’d be able to just leave it all behind. But with you by his side, he’ll summon the courage and the strength to do anything - even start anew.

3. Following the traumatic experiences he suffered in childhood after losing his dear mother, Belladova, to fever when he was three, Erik becomes very concerned whenever you fall sick. Even something as common as a cold has him worried and hovering over you. If you so much as sneeze, he’s on high alert. He’s always prepared, ready to hand you a clean handkerchief or give you anything else you may need to feel better. If he must, he’ll go to Gerard for help in procuring items from the apothecary. He’s very doting, sometimes smothering when he acts as your personal nurse and watches over you. Dearest, are you well? Eating well? Sleeping well? How does the heat affect you? Even though it’s so hot, you must always be wrapped up against any sudden changes. You assure your beloved Erik that you’re very well and healthy. You know that every care that could be taken is taken for your better comfort, thanks to his attentiveness. Gerard told you about Belladova’s untimely death, so you understand Erik’s trauma and fears regarding sickness. You’re patient with him when you have to assure him multiple times that you’ll be fine and will recover, you just need to rest. You won’t leave him like she did, you promise.

4. Carlotta used the wrong kind of herbs and inadvertently poisoned you to the point of near-death in her attempt to make you lose your voice. On opening night, you’re bedridden with fever, pale countenance, drowsiness, dizziness or weakness, chills, loss of appetite, mental confusion, loss of consciousness, etc. In your delirium, you think you’re still needed on stage and shouldn’t be lying in bed, so you keep trying to get up. Your friends, consisting of the ballerinas and chorus girls, do their best to urge you to lie down and rest, all you need to do is rest. They try to bathe your forehead and look after you, but you find it hard to remain still, complaining of headache and dizziness. They watch on in worry as they try to stop you from accidentally hurting yourself until you finally succumb to fitful sleep just as the doctors arrive.

Watching you from within the walls, surrounded by doctors and looking so unwell, drives Erik to seek revenge on Carlotta for what she’s done to you. Out of petty jealousy, the odious woman nearly killed you. He shows up in her suite and empties a suitcase full of rats all over her, driving her into insanity as she babbles and sings incoherently. Or he may do something far worse. He soon returns to your room using the secret passageways and spirits you away to his underground lair. You can’t be left alone in such a fragile state and need someone to watch over you. Erik couldn’t bear it if you were taken from him in the same manner his dear mother, Belladova, was. She was the first woman he ever loved and she succumbed to fever when he was but three years old. He’ll be damned if he lets you, the only other woman he’s ever loved, slip away from him too. He wouldn’t survive it. Not again. With or without Gerard’s help, he’ll make sure you have medicine and everything else you could possibly need. He’ll act as your nurse until you fully recover. Taking you back up isn’t an option. He won’t hear of it, not even from Gerard.

“Now you listen to me. For as long as I can remember, ever since I was a child, I have dreamed of her. Now people are born for many things, Gerard. I was born to live, if one can call this living, down here. But until now I have never known quite why. I was born so that she could save me, but that’s what she’s done. She’s the reason I was born. I love her, Gerard. And I believe, in time, with any luck, she will learn to love me. It will be a cruel God indeed to have sent her otherwise.”

5. Erik being the softest, most doting husband you could ever ask for. He not only gifts you pretty dresses, but he helps you put them on and take them off. With so many things to lace and button, and so many buttons being tiny, close together, and often in hard-to-reach places in the case of undergarments, it’s no wonder that many women relied on the help of a lady’s maid or an obliging sister for help getting dressed. But you have no sisters and no maids, so must rely on your husband to help you get ready for the day and prepare for bed at night. Whenever you can’t decide what you should wear for the day, he picks out a dress for you.

“This is what you will wear.”

He ties your dress laces for you while you brush out your hair. He holds the hand mirror for you while you fix your hairdo or makeup. Sometimes you curse women’s fashion for being so complicated and coming with so many layers, but Erik is always ever so patient in helping you get ready. It’s probably one of his favorite parts of the day.

“Forgive me, I’m hurrying as fast as I can.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve never seen such perfection.”

You, of course, return the favor by tying his cravats for him when his fingers seem to fumble and he just can’t get it right, helping him with his cuff links, or buttoning up his vests and coats. You’d go for strolls and have picnics in the woods which he planted. Filled with imitations of woodland animals which he had built, this is the most enchanted spot of all the places in his realm.

6. You’re Erik’s twin sister and live with him underneath the Opera House, having also been born with facial deformities and forced to wear a mask. Your mother, Belladova, saw nothing ugly in her children at all. She thought you and Erik were absolutely perfect and beauty itself. She would sing to you for hours. When you were children, you and Erik saw your reflections in the water of the lake and thought they were sea monsters - and then you realized it was you yourselves. It was not an easy day for either of you or Gerard. Belladova died of fever when you were three and Gerard thought, “and now they will die, and that will be a mercy to all of us.” But your mother begged Gerard to take care of you both, and so he watched over his twins thinking, “If they die, they die.”

With your mother gone, you both began to cry. Your cries would echo up through the shafts and cracks. At night when the Opera House was empty, people could hear them up above. And so the legend of the Opera Ghosts was born. Gerard became manager and let this ghost story grow to make sure nobody would discover either of you. Erik creates beautiful masks for you and himself. You’ve never shown your faces to anyone except each other, unmasking only in the privacy of your underground home when you feel safest and can be sure no trespassers or intruders will stumble upon you.

While Erik’s composing, you’re often dancing to his music or catching the stray rats that find a home in the catacombs by the lake. You don’t always kill them right away, believing they’re your friends. The rats tell you things! Gerard can’t be sure, but he theorizes that Belladova taking the poison to try to induce a miscarriage was the cause of your hallucinations and delusions, as well as yours and Erik’s facial deformities. When you were a girl, you were frightened by your first menstrual cycle and refused to allow Erik to inspect you for what he imagined was a wound. Neither you nor Erik understood why you were bleeding and suffering stomach pains and other strange physical symptoms. You both thought you were dying until Gerard had to explain it to you to the best of his ability. It was very awkward, scary, and gross, but you were relieved it was normal and you weren’t dying after all. Since Gerard has grown old and only has a few more years, Erik has become your primary protector and caregiver. He has to watch you very closely whenever you have another episode because you’ve often wandered off while talking to yourself or telling fairytale stories you make up on the spot. They coincidentally reflect your own life experiences, such as:

“In 1851, the Queen died so the King commissioned a labyrinth to house his son and daughter. The daughter was clever and escaped within a few days. But no one was aware of this, so the people believed she was still trapped. The only things in the maze were rats and rodents, So the Princess was henceforth called the Rat Queen!”

