#-and the day i though i was dying from ear pain i ended up with great pulls in these 2 games

[swiftdove]

collateral damage

pairing: rio vidal x agatha harkness x fem!reader

summary: after being stranded by your ex-lovers, you've found a new life, hoping to finally move on. unfortunately, fate just doesn't seem to be on your side.

content: angst, allusions to smut, sapphic yearning

a/n: i'm obsessed to say the least

You should've known.

From the moment Agatha stepped foot into your pitiful excuse of a store, you should've slammed the door shut. For years, you'd been reeling from the wounds inflicted by your so-called lover. If you could even call her that. Never, did she once, refer to you as anything other than her 'pet'.

You supposed the name was fitting. You were practically a dog, groveling at the ground she walked on. Hoping, begging, praying, dying that she wouldn't leave. 

Then, without a trace, she vanished from your life, set on her next twisted mission. You had simply been a means to an end, a brief footnote in her life. 

It didn't help that the only other person you cared about, Rio, had followed in Agatha's absence. They'd left you alone, desperately trying to piece together the shattered remains of what you once had. 

Sometimes, you wondered. You wondered if they ever felt guilty about what they did, and if they ever thought of you from time to time. Then, you scolded yourself for even daring to believe that the Agatha Harkness and Rio Vidal would have the time of day to care about you. You had drowned in that pit of self-deprecation for years, slowly re-learning how to live without them. 

And just as you thought you were finally free, the wretched witch came back, pulling you back under her spell. If it were anyone else, you would have said 'no'. But it wasn't just 'anyone else'. It was Agatha. You weren't sure where this sick, borderline-obsessive love for her came from. You had left it to depreciate in the back of your mind, where you would have preferred for it to have stayed.

Unfortunately, Agatha had had other plans.

It was stupid. You hated yourself for it.  You hated that tiny spark that you felt when she said your name, that familiar warmth in your chest when she came close. You would've given anything to stop the feeling.

If only Agatha knew. Throughout her long, melodramatic speech about the rewards of The Road, all you could do was stare at her in disbelief. The promise of being with her, even if it were for a short while, was enough to have convinced you. If you had known, back then, that Rio would have been joining you, you would have eagerly accepted the offer without hesitating.

But then again, time had cast a golden glow over your past relationships. You hadn't remembered how unwanted you had felt in their presence, how much they hadn't cared about you.

Sat around the warmth heat of the fireplace, your gaze lay wistfully on the two women. Situated across from them, you felt more distant to them than you had when you were alone.

"I have a scar," Rio suddenly spoke, glancing over at the coven.

"No, you don't," Agatha shot back, almost instantly. 

Your ears perked, waiting for Rio's next words.

"Yes, I do," Rio replied, glancing over at Agatha, her solemn gaze worth a thousand unspoken words. It was their dynamic, their silent conversations, that left you feeling like a second-choice. The feeling settled into the pit of your stomach, which you desperately tried to keep from coming back up.

"A long time ago, I loved someone." Rio shot another pointed look at Agatha. "And I had to do something that I did not wanna do, even though it was my job. And it hurt them. She is my scar."

If you had the choice to go deaf right there and then, you would have chosen it immediately. Although, you knew it wouldn't stop the sharp pain you felt in your heart. Seeing them together was enough. 

"I have to go stretch my legs," Agatha said, walking away.

Just like she used to walk away from every problem in her life. Like she did with you.

You couldn't bear it. One more second in their presence, and you were sure you would have thrown up.

"Same," you replied quietly, walking in the opposition direction to your past lover. 

It was only until the warmth of the fire was long gone, that you felt the tears sliding down your cheeks. 

Breaking down into sobs, you brought your knees to your chest, burying your head inside. You shouldn't have come. You should have said no. 

It seemed as though fate was constantly punishing you, tugging at your heartstrings until they threatened to break. You hated that a part of you wanted to hurt them. Just enough, so that you too would have left a scar. But you knew you couldn't do it. You wouldn't. Not after they shared, so intimately, their past with you, letting you devour every fiber of their being.

You knew why they were the way that they were. That's why it hurt so much to watch them, again and again, fall victim to their pasts. That's why you could never leave, knowing how much pain they had endured, knowing that their wounds ran too deep to ever heal.

Sympathy was a knife, stabbed straight into your back when they left you to dry.

"You good?"

You'd been so deep in your emotions, you hadn't noticed the dark shadow looming over you. Swiveling around, you were met with a pair of manic brown eyes.

"Rio," you exhaled, quickly wiping away your tears. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Rio shook her head softly, pushing her tongue against her right cheek. Her fingers trailed up your leg, sending shivers down your spine. 

"Come on, now," she lulled. "You never were much of a good liar."

"Maybe I've changed," you replied sharply, pulling away from her touch.

Rio's grip tightened, her fingernails digging into your thigh. "Maybe you have," she replied dismissively. "Is that why you never called?"

You scoffed, turning away from her piercing stare. "No. We're not doing this - this wasn't my fault. You and Agatha left without saying a word to me. Call me crazy for assuming you were done with me."

"Now there's the Y/N I know," Rio bit back. "Always jumping to conclusions."

You rolled your eyes at her. "What does it matter anyways? You seem perfectly fine without me. I didn't seem to have left a scar."

"Is that what this is about?" Rio questioned, a taunting grin tugging at her lips.

You refused to dignify her question with an answer.

"Aww, was our little baby feeling left out?"

A mocking, cruel voice rang out in the air, one that you knew all too well.

"Fuck off, Agatha," you snapped. You were hardly in the mood to deal with her heartless jests tonight.

"Someone's forgotten their manners," Agatha remarked, her voice laced with venom. 

Rio chuckled, her grip still deathly tight on your thighs. You could feel the blood seeping out of your skin, onto her fingers.

"I wish I could have forgotten you instead," you retorted, unsure where this newfound attitude was coming from. 

"Now, now. Don't get too cocky," Rio warned, although the grin on her face said something entirely different.

You bit back a scoff. "What's this, anyways? Last time I checked, you both hated each other."

The Green Witch shrugged. "We both share a common interest."

Refusing to take anymore of this, you made a move away from them, eager to escape Rio's death grip. Unfortunately, the two witches were unwilling to let you get away so easily.

"Don't," Agatha cautioned, her voice alone enough to stop you in your tracks.

"What do you want?" you snapped, finally turning towards her.

Your eyes narrowed as Agatha's smile turned into something sinister.

"You," she replied definitively. 

You laughed sarcastically, barely believing what was happening right now. "Are you fucking kidding me? You left me. You can't - I - don't you think we're too far gone now? I mean, you left me wondering where the hell you -"

"We didn't want to leave," Rio interjected.

"Then why did you?" 

"We cared too much about you to stay," Rio explained, gently interlocking your fingers with hers. "It would've only have hurt you."

"Well, you hurt me either way," you replied bitterly, flinching at the coldness of the witch's fingers.

Rio sighed. "I know. I know we did."

Exasperated, Agatha tilted your head up with her fingers, forcing you to look her in the eyes. "Pet, we're sorry."

"Well, sorry doesn't cut it anymore. Not in my books," you snapped, wrenching yourself out of their grasps. "And don't call me that. I'm not your pet."

Without looking back, you walked back towards the fireplace. Unbeknownst to you, the two witches you left behind were hardly satisfied with your answer.

"She's forgotten who she belongs to," Rio murmured, staring into the back of your head.

Agatha tightened her jaw, shaking her head. Her eyes met Rio's, a knowing smirk playing on their lips. 

"It looks like we'll have to teach her a lesson then, hm?"

[munson-blurbs]

Hehe for since you asked for fluffy smut, what if reader has had a long day at work and Eddie maybe fixes a bubble bath and they take one together, but then it gets a lil frisky

Is this more smut than fluff? Yes. Am I apologizing for it? Nope.

Collab with @corroded-hellfire who is once again the only reason there's any fluff at all.

CW: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), roommate!Eddie, accidental boners, grinding, lots and lots of touching, mention of oral (f) WC: 1.9k

Home might have been a tiny, two-bedroom apartment that perched above the heart of Hawkins, but at the end of a long shift, it’s Heaven. 

You kick off your shoes; apparently they’re one of the most supportive brands, according to the other waitresses, but your feet still ache. 

The throbbing in your feet is nothing compared to the roaring pain that inflames your lower back. Just pressing the heel of your palms into it makes you wince and groan. 

“You okay?” Eddie calls from his room. You hear him fumbling to put away his guitar before you can even reply. 

The door swings open and he stands there, posture sagging when he sees how beaten down you look. Whatever makeup you had applied that afternoon had long faded, and the stains on your apron certainly added the finishing touch. 

Eddie, meanwhile, is refreshed—infuriatingly so. Today was his day off, and though he put in a lot of work the other six days of the week, you still yearned for the well-restedness that had him bounding over to you. 

“Bubble bath?” When you two had first moved in together, he used to try and talk to you about your day. He took it personally when you retreated to your room without glancing in his direction. But now he knew that you talk when you regain your energy. And there’s no shortage of gossip after eight hours at Benny’s. 

You nod, offering him as much of a grateful smile as you can muster. “That would be great.” You weren’t sure how you managed to find a great friend like Eddie, but you weren’t about to question it, either. 

None of the guys you’d actually dated had ever been so understanding. But Eddie…he managed to always know what you needed. 

He offers you one of his signature grins that always brighten your day and heads down the hall to the bathroom. You take off your name tag when the loud gush of the tub faucet reaches your ears and you barely have time to yank your socks off before Eddie’s back in your doorway. 

“Your spa awaits,” he says. “I would’ve prepared you some music but I don’t think any of my metal cassettes have the ambiance you’re looking for right now.”

You shake your head as you pass by him and step towards the bathroom door. 

“Not really,”  you agree. “I’ll let you know if I need it for some inspiration working out or welding or something.”

Eddie huffs a laugh and slips his hands into the back pockets of his black jeans.

“Wasn’t that Flashdance?”

“Yeah, but that music wasn’t my thing,” you admit with a shrug before you step into the bathroom. The door clicks behind you as it closes and you’re immediately shedding the stained, greasy uniform you’ve been dying to ditch all day. 

A trail of clothing is left in your wake as you step up to the tub, the bubbles fizzing and giving off a calming jasmine scent. Not wanting to scald your skin as the cherry on top of this already grueling day, you slip your hand into the water to test the temperature. It’s perfect. You don’t know how Eddie does it; he must have the magic touch. 

The water, the bubbles, the scent, it’s all too inviting. You lift one leg over the side of the tub and climb in, quickly bringing the other in as well. In your haste to start your relaxation, you slip a bit as you begin to sit down. Instinct has you catching yourself on the sides of the tub almost instantly, but it causes the collection of soap, shampoo, and conditioner bottles to tumble onto the floor in a large heap. You stare at the pile for a moment.

“Ah, I’ll deal with you later,” you decide under your breath and sink further down into the warmth waiting to heal you from your long day. 

The bubbles tickle your skin as they gradually make their way higher. They stop around your breasts and the warm water wraps itself around every achy muscle in your body. 

Suddenly, the bathroom door busts open, a frazzled Eddie charging in with wide, concerned eyes. He’s only in a Corroded Coffin t-shirt and boxers now, so maybe the loud bang woke him from a nap. 

“I-Is everything okay?” he asks as he eyes the pile of bottles on the floor.

“Oh yeah, I just knocked those over when I got in,” you explain. 

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief but the moment his eyes land on you, his body tenses up even worse than before. He’s clearly trying not to stare at you—especially your chest—but he’s failing miserably. You look down to find that your roommate has a pretty good view of the tops of your boobs. 

When you look back to Eddie, you get a pretty nice view yourself. Since he’s only wearing boxers on his lower half, his boner is quite evident. 

A smug sense of satisfaction settles over you, even seeing how uncomfortable Eddie seems to be at getting caught. But you’re not going to tease him or make him feel bad about anything. On the contrary, you’ve thought of yet another way he can help you relax. 

“Do you wanna join?” you purr. 

When Eddie looks your way you give him the most innocent, wide eyed look you can manage and flutter your lashes a few times. 

Worry blooms within you when he doesn’t immediately respond. 

Did I overstep? Is he completely freaked out? Oh my god, what if his boner was completely unrelated to me and I just assumed—

His voice, smaller than you’ve ever heard it, interrupts your thoughts. “Mhm, yeah. I mean, if that’s cool with you.”

You nod, watching as he peels off his shirt and tosses it aside, exposing the soft tendrils of hair across his chest. There’s a tattoo on one pec; you want him, need him closer so you can run your tongue over it. 

He sheds his boxers next. Though you knew he was big just from seeing the bulge behind the fabric, nothing prepared you to see him fully on display. The reddish-pink tip leaks pre-cum as the shaft bobs in desperate search for the warmth of a body. 

“Where should I…” He’s gained a bit of confidence from the way you stare unabashedly at his naked body, but he’s still hesitant to push his luck too far. 

Scooting forward, you gesture to the now empty space behind you. Nerves buzz throughout your naked body —now wet in more ways than one. 

Eddie swings a leg over the edge of the tub, getting his balance before bringing the other to join. The way he places his hands on your shoulders results in an electricity that you can only hope he feels as well. 