Erik has become very in tune with your behavior, what your footsteps and voice sound like, etc., even when he’s composing or playing music. He can tell the differences between when you’re lucid and when you’re muddled. He’s always been able to catch up to you and bring you back down before you made it up the stairs and opened up a secret passageway to the surface. After exiting his office, Choleti and Carlotta were once stopped in their tracks after hearing scurrying coming from the walls and…faint giggling? Erik stopped you from exposing yourself to the people above and gently wrapped his arms around you, holding your hand or carrying you bridal style as he guided you back home. He tucked you into bed once you were in the safety of your bedroom and sang you a sweet lullaby so you’d go to sleep. He had to kill Joseph Buquet when the wardrobe man ventured down below and found where you lived. Buquet almost discovered you during another one of your wanderings and Erik did what he had to do to protect you. Buquet could’ve seen your faces. You know what Erik is capable of, but he told you so himself that he doesn’t like killing people. Neither of you understand the world above, but you’re happy listening to the music.

When Carlotta poisons Christine and makes her lose her voice during her debut, Erik comes to you for help in getting revenge. You consider Christine a friend, so you happily provide him with a suitcase of live rats and use the secret passageways to hide it in a closet that’ll be ready for him. Carlotta is sitting at her vanity applying makeup when Erik purposefully strides into the room as casually as if he belongs there, forgoing his usual method of stealth. She freezes in terror as he promptly empties the suitcase full of rats all over her. Rats for a rat. After Christine faints upon seeing your faces, you try to console Erik as he cries and wails in agony. You try to stop him from destroying your home, but have to step back and keep your distance to avoid getting hit by falling objects. He’s hurt, he’s angry, but it’s never been this bad before. Despite what’s happened, Christine is still your friend so you help her escape by unlocking the door to her cage and distracting Erik just long enough so she can get a head start before he runs after her.

Erik becomes despondent and very ill after Christine leaves him, and you soon follow. Yours and Erik’s terminally ill state consists of coughing fits and shortness of breath, though neither of you bring up blood. Gerard is by your side and offers to fetch you water, then reveals he’s your father. You and Erik just nod your heads. You’ve both known the truth for many years and were just wondering when Gerard would finally say. Erik has Gerard’s eyes and you have Belladova’s, so it wasn’t very hard to connect the dots. You both have your mother’s soul and Gerard could never leave you nor regret any day spent with his children.

“You should go.”

“What if I stay?”

“Privacy is best for this. Come back in…a day. We’d thought about being buried in our lagoon. Then we thought no, we’d float up and scare some poor child downstream.”

“I will bury you.”

“And make it deep with no markings. There will be an inevitable curiousity.”

“No one will find you.”

“It’s our faces we’re concerned about.”

“You will not end up on display.”

You and Erik lay down side by side and either hold hands or hug as you wait for death, wanting to feel the comfort of each other’s embrace before you go. You were born together, you lived together, and you hope to die together. You succumb to your sickness within the hour. Erik feels your body become stiff and cold, but he only holds you tighter as he weeps for you, glad he’ll soon follow. He kisses you goodbye on the cheek or forehead and doesn’t open his eyes until he hears music. Not just any music, but Faust being sung by Christine. She’s come back. The realization that Christine loves him is enough for Erik to revive from his mysterious illness to sing a magnificent duet with her. After Gerard fatally shoots Erik, Christine unmasks him and smiles, kissing him on the forehead before he dies. Your body is recovered from the catacombs and she kisses your face as well, before replacing your mask and walking away with Philippe. Gerard fulfills his promise to his dearly departed children - He buries you and Erik together in an unmarked grave, in a place where nobody will ever find you.

7. Gerard had only been married to another woman for less than a month. The details of this marriage don’t really matter except there was a child on the way and the girl claimed that he was responsible. Gerard says himself that it could’ve been his, so what if it was? That child is you, but Gerard didn’t love your mother and she felt the same toward him. So as soon as possible, with her blessings, he left. Gerard still provided for you financially and shared custody with your mother, so you’d spend lots of time with him in the Paris Opera House. You’d go exploring while your father worked, often giving the person or people watching over you the slip.

You wandered down into the catacombs of the Opera House, following the sounds of a child crying. You came across a little boy wearing a mask. He looked to be just about your age, maybe a little younger. You introduced yourselves to each other and comforted him until his crying ceased. Though curious as to why he wore a mask, you didn’t ask questions and assumed it was part of the game he was playing by himself. You complimented how pretty it was and then played with him. You’re not sure how long you played together down there, but Gerard eventually found you. He was so angry at you for wandering off, but deep down he was just afraid you may have gotten hurt or kidnapped. Gerard never wanted you to come down here or find out about Erik, but it’s too late now. Erik’s never had any friends and has been sad ever since his mother’s death. Gerard figured his son must be so lonely when he can’t be there with him, so he reluctantly lets you come down below with him to play with Erik from time to time, so he can keep an eye on both of you. He never tells you and Erik the truth.

As you blossom into womanhood, your visits to Erik become less and less due to your busy schedule. Since joining the Opera Company as a ballerina, your days have been sacrosanct and filled with rehearsals. You’ve had no time to visit your friend. Despite your talent and years of hard work, you’re still stuck in the ensemble. The Prima Ballerina is an arrogant and spoiled woman who suffers from a bad case of massive self-importance. She’s gotten the role of Prima Ballerina only because she’s married to the new manager, and not on any show of merit or talent. She can’t dance, but obviously she doesn’t know that. She already has a reputation for being a brilliant but heartless and soulless ballerina and, at the first opportunity, resolves to smother your career by all means possible. She uses her position of power as the manager’s wife to deny you opportunities for any career advancement, spreads malicious rumors about you around the Opera House, and goes out of her way to make everyday life in the Opera House difficult for you. Gerard doesn’t have his job anymore so there’s not much he can do to help you, though he does try.

Your rival is threatened by Erik if she performs instead of you. But she thinks herself the victim of a thousand jealous attempts and goes about saying that she has a secret enemy who has sworn to ruin her. She pretends that a wicked plot is being hatched against her. Neither she nor her husband believe in ghosts, so they shrug the warnings off and she performs anyway. When she does, however, her performance is a disaster due to Erik tampering with her ballet shoes or costume. Embarrassed, she hides from the public view for a few weeks. Erik uses ventriloquism to speak to her and her husband through the walls of the Manager’s Office.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Who’s that?”

“Who do you think? The sooner you both leave the sooner your ordeal will be over. Forgive me if I don’t stay to chat, but I have other matters to attend to now.”

When she returns to the stage, you’re performing as Prima Ballerina in her stead. You receive great applause and esteem, and your dressing room is full of flowers from your fans and admirers. She sees you as the one great threat to her status and career. Her jealousy of you is so bad that she sabotages your performance as Princess Odette in Swan Lake (or any famous ballet of your choosing). Her meddling causes you to suffer a terrible fall and/or injure your leg. This is especially egregious as you’re her understudy and her responsibility.

Erik is enraged by your public humiliation and brings down the chandelier on the audience. While everyone is in a mass panic and distracted by the disaster, he kidnaps you and takes you away, carrying you bridal style since it’s hard for you to move. In the safety of his underground lair, he lays you down on his bed and personally nurses you back to health for days, caring for your injured leg using medical supplies that he either stole or had Gerard retrieve for him. When Gerard comes down to try to convince Erik to let you go, he refuses. He scoffs at the very idea.

“Erik, you must send her back. If you don’t, they’ll come down and take her back. And when they do, they’ll kill you.”

“The world up there is not fit for one such as her. She was betrayed tonight and I’d sooner die than let her be betrayed again! Could’ve burned the place down, better in ashes and memory than like this. Send her back? Never! I may be hideous but I’m not hideous enough to do that!“

When Gerard comes to you to urge you to flee, he tells you the entire story of his romance with Belladova, Erik’s mother. He tells you every last detail about his marriage to your birth mother, his love affair with Belladova, all of it. Until finally he divulges the shocking truth to you - You’re Erik’s paternal half-sister.

“I don’t believe this.”

“You’d better, because he plans to keep you down here forever. You see, he loves you. He’s always loved you.”

You’ve always loved him too. He’s been your dearest friend, but you see him in a new light now that you know he’s your half-brother. You understand now that he terrorized the Opera Company all these years out of love for you. He watched over you from the shadows and saw your potential. He knew you possessed great talent and wanted your ballet career to soar. He wouldn’t let anyone stand in your way. You were destined for stardom and just needed a little help from him.

When you and Erik are alone, you convince him to remove his mask and finally show you his face. He wouldn’t do this for anyone and he’s scared of your reaction, but you’re his best friend and you’ve known him since you were children - so he grants your request. When you see his face for the first time, you don’t faint. You don’t scream or cry out. You smile. He’s perfect to you because his soul is as pure as an angel’s. You don’t care what his face looks like because you’ve seen his eyes. You reach out towards his face with your hand as if you want to caress his cheek, but you hesitate and stop yourself short to ask for his permission first. You’re afraid your touch would hurt him or cause him physical pain. Does he usually feel any pain or discomfort on his face? Erik lets you touch his face and nearly cries when you kiss his forehead.

When Gerard confesses to Erik that he’s his father and you’re his half-sister, Erik only nods his head. He’s known that Gerard was his father and you were his half-sister ever since he was a child. Erik admits his eyes are the only part of his face he can look at in a mirror without wishing to break the glass - but they’re not Belladova’s eyes, they’re Gerard’s. You inherited your father’s eyes too, and Erik noticed the family resemblance early on.

#phantom of the opera x reader #erik x reader #Erik carriere x reader #erik carriere #1990 phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera miniseries #1990 miniseries #charles dance #Charles dance phantom #Charles dance phantom of the opera #the phantom of the opera #fic ideas #random fic ideas #random prompts #pls tag me if you write any of these #i’d love to read it

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auideas · 10 months

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Can I use your hanahaki AU???? I promise I'll give you proper credits. I would be grateful if you'll agree.

Of course! Any and all prompts here on AUideas are fair game -- we've posted them with the intent to share and spark new ideas, so asking for permission is unnecessary. What we do ask, though, is that you make sure to credit us with the original concept so others can find us and be equally-excited about starting their own writing.

As a thank you, here's a list of some new and interesting Hanahaki Disease AUs!

Confused about what Hanahaki's is? Here's a link from Fanlore that explains it in more detail, but the TL;DR is that if Character A has an unrequited love / crush on Character B but Character B doesn't feel the same way, Character A's lungs will slowly fill with flowers until the petals expel from their mouth. Needless to say, this is usually deadly...

In a world where Hanahaki's Disease was spreading like wildfire, Character A watched the news as the CDC decreed a ban on social media for the safety of the public -- fans had been developing fatal cases of Hanahaki's Disease for celebrities and influencers who could never possibly love them back.

Character A has been inflicted with Hanahaki's Disease; they just couldn't control themselves, and when they see their crush (Character B) in public, Character A has an attack. When the petals are finally cleared away by passersby and they can draw in a strained breath, they look up from where they'd fallen and see that they're in the arms of Character B who stares down at them with conflicted eyes. Character B can't help but be concerned for Character A's safety, but the type of flower petal Character A is producing has their favorite scent, and it's taking everything they have to not see if Character A's mouth tastes as good as it smells.

As a divergence of the classic Hanahaki's Disease concept, this universe manifests certain flower types based on the quality of the crushee's heart; the worse a person they are, the more pain and torment the afflicted will experience (thorns, thick roots, putrid smells, etc.). This developed as a safety mechanism to help Hanahaki sufferers break off their obsession quickly, but some infatuations are hard to escape.

Characters A and B had been in a long, loving relationship with one another for years at this point, and they never thought they could be happier...that is, until Character B has a coughing attack in their bed. Character A rushes to their side and their eyes go wide when they see a single rose petal fall from their best friend's lips and into their palm. The room tenses.

As a last resort, some Hanahaki's Disease sufferers choose to sign up for a dating service that aims to specifically pair up Hanahaki's sufferers in the hopes they'll fall in love and be cured. Easier said than done, of course...

"Listen, officers, I know it's a CDC emergency, but whenever I fake a Hanahaki's attack in public, I just get so much sympathy from everyone around me. It's like...it's the only time I really feel loved, you know? I was about to fake another attack here on the street when I found them. I don't know if they're still breathing, but I tried to pull out as many petals as I could-- NO, I don't know their name, but LOOK! Their lips are even more blue than the stupid f*ckin' petals on the ground, so HELP THEM!!" AU

It was thought that when someone died with Hanahaki's Disease, they were all but cured since their love died with them. After the first few bodies were buried, though, flowers matching the ones that killed them always sprouted from their graves. Character A's job isn't to clean the stones or stop grave robbers -- their job is to monitor the Hanahaki remnants' growth, make observations, and categorize new flora.

Obsessed botanist and activist Character A purposefully infected themselves with Hanahaki's Disease, but not for sympathy. They sought out the off-chance that their blood, their body, and their very bones were special enough to warrant the growth of a rare, extinct plant that could save the world. And if they couldn't do it, well, then they'd just have to get creative.

Overseas factories were known for their poor conditions, but a whole new meaning was brought to the word when Hanahaki's Disease began spreading like wildfire. For a small paycheck, these factories would house Hanahaki's sufferers and collect their petals to use in perfumes, ceremonies, etc. With the fatality rate of the disease being so high, they have a hard time keeping their stock consistent (without some foul play, that is).

Looking for some more Hanahaki's Disease ideas? We've got you covered! Here, you'll find all our Hanahaki's Disease ideas; if you'd like even more, shoot us an ask.

Hope this helps out, and happy writing!

-- Admin M xx

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essayofthoughts · 1 year

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So I had a terrible terrible thought.

Oh Wise Friend of Paleopathology... what do you think you would be able to learn from Percy's tomb, whenever he kicks the bucket and ends up buried? Assuming a language barrier + at least a few thousand years (and Kiki can't just chime in if still alive).

What strains of his life would still be on his bones? What about the teeth? What do you think Whitestone’s burial customs would be like (and how would his status/history be conveyed in that context)? Would any fabrics used in funeral dress be likely to survive, or only his wedding ring + buttons + whatever that shiny thing is in his ascot?