His lower body disappears beneath the bubbles and he lets out a relaxed groan. You lean back until your head rests on his chest, his considerable length pressing against your lower back. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers. Whether he means to speak that softly or he can’t manage anything louder, you can’t be sure. “Be careful.”

“Careful?”

He nods, lips grazing the shell of your ear. He’s so close to you, and yet he’s still too far away. “You’re so fucking tempting like this.”

You shift slightly, enough to see the blush in his cheeks that you know isn’t from the steamy bath. “Maybe I want you to be tempted.”

One tattooed arm snakes around your waist, fingers trailing upwards and stopped just shy of your breasts. 

“Don’t tease me,” he begs. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it.”

You take his hand and place it on your left breast. He whimpers, and you swear you could climax from the sound alone. 

Water sloshes around the tub as he hooks his legs around yours, gathering the stability he needs. 

“Fuck…” His hips move as he ruts up against you, desperate for relief. The way he pinches your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, starkly contrasts the gentle kisses he leaves on your shoulder blades. 

You want him. You need him. 

His other hand lays in the water and you guide it between your legs, now spread in anticipation of his touch. 

“There?” He asks as he finds your clit, rubbing it when you nod in the affirmative. 

Eddie increases his pace, fingers working in tandem to bring you pleasure. You arch your back, exposing your neck for him to bite and suck. 

“When we’re done,” he murmurs, “I want you splayed out on the bed for me. I need to see if your pussy is as pretty as I’ve imagined.”

His words awaken something within you. “Y-You imagine me…?” You start, unable to finish your sentence. 

Eddie nods. “Every time I jerk off, Sweetheart, I imagine being inside you. How you’d feel around my cock—mmph, fuck.”

“I picture you, too,” you confess. “Your fingers, or your cock, or—”

He raises a brow. “Or?”

“Or your mouth.” The admission spills from your lips. 

“Yeah? You want me to eat that pretty little pussy of yours?” Your own desire for him amps up his confidence. He’s impossibly and impressively hard, and you would do anything for him to stretch you out. 

You nod. “Please.”

“Okay, Sweetheart. Soon as we’re done here, yeah?” His breath hitches, his rutting becoming sloppier and needier as he nears orgasm. 

Bubbly waves crest over the side of the tub, drenching the bathmat and flooding the tile floor, but neither of you care. 

“Eds, little more, I’m gonna…” 

He follows your every order, your pussy clenching around nothing as he takes care of your clit. 

“Wanna make you feel good.” Eddie kisses your shoulder again. “Please let me make you feel good.”

You can only offer a moan as you come, chanting his name over and over. It’s a name you only ever dreamed about chanting so loudly; it was usually relegated to quiet whispers alone in your room. 

A new warmth, different from the bathwater, coats your lower back and drips down to your ass when Eddie finishes, the hand on your breast squeezing tight, pain and pleasure intermingling harmoniously. 

“Oh my god,” he pants. “That was…”

“Amazing.”

Eddie nods. “So fuckin’ amazing.” 

He lifts a bubble-covered hand to your chin, tilting it slightly so he can kiss you. His lips are soft but move with determination, his tongue sliding between yours. You let him in, your fingers playing with the wet tips of his hair. 

“Meant what I said about eating you out,” he mumbles into your mouth before stealing another kiss. 

Splayed out on the bed. His to ravish. The thought has you lunging for the towel hanging behind the door in an attempt to dry off. 

But when you stand, Eddie reaches out his hand and pulls you towards him, now eye-level with your pussy. “Knew she was perfect,” he says with a smirk. “Bet she tastes even better.”

The kiss he presses to your folds nearly buckled your knees. 

“You wanna find out?” He nods eagerly, and you giggle. “It might be a little lavender-y from the bath soap, though.”

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t care. Need you.”

And who are you to deny a man his needs?

--

[thoughtssvt]

last call

nanami kento x reader

kento's just about lost the battle. you're all he can think about during his last moments

warnings : character death, minor gore (blood, limb loss), no happy ending, gn!reader (use of they/them pronouns), no use of y/n

Kento’s head felt heavy on his shoulders. His neck craning up to watch the midnight bubble consume everything within a five foot radius, including him. A few steps ahead, in the center of the curse’s domain, stood a telephone booth. Dusty with the environment, untouched for who knows how long. His eyelids drooped to cover tired, bloodshot eyes. A dulled clang rang through the air, unhelping to the shrill tones piercing his ears as his cleaver thudded against the dirt road.

He cringed at the feeling of his fingers disturbing his meticulously styled hair, congealing blood mixing with his hair wax. A sigh pulled his shoulders toward the floor. What were you doing now? He wondered. Using the reserves of his strength to flick his wrist to reveal his watch face came the image of you peeling your bag and outerwear off, throwing your keys into the dish that inhabited the small stand right by the front door.

Kento reached into his pocket to find his phone shattered. Not like he’d be able to reach anyone from inside the domain and though all alarms in his head told him not to, he wanted to know if you’d called. Texted to ask him when he’d be home.

He dragged his feet, kicking up dirt as he lugged his heavy legs toward the phonebooth. He wasn’t deluded enough to believe anything except the fact that he was walking right into the curse’s guaranteed hit. Though he’d faced death countless times, he himself couldn’t understand the longing he felt to pick up the phone. It was heavy in his hand. Grimey and definitely not something he’d choose to press up against his face.

But he always chose you.

“Kento?” Your voice came through as soon as he held the speaker against his ear. His shoulders sagged with relief, the knowledge of illusion not too far from him. He knew that, but if it was just for this moment he would pretend that nothing was wrong. “I was thinking of making your grandmother’s soup, are you almost home?”

He pressed his forehead against the edge of the small metal box that housed the phone and its mechanism, letting it dig into his skin as he rolled his head side to side following the curvature of his skull.

“I’d kill for a bowl of my grandmother’s soup.” Especially the way you made it. Maybe not how you made it. You’d listened intently to the instructions, always making an exact replica. It was more so that you were the one making it. “But I’m afraid I won’t be making it in time for dinner,” he gasped out as he began to accept his fate, the soft pitter-patter of blood oozing from his severed arm knocking above the ringing in his ears.

“You should tell the higher ups that no amount of money could keep you from your spouse.” He let out a pained sigh, knitting his ashen brows together. Your laugh like church bells on Christmas day.

“You’re right. I should’ve stopped taking all this damn OT a long time ago.” He sucked in a breath as he slumped against the wall, the glass crying at the sudden weight. Kento audibly swallowed, his mouth going dry as he began to reminisce. A side effect of dying, he supposes. “Do you remember all those years ago when we made our relationship official?” He clipped the phone between his shoulder and the side of his head, his now free hand coming up to punch at the bridge of his nose. He continued on letting the curse mimic your ambrosia laugh. “I tried to cut things off because I didn’t know how to handle a relationship with my line of work and you just always knew what to say.” He cleared his throat, his tears manifesting like molasses in his esophagus. “Just knocked some sense into me like you believed in us all along. It was like a punch to the gut.” He was beginning to babble, consciousness wavering.

He slowly slid down the glass wall, grunting on the way down, clutching his side. his broken ribs protested the movement.

“You deserve better.” He got out between stuttered breaths, staring up at the cobwebbed ceiling of the booth.

Your name fell from his lips. Slowly like he was savoring it. Tasting its sweetness one last time. Letting it linger on his tongue as long as he could.

“What would you do if you knew you were going to lose?”

The only thing the curse couldn’t copy was how much you loved him and that was apparent in the half-hearted exclamation it spouted dressed in your voice. The illusion was coming to an end, each piece crumbling, taken by the wind. He wanted more time, more strength. He wanted to tell you.

“I’m trapped in this curse’s domain. I’m almost certain this phone call is its last hit, Darling,” he said oh so desperately. “What do I do?”

Maybe the curse didn’t choose this life. Maybe it’s equally pained to be the recipient of countless last calls. Maybe it didn’t mean to hurt others. Kento wasn’t sure how sentient it was, but he appreciated the way it tried.

“I couldn’t tell you.” It responded to him, cold and emotionless. No longer trying to mimic you despite using your cadence.

“I know.” Kento nodded, heaving himself back onto his feet, distantly wishing he could dust himself off. With it’s lingering aftertaste he called your name once more. “I love you, darling.”

He screwed his eyes shut, picturing you in the back of his mind. Radiant as the day he met you.

“Kento… I love you, too.“

His lips wobbled into a frown as he tried his best to soak it in. End it in euphoria instead of regret. He took a moment to steady his breath. If he let himself his mind would fill with should haves. They'd urge his tears to slip down his cheeks. If he started he knew he wouldn't be able to stop. It was fine this way. He could accept that it wasn't in the cards for him to win. He couldn't fight anymore. He knocked the sound receiver against his forehead, gathering the courage to hang up.

“I’m not really them, you know.” The curse said quietly, almost child-like, right before Kento put the phone back on the receiver. It spoke as itself. Meek and curious. Exactly like Kento expected to be the manifestation of last calls. The negative emotions that came with saying goodbye. Saying one thing while thinking dozens of others that would never reach.

“I know,” He whispered. He knew his words would never reach you, but it was enough that he got to say it. Doubt never existed between the two of you. He knew you’d be alright and that you wouldn’t hold anything against him. Your love made him sure and that was enough for him.

“But if you are the one who’s to take my life I thank you for letting me hear their voice one last time.”

The phone hit the receiver with a trill. Kento took a second to smooth down whatever was left of his suit before turning around. He closed the door gently behind him, stepping out with closed eyes, keeping you on the forefront of his mind until the very end.

telephone dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N : another soul crushing 2am post. just got back into writing (personal projects) and this is what I produce? :/

nanami x reader masterlist

[idontevenknowwhatt]

Goodbye

Summary: Y/n is shot while arresting an unsub. The precious final moments where both Emily and y/n know there's no escaping the inevitable, but they hold on to each other as long as they can.

Warnings: Talks about death, dying (reader dies), a little angsty but mostly just really sad, hard hitting final moments between two lovers.

A/N: Hello again, sorry i'm not a super consistent writer but thought of this the other day. It is a little bit sader than I might normally go but why not I guess. Also this won’t follow any specific episode. I hope you all enjoy it :))

—--------------------------------------------

The pain in your side is unbearable, sharp and biting. You feel your body weakening with each breath. But it’s the silence that follows the chaos of the gunfire that feels like the loudest thing in the world.

You know that this is the end. And it’s too much to ignore. There’s no saving you now, no way to stop the bleeding that’s spreading quickly. You both know it. But even so, Emily refuses to let go of you. Her hands, her touch, surround you. She's steady and warm, holding you close, never once wavering.

You’re not sure how long it’s been at this point. Time feels like it’s standing still, or maybe it’s moving too quickly. All you know is that Emily is with you, and that's the only thing that matters.

"Em," you whisper, your voice weak. You try to sit up despite the pain in your side, and she’s there instantly, guiding you gently into her arms. She doesn’t need to say anything. She doesn’t need to ask. She just pulls you into her lap, your back resting against her chest as if she’s trying to shield you from everything.

Her breath is steady in your ear, but you can feel the tremor in her hands as she wraps her free arm around you. The other pressed firmly against your side in hopes of stopping the bleeding. You lean your head back against her shoulder, just below her neck, your cheek brushing gently against her skin. She smells like warmth, like home.

"Hey," you say softly, your words coming out ragged, and you force yourself to look up at her, even though everything in your body wants to shut down. "What are we going to do tomorrow?"

Emily’s arm tightens around you, her fingers coming up to brush the hair from your face. Her voice cracks slightly as she responds, but she keeps it steady for you. "Tomorrow…" she begins, trailing off like she’s trying to pull herself together, like she’s grasping at a future that’s slipping away. "Tomorrow, we’re going to start planning that honeymoon we never had. We’re going to pick the perfect place, somewhere beautiful. You always talked about going somewhere tropical. You’ll let me spoil you with fancy dinners and walks along the beach at sunset. You’ll let me show you the world the way you deserve to see it."

You close your eyes for a moment, the warmth of her body against yours more comforting than anything else. Her heart beats against your back, steady and rhythmic, and for just a moment, you let yourself feel the softness of her words, the hope in them.

"And the next day?" you ask, your voice barely audible, your eyes half-closed as the darkness creeps in. You want to keep talking and stay in this moment, even if just for a little while longer.

"The next day…" Emily pauses again, taking a shaky breath, but you can feel her smile against your hair. "We’ll start thinking about the life we're going to build. We’ll talk about where we’re going to live, what kind of house we’ll have. You've talked about moving out of our apartment for awhile. Maybe a little farmhouse. Or a big house in the city. You’ll want a garden, right? Somewhere to plant roses and vegetables. And I’ll be there, helping you. You’ll have me with you every step of the way."

Her words are a balm, soothing the raw edges of the pain inside you. You want to tell her that you love her. That you’ll always love her. But all you can do is nod against her chest, your body growing heavier with each passing second.

Emily’s voice lowers, and you hear her take another shaky breath. "And we’ll have kids. A little girl who has your eyes, and a boy who’s just as stubborn as you. You’ll teach them everything, and I’ll watch you with them and wonder how I ever got so lucky. You'll be the best mom."

You can hear the tears in her voice now, the desperation to make all of this real, to somehow keep it from slipping away. You want to respond, but it feels like you don’t have the strength anymore.