What would you, future archeologist, make of that earring in just one ear???!

I would note that it has been several years since I properly studied the subject, but Palaeopathology and Skeletal Analysis were some of my favourite classes and I do remember a fair bit. But for any currently practicing Archaeologists - forgive my oversights. It has been Too Long.

Now. Before I get to anything else in this scenario, we have to think about the likely context. This word means different things in Archaeology and Anthropology but for our purposes here today the short definition is "What is he found with? Where do we find the body? Is there a tomb, a grave, grave goods? What is there here that is not the body, that can tell us about how the body got here?"

I don't know how to explain to you that this is one of my favourite parts of archaeological thought - everything matters, everything plays a part, everything is context enabling us to better understand a site or an artefact. Every new thing we discover is another datapoint to weave into a greater whole until the web resolves into something greater than the sum of it's parts.

So in this instance we're going to have to start with the following questions:

Where is his body interred?

What kind of inhumation is it? (graveyard, cemetery grave, wooden coffin or vault casket or leaded sealed, mausoleum, crypt, ossuary?)

How well preserved/damaged is it?

What are the burial customs of Whitestone nobility and how will that affect things?

Why am I exhuming it?

Now, we know a few things from canon, most namely that the de Rolos had a family mausoleum beneath their castle. This suggests a formal burial in a family crypt. We do not however know if the bodies were placed in coffins, or niches or even if they were cremated! From the transcript of Reunions Pt2:

MATT All right, so. You progress through the undercroft as quietly as possible. You notice as you get past the first section, you look to your right and left and the inside of these small like cubby offshoots that contain these separate ten by ten stone tombs. The walls have shelves burrowed into it, in which there are urns and small gems and offerings-- things that were buried alongside the family members as part of a remembrance. →

So it seems like some may have been cremated! Being adherents of Pelor, this doesn't actually surprise me - the sun burns, after all. But then again, neither would traditional burial - Pelor is also associated with agriculture and standard decomposition returns you to the earth that fed you.

Though... that would be a bit complicated in a sealed stone tomb.

Given also how I'd equate to modern time periods and technology levels... I'm inclined to say embalming hasn't taken off in Exandria at the time Percy dies. And... even if it was possible, I rather feel it'd be associated with Necromancy more than standard burial, plus Whitestone is predominantly Pelorian and Percy's wife is Champion of Pelor, and Pelor is god of agriculture. Embalming chemicals seep into the soil and are catastrophically bad for the environment - there's a reason American cemeteries expect caskets to be fully sealed and in a concrete vault - to prevent exactly that. I can't see Pelor being down with that kind of embalming, so most likely a body is neatened up, shown for funeral, and buried, with minimal messing about. Even nobles being buried in crypts where they won't immediately return to the soil, I imagine they'd want to stay true to the general idea.

Further, from Matt in that same episode:

#MATT Continuing down, a long set of whitestone-constructed stairs descend for about 45 feet before they level off into the de Rolo mausoleum. A long hallway continues forward that contains two ten-by-ten stone structures that contain the entombed bodies of previous generations of de Rolos, with six passages-- three on each side-- that split off of this main hallway that contain their own stone-encapsulated corpses. → This is a place of silent prayer and showing appreciation for the previous families. Not all of them are full, and there were extensions planned as the family grew, but the first thing you notice is all of the tomb doors are open. →

So the idea is that the graves stay in use! This isn't a case like Sedlec where bodies are periodically disinterred to be reinterred in an ossuary, these are meant to be lasting burials.

So... why am I excavating here?

Given Keyleth's lengthy lifespan I would assume that Whitestone likely survives quite well (yes, even with the Apogee, shush, I've only watched C1 so far). It's also a source of, well, whitestone and residuum, meaning it's likely to remain inhabited. Even given the significant shifts a thousand plus years bring - castles and keeps and forts are pretty good at lasting in some form! We have a lot of remnants of old castles (In Britain alone: Tintagel, Colchester Castle, Tower of London, the Roman Forts at Hadrian's Wall, various Caers throughout Wales), and they frequently get built on or rebuilt over time. In a case like Whitestone, with valuable resources and economic links, even if it were, say, invaded, colonised, etc. - the castle would be a good seat of administration or even just a tourist hotspot. And crypts are well down in the foundations: even if the castle was damaged or destroyed, it actually has good odds of staying intact. The Alabaster Sierras are mountainous, but given the ziggurat survived from the Calamity to when we see it well enough it only took the Briarwoods and Ripley a few years (minus the time excavating down to it) to restore it, it seems that they're not terribly tectonically active.

So... this is likely a very stable site, with good odds of at least 500 or so years of protection (Pike and Scanlan are set to have long lifespans, JB too seems set to live there, all would have reason to see it protected) even before we get to Keyleth's likely thousand-odd year protection. Given that much time to build itself stronger, I see Whitestone as most likely still existing, and the castle a significant historical site and cultural heritage.

I can see some degree of linguistic drift, but if the area has remained inhabited then there's good odds there'd be scholars of the area able to translate Pre-Apogee-Era Tal'Doreian Common. And, likewise, if the area has had so long protected then there's good odds the Chamber is still around, and so there's probably a good library and even recorded genealogy of the founding de Rolos, even if the family itself had died out. (Factual accuracy of these records might be suspect, but I'll get to that.) This kind of persistence of a culture would not be without IRL historical precedent - Ancient Egypt lasted for thousands of years using largely the same Hieroglyphics, even as Dynasties rose and fell. The culture absolutely changed, but good chunks of records were still around.

Given all of this, most likely I can see the reason being some kind of refurbishment of the castle prompting archaeologists to be called in for the safe disinterrment of the tombs and then some kind of funded study by the Chamber of Whitestone of the bodies in those tombs to help inform on who Whitestone's forebears were. This, again, is not without precedent - if I'm recalling my Sixth Form case studies correctly, Christ Church in Spitalfields had a massive crypt of lead caskets that were disinterred, catalogued, studied and, wherever possible, returned to relatives.

Let's return to those questions, yeah?

Where is his body interred?

Most likely in the de Rolo crypt under the castle.

What kind of inhumation is it? (graveyard, cemetery grave, wooden coffin or vault casket or leaded sealed, mausoleum, crypt, ossuary?)

Stone tomb burial - likely dry but not anaerobic. Reasonable odds of non-human disturbances (rats, flies, bugs, etc.)

How well preserved/damaged is it?

Good odds of reasonable preservation. Depending on how well and consistently the crypt is tended it could be best case for the scenario or somewhat less.

What are the burial customs of Whitestone nobility and how will that affect things?

Given Taliesin has said that the de Rolos took a bit from Prussian nobility in etiquette and manners, I'd be inclined to say probably similarly, with an eye towards our 1800s funerary practices simply because that's when the Pepperbox was prominent in our world.

So most likely, Sunday best, plush coffin, but - unless royalty - left to rot. Royals (in the UK at least) have historically been prone to leadlined caskets but that tends to lead to a specific kind of anaerobic putrefaction that results in something called corpse liquor.

Ick.

So let's hope that's not the case. Given Whitestone is primarily Pelorian in devotion, at least in Percy's day, I'd be inclined to say they're not completely sealed - possibly even just interred as bodies, but unlikely - plus the crypt is in the family castle and it seems that the crypts were visited periodically by family prior to the Briarwoods' attack - the odds of someone breaking in to try to steal royal relics is pretty low, unlike the public royal burials in Westminster Abbey.

Why am I exhuming it?

Castle refurbishments prompting a Chamber-sponsored study on the historic remains in the pre-Chamber de Rolo crypt.

OKAY. Now that's all out of the way, let's get into what I might discover, yes?

So most likely I've gone through several other bodies before I get to Percy. During exhumation the details of the tomb would have been recorded - it's placement in the tomb, which tombs it was next to. Now, I would imagine his tomb would be between Cassandra's and Vex's, but while working I likely wouldn't know that! Assuming linguistic drift and font changes, most likely the burials and tombs are labelled in the database something like T6E2 - Tomb 6 of the 2nd East Section. I would then have to find a scholar working on recording and identifying any inscriptions and translating them - so names, dates, quotes, etc.. And, most likely, I would be kept in the dark until I was done! Archaeology is best done without recorded human history to bias one and huge amounts of history have no contemporaneous record to speak of.

Now, if I'm just doing the Palaeopath then likely with a specialist in coffins, caskets and funerary fittings, I would record the state of the coffin and body inside, as well as the positioning of the body inside. Is the body extended (laid out flat as we tend to bury bodies now) or contracted (foetal position, very common prehistorically)? How intact are the remains?

And then, recording everything as I go, I would extract the body from the coffin, bit by bit. I would want to ensure that no bones were left inside the coffin, no tiny tatters of cloth - assuming any remained, cloth disintegrates shockingly quickly and if it wasn't fully sealed it's likely the moths got to it, let alone any rats - and that I didn't misplace any bones as I laid them out per diagram.

Jewellery, buckles - any metal grave goods would also be extracted here and recorded. Also, given Exandria - Detect Magic. Make sure anything enchanted is Identified so we know what it did (hello Earring of Whisper!). Again, I'd probably end up giving them over to someone who knows how to compare them to similar items to properly study them.

Now... Percy's fleshy bits would most likely be gone. Unless he mummified which is not impossible with a dry stone internment but between two thousand years, one's own gut bacteria (remember, modern embalming is unlikely), rats and bugs... yeah I can't see much remaining beyond fragments of cloth and bones.

Oh, and his glasses.

That would have been noted during removing the body from the coffin - this person wore glasses. From my colleague examining them, we'd be able to see if they were prescription (or as historically close as you could get) or if they were a stylistic choice - so we'd know this person had bad eyesight.

Now, the first step after checking every bone is present would be to sex it and to look for damage or signs of wear and tear. Given this is Exandria 1. Gender equality for ages and 2. Magical with options to trans one's gender. This is also a high-status burial so there's good odds this person was living as their chosen gender; and sexing the body could tell us what that was. Even if there's a mismatch - grave goods can also tell us. Is the jewellery more commonly seen on men or women of the era? Percy would likely have a pocket watch (he does make a clocktower! I'd be shocked if he didn't make himself a pocketwatch) which is often a more masculine item, and an ascot pin - ascots are a masculine fashion - and his Earring of Whisper, which is a bit more complicated. Any remnants of clothes could also tell us. And of course - the coffin furniture. Any plaque with inscription, or inscription on the tomb panel. After drawing my own conclusions I would ask my scholarly colleague if their findings lined up with my own.

Given also that this is Exandria, it'd probably also be very important to identify which (DnD) race he was. Elves seem to be more gracile than humans, half-elves likewise albeit to a lesser degree, genasi would likely have magical influences, likewise aasimar, tieflings having horns, tails, hooves, claws, dwarves being short and stocky, while halflings are short and comparatively gracile and gnomes are smaller still. Goblins would be ruled out by size alone, goliaths would be massive and probably have big muscle attachment marks and dragonborn would have very obvious conformation compared to a human.

I don't think identifying Percy as "Most likely human" would be hard - but we can confirm it later.

Now... damage.

Percy's torture would almost certainly show on his bones. Given it was torture, I highly doubt Ripley wasted magical healing on him. It was only a week or two, so likely no broken bones - unless she only wasted enough healing on him to keep him alive, in which case... yeah absolutely some wear and tear. Signs of partial healing, mixed damage. Scarring on the bones, evidence of dislocations, etc.. Likewise, injuries from his time with Vox Machina would show - him leaving his hand in a bulette's mouth probably left marks on those bones, his death at Ripley's hands probably is extremely interesting in the skeletal record - most of his pre-mortem injuries only partially healed if that, while the actual cause of death being healed up completely, a lacuna in the record. Likewise - Percy's cane. If he was buried with it we would probably look for some kind of leg injury. Was the cane an affectation or was there an injury it was compensating for? What injury might that be, what could have caused it? Or even... was he not buried with it? Would we see a leg injury that implies a need for a cane, but no cane to go with it? If so, we could assume that presentation in death had significance, and they were presenting a "perfect" "whole" version of him at death. Again, there's cultural precedent for this! Ancient Egyptians would provide wooden prosthetics and false eyes during mummification because of a belief that how one was interred was how one would arrive to the afterlife - they could be given limbs they had lost or even never had in life.

Just due to all of this I'd probably also take a close look for any evidence of malnutrition - though this might be significantly faded after his many comfortable years retired. That said, Percy was tortured and then washed up on a fishing boat and dissociated for two years. Given this was at the tail end of his puberty, I'd be shocked to find no sign at all of lasting physical trauma at that.

I'd also find he had one arm that was just. Fine. Factory reset perfect. Nothing wrong at all. What the hell. Did someone cast Regenerate on him? (If they did cast Regenerate: did that have an accelaratory effect on any bone remodelling his healing bones were going through after the Vecna fight?

Assuming I've studied some of the other crypt bodies before Percy's this would be very interesting! Most of those would be de Rolos who likely went through little to no hardship - Percy stands out.

I'd also want to check to see his teeth - what kind of teeth care is he getting? Any cavities, calculus build up, abscesses, missing teeth? How worn down are they? Are there any fake teeth? Given Vex would probably chivvy Percy to take care of himself (and wouldn't care for stinky breath) and they have Pike on hand for healing, I imagine he has very good teeth for his age.

This is a good thing.

You see, assuming this is a very thorough study and all of that time between Percy's era and know gives me access to modern technology or some equivalent I would want to a few destructive tests. Namely - carbon dating, isotope analysis and DNA testing.

And these are often best done with Teeth. Teeth are fun! They are growing bones which live in our bones! And we lose our milk teeth and gain our adult teeth on the same reliable time frame as we use to age infant skeletons (sealing of skull sutures in that case) which makes them really useful. Like. Unspeakably useful. Teeth are fantastic. Take care of your damn teeth.