But Emily isn’t done yet. "We’ll have so many moments," she says, her voice thick with emotion. "Holidays, birthdays, quiet mornings where we just wake up next to each other and don’t say a word because we don’t need to. We’ll grow old together. I’ll hold your hand through everything, and we’ll look back on our life, and we’ll laugh, and we’ll cry, and we’ll just be... together."

Her words wrap around you like a warm blanket, a promise, even if neither of you can keep it. You can’t fight the tears now, and they slip from your eyes, though you don’t know if they’re from the pain, the beauty of everything she’s describing, or the sheer heartbreak of knowing that none of it will happen.

You hear Emily’s voice again, low and raw with emotion, and you shift just slightly in her arms turning to look up at her. "I love you so much," she says, her lips brushing against your forehead, her hands holding you tighter than you thought possible. "You are my everything. I can’t even put it into words. The way you make me feel...I never thought I could love someone like this. I never thought I’d have someone who loved me the way you do."

You’re barely able to open your eyes now, but you look up at her one last time. You want to say it, to tell her how much you love her, but your voice is a whisper, almost drowned out by the weight of everything. "I love you," you murmur, your voice weak, but your heart full. "You’re my heart, Em. You always have been. I never thought I could love someone as much as I love you."

Emily gently presses her lips to yours, a final, soft kiss, and you feel the love in it. You kiss her back with all the energy you have left. It’s everything you’ve always felt, everything you’ve always wanted to say. But now, you know you don’t have to say anything else. She knows. She always has.

"I’ll love you forever," Emily whispers, the words barely escaping her lips as her arms tighten around you. Her forehead rests against yours and you fight with everything left in you to keep your eyes open for as long as possible. "I’ll love you forever. And I’ll carry you with me, every single day of my life."

You can feel the darkness closing in, but it’s not scary. It’s peaceful, in a way. You don’t want to go. Not really. But Emily’s here, and she’s holding you, and you know that wherever you go, you’ll always carry her with you.

"I’ll always be with you," you whisper, even though you’re not sure if she can hear it. "In your heart. Always."

You feel Emily’s tears fall against your cheeks, her grip tightening one last time. "I know, baby. I know."

And with that, you let go.

—--------------------------------------------

[a-random-weeb]

Bsd men when their S/O is on their period

I'm currently making my monthly blood sacrifice, so why not make headcannons? My emotional stability on my period be like: 📉

I get really angry, pissed at everything, clingy, and sad (mostly angry) while on my period, as well as really bad cramps, and the mood swings are horrible, so that's what I'm writing for.

Also, sorry I haven't been writing, remember how I said I was sick? Yeah well I'm so sick I can barely eat, I'm going to school but I constantly feel like I'm gonna throw up, I feel like shit, and that's why I'm posting as much. I've been trying to post once a day though

Characters: Akutagawa, Chuuya, Dazai

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

Akutagawa:

•he probably doesn't even know what a period is

•When you begin to get mood swings, he's so confused

•When you explain what a period is, he thinks you're dying

•He offers to call an ambulance, and is so confused when you say it's normal

•you have to bleed your guts out every month and there's nothing you can do about it?

•I mean- he knows what a period is from gin, he's not completely ignorant

•Gin probably never talked about it much though

•she was probably one of those girls who was really embarrassed to be on her period, and still kinda is.

•When you try to struggle explain it's physically impossible, he's even more confused

•he thinks periods are so complicated

•He still secretly thinks you're gonna bleed to death, and is really worried 💀

•He also thinks it's kind of gross😭

"Why are you in so much pain?! You're bleeding?! What the hell?! Wdym, you're dying, do I have to call an ambulance?! .... What do you mean by 'period'? Oh wait, Gina told me about them..."

─── ⋆⋅ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ⋅⋆ ──𓂃········╮-`♡´--`♡´-___________༄-

Chuuya:

•Unlike Akutagawa, he's a little more educated

•He doesn't know EVERYTHING, but he knows a bit

•He definitely knows about the mood swings and cramps from the girls in the Mafia (Gin, Higuchi, Kyouka, Kyoyo ←(idk how to spell her name), ect.)

•He's too afraid to ask questions, he has to keep his pride!

•you both probably got in a big fight because of how angry you get and his anger issues, resulting in you crying and clinging to his side.

•He kind of likes it when you're on your period, even though it's not the end of the world, he treats it like it is

•what? Its an excuse to take care of you. Plus he loves how clingy you are

•He buys you pads or tampons while in your period, aswell as those cute animal heating packs

•He also buys you chocolate.

•He cuddles you while you're having cramps, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you hold the heating pack to your stomach

•other than the mood swings and cramps, it's pretty normal

•I mean, it doesn't change your whole day-to-day schedule (depending on how bad your cramps are)

"You're on your period? Are you good on pads and whatever? Alright, we can buy more? You want chocolate too? Jeez lady... Oh nononononononono, don't cry, we can get chocolate!"

˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷

Dazai:

•He feels bad for all the cramps you have

•That doesn't stop him from teasing you though

•He's an asshole about it at first

•Until he learns his lesson

•He's scared of your period after you snap at him

•Though, he finds it adorable when you cuddle up to him, all apologetic after snapping at him

•if he teases you about it... well... He's probably too scared to 💀

•He buys you pads, heating packs, and chocolate with Kunikidas black card

•His excuse is "My baby is on her period, you want her to bleed her guts out in pain?" He guilts Kunikida into letting him use it (manipulative bitch- )

"Oh? My belladonna is on her period is she? Aren't you being a little dramatic about it- I TAKE IT BACK I TAKE IT BACK PLEASE DONT HURT ME!" (he's not serious btw, you're not abusing him 😭)

𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.+𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.+𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.+𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.+𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.

[and-so-he-rambled]

The Call

Gotham Rogue Vlad Masters (chapter 0)

Masterlist | Chapter 1

The call came at exactly 7:56 on a Tuesday night. He had been cooking an Italian dish, a tape of Packers highlights playing on the television as he puttered around the kitchen. It was large and empty, decorated to the bare minimum. He’d only just moved in recently to the castle and he hadn’t had time to settle in fully yet. He liked the lack of stuff though, the empty space that was his alone to fill. It smelled dusty and ancient in a way the hospital never did, full of history and echoes of the past.

The shrill ring of the landline startled him, the pan he was holding clattering onto the burner as the handle phased through his hand. He cursed as he turned down the heat and walked briskly towards the phone to see what idiot he had to deal with. Even almost ten years after the accident he still had mishaps, small losses of control that bothered him to no end.

He picked up the phone, slipping into a mask of polite indifference as he prepared for what drivel an investor or cold caller would dump on him.

“Is this Vlad Masters?” The woman on the other end asked.

“Speaking.” He boredly watched flames roll over his knuckles, winding it through his fingers.

“You were an associate of Jack and Madeline Fenton, correct?” The flame flared out of control before dying with a hiss, the plastic of the phone creaking in his hand as he tried to not crush it to dust. Even after escaping their shadows he wasn’t free, haunted by scars and an obsession he couldn’t control.

“Yes.” He bit out, wondering what trouble they would cause in his life now. He had forgiven Maddie in the first few years, she’d realized the error, it was Jack that had stolen his humanity, killed him where he stood and scarred his face.

“I regret to inform you that earlier this week Jack and Maddie Fenton were caught up in a lab accident in their basement and did not survive. According to their wills-“ She kept talking, but it faded out into static. Something in Vlad’s chest pulsed, something deep inside cracking until it shattered with a shockwave that traveled down his arms and legs. He wheezed in pain, bracing himself against the wall as his legs shook and threatened to go out from beneath him.

Pain, that was the only way he could describe it. Pain and grief and loss. Maddie, his dear beloved Maddie, and Jack, a bafoon he had once considered his closest friend and had swore to one day take revenge on. They were gone, dead. Did they have ghosts? Should he go looking? Did he want to?

“Sir?” The staticky voice crackled loudly in his ear. “Did you hear me?”

He forced himself to rein in his powers even as he slid to the floor, cradling the phone to his ear.

“Bad connection.” He grit out as his lungs seized and his heart beat sluggishly before finally giving up and stopping. “What was that?”

“We need to talk regarding the children, Daniel and Jasmine Fenton. They’re currently still in the hospital undergoing treatment, but you’re now their legal guardian. Could you make the trip down to Amity so we can discuss in person?”

He responded on autopilot, making a plan to make the trip down to Amity.

He’d known the Fentons had children. Jack had called him the night Jazz was born, and while he’d ignored every single call since the accident he still listened to each voicemail. It often fueled the hate in his chest, but other times he just liked to close his eyes and pretend they were back in the lab, working on projects no one believed in.

Jack had excitedly told him about his baby Jazz, how she had red hair like her mother and was six pounds, four ounces. He could hear her crying in the background and Maddie’s dulcet voice cooing to her. It sang of other lives he’d never get to live, a life where he’d been a father instead of Jack, or where he’d stayed human and been there for the birth. Jack expressed that he wanted Vlad to meet her.

He taped it onto a cassette to listen to in moments of weakness, but he never reached out. He couldn’t face the product of their love.

He instead threw himself into building a company, relying on petty thievery and lies to build his throne. He tried so hard to make it his obsession, but his core still called out for Maddie, for revenge.

He hadn’t realized a son had been born until he had fed his obsession by viewing the Fentons gaudy website and had seen the portrait of a toddler with Jacks features. Daniel Fenton. Had Jack not called him about this birth? Did he care?

(He did and it drove him insane.)

He resolved to not think about their children, about what would never be his. He cheated and lied and stole, and he definitely didn’t comb through his answering machine until he heard Jack’s grating voice excitedly telling him about his newborn son. Four pounds and eight ounces, stayed in the NICU briefly. “He’s got that Fenton spirit!” Jack loudly proclaimed, Maddie shushing him as he apparently woke the baby. A young Jazz was asking questions loudly in the background, the toddler stumbling over her words. “But not the ghost kind of spirit!” Jack added on just as loudly. “No, that wouldn’t do at all!”

He taped it and put it with the other tapes of shame, knowing it would become background noise to his lowest moments ahead.

He spent the night of the call replaying the tapes over and over, still in unbelievable pain even worse than his death. He cried despite having tried so hard to train himself out of human weaknesses, mourning his love and the past. Did he care that he’d never get his revenge on Jack? Did he miss him anyway? Curse human emotion! Curse death!

The flight to Amity was one spent in a haze, reliving memories like a movie he couldn’t stop. He was a prisoner in his own mind, forced to relive each detail of the past. He caught himself slipping several times, forcing himself to remember how to breathe and force his heart to beat. His grip on his humanity had grown weaker in the wake of his obsession break.

He leaned heavily on his cane as he made his way through the quaint town of amity, the place where Jack and Maddie had chosen to settle down.

Legal talks were boring, laying out what he already had pieces together even if it didn’t make sense. He stared at the will in front of him, reading the statement over and over that he, Vlad Masters, would be entrusted with Danny and Jaz in the event of the parents death.

They brought him to the hospital after that, leading him up to a room and stepping aside.

He opened the door slowly, bracing himself as he met two pairs of eyes.

Jasmine looked just like her mother, a sharp jab of pain shooting though his cracked core. She had the same fiery orange hair, but she had Jack’s piercing blue eyes. She regarded him with open distrust, bag held tightly to her chest.

His eyes shifted over the the boy on the bed, hooked up to machines. Static rippled across the displays as Vlad fought to control his aura as the sight. Daniel was small for his age, tiny against the bed with deathly pale skin and stark black hair. He had the same piercing eyes, but his were round with curiosity.

A case worker stood from her seat in the corner to greet him, but Jazz cut her off.

“So you’re Uncle Vlad?” She sounded unimpressed, eyes narrowed.

“I- Yes, I suppose I am.” Vlad stuttered, entirely caught off guard. He was completely unprepared for this situation, but he was also sure that no amount of preparation would have been enough.

“You’re gonna take us away?” Daniel’s squeaky young voice drew his attention back to the boy. “Now that mom and dad are dead?”

Jazz flinched, pain rolling off her in waves as she kicked the base of the hospital bed.

“Sorry.” The boy apologized, but his eyes were on Vlad still, waiting for an answer.

“Uh, yes. I’ll be taking you two to Wisconsin with me.” It was the first time he’d said it out loud, or really made the decision at all. He hadn’t made up his mind before coming, but he knew the only choice the second his eyes landed on the two children. His core called out for them, needed them safe. They were Jack and Maddie’s, their greatest inventions, he couldn’t spend the rest of his life worrying about them and not knowing if they were safe.

He was wholly unprepared for fatherhood, but he’d always dreamed of meeting Maddie’s children, of caring for them. This was a situation he never could have predicted, but life was unpredictable like that.

The Fenton house was in shambles, both kids left with a garbage bag each of their belongings.

They stayed in the hospital another night as Vlad bought them each suitcases and arranged travel and ironed out legal matters. There was a lot less involved that he thought with taking over custody of two children. His hearing even picked up the case worker lamenting to another about how lucky those children were to have a well off uncle that their parents trusted to take them in.

He picked them up as Daniel was discharged, the doctors still baffled by his recovery from complete organ failure but not questioning whatever higher power they believed responsible. Jazz held her brothers hand as they walked towards Vlad and the open door of the rented car, a worker placing their suitcases in the trunk.