Carbon dating would, obviously, give us a rough idea of how old the body was. This is easier the more recent it is, and much more exact. We can then cross-reference this with the scholar translating inscriptions and checking historical records to see how well the carbon date matches up with the historical record!

DNA testing is the thing that would tell us if he was human, and, depending on how advanced it is, might even be able to tell us a few phenotypic genes! Melanin levels for skin and hair, eye pigmentation - possibly if he was genetically predisposed towards a few diseases. It would also allow us to compare him to other bodies in the data set! We would find out that the female body interred on one side of him was most likely his sister, and while the woman interred on his other side shares no meaningful DNA with him, there are other nearby bodies which share DNA with both of them, being their children! And from those children we'd know that there was a tiefling in the family, which would allow us to infer that somewhere in this family there was some kind of infernal influence.

Isotope analysis - if I'm recalling correctly, you can use isotope analysis to both identify some part of a person's diet in life (carbon and nitrogen analysis, usually) and where they came from (strontium and oxygen analysis).

So we'd have some idea of Percy's general diet, and also know he was local! I imagine given, you know, Exandria, magic - we'd have not just strontium analysis to place him as a Whitestone native, but also likely some lingering magic from the local whitestone rock to further establish that. Now, if I recall rightly, strontium analysis only really works for childhood, but based on the injury and malnutrition pattern, the idea that he either went through hell locally or left in some relation to that is not an unlikely one - just hard to prove.

CONCLUSIONS

We would see from his grave goods and the circumstances of his burial that he was high born and likely associated with the de Rolo family. From DNA analysis we'd know he was related to a good number of people in the crypt and that his apparent spouse was not, meaning he is most likely the de Rolo of the pair. Plus the strontium analysis we'd know he was local and his likely spouse was not, again furthering the idea that he was the de Rolo.

We might also have some idea of how he'd look, and if we decided to try to do a digital or artistic facial reconstruction we'd likely have some pigmentation pointers. Also, we know he wore glasses and that he needed them - that they weren't a stylistic choice.

We'd know he'd been badly injured at various points in his life, and, depending on how severe his various post-Glintshore and post-Raishan injuries were, we might still be able to see the gap of the resurrections in his bones, which would further suggest he was someone of means to have afforded such a resurrection. A lot of his injuries could probably be put down to an adventuring lifestyle, which the resurrections and any evidence of magical healing would probably attest to, and without the kind of surface scarring torture leaves, while we'd know he was injured badly over the course of his life, I don't know if we'd be able to easily conclude it was all at once. Certainly some marks on the bones would seem older than others but bones remodel over time! Some of it might be damn near invisible, while others would remain obvious. He also has a mysteriously perfect arm for Some Fucking Reason.

We'd likely have his wedding ring (I'd be shocked if it didn't have some inscription on the inside; this was very common historically and Percy is a complete sap), an ascot pin, a belt buckle and some buttons or fasteners for his clothing, a pocketwatch and chain (and again, I'd be surprised if the pocketwatch didn't have an inscription or a hidden flap with a miniature of his family or something). We'd have his glasses and possibly even his cane. We'd likely have the Earring of Whisper and based on how well Purvan Suul's two magical items lasted - one of which was not a Vestige! - I'd be inclined to say an Identify would let us know what that was once Detect Magic turned up that it was enchanted.

I imagine someone would also have catalogued any offerings left outside his grave - keepsakes, mementos, inscribed tablets of memorial, etc. which would help to let us know not just who he was but what he meant to the community in which he lived.

After all, the dead do not bury themselves - this is what I meant at the start by context. He was buried by people around him - his community. They chose his grave and his grave goods, they chose the inscription of his tomb (he may have requested it, they chose whether or not to honour that) and they left offerings and markers of what he meant to them.

And... from all of this? Assuming Scanlan really went ham telling the Legend of Vox Machina and bards keep telling it? I'd think an in-world archaeologist could make a good guess as to who this body was even before getting it confirmed by the scholar checking the inscriptions. And with the Cobalt Soul storing information - good odds they'd have a record of Scanlan's version of the tale and their own additions (see also Chronicles of Exandria books, intended as being from the Cobalt Soul). And, also, of course, Tary's version too! There's likely to be several different contemporaneous sources, not to mention later additions from the Voice of the Tempest.

So... I imagine this would probably help to fill out things that weren't covered by Scanlan's tale, refute things in Tary's and generally do as finding Richard III's body did for Britain - give us more information about the person behind all the stories and propaganda. Flesh out their life, give us hints of the hardship they went through - if there's inscriptions on his ring or pocketwatch, give us a hint of the heart he shared with his family.

It certainly wouldn't be everything, but it would be enough to let you touch another's humanity across a thousand years or more.

#percy de rolo #percival de rolo #vox machina #blorbologist #whitestone #ask #archaeology #god damn i love archaeology #you sent this in as enrichment BLORB DO YOU REALISE WHAT YOU HAVE DONE???#I AM SO ENRICHED #i'm sorry this got so long except also no what am I saying no i'm not #this was amazing thank you so much blorb #living up to my username #long post #such a long post #yes that's where i put the cut YOU WILL UNDERSTAND

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kirschteinoir · 8 hours

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just thinking about kuroo after the battle of the dumpster...

saw the haikyuu movie and cannot stop thinking about this man!!! kuroo is such an important character to the story and i'm glad his boobs are as big as his love for the game <3 when i tell you i was giggling kicking my feet in my chair whenever he appeared on screen... (≧◡≦) ♡

warnings; teensy bit angsty but has a happy ending i promise!!! mild spoilers for the battle of the dumpster movie and the timeskip

didn’t allow himself to be upset about losing to karasuno until he was alone late at night. for the first time in a while he allowed himself to stay up until the early morning, taking a leaf out of kenma’s book. after everyone else had gone to sleep, he snuck downstairs and re-watched the TV highlights of the match, scrutinising every detail (against his better judgement). he probably doesn’t even realise he’s crying until he can feel snot starting to drip down his lips and he momentarily grosses himself out. but he just lets himself cry and cry, horrible choking sobs that he has to hide behind the sleeve of his jacket so he doesn't wake anyone up. god forbid his team (or coach nekomata) see their giant jokester of a captain expressing his emotions!!!

the ride back home the next day is awkwardly silent. he does his best to remain chipper but he also knows his team needs time to recover and gather their emotions. he makes idle talk with kai since yaku is constantly in tears, who seems to be much calmer than everyone else, and kinda just stares out of the window, chin against his palm, until they pull up outside the school.

he doesn’t see kenma for a few days after the match. partly because kenma has a fever and is sleeping it off, but partly because he doesn’t know what to say to him. especially after the whole ‘thanks for getting me into volleyball’ moment… how do you even begin to talk about something like that? should he even talk about it? or is it something that should be preserved in the moment?

he spends the next few days resting his sore muscles, dodging questions from his dad about how the game went, thinking about how he was going to go to school next week and act like a normal high-schooler again despite feeling like a part of him has died. no more practice, no more volleyball at nekoma high.

of course, everyone at school congratulates the team. they get a shoutout in the school assembly on monday morning and have to awkwardly face the entire school as the principal describes how close they were to winning. it takes a lot for him to not burst into tears again on stage.

a lot of fellow students were cheering them on in the stands and kuroo makes sure to thank everyone sincerely for believing in them as they approach him in the school corridors. people always mention that it was such bad luck that the ball was covered in sweat, causing it to slip in kenma’s hands. kuroo’s smile is strained as he laughs it off, not knowing whether it was worse that their final mistake was something they couldn’t have ever controlled or if he would have preferred it to be a matter of bad technique.

unknowingly he regresses into himself, becoming less talkative and more serious for a short period after the game. it would be especially bad at the end of the school day, when he and kenma would usually meet up and head to the boy’s changing room together for practice. he instinctively packs his gym bag for a while, always realising too late that he didn’t need to bring it with him anymore and then being stuck with it for the rest of the day like some cruel taunt.

eventually he graduates, and real-life problems start replacing the loss of volleyball in his life. he knows the world moved on and now so must he. he speaks to his dad a lot about where he’s going to go after he graduates - he’s always done well in school and performed strongly in the entrance exams he took so he ends up at a decent university in the city, moves away from home (and kenma) to make new friends and start again

on his first day in his new dorm all alone, he feels the introverted, timid kid from his childhood start to resurface again. he thinks he might vomit but he shakes himself out of it momentarily by unpacking his sparse belongings, including his nekoma jacket. it’s comfy, he thinks to himself, and it would be a waste of a jacket if he’d left it to collect dust at home.

thankfully, his lectures and assignments keep him busy for a good month or so once semester starts. at first he texts kenma almost everyday but the younger boy starts to see how kuroo's replies get further apart and much shorter. kenma is still the team’s setter so he doesn’t exactly have free time either, but he wishes kuroo would maybe video call him soon, or at least come home to visit every now and then.

on the whole, kuroo enjoys his first year of university. he’s studying business and joined the uni’s volleyball society and team, through which he made a few friends. people recognise him too, as the captain of the red guys that played that one intense match against karasuno last spring. he’s like ‘yep that’s me :D’ before he thinks about the last time he contacted yaku, kai, kenma or anyone from his life one year ago. he feels guilty and that night, over a bowl of rice and some grilled mackerel, he replies to all of kenma’s awaiting texts (three of them) AND shoots yaku a message about his latest inter-university volleyball match. he also calls his dad, who tells him his sister is back in town and to come home and see her if he can spare the time.

let’s be honest, there probably isn’t a human on earth that kuroo tetsurou doesn’t have chemistry with. he’s definitely fairly popular and the guy that everyone wants to invite out because he always makes it a good time. also had a girlfriend or two (maybe even a boyfriend???) but wasn’t really looking for anything solid so graduated single, much to many peoples' despair.

university got easier when kenma joined him a year later. he helped the younger get acquainted with campus and all the ins and outs of what the students like to do but kenma was never going to be a party animal or a socialite so their dynamic from high-school was largely unchanged. it was just that kenma was now becoming famous and was making shit-loads of money… kuroo was in awe of what kenma had made of his life so far and i feel like he inspired him once again to pursue something he was passionate about, no matter how unconventional it may be

stopped playing volleyball for a while after graduating to work some odd jobs, constantly looking for that one thing that he would do until he would die

one of his uni teammates told him about an internship at the JVA and pushed him to apply for it. of course his application was stellar: interest in volleyball from a young age, outstanding academic performance, captain of his highschool VB team? he was their dream hire

the day he got the internship he invited coach nekomata out for drinks. just the two of them. kuroo still reveres nekomata like a god, despite the older man telling tetsurou he has far surpassed him by now. kuroo remains humble, unconvinced that his future work at JVA would even hold a candle to what nekomata did for him when he was younger. they talk about the nationals match and how it could’ve ended differently, they talk about the nekoma high volleyball club as it is currently and nekomata laments that under kuroo’s leadership it was truly the strongest they’ve ever been. they talk about hinata and kageyama and bokuto and oikawa and all these names from their past excelling in their professional volleyball careers and kuroo realises in his heart of hearts that he wants to be in that world too. maybe not on the court itself but definitely on the sidelines pulling the strings, connecting people. lowering the net.

about me.

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo #haikyuu #haikyuu movie #kuroo headcanons #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro headcanons #anime headcanons #haikyuu battle of the garbage dump #he's so dear to me guys #kuroo the man that you are

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shadowbriar · 2 years

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Fred Weasley - Stuck on the Puzzle

Pairing : (F/M) || Fred Weasley x Reader Word Count : 2.0k Warning : Drinking. Harsh language. Angst. Notes : Inspired by Stuck on the Puzzle by Alex Turner. Having arrived late to the mansion after every attempt of stalling time, Fred finally gathered his last fragment of courage and joined the pre-wedding party, keeping in mind to drink every cocktail on sight so that he’ll be hammered enough tomorrow to skip the wedding.

The mansion was filled with familiar faces and though he’s been surrounded with people he’d proudly call as family, Fred’s heart is still hung heavy. The alcohol on his hand helped nothing to ease his mind, only acting as a catalyst to the thunder blaring and heavy storm plaguing his mind. He wishes to leave the place. Apparate himself back to his loft and hide under his worn and full of holes blanket until the end of the month comes.

He would never forget how he could physically hear the sound of his heart dropping, shattering into a million pieces as the periwinkle envelope arrived at his doorstep. He recognises the comforting colour and how the paper was decorated with all sorts of flowers she’d once told him were her favourites. Her name was written proudly on the cover, along with another man’s.

It was her wedding invitation letter.

Fred wasn’t sure he’d be able to hoard so much hatred for himself until that day. Every what-if scenario was crushing his brain to a pulp. What if he’d asked her first for the Yule Ball? What if he didn’t get a cold feet that weekend before the Hogsmeade trip in 5th year? What if he didn’t hesitate and ask to sit next to her during their classes? What would happen then if he had just an ounce more of bravery? Would his name be the one standing next to her on their wedding invitations?

Everyday since he had to fight the irrepressible urge to burn said invitation. The sight of the innocent letter laying on his table was driving him mad. He wanted to shatter it into pieces, throw it into a bucket of thousand firecrackers, and bury the ash in a place where he would never return to. But the thought of disappointment on her face to have him be absent on such a special day haunts him. He needed to be there, even if it meant he would pulverise the last remaining strains of his fraying soul.

And so here he is, with George physically and mentally acting as his sole pillar of support, Fred puts on his best suit and most believable facade, acting like he’s happy for the couple. He dreaded the next two days. Having arrived late to the mansion after every attempt of stalling time, Fred finally gathered his last fragment of courage and joined the pre-wedding party, keeping in mind to drink every cocktail on sight so that he’ll be hammered enough tomorrow to skip the wedding.

“You seem to never grow out of your partying self, Freddie.” Alicia comments, noticing the empty glass he swaps with a new one every other minute “Years after school and you still act like the animal you are.”