“Jazz dear, you forgot your bear!” One of the nurses ran out holding a brown teddy bear with a white mustache and crazy hair.

“I don’t need it!” Jazz snapped, helping her brother into his car seat. “Those are for babies and I’m not a baby!” She slammed the car door hard in the nurse’s face.

“I’ll take it.” Vlad carefully took the well loved bear. They had warned him that Jazz was trying to shoulder all the responsibility for Daniel and be strong. They’d heavily pushed the idea of putting both children into therapy as soon as possible, which he would take them up on. While he’d never sought therapy for himself, seeing it as a sign of weakness, these children needed any stability he could give them. His parents had died when he was a teenager and he had been a proper mess, these were literal children.

Daniel’s spirit was still bright despite the tragedy, asking questions the whole trip through the airport and staring in amazement out the window of the plane as they settled in first class. Jazz was silent, on edge and watching for danger. She squeaked in alarm as food was placed in front of her mid trip, both children reeling back in their seats and staring at the meat as if it would attack them.

He had the stewardess bring them the vegetarian meals instead, which they hesitantly picked at.

They landed in Wisconsin as the sun was setting, both clearly exhausted children stumbling through the airport as he herded them towards baggage claim.

Vlad stopped walking as Daniel began to tug furiously at his pants. The boy stared at him before throwing his hands up and waving the insistently.

“He wants you to pick him up.” Jazz folded her arms in annoyance, clearly bothered by the action.

“Oh.” Vlad stared at the child, hesitantly placing his hands under his armpits and picking him up, holding him out at arms length.

“You’re not doing it right! Arm around his back, there, put him on your hip.” Jazz coached him until he had Daniel on his hip, legs around his waist and arms wrapped around his chest as he snugged in. Vlad had an arm around his back to hold him and a steadying hand on his leg.

“Good.” Jazz nodded her head, picking her bag back up and marching towards the baggage claim.

“Would either of you like a snack from the kiosk?” He was pretty sure children were supposed to snack frequently. Daniel was dozing on his chest and didn’t respond, but Jazz marched into the small store and began browsing through the shelves of overpriced goods. She picked out two bags of peanuts and a bag of veggie straws, bringing them to the register. Vlad paid for them, weakly returning the cashiers customer service smile and following Jazz as she left.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“I can read!” She snapped, pointing at the sign ahead that said baggage claim.

“My apologies.”

He somehow managed to haul Daniel’s car seat and the luggage to the car while carrying Daniel, Jazz dragging her blue suitcase behind her with determination. It wasn’t until he was pulling and and starting the long drive home that he realized he’d forgot his cane on the plane.

[sunsents]

Neteyam - Reacting to your death

Hey y'all, how y'all doing 😟? It's been a year since I published something but I am in my avatar era. I will post an announcement about where I've been, but enjoy(?) this heavy angsty.

Summary —> You're on your last breath, and Neteyam has a hard time accepting it.

Pairing: neteyamsully x !reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 1024

Warnings: blood/angst/mentions of a g*n/sad neteyam

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

Sharp pain was all you could feel when you jumped down the ship. It was that short moment of pushing Neteyam before you to minimize exposure that the realization hit you; you followed after him without thinking twice about the consequences, yet again.

Your ears rang in the otherwise silent ocean, like the water completely separated itself from the unnatural, unnecessary and foreign violence happening in the surface. A sigh of relief, contentment, serenity, until you're resurfucing again - or rather, struggling to.

"Fuck," you sputter, feeling a strange loss.

Lo'ak shouts after you to hurry up, but you can't, and it frustrates you. You hate falling behind, no matter how dire the injury is. "You sxkawng," gasping and trying to hold onto something, crimson surrounds you. "I'm shot."

Everyone stills.

Neteyam's head whips around with nothing but pure, unadulterated horror. His eyes fall on your pained face, then the bullet wound on your chest. You can see dark shadows casting over his face, the tremor of his hands, the slowing of his breath - all working together to keep his gears turning you assume. He quickly swims forward. "Quick, the Ilu."

You feel yourself being held around your body - suddenly, warmth feels like an unfamiliar concept. When had you become so cold to the outside world? When had you closed yourself off that warmth was foreign?

Though in odd, you fashion, you're not panicking. You're just lying there, gazing at the sky and letting chaos erupt around you. Sounds are muffled, and you don't know what's happening but you can only assume they're taking you to land.

The sky looks uncharacteristically blue - against all odds you've found yourself in. Eywa is in mourning.

Maybe it's because you cannot fathom that you, your own life, cannot end. You feared losing loved ones, but never feared nor thought about dying. It's not like you were immortal of course, one day you were going to leave the physical world and join the all mother amongst your family.

You just didn't think it would happen this soon. And you still think against it - you think against it when Mr Sully lays you down on cold rock, when he turns you over to inspect something, and when he looks at you with a faraway look.

"Dad," Neteyam chokes out.

Everything hurts and you start struggling to breath. Light headed, that's when you stop thinking  all together.

"Am I-" you gasp for air, surprised that you, out of all people, is struggling to speak. You were quite chatty, at least that's what they told you. "Am I, dying?"

"No!" yells Neteyam, he's cupping your head with his palm, not letting your head touch the cold surface. "You're not dying, ____!"

He's sobbing, and you look around the faces of the people you consider loved ones. Lo'ak is wide  eyed, staring at your probably paled face. He looks in utter agony and...confusion? Mr. Sully is crying, this is the first time you have seen him cry - be so vulnerable. He was Toruk Makto, so he'd always dismiss you with a nod, sometimes crack a joke here and there but stay stern all the while. He was clutching your hand, his own shaking. Kiri was just now arriving at the little land formation, and the look of her horror on her face brings tears to your eyes. You were dying - no. You were dead, it was final.

You try to calm your breathing, an obscene contrast to the gushing blood on your chest. You couldn't speak, but you could feel. And you were feeling the love of the people around you - and with the intensity of it, you deemed it a worthy way to go.

Neteyam however, was cluthing on your hand, hard. "You are not leaving me ____....Dad!" he sobs, a wretched sound breaking through his chest as he doubles over your body and shudders. "Do something!"

He's yelling, screeching even. His dad looks in anguish at his son's state, or perhaps because he feels utterly helpless at saving you.

"It's okay, Neteyam." you say softly, in a very wispy voice; "You're going to be okay."

You smile, and he screams, trashing and hugging your body to his chest. You try to push him away, but to no avail. Your limbs have fallen weak, you have already accepted the pain. "No!" he screams again, chest reverbeting against your deflating form.

"No, no, no, no!"

Mr Sully grabs ahold of his son and softly pulls him back, seperating him from you, "Son, please," his voice sounds broken.

Lo'ak is silent beside you, head held down, shuddering. Warm droplets are hitting your arm, and you can only guess it's tears. Kiri is on her knees, begging To Great Mother.

But you know it's final. And you don't feel too sad about it. You'd get to be with your parents, and Eywa, and all that. You'd be happy, you know you would be.

"____! No, I have to tell-" Neteyam gasps, trashing in his fathers hold. "I love you, I see you. Please,"

You're eyes have finally glazed over, you're gone.

You hadn't heard, and that only breaks Neteyam more. He screams in agony, clawing at your body, shaking you so, somehow, miraculously, you would open your eyes, tell him you love him and that you wan't to spend the rest of your life with him.

But there is no, "rest”. This was it for you, this was your life. When you had told him that you wanted to spend your life exploring Pandora, this was the extent. You would never have that, you will never be able to fulfill your dream because this day was the entirety of your future and present.

Neteyam is helpless. He had somehow escaped his fathers hold and was hugging your lifeless body close to his. Shrieks were ripping from his throat, desperately trying to transfer some sort of energy into your limbs. He could feel his mother's warmth surround him, a weak force pulling him back. "Please, don't. Let me hold her."

He sounded so broken, empty, purposeless that his mother and father break down as well.

[metalhoops]

People debate if Eddie or Steve would say ‘I love you’ first, but I propose an alternative perspective where they both say it long before they start dating and confuse the hell out of everyone, including themselves. 

Almost dying could put your life into perspective. 

When Eddie awoke in his hospital bed with his uncle at his side and the late afternoon light shining through the window blinds, he was struck with the kind of death-bed revelation reserved for men sentenced to dangle from gallows or grit worn teeth down the muzzle of guns. He was alive, despite the assumed certainty of his death hours or days before. 

Eddie let Wayne hold him, despite how much it hurt because the pain reminded him he was alive, that he’d made it out on the other side. Without thought, Eddie told Wayne he loved him. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but he couldn’t remember the last time it’d happened. 

They were long past the first few tumultuous years when Eddie had moved in with Wayne. Where they’d tiptoed around each other and waited with bated breath for their shared peace to go wrong. Eddie hadn’t been used to living in a household where he didn’t have to walk on eggshells to get by and Wayne wasn’t used to looking after himself, let alone a kid. 

They’d since found their rhythm, but it wasn’t often either man voiced their affections. Wayne showed his love. He didn’t speak it. That was just the way he was. Eddie didn’t share the man’s reservations, not anymore. His adolescents was a wave that had long since crested, and all care for others’ opinions had been thrown out the window. He wasn’t shy with his love, but his proximity to death made him reckless with it. 

When Dustin appeared at his bedside not long after, looking as though he were staring down a spectre, Eddie knew he had to do something. He leaned over, ruffled Dustin’s hair and told the kid everything was going to be okay, that he loved him. 

When the whole mess had died down and Eddie was able to come out of hiding, he showed up in Gareth’s garage at the usual time for band rehearsal. He was bombarded by a mess of limbs and an earful of questions. He told them his well-practised lie then muttered how glad he was to be back, how much he loved those stupid sons of bitches, because he did and they should know it. He’d never told them that before. 

What Eddie hadn’t expected was to fall fast and hard for Steve Harrington. Eddie wasn’t one for fast affection or grand romantic ideals. He had his head firmly attached to his shoulders, thank you very much. He knew fast love was just infatuation. You were falling for the idea of a person, not the real deal.

He knew it was stupid and yet at seeing Steve sprawled out on the floor of his trailer, in front of their shitty Philips Color TV, his usually styled hair mussed, Eddie thought he loved him, which was a terrible thought because it meant Eddie had to tell him. 

Steve was straight, and Eddie had only known him for two months. Sure, they’d floated past each other in high school, but that wasn’t this Steve. The Steve he loved. It was pathetic. Eddie was well aware. All the same, when he caught Steve’s curious brown eyes, he knew he’d have to tell him. Nothing good would come of it, but he was sick of leaving things unsaid. After all, he could die tomorrow. 

“What are you thinking about?” Steve asked, appearing blissfully ignorant of Eddie’s inner turmoil. 

“Nothing, I’m just glad you’re here. I love you, man.” 

Eddie spoke before his brain had the time to think through his actions. He tacked on a haphazard ‘man’, as though it lessened the severity of the statement. Eddie had never called anyone ‘man’ in his life- who the hell was he? 

“Oh, yeah. Me too,” Steve mumbled absentmindedly, laying back down and looking at the TV as the commercials came to an end. He was so cool and unbothered. 

Eddie was sure he’d taken his confession as a platonic one, which was what he’d hoped for. He’d got it off his chest, but it wasn’t going to screw up the good thing they had going. What he didn’t know was the meaning behind Steve’s response, ‘me too’ what? Was he glad he was with Eddie or...? 

“I love you too, Munson. I can hear the cogs ticking from over here and I want to watch the movie. You got me invested now,” Steve grumbled, returning his attention to the fantasy film Steve had no right to be as emotionally invested in as he was. 

“Have I got you invested or has Tom Cruse in chain mail got you invested?” Eddie joked, pushing his luck as he felt Steve lean over to smack his shoulder, mumbling ‘asshole’, under his breath. 

What Eddie hadn’t expected was for it to become a habit. Sure, he made a point of telling Wayne, Corroded Coffin and his band of misfit children he loved them when the mood struck, but with Steve, it somehow became a daily occurrence, what floored him most was that Steve was the one who started it. 

The next time they saw each other was when Eddie went to grab a movie from the Family Video store. At least that was the excuse he’d given to see Steve again. He chatted with Steve and Buckley before grabbing whatever caught his eye in the horror section and was about to head out with an overdramatised bow and salute when Steve smirked and mumbled, ‘love you, Munson,’ before his eyes widened in alarm. He caught Robin’s hawklike gaze shifting between them as she choked on a days-expired potato chip. 

“I meant... see you, Munson,” Steve amended awkwardly. Eddie shrugged his shoulders, practically preening at the slip of the tongue. He liked how Steve said it. Something about it felt special. 

“Love you too, Stevie,” he called as he turned to retreat to the safety of his van, not wanting to witness whatever can of worms he’d opened between Steve and Buckley. 

That was all it took to form a habit. He would spend the night at Steve’s place since the guy's parents had been MIA for months, and as the two went to part ways Steve would take one look at Eddie’s beaten-up van and mumble, ‘drive safe you idiot, love you,’ and a smile would threaten to split Eddie’s face in two. ‘love you too, jerk’. For a while, it was a tradition reserved for the two of them. Robin had to bear witness to the brunt of the love confessions, as Eddie would visit them at work, but in many ways, Steve saw Robin as an extension of himself, so for the most part, it was just between them. 

That was until Steve showed up to band practice. Eddie had offhandedly mentioned the time and location of their rehearsals in the hopes that one day Steve would show up. When he did Eddie was over the moon. He was halfway through a killer guitar solo when the familiar BMW Beamer pulled up the drive. With the rest of his bandmates promptly forgotten, Eddie lay his Warlock gently in his case (because no matter how absentminded the guy was he still cared about that damn guitar like a kid) then ploughed forward to meet Steve at the mouth of the garage. 

“Stevie, you came.” 

Eddie was too excited at the prospect of Steve watching him play. Music, along with D&D, was his creative outlet. It said everything his tongue couldn’t articulate and he had a lot he wanted to say to Steve.

Anyone who knew Eddie knew he was excitable and theatrical. He didn’t know how to do things in half measures. His bandmates shouldn’t have been surprised when Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s midsection, picked him up and spun him in several dizzy circles, only setting him down when they almost tumbled ass backwards over Gareth’s drum set. 

Eddie may have witnessed Steve try that move on Wheeler years before, but he’d deny it if anyone asked. Steve made the act seem easy and graceful. With Eddie at the helm, it was a chaotic jumble of limbs. While Steve gripped onto the man’s arm for dear life, not used to being manhandled, though by the fitful gasps of laughter that escaped his lips at the motion, Eddie noted he wasn’t opposed to it. When the two broke apart, Eddie felt his bandmates' watchful eyes on them, all sharing twin looks of confusion. 

“You’re going to break something, dumbass,” Steve grumbled as he smoothed over his hair and bowed his head to hide the blush from his cheeks.

Eddie tried to carry on with the rehearsal as usual, but he’d admit he added some peacocking for Steve’s benefit, not that the boy seemed to mind. Steve watched from one of Gareth’s bean bag chairs. It wasn’t his type of music, Eddie knew that, but the guy still watched enamoured. 

When the band was finished for the day, Steve managed to make small talk with the other boys when a thought struck Eddie. 

“What are you doing after this, Steve? The boys and I are having a movie marathon at my place. Want to hang out?” Steve blinked owlishly, surprised to be invited to what appeared to be a ‘band-only deal’. That wasn’t exactly true. Sometimes Jeff’s girlfriend or Grant’s brother would join them, once Gareth had even invited a guy over. Eddie had never done it, but there was a first time for everything. 

“I could do a movie night. I’ve gotta pick up Dustin from the Byers first, though, so I’ll meet you there,” Steve reasoned, and Eddie nodded, knowing Dustin came first. The little guy had weaselled his way into Steve’s heart and there was no way Eddie would ask him to forget the kid. Dustin had Eddie wrapped around his little finger as well, the brat.  

“Alright, meet you there. Love you, Stevie.” 

“Love you too.” The words rolled off Steve’s tongue easily as breathing. 

Left in Steve’s wake was utter chaos from the rest of the Corroded Coffin members. 

“Dude, why didn’t you tell us you were dating Steve Harrington?” Gareth berated, knocking Eddie’s shoulder roughly. 

“Seriously? What the hell, man? I never would’ve called that,” Jeff added before Eddie could get a word in edge-wise. 

“Wait, I’m lost, Harrington’s gay now?” Grant muttered, looking between the other boys. His bandmates knew Eddie was gay, but they’d definitely pulled the rest out of their asses. 

“I didn’t tell you because we’re not, and he’s not. Far as I’m aware. Can you guys drop it before we get back to mine? Steve doesn’t know I am and I’m planning on keeping it that way, thanks.” All three boys looked at Eddie as though he’d grown a third head. 

“But you guys were aggressively flirting,” Gareth argued. 

“You said you loved each other,” Jeff added. 

“Yeah, but I tell you guys I love you,” Eddie argued. 

“Definitely not like that and if you did, I’d be trying to work out how to let you down gently because Eds you’re firmly in the brother zone,” Gareth reasoned, playing with his drum kit. 

After that day, Eddie thought he should use his ‘I love yous’ more sparingly with Steve. Sooner or later, the guy was going to work out that the intent was anything but platonic. He’d gotten to know Steve well since the incident with The Upside Down. Nine months had passed and Eddie was still sickeningly sure he loved Steve. It’d gone past any form of infatuation. 

He knew who Steve Harrington was and what he wanted. Steve wanted his future to be a gaggle of kids, crammed into an R.V. heading out on family vacations. If they were to do it, it would be anything but the conventional nuclear family of Steve’s dreams but Eddie couldn’t help but fantasise about ways they could make it work. He wanted it. He was beyond screwed. 

When he and Steve were parting ways after the band’s movie night. This time Eddie uttered a lame,

“See you later, Stevie.’ 

To his surprise, he caught a look of confusion flash across Steve’s face. He opened and shut his mouth, looking as though he were weighing up his options. Unlike Eddie, the guy was good with social interactions. He knew how to read a room. 

“See you,” Steve replied, awkwardly smoothing down his hair in what Eddie knew to be a self-soothing gesture. Weird. 

Eddie kept this new, more formal, stilted form of goodbye going for a week, hating every second of it. He could feel Steve pulling away from him. Suddenly when he wanted to spend time with the guy, he was busy. The one time he hadn’t said ‘I love you’ back to Steve in front of Robin she shot him a look like he’d just kicked a wounded puppy. Eddie was understandably confused. 

It took the passing of another week for Steve to call him out on it. Eddie showed up on Steve’s doorstep unannounced, insisting they hang out because Steve had been avoiding him and he damn well wanted to know why. Steve let him in, much to Eddie’s surprise. 

“Did I do something wrong?’ Steve asked out of the blue as the two sat hunched over at the Harrington’s dining room table, looking over Eddie’s Dark Tower board game. Steve had picked it up surprisingly fast when he’d first brought the game to his place. 

Eddie’s eyes swept over the board before shaking his head. 

“No, that was a safe move. You’re fine.” Steve’s brows drew together, and he shook his head. 

“I’m not talking about the game,” He grumbled, still not meeting Eddie’s eyes. Alright, what had Eddie done wrong now? 

“What? No. Stevie. Why would you think that?” 

Eddie had been asking himself the same question: what had he done to push Steve away? Now that Eddie was focusing on Steve, he noticed how the boy had hunched over himself, his shoulders up around his ears. His body tucked into itself. Usually, Steve was confident and unbothered, but he looked so small. Eddie knew something was very wrong.  

“You stopped saying...” Steve’s voice trailed off. He rolled his eyes, looking pissed off. Not with Eddie, but with himself. 

“Doesn’t matter. It’s stupid. My knight guy is going to the ruins,” Steve amended before Eddie could get a word in edge-wise. He leaned over, pushing the keypad on the tower, obnoxious electronic music filling the silence between them.

Eddie finally understood what Steve was worried about. Instead of taking his next turn he twisted a strand of hair around his finger and inhaled. Screw what other people thought. Since when did he care, anyway? 

“Steve,” Eddie breathed. Full name. Serious business. Steve looked up. 

“I love you. Sorry I haven’t said it in a while. I was getting in my head about... stuff.” Steve nodded, trying to look uncaring, but he failed miserably, his face scrunched and contorted. 

“Stevie, I can hear the cogs ticking from here. Whatever you want to say, say it,” Eddie breathed, nudging Steve’s socked foot with his. 

“I just- you were acting like... Christ. Forget it. It’s bullshit,” Steve stammered, standing up from the table, suddenly a bundle of energy, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there. 

“What was I acting like?” Eddie asked, staying rooted to his seat, though his fingers drummed on the table nervously. 

“Like we were in love,” Steve spoke at last, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

“Like we were in love?” Eddie echoed, unable to believe what Steve was implying.  He watched Steve recoil as the words escaped his lips.

‘In love’ wasn’t a description someone used for friendship. Friends weren’t ‘in love’ with each other. Jesus Christ. 

Eddie stood, cringing at the scraping sound his chair made against the tile floor. He really hoped he wasn’t reading this wrong. 

“Please don’t punch me in the face,” Eddie grumbled under his breath as he crossed the space between them. 

Steve remained rooted to the spot as Eddie hesitantly placed a hand on his cheek. He remained still. His brown eyes swelled wide and locked on Eddie’s. He waited for a beat, just long enough for Steve to pull away if that’s not what he wanted. When he didn’t, Eddie pulled him closer, crashing their lips together, his fingers snaking their way to the back of Steve’s neck. Holy shit, Steve was kissing him back. 

Eddie lost the capacity for logical thought somewhere between Steve’s hand finding his ass, and his tongue slipping into his mouth. When they did pull apart, Eddie felt breathless and boneless. 

“Wait, you actually love me?” Eddie asked when his brain finally came back online. Steve nodded, looking equally as shocked. 

“I told you that months ago,” Steve confirmed. 

“I didn’t know you meant it like that... you were so damn unbothered I thought you...” Eddie’s voice trailed off, a vague memory spiking of a story Dustin had told him a lifetime before. It was something to do with Steve’s dating advice. From what Eddie remembered, he’d stressed the importance of acting aloof, as if that actually worked for anyone. 

“I didn’t want to come on too strong,” Steve argued, sounding equally exasperated. 

“You, Steve Harrington, are a dumbass,” Eddie scoffed disbelievingly. 

“How the hell am I in love with you?” 

[takemetomyfragiledreams]

@monkess requested soft kissing and my brain just ran with it. this is post-mastermind

To the outside world, Blitzø is not soft. Loud? Yes. Abrasive? Always. But soft?As if. He's bristling spines and bared teeth. A dog that learned how to bite first, canines locked firmly around a fragile neck.

There are very few people that can make him feel settled enough to relax the front. Fizz, once they got over their past misunderstanding and fell back into easy friendship. Mox and Millie, who he took under his wing and who understand him on a fundemental level. Loona, who stole his heart the moment he saw her snarling and alone in the back of a kennel.

Before Stolas, that would have been the end to the list. For a long time, even, it was. And then came Stolas' confession. Asmodeous' crystal. Their fight. The party. The month of drowning the complex twist of feelings in junk food and bad TV. The trial.

Almost dying put a lot of things into perspective. Watching Stolas take his place? It was like being drenched in ice cold water, drowned, electrocuted and then set ablaze.

In other words: painful, traumatizing and so ridiculous he might have laughed if he hadn't been busy sobbing first.

Realizing that they could have seperated forever on bad terms, that Stolas had been willing to die for him even after everything he'd said, had collapsed any of the walls that had remained between him and his feelings.

He was an idiot.

An idiot with a very lost and alone bird to take care of. Which, as it turned out, came surprisingly easily. Taking care of Stolas, that is. He's done a lot of things to Stolas in bed. He's used teeth and claws, gone at him with knives and beartraps, the list goes on. He is used to being cruel in all the ways that please. But he finds he is suddenly reluctant to be anything other than gentle.

He helps Stolas groom the stuff that gets thrown at him out of his feathers—after putting a bullet through the offenders' skull; most people caught on quick not to fuck with his bird—gives him blankets and pillows to build his nest; even brings home shitty plants for him to nurse back to health. He teaches him how to cook the basics, explains who and what to avoid now that he's not living safe in a palace.

Taking care of Stolas is not the chore he once thought it would be. It lightens something in him every time the heavy cloud of depression parts to let Stolas smile or hoot in laughter. He feels good whenever Stolas rambles excitedly about the plants in the apartment, or when he tucks himself up in Blitzø's office to read through the paperwork Moxxie is finally relieved of.

For a while, it's enough. He tells himself it has to be enough. Stolas is in a vulnerable position and now is not the time for Blitzø to fuck it all up with his feelings. He's an asshole but he's not that much of an asshole. He thinks.

Then, one day, he finds himself staring at Stolas, eyes gone wide and body unnaturally still. His cheek is still warm from where Stolas kissed him and his ears still ring with the sound of Stolas calling him darling.

Fuck, he's missed that. How long has it been since he heard Stolas practically sing endearments? Too fucking long, that's for sure.

It's clearly taken Stolas by surprise too, by the way he's standing just as frozen, still half bent towards Blitzø. His face is slowly turning red, the shock white of his pupils shifting about the room almost frantically.

"I—I'm so sorry, I've overstepped, I don't know what came over me—"

Blitzø is still staring at him.

Stolas straightens and backs towards the door. His paperwork is inside Blitzø's office so where he's going is anybody's guess. He's grounded though, with no magic and no way to fly. He can't outrun Blitzø. Not like this.

There's a shrieking, undignified noise torn free from Stolas' beak when Blitzø pounces. He gets a hand behind Stolas' head before they hit the ground, keeping his pretty brains from being rattled. Stolas is so lanky that his legs knock against the door and send a picture frame clattering to the ground. It's a special edition horse club collectors item but in this moment Blitzø could care less about the fucking thing.

"Stolas," he finally says, tail twitching slowly behind. "Pretty bird."

Stolas' beak snaps shut with a loud click. His normally white face is nearly crimson. He's big enough to push Blitzø off but he just lays there, talons opening and closing out of pure nerves.

"Blitzø," he croaks out. "What are you…" He trails off as Blitzø leans in closer, eyes gone wide and pupils blown out.

"Really wanna kiss you," Blitzø admits. "The things ya do to me, birdie, christ on a stick."