Fred shrugs, chugging his drink before lifting the empty glass, “Cheers for the couple.”

The people surrounding him were starting to eye him in pity. It was common knowledge for the small group of friends that Fred was in love with her. Her name remains the only one name ever rolled off his mouth with such delight and adoration. The way his eyes sparkled whenever she was mentioned or how silly he would play during Quidditch practice whenever she watches. The fixation he had for her was enough to fuel a lifetime romance.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Angelina interrupts before Fred could take another glass from the server “You’ll be dead pissed before we get the chance to greet the couple.”

“That’s the mission, Darling.” Fred winks, drinking George’s drink instead.

Not a minute passed and the said couple finally came out of the mansion. The noises died down as every eye turned and watched the lovebirds with glee. Smiles were decorating every guest’s faces, including Fred’s. The sight of her after what seems to be forever felt like a long awaited rain after a drought. She’s still as beautiful as he last remembered her. If anything, even more charming now with her mature posture and a touch of makeup, enhancing every delicate feature she has.

Fred’s breath was taken away as their eyes met. Her smile turns wider as she waves her hand at him, looking grateful and beyond happy to see him there. And just with that trivial moment, Fred’s worry and dismay evaporates into thin air. For the first time since he arrived, he was glad to have come to the party.

His quest to get plastered tonight has now been aborted. If there is just a slight chance for them to exchange a word, he would want it to happen with his mind completely clear. He’d want to memorise every giggle, the crinkles around her eyes whenever she smiles, and the pleasant voice of hers when she calls his name. He wants to keep every detail of her and have it engraved in his head for after tonight, he would have to bid his last goodbye to her.

“Fred,” Her melodious voice calls from behind “You came.”

Her smile was intoxicating, making his head spin and chest filled with warmth that he could only reply with a nod and a smile he hopes isn’t freaking her out.

“I’ve missed you.” She says, coming in with an open arm as she pulls him for a hug “It’s been so long since I last saw you.”

Fred couldn’t utter a word. He rests his head to the crook of her neck, praying that he could pack away this very moment and have it hidden under his bed. The smell of her perfume and body heat was melting him. The void forming in his chest the moment she lets go would be the nightmare that’ll haunt him for the rest of his life.

“You’re awfully quiet.” She says with a chuckle “Did you drink the wrong tonic or something?”

He shakes his head, smiling, “Just basking the moment before you’re finally gone tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on, now. You’re talking like I’m about to die.” She rolls her eyes, playfully nudging on his shoulder “I’m not gonna die tomorrow, Freddie. I’m just getting married.”

Fred smiles. Just getting married. As if that wasn’t something he should be grieving about. The word came out of her with such ease, not realising the heavy earthquake it’s giving to his tottering heart. If only she knew all the torments she’d unconsciously made him go through, would she still be as cheerful as she is right now?

“Congratulations.” Fred says, forcing a smile “Flint is a one lucky bastard.”

For a second there Fred thought that he’d seen a glimpse of sadness on her eyes. The kind of bitterness you have when you watch the person you love letting go. But as instant as it came, the emotion was swapped back into her default merriment that Fred had to convince himself that he was just seeing things. The alcohol might be taking its toll on him.

“Thank you, Fred.” She replied, her hand still clinging on his forearm “I’m parched. Would you accompany me to get some drinks? I’m feeling rather tired to greet and have small talk with other guests, so can you please be my wingman?”

Fred nods, following her step to get away from the crowd and into the champagne table.

The redhead boy no longer cared for the fact that people could see him staring. He’s thrown out his self-respect out the window. If people want to talk about the longing gaze and how pathetic he’s looking right now, he’ll let them. Let the whole world know the fool who’s been loving the girl for so long yet never had the courage to let her know that she’s now finally with another.

“Is there something on my face?” She asks, anxiously touching her face.

Fred shakes his head, “No, you’re just so beautiful tonight.”

“Oh, come on now, don’t be such a flirt.” She rolls her eyes, cheeks tainted with redness “Had you said that to me a couple years earlier we would’ve been the one getting married.”

The smile on is face diluted. She said it with such a remote manner yet the side eye she gave as she gulped another glass of champagne made him question her intention. Those aren’t the things you said to someone casually, especially not at the night before your wedding. Could her words hold any more meaning than the aloof gesture she’s showing?

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” Marcus said, disregarding the fact that she was standing with Fred “We’ve got guests to greet, why are you pissing yourself by the champagne table?”

Fred wanted to take Marcus right there and then. How could he say such words to the girl who deserves the world. The lack of affection he’s shown to her has always made Fred question, what does Flint have that made him the one she surrendered her heart to? Did she even want him to be the one she marries?

“I was just getting some drinks, I’ll be right out in a minute.” She says with a forced smile, attempting to plant a kiss to her fiancé's cheek but failing miserably as he dismisses her and walks back out, not sparing a glance to Fred.

“Why are you marrying him?” Fred asks, the boiling anger in his head slowly taking the best of him “He’s a vile man, Marcus Flint. We used to make fun of him from all the stupid things he’d done and you would always scold me whenever we got in a fight. Why are you marrying the man you said you’d hate for life?”

She remains quiet, eyes locked on him as if she’s trying to convey a message her lips couldn’t deliver. There was regret, guilt, and despair evident on them. How her shoulders shuddered in an attempt to contain her welling tears was tearing him apart. He wanted to rescue her, take her hand and leave the party. Rescue her and hide her under his wing from the life she certainly doesn't deserve if she were to marry Flint. She’s supposed to marry someone who would worship her, someone who would bleed themselves to death for her, and Marcus Flint is certainly not that man.

But who was he kidding? Sure she deserves someone better than Flint but does that mean the man is himself? He couldn’t even ask her out for a silly date. What makes him think he’ll have the balls to kidnap her from her own wedding?

“People are complex beings, Freddie. Marcus isn’t always as cold as how he reacted just now. He’s just feeling stressed over the wedding.” She says at last, struggling to find an excuse for her fiancé's rude actions “I better get back and greet the guests. It’ll be bad for the family if people begin to talk about the bride’s disappearance.”

Placing her empty glass to the table, she reaches for Fred’s cheek and kisses it gently. The sigh she let go as her lips parted from his skin was dragging him deeper to the trench of desolation. With one last smile, she squeezes his forearm and begins walking away.

Fred watches as her figure soon disappear in the sea of people. A thousand questions running across his head at the same time. What’s to do now? What's he supposed to do now that he’s seen it firsthand that she isn’t getting the fairytale she very much deserves? And what is left of him to do after she defends her despicable fiancé?

What is it that Marcus had that made her stay? Was it because of his name and luxury? No, she isn’t the type to trade love for money, that couldn’t be the reason. Was it because of their family? She did mention how badly it would reflect on them if she were to show just a flaw tonight. So was that the true answer?

Fred takes one of the champagne glasses, gulping down the liquid before tossing the glass away with no regard. The mystery and scenarios screaming at each other in his brain were dementing. For the millionth of time, Fred Weasley has found himself stuck on the puzzle.

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