Stolas warbles.

"Been trying to be good, but good's really not my style. Then you—" his spines shiver as he forces himself to take a breath. His claws dig into the floor. "You gotta tell me if you're just fuckin' around here, Stols."

"I'm not, I—" Stolas swallows. He looks uncertain and so far from brave but he still lifts his chin in determination. It's part of what Blitzø loves about him. That even when scared and completely out of his element, Stolas still goes for what he wants. "I'm not 'fucking around', as you put it. I meant it when I said always."

A low growl rumbles up from Blitzø's chest. "You said you'd always save my life."

He smiles helplessly. "The reason was rather implied, darling. I'm afraid my heart is yours, whether you want it or not."

Blitzø's growl rises in volume, until he's practically thrumming with it. His tail lashes as he bends the last few inches to claim Stolas' mouth. For all the tension in them both, for all the time that's passed, it is not hot and heavy as expected. It's slow and desperate, a reminder that they have been here before, that they are both alive and have made it back to one another once more.

"Mine is yours too," he gets out. "It's a fuckin' shitty ass prize but you got it."

Finally, those talons slip up his back, smoothing down his spines in slow delicate lines. His eyes slit as he purrs so hard it shakes his entire body.

Stolas lets out a soft hoot of delighted laughter. "I confess, I've never won anything before. I quite like this prize."

"Yeah, well, good," he mutters, as he nuzzles in close. "Not getting rid of me now, birdie."

Long arms fold around him, eliminating what little space remains between their bodies. "Good," Stolas sighs.

Drop me a stolitz prompt in my ask box and I might write it.

[zzprompto]

☆ with you, eternally

astarion x male reader [he / him]

sypnosis: (spawn) astarion decides to step out into the sun after his partner passes away so they could be together forever. (meant to be viewed as romantic)

the lowercase is intentional !

- warnings: character death

it had been a while since all the mindflayers and the tadpoles and the brain. actually, it had been years. decades had already come and go since then, and astarion couldn't tell that so long had already passed.

yet, so many things reminded him that time was going past.

[name] was aging, gracefully in fact. astarion loved all the wrinkles that adorned his lover's skin, or the greys that streaked [name]'s hair. those small details helped remind astarion that the world was still progressing, that he wasn't stuck in one place dreading for his end like when he was with cazador. though, it did feel like he was stuck in time, but that was because he was with [name]. he always felt as if he was stuck in slow motion with him, never wanting the days, weeks, months and years to come to an end.

but, as time progressed, [name]'s health started to decline. it wasn't anytning at first, he was perfectly fine. yet, when the wrinkles started growing deeper and when he'd get ill more often astarion knew something was up. he knew that his time with [name] wasn't going to last long. it wasn't going to in the first place anyway. astarion was cursed with immortality, whilst [name] was blessed with mortality.

astarion looked over at his lover, watching as their gaze was focused on the window outside. it was getting harder for [name] to do simple tasks on his own such as walking, eating and other mundane tasks that he had brushed past during his younger years. of course, astarion helped [name] every step of the way. he wanted to spend every moment with [name], even if it could be their last one together.

[name] looked over at astarion, noticing that someone's gaze was on him. "i don't understand why you still sit and stare at me.. i'm far too old for you to still find me attractive." [name] laughed lightheartedly. he then started coughing, making astarion's eyes widen and ears perk up out of worry and fear.

once [name] stopped coughing, astarion sighed. "i still find you attractive, dear. i'll always find you as dashing as the first day i met you, even if you were a pile of mush." astarion responded, a small smile on his face even though it pained him to see what [name] was going through.

"you are too kind.." [name] laughed a little again, his breathing deep and slow as his eyes trailed back to the window. "i'm honestly.. surprised you're still here with me. i could die at any moment, yet you stay by my side even though you can live forever." [name] whispered, his voice carried with a twinge of sadness to astarion.

astarion felt himself frowning. he didn't like where this conversation was going, not one bit. he didn't like the idea of [name] leaving him so soon, he couldn't bear it. he didn't want someone to leave him, he didn't want to be alone.

sure, astarion could've always made some effort to find an immortal lover like himself. yet, he made no such efforts to do so. [name] was his, for forever. no matter if [name] was a mere mortal or not.

"my dear, i will stay by you for as long as i will roam the earth." astarion replies, his own voice coming out as a whisper. he kneels infront of [name], taking their hand in his own before he pressed his lips to the hand. "whether you are dying, or well, i will always be by your side. i could never leave you." astarion mumbled as he pressed another kiss to [name]'s hand.

[name] hummed, turning his head back so he could look down at astarion with a small smile. "thank you, my love." the man responds, voice croaky and hoarse from the old age.

"there's no point of sharing this.. immortality of mine if i couldn't share it with you." astarion whispers, trying to refrain himself from tearing up. "even if it's just for a glimpse, a brief part of my life but all of yours.. i wouldn't want it any other way." astarion admits, looking up at [name] with a smile. yet, behind the smile were broken eyes full of pain and grief for what's to come.

[name] stares down at astarion in awe from his words. he feels touched and warmed by his lover's words. "my love.. you don't know how much i appreciate your words. you don't know how much i appreciate you.. how much i appreciate you sticking by my side.." the old man speaks, voice wavering and shaking.

astarion presses his forehead against [name]'s hand, using his own hand to squeeze theirs. he tries to keep himself from letting tears spill, but it's too late. a few start to fall onto [name]'s hand, then more and more fall onto the hand the floor.

[name] takes his free hand and he strokes astarion's cheek with it, trying to get him to look up. "don't cry, my love. i'm not gone yet.." [name] adds, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he spoke to try and lighten the mood. he just didn't want to come to terms that he'd be leaving astarion so soon.

astarion looked up and he nodded, wiping his face with his sleeve. he tried to calm down before he spoke again, he didn't want to look weak now. he couldn't act weak now. he still had to be there for [name], and [name] wasn't gone yet.

"can you lead me to the bedroom, please? i think i need to go and take a nap." [name] asks, moving the topic of conversation along. he didn't want to dampen the mood any further, the air was already thick with sorrow after all.

astarion nodded and he got up, brushing the dust off of his knees. the vampire spawn then took [name]'s arms, helping him walk over to the bedroom. once they arrived into the bedroom, astarion helped his lover onto the bed. he tucked [name] in, pressing a kiss to their wrinkled forehead before he got in next to them.

"i love you, my little star. i always will, even when my candle goes out." [name] whispers, closing his eyes slowly so he could get his rest.

astarion rested his head on [name]'s chest, listening to his slow heartbeat. "i love you, forever and always my dear." astarion whispers back, a smile on his lips as he tries to not think about what the future holds for them.

a few hours pass, and astarion moves to see if [name] is awake. the man should've woken up a while ago, his naps weren't always this long. maybe [name] was just feeling extra drowsy? astarion didn't want to think of anything else.

astarion lifts his head and he sees that [name]'s chest has stopped moving up and down. surely he's just seeing things, right? astarion just stares for a few seconds and he gulps. there's no breathing.

the vampire spawn reaches out and grabs [name]'s hand. it's cold. yes, [name] had recently been growing colder and colder, not being the same firey warmth astarion was used to. but, this time the coldness was different. it was almost as if [name] was a solid block of ice. maybe it was because there was a breeze in the room? that was surely it, right?

astarion rests his head on [name]'s chest once again to confirm his suspicions. he needs to be 100% sure of something before he jumps to conclusions. and there it is.. [name] no longer has a pulse. there's no longer a heartbeat astarion can hear to remind him that his lover is alive.

"no.." astarion mumbles, lifting his head up once more to take a look at his dearest. "no, no, no.." astarion shakes his head, trying to blink away incoming tears but it's no use. his love is gone. nothing can bring him back. no tears, no cries or screams are going to bring [name] back. there was absolutely nothing. [name]'s candle had been blown out, and too early for astarion's liking. there was so much unspoken words, so many things astarion could've said and things he wanted to say. but it was too late.

astarion started bawling. he gripped tightly onto his dead lover's body, not letting it go. it was as if he was protecting it from some unknown entity, scared they were going to take away [name] from him. but, they already had.

"no.. [name] why?!" astarion sobbed into [name]'s chest. he couldn't even let out any proper tears, he was silently crying, screaming even, into [name]'s unbeating chest.

astarion's mind and heart rattle inside of him. they wrestle, trying to get astarion to listen, to do one thing that they offer. yet, astarion does not budge. he does not hear his heart or his mind. the only thing he can hear is his silent crying into [name]'s chest, the sound he desperately didn't want to hear until years into the future.

the vampire's mind screams and yells at him, telling him that astarion should join him. his mind screams that they could be together forever if astarion just joined him. but how? there was no possible way for astarion to join [name], as much as he wanted to.

yet, there was a solution. the sun.

astarion was only a spawn, he couldn't walk out in the sun without a fear of being burnt into a crisp. the only method of him joining [name] would be walking out into the sun or getting staked in the heart. astarion opted for the sun.

astarion let go of [name]'s body, running out of the house and into the sun. the golden hues kissed his pale skin, until they started to burn. piece by piece, astarion started to flow away as ash. the ash littered the sky, almost telling a story of the words astarion wanted to say, the story of his tragedy.

perhaps it was a spur of the moment thing, a stupid, silly idea that astarion shouldn't of acted upon. but it was too late now. astarion could now finally be with [name], eternally. they could finally be together until the end of time.

astarion didn't want anything else, just to be with [name] forever and always.

- author's note: hope you guys enjoyed :)

- navigation ; masterlist ; requests

[bits-and-babs]

ok i know it's a very specific request but can you PLEASE do a softish joel x reader where they've been partners for a while and they have a lil soft slow dance moment to Fooled Around and Fell In Love and then like.. smut. but like a softish, needy, primal sort of smut iykwim.. i just love soft joel and need more. thank you 🫡

𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Previous Joel Fics: Mule [5.1K], Atta Girl [10.2K], PlayBoy [3K], Animal [4K]

Summary: Joel’s birthday is coming up, but it isn’t something to celebrate.

Word Count: 3K.

CW: Sad, made me tear up at some points. Touches on trauma, references to gore and violence. A little artsy again. Joel feels guilty, oral (f receiving).

Tease: “Christ- I’ve been neglectin’ you, Darlin’. How could I neglect such a pretty thing?”

Brass clatters against the small wooden table beside the front door to your shared apartment, jolting you from your sleep. It's Joel's keys, and he hasn't set them down quietly to not disturb you– instead, choosing to discard them with the toss despite knowing it would make a racket.

Even in your hazy consciousness between the dreamworld and whatever the fuck this was, you had enough of an idea to understand that this was Joel's attempt to ask for help. His lack of improper communication was less about pride than stubbornness, refusing to share his pain, especially after the raging argument that had preceded him leaving the house without you.

“No, you will be staying here this time,” Joel ended his speech, explaining his next smuggling run with an admittance you hadn't heard him utter or even considered that you might hear.

"Wait-your going without me?" You ask with a scoff, expecting Joel to drop the funny joke. He's not laughing.

"I need to do this one alone," Joel insists, his voice forceful as though his decision wasn't up for debate.

You had fought with him quite loudly but not unnecessarily. You presented to him all the logical questions of what if. What if someone attacked him? What if he got hurt in the smuggling tunnels, and a stray quicker had wandered in? What if Robert and his lackeys attempted some payback for the deal that had gone wrong last week?

It had all fallen on deaf ears, Joel shouldering through the door and ignoring your yells of protest.

The shuffling of Joel's leather boots against the kitchen floor is a relief to you, indicating his safety. It also sparks an unpalatable feeling of guilt, one that settles in your stomach and curdles when you consider the reason Joel had been particularly standoffish recently.

While Joel fixes himself a whiskey, you rise from the sofa slowly in an attempt to avoid detection. You sneak a glimpse of him and find him invested in pouring the amber liquid into a chipped crystal glass. Hurrying, you use the moment of distraction to slink into your shared bedroom and make a point to avoid his gaze.

Calendars were a long-forgotten relic of the past in the Apocalypse. Who would waste precious paper that they could use for a map on something to track what day it was? Regardless, without knowing the date or even what month it was, you always know when Joel's birthday is coming up.

The days would get shorter, and the dying light of the sunset painted the clouds orange much earlier in the day. Leaves would begin their metamorphosis and fade from a vibrant evergreen to a muted, pale rust colour. They’d be littered with cracks and holes as if they were the bodies that lay slumped on the streets outside the QZ, chunks of flesh ripped from their muscles by the jaws of the infected. You were sure that the caterpillars that had no doubt left the shark-bite-like indentations in the green membrane were much less brutal.

And then there was Joel, his mood taking a brutal hit as the memories came flooding back of how he spent the final seconds of his twenty-sixth birthday clinging to his limp daughter's body and screaming into the blackness. He'd washed his hands of Sarah's blood almost two decades ago, but when he looked at his palms, they were still stained crimson.

See, Joel’s birthday was marred with death, so much so that it reeked of decay. How could it be a celebration of his life, of surviving another year, when the whole world, including his daughter, was slaughtered in the time it would have taken for the wax candles on his birthday cake to melt—had he remembered to buy it?

Of course, his forgetfulness had saved his life. The cake’s contents would have turned him into one of those things, scratching at the mossy walls of the quarantine zone with their long nails. However, you are confident that the regret of not picking up the cake box after work kept Joel awake at night as summer gave way to autumn, wondering if it would have been so much easier to succumb to the spores.

Sinking to your knees at the foot of the double bed, its threadbare sheets crumpled and pushed to one side, you duck your head beneath the wooden frame to search for an old cardboard box. So worn now, the seams were practically disintegrating. You take care as you pull it across the floorboards and dig around inside for something in particular.

It's a box of mementoes shared by you and Joel to protect the items that matter most to you. There were little pictures in frames of loved ones, items of great significance. If Joel worried he might lose his precious watch on a mission, he would often leave it here.

Gently fishing around, you finally find what you're looking for. With a delicate touch, you pull out a black cassette tape. It's dusty and unplayed for years. Across its surface lay small, holographic stickers that glint rainbow under the warm light of the bedroom. Their shapes consist of unicorns, clouds and tiny hearts, all strewn haphazardly across the black plastic surface.

The ink on the centre label is written in scratchy child's writing, the lettering large and bold until the opposite end, the letters trailing and squished to fit: To Daddy. Lots of love, Sarah and uncle Tommy xoxoxox.

Rising to your feet, you make your way into the living room. Joel has settled into the couch; his skull set back against the headrest with his whiskey resting in his lap. He opens one squinty eye when he hears your footfalls, watching you cross the living room floor to the window.

“What’re you doin’?” He mumbles, voice gruff and hoarse.

“It’s too quiet in here,” you admit, avoiding his question as you open the cassette player that lay beside the radio that Joel spent all day listening out for. You’d found the little player on a smuggling run in the city and had nearly been chomped on the arm by a runner for it. You were gonna damn well use it!

Joel's eyes burn into your shoulder blades as you swap the cassette tape inside the machine. You can hear whispers of his thoughts in the stagnant air. What is she doing? Why can't she leave me alone? Do I want her to leave me alone?

The tape feeds into the player and settles into its lot with a click. It rings out in the silent room, and it sounds like the safety catch of a gun switching off. You can almost feel how Joel tenses, his muscles primed for war.

Instead of a bullet ripping through the air, a light drumbeat trickles from the player's speakers. You carefully twist the sound dial, raising the volume so Joel can hear the percussion bleed into the guitar.

When you turn to face him, there’s this crack in the carefully cultivated mask your partner wears. A devastating pain flashes across Joel’s features and almost has you backpedalling, reaching across to the button that would cease the agonising sound of his past.

“No-“ Joel speaks up, his voice uncharacteristically emotional. You swear you hear a tremor in it, freezing your body in place when he clears his throat awkwardly as if to hide the ruin that the earthquake of emotions had surfaced. “No… I wanna hear it.”

You swallow thickly, making your way over to the slumped body of your partner as the honey-sweet voice of Elvin Bishop floats across the room. Joel’s emotions had rid him of what little energy he had left, his muscles slumped and body almost curling inwards to suppress whatever reaction threatened to spill out of him.

Taking a leap, a terrifying guess, you slowly pry the whiskey tumbler from his hand, the bronze-syrup liquid appearing as a thin film of gold in the bottom of the crystal glass. Gently, you set it aside, the quiet ‘tnk’ of the cup causing Joel’s body to jolt slightly. Always on red alert, even amid grief.

Your fingertips press into his pulse as your hands wrap around Joel’s sinewy wrists. He’s ageing, his hair greying and the skin above his veins lightly leathery to the touch, but his heartbeat is strong. It pulses heavily against your prints, screaming out just how alive he is when you drag him off the sofa.

Joel defies expectations. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t even groan in protest at the ache in his bones at having to stand again. Instead, he settles his head against your shoulder, wrapping his strong arms around you. He holds you so tight that your lungs wheeze in objection- but you don’t have it in you to complain because Joel sighs against your jugular, and it’s like the relief unwinds every rigid muscle in his body.

It can hardly be called dancing, but your body sways to the beat of the music like a pendulum. Back and forth, back and forth. Joel seems to lose himself in the hypnotic oscillation, pressing delicate kisses across the skin of your throat and inhaling the gritty cologne of apocalyptic life that you wear. You can almost hear the infomercial; “Top notes of sweat-musk and smoke from burnt corpses, base notes containing earthy soil and the metallic tang of blood. Heart notes contain devastating grief and an underlying desire to curl in a ball and die to escape this hellscape.”

Slowly, you slide your fingers into the roots of Joel’s silvering hair. He leans into your touch, groaning softly at the comfort he finds in the swirl of your fingerprints, massaging his scalp. He’s so at peace that you barely even notice him whisper the lyrics into your skin, enchanting it with the baritone of his husky voice.

“Free on my own; that's the way I used to be. But since I met you, baby, love's got a hold on me,” he murmurs, barely following the tune with how quietly he hums each syllable. You cling to him, casting your eyes to the mossy ceiling and revelling in a moment of vulnerability that Joel hadn’t afforded you in months.

“That how it happened?” You ask him with a slight teasing lilt to your voice. You may imagine the feeling of a smile against your throat, the smooth enamel of his teeth brushing the thin flesh.

“Somethin’ like that,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to your pulse point. You’re sure he feels it flutter. Joel was never a man of many words, and knowing him as long as you have, you could be certain he would rather blow his own brains out than admit to a fairytale ‘love at first sight’ moment. His answer was the closest thing you would get to a confirmation of guilt.

You can’t help but giggle at his refusal to expose the inside of his heart to you, yet simultaneously unable to conceal his obvious adoration. His breath tickles your cheek as he exhales the carbon dioxide from his lungs. You’d breathe it in, if you could, even if you suffocated on it. A piece of you wanted every part of Joel in a desperate attempt to fill the hole in your heart left behind by your losses. By your Sarah.

Perhaps he could feel that in you because Joel pulled away from your neck for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours in the closest thing to ‘affection’ that the brutal smuggler could muster. The tip of his aquiline nose brushes up the sloping bridge of your own before pressing a kiss to your lips. Tender at first, an inevitable hunger quickly surpasses Joel’s desire to ease you with delicate kisses and sweet nothings as Elvin Bishop croons the confession that you cannot pry from your partner.

“I fooled around and fell in love….”

-✩-

It’s miserable at first. Joel’s kissing you like he needs to swallow you down to numb the pain, like those little white pills he knocks back with a shot of whiskey when he thinks you’re not looking. You find him sprawled on the sofa some days, mumbling Sarah’s name in his sleep as tears stream down his cheekbones and into the sparse hair of his beard.

It takes you both a moment, but when your back hits the mattress, something sparks up inside Joel. He abandons his distress in the bedroom doorway, planting kisses up the length of your stomach and sternum as he slots his hips between your thighs.

“Fuck, Joel-!”

“I know,” he mumbles, licking a stripe across your bare chest and swirling the tip of his tongue around your hardening nipple. “I ain’t been as attentive to my Darlin as I shoulda been.”

You attempt to ease him down from his deprecation, to remind him he’s been suffering, but he grinds the length of his clothed cock against your weeping cunt, and it’s as though your mind stalls, your protests overridden by a sigh of relief.

“Mhmm, that’s it,” he whispers, feverish with a kind of emotional need that you rarely see in your usually animalistic sexual encounters. “That’s it.”

Joel yanks your cargo pants off your hips, hooking his thumbs beneath the waistband of the dirtied beige material to slip down your underwear too. He groans at the sight of your glistening pussy in the candlelight, sweeping his thumb through the slick mess between your folds and listening to the wet noise you make for him.

“Fuck,” he rasps, dragging the pad of his thumb over your clit and listening to you meek, watching your toes curl, “Christ, I’ve been neglectin’ you, Darlin’. How could I neglect such a pretty thing?”

“Joel, you’re hurti- Aghh-!”

You let out a strangled moan because Joel dips his face down and licks a hot stripe across the length of your cunt. It’s sloppy and desperate, and you feel the warmth of his exhale waft across your clit and spark hot embers deep in your abdomen.

Locks of Joel’s hair are wrapped tight around your trembling fingers, but Joel doesn’t relent. He drags his tongue against your throbbing clit, relishing how you taste and enjoying how the meat of your thighs muffle the music when they squeeze against his ears.

“Joel,” you beg him, voice needy and back arching against his ministrations. You want to touch him too, want to ease his own frustrations, but Joel approaches this like a punishment. He is serving time for abusing you like this, leaving you wanting beside him in bed due to what he believes is his own selfish actions in wallowing in his grief.

He lazily sinks his tongue into your entrance for a moment, lapping up more of the mess you leak across his face and groaning in delight at how your taste smothers him. He’d drown in it if you’d let him.

It takes you a moment, given he’s working you up into a frenzy, to note that Joel’s rutting his hips into the mattress in a feeble attempt to pleasure himself. He groans softly against your cunt, the vibrations stimulating you and tightening the coil settled deep in the pit of your stomach.

“Fu-uuuck, Joel-!” You keen his name, thighs thrown over his shoulders. The tip of his tongue dances slowly around the circumference of your clit once, twice, three times before swiping back and forth over it. Tears well in your eyes as he repeats the process, and you watch as the wetness on your lashes causes the image of his head between your thighs to reflect back at you like a kaleidoscope, fractured and duplicated and oh-so-beautiful.

“Mhmm,” Joel hums, his hands sliding up your ribs and squeezing at your breasts with his paws. His thumbs trace your nipples, and again your back is arching, your hips rutting against his chin and pushing your abused clit against his nose.

“Oh God, Oh God, that’s it-“ you’re telling him it feels good, but it sounds like you’re begging him to keep going, heels pushing into his back and dragging him impossibly closer to you. The aged, rotten, wooden frame of the bed creaks at your sloppy attempts to thrust against his mouth. You’re so tight, all wound up with the threat of an orgasm, and Joel is whispering against your cunt.

“Baby, come on,” he murmurs, using his thumb to swipe back and forth a little more rapidly against your clit as he eats you out, smearing your wetness over his lips and beard, “That’s it, Darlin’, that’s it.”

You wheeze out a version of his name that sounds foreign to your ears, slurring the single syllable as your orgasm blooms through you. It’s slow at first, creeping, but then it burns through you. It detonates like the bombs they dropped on Outbreak Day, devastating your nerve endings and crushing your body inwards. Joel continues to coax you through it with his tongue, and you’re feebly pushing his head away as it grows and grows, the peak seemingly nowhere in sight.

Finally, it subsides, Joel groaning loudly as he settles his head on your lower abdomen, still grinding his hips into the mattress like a schoolboy. You’re giggling through your heaving breaths, delirious thanks to the liquid warmth that settles in your bones.

“Oh fuck-“ you whisper, voice hoarse and broken from yelling out Joel’s name. He offers no vocal response, instead kissing at the junction where your thighs meet your pelvis.

The action means just as much as those three unspoken words.

END

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[mandos-mind-trick]

Dream of You

Summary: You know things. Things you shouldn’t. You knew about the clones, about the Republic’s army long before the war started. You knew about their training, you knew about attacks and battles even before they happened, long before the rest of the galaxy knew about them. Your only regret is not saying something sooner. 

Pairing: Echo x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, unprotected sex, slight aftercare, angst, war, Echo's "death", slight description of medical stuff, paranoia, depression, very brief implied mention of suicidal thoughts, fluffy, happy ending, Soulmate AU

A/N: Did I intend the last two soulmate fics to have similar links...not really. It just happened this way. Also, this is the NSFW Echo soulmate fic, the one with ace!reader is coming shortly. I'll be making a post when I'm close to finishing that one. I really struggled with this so sorry if it's garbage. Echo was not musing for me this time around.

MASTERLIST

Blaster fire. 

It’s all around you, though that was fairly common for your dreams. You’re not sure where you are. You can’t see anything defining, nothing that would point out where you are or what you’re doing. 

“This is our only chance. We’ve got to stop him.” The voice echoes in your head. It’s coming from you. It’s your voice. 

You rush forward, grabbing a shield from the ground despite the bolts being fired at you. You rush towards the shuttle, firing at the droids in an attempt to secure it. 

“Echo look out!” 

Before the words register in your mind, before you can react you’re flying, being thrown forward by a wave of heat and energy. 

An explosion. 

The sound registers in your ears as you hit the ground. It’s dark, wherever you’ve landed. The pain begins to register as the shock wears off. Your whole body feels as if it's on fire. You can feel your pulse in your legs and arms, blood on your tongue. You can’t move. Even if you wanted to, even if you tried to call out, you can’t. 

You’re dying. 

****

You wake with a scream. Tears are gliding down your cheeks, and have been judging on the dampness of your face. You’re shaking uncontrollably, breaths coming in hyperventilating gasps. 

Your soulmate’s going to die. 

A hand lands on your shoulder, shaking you gently. “You alright?” 

You’re still hyperventilating, your brain refusing to respond. You’re soulmate’s going to die. Your soulmate’s going to die. It’s the only thing you can think of. 

“Look at me.” One of your fellow medics, Zena, kneels down on the other side of you. You like Zena. You’d consider her a friend. “I need you to breathe, otherwise you’re going to pass out.” 

She’s right. You can feel the tingling in your hands and feet and face as the carbon dioxide in your blood rapidly decreases. Zena takes a deep breath, holding it before letting it out. You try to mimic her, slowing your hyperventilating until your breathing is semi-even, broken only by the occasional sobs as you continue to cry. 

“What is it?” Zena asks, sitting on the edge of your bunk. “What’s going on?” 

“E-Echo.” You stutter out. “He’s...he’s go-gonna die!” 

A sympathetic look crosses her face. She’s one of the few that know about your soulmate, an ARC Trooper stationed with the 501st named Echo. You’ve never met, at least in person. You share a unique connection with him. Every time you sleep, you dream of what your soulmate will experience the next day. It started about eight years ago. You knew things about the GAR, about the war, long before it started. You’ve dreamed of battles that have happened since, things you shouldn’t know. Things that would get you arrested and sent to interrogation. 

It was what led you to sign up to be a medic, the hope that you might by chance run into your soulmate. Of course, you hadn’t known back then about the rules, the Kaminoans and the GAR forbidding the clones from forming links with their soulmates. The more you learned about the clones, the more angry it made you at the GAR. 

Zena squeezes your arm. “Maybe...maybe Commander Bly could help. He could alert the 501st command or something.” 

You scrub a hand over your face, smearing tears all over your skin. She’s right. Maybe...maybe things aren’t hopeless. You’re risking a lot. You’ll have to reveal your connection to Echo. If anyone finds out, he’ll be forced to reject you. By saving him, you might force yourselves apart for good. 

It would be better than losing him permanently. 

You throw the covers back, sliding your feet into your boots. “I need to find the Commander.” 

You’ve only spoken to Commander Bly once, while you patched his wound after a battle. You didn’t interact with command much outside the med bay. You were so far below their ranks. Your job was to patch wounds and keep injured troopers alive long enough to receive care. You were about to step so far out of your zone, but if it might save your soulmate’s life, then it will be worth it. 

You’re out the door of the bunks in a flash, before anyone can bring into question your course of action, before you can really question your decision. You head to the bridge, the first place you can think of as to where Commander Bly might be. 

You’re stopped at the doors before you can even get inside. “Authorized personnel only.” The trooper says. 

“I need to see Commander Bly.” You say, putting as much authority in your voice as you can. 

“He’s busy.” The trooper says. 

“It’s an emergency.” You say. “Lives are at stake.” 

The troopers at the door share a glance before one steps inside. You only get a quick glance through the doors before they’re closing again. You stand there and wait for what feels like too long, before the doors open, the trooper returning with Commander Bly in tow. 

He seems far more imposing now than he had when you’d patched his wound. You had been running high on adrenaline, patching trooper after trooper for hours after the battle ended. The adrenaline made you more brave. You could use some of that now. Right now all you have is desperation. 

Commander Bly leads you to a private room, your heart pounding in your chest. How were you going to tell him? How were you going to make him believe you? You’d have to spill, you’d have to tell him the truth and hope he believed the same as the other clones about soulmates. You’re risking so much, but if it saves even one life, perhaps it will be worth it. 

“You think someone’s in trouble?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You nod, taking a deep breath. Your hands are still shaking, still rattled by your dream. “It’s the 501st, sir.” You push the tears away, not wanting to cry in front of your Commander. “Something’s wrong, something’s going to happen.” 

“And how do you know this?” He asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“My...my soulmate is with the 501st.” You say. “We share a dream connection. I-I had a dream last night. He’s going to die.” 

Commander Bly stares at you for a moment before he sighs, his shoulders drooping. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you want me to do.” 

“Warn them. Contact them. Something!” You say, raising your voice a bit. “There has to be something that can be done.” 

He shakes his head. “The 501st is on a campaign right now. No warning I could send is going to change what happens. We have to do our duty first.” 

Tears blur your eyes at his words. Of course it was foolish to think you could stop one clone from dying. You shouldn’t have bothered. Now you could be reported to GAR officials. 

“I’m sorry.” The Commander at least has the decency to sound sympathetic. He puts a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. “There’s a shuttle leaving for Coruscant in less than an hour. I’ll put in the leave request paperwork.” 

You feel defeated. That’s it, then. There’s no swooping in and saving him, no way of preventing his death. Maybe this was the way it was always supposed to be. Fate wouldn’t give you a soulmate you weren’t going to meet. 

So what does that say about you? 

You drag your feet back to the barracks, packing your things silently as the tears slide down your cheeks. You feel numb, like your body is already preparing for the inevitable pain. It was going to happen today. You don’t know exactly when. It’s almost worse. 

You find the shuttle, boarding it without a word. You squish yourself in between two crates, pulling your knees to your chest as you wait for the soul-crushing pain of your soulmate’s death to hit you. 

***

You’ve been on Coruscant for two days. You’ve fluttered in and out of sleep, tears, and a deep numbness that prevented you from doing much else besides sitting and staring out the window of your hotel. You haven’t dreamed once in the many hours you’ve spent asleep. It’s all been dark, black, a void of nothingness. 

Was this what it felt like losing a soulmate? 

No one could ever fully describe it. They said it was horribly painful, like a piece of them was dying and decaying and it left a gaping hole in its place that never fully healed. 

You certainly feel like one big gaping hole. 

There’s been no pain, no soul-shredding feeling. Just numbness and emptiness. Perhaps it’s different for everyone. Perhaps your brain had blocked it out to save you from the pain of having to feel part of your soul dying. 

On the third day they arrive. 

You had managed to drag yourself into the shower, and you answer the door with dripping hair. Two members of the Coruscant Guard stand at your door. They ask your name and you confirm it. You’ve been summoned to the GAR headquarters. 

You already know what this is about. 

They let you at least make yourself decent and put shoes on before they escort you to the speeder. You’re not under arrest, which is a good sign, but you can imagine you’re headed into an interrogation. Someone had spilled on your link, on your knowledge of things you shouldn’t have known. Was it Commander Bly? One of your fellow civilians? 

You’re not mad. 

You’re far too numb to feel anything that strong. 

You’re escorted into the building and led through the labyrinth of lifts and halls. You’re left in a room with hardly more than a table and chairs and an overhead light. You lower yourself into one of the chairs, trying to prepare yourself for your impending interrogation. You can only imagine the things you’re going to get asked about. 

You’re not sure how long you wait there in the plain, windowless room. It feels like an external representation of how you feel inside. You can’t even bring yourself to feel nervous when an Admiral joins you in the room. 

He asks your name and your station, questions you can easily answer. You know you can’t lie. Getting caught in a lie isn’t going to help you any, and besides, why would you lie now? Your soulmate’s dead. They can’t do anything about it. 

“Having highly confidential information about the GAR and its battles puts you in a precarious situation.” The Admiral says. 

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore.” You say. “After all, my soulmate is dead.” 

“Yes, what a pity. The loss of clones is an unfortunate aspect of the war that the Republic has no choice but to accept.” The Admiral says, no sympathy in his tone whatsoever. “You could have been a useful asset. Perhaps if we had known, things could have gone differently.” 

Your hands ball into fists, sudden rage boiling under the surface. It’s the first thing you’ve felt in days. You know it’s not true. They wouldn’t have risked anything to save Echo. He’s just another clone to them. Another faceless body to throw in front of a blaster. 

You’re shuttled back to your hotel and left at the door like nothing had happened. You’re still burning with rage, your body clinging to the first emotion it’s been able to conjure in days. You want to flip the table in your room, destroy the bed, break a window, something. You don’t have that kind of money, though, to pay for those damages. Nor do you want to put some poor housekeeper through that. 

Instead you drop on the bed and let out a scream into the pillow. The rage begins to boil down to tears, your sobs muffled by the dampening pillow. You cry yourself to sleep, drifting back into a state of numbness. 

***

It’s cold. You can’t see anything, you can’t hear anything. All around you is cold and dark. You can’t move, you can’t feel. You’re numb. The pain is gone, replaced by nothing. Nothing but numbing blackness in the cold around you. 

No, wait. You can hear something. Something off in the distance. It’s getting louder, echoing in your mind. 

CT-1409. 

CT-1409.

***

You can still hear it when you wake. 

CT-1409. 

You blink the tears from your lashes, sitting up on the bed. It’s night, the city illuminated outside the window. You haven’t been asleep long. You’d been in the GAR headquarters longer than you thought. 

CT-1409. 

You rise from the bed, moving towards the window, looking down at the city as far as you can, until it disappears into the cloud of haze that separates the upper and lower levels. You suddenly back away from the window, all but punching the button to close the shutters. It cuts off the only light, bathing the room in complete darkness. For half a moment you expect the cold to come seeping back in. 

CT-1409. 

You need to get off Coruscant. You need to get out from under the eyes of the Republic. You need to hide. You need to disappear before they make you.  

CT-1409. 

You use your savings to purchase a ship. It’s a piece of junk, but it has hyperspace capabilities. That’s all you need. You need to find somewhere remote. After that, you’ll figure it out from there. You have little money left, but being a medic means you’ll be able to find jobs easily. You can work anywhere. Someone’s always looking to hire medics. 

You just need to disappear from the Republic. 

*** 2 Years Later ***

You’re still dreaming. 

You had dreamed of the frozen darkness most out of everything. Occasionally you’d get more. Strange noises, things spoken in a language you couldn’t understand. Occasionally you’ll see flashes, images. You can never quite make them out. 

You think it might be your brain trying to get used to dreaming its own dreams again. Or perhaps it's your brain's way of trying to make up for the loss of your soulmate. The numbness has slowly faded into the background, though it hasn’t really left. You found a remote planet to live on, one far from war. You got a job at the medical center in a small town, the job almost boring compared to the heart racing adrenaline inducing insanity of the war. 

You don’t mind. It keeps you off the radar. 

You’ve built a decent life here in two years. As decent a life as you could, at least. You still feel empty and lonely. That longing feeling for your other half hasn’t left. The fact you know you’ll never get to have him only makes it worse. 

You cry more than you’d like to admit. You understand now why people don’t last long when their soulmate dies. You’d hardly call this living. More just simply existing. 

You have considered it. You can never quite bring yourself to. There’s always something in the back of your mind holding you back. Sometimes you wish you were brave enough. 

It’s one of those nights when it happens. 

***

It’s dark and cold again. It feels different this time. Something’s happening, but you’re confused. 

Suddenly the darkness is gone, and you’re staring at what seems to be a control room. 

“We-We have to get to the shuttle to escape the Citadel.” The voice echoes in your head. “No! I’ll go first!” 

“Echo.” Another voice says. “Echo, it’s Rex. I’m here.” 

A face enters your vision. You know that face. You’ve seen it many times. “Rex? You, you came back for me?” 

“Yes.” He looks guilty. “Yes I did.” 

“What, what happened? Where am I?” Your gaze swings to look around the room.

“It’s okay, Echo.” Your gaze is drawn back to Rex. “You’re safe now. Just sit tight trooper. You’re going home.” 

***

You startle awake, tears sliding down your cheeks. You stare at the wall across from your bed in disbelief. It can’t be...but it had felt like the other dreams. 

Has he been alive this whole time? 

Had he somehow survived the explosion? It would explain the other dreams, the lack of pain at his passing. Had your suffering been simply your own creation because you thought he was dead? 

Has he been alive this whole time? 

Your dream means he’ll be getting rescued today. Hope blooms inside you that it is true, that it is really a dream of what’s going to happen. Many feelings flood you for the first time in a long time. The numbness is pushed away as emotions bubble within you. You don’t know whether to be happy or worried or sad or relieved. All you can do is cry. Again. 

Of course, you’ll have no way of knowing if it really does come true. You have no connections in the GAR anymore, and you can’t risk them finding you. You did sort of desert the army and break your contract. You know a prison cell is waiting for you if you go back. 

Fate won’t give you a soulmate you’ll never meet. 

You’re not entirely sure you trust fate. It’s put you through the wringer, but with this new development, that could change. Maybe you will find your way together after all. 

You call out of work, knowing you won’t be able to focus. You hardly leave your bed, thinking over the dream, over the fact your soulmate is alive. The longer you lay there, the faster the regrets start seeping in. What if you hadn’t left the Republic? You could have found a way to finally get to him, to finally meet him for the first time. 

There was no guarantee. 

Fate won’t give you a soulmate you’ll never meet. Perhaps it was always meant to happen this way. Perhaps it was better if it happened this way. 

***

Your dreams return to normal as the months pass. Dreams of battles continue to be the most common. You see new faces now, faces you don’t recognize in your dreams through Echo’s eyes. Things have changed for him too. 

You’ve always wondered what he saw in his dreams. Battles too, you imagined, though different ones than the ones he partook in. You wonder if he ever saw the clones you couldn’t save, his brothers suffering, you attempting to save their lives. 

Your dreams must seem very boring now. 

You wonder if he had still dreamed of you during the period of...whatever had happened to him. You wonder if he feels relief seeing how different your life is now. You wonder what he thinks of you. 

You wonder if he even wants to meet you. 

You shake those thoughts away, burying yourself in your work at the medical center. You don’t want to think about it. Rejection was still a strong possibility. Between the war and the GAR and the fact that not everyone wanted a soulmate, he could still reject you. 

You force the thoughts away, focusing on your dreams instead. Watching what he’s doing, making sure he’s not going to die again. 

Then the war ends. 

Despite the war being over, chaos still ensues in the galaxy. You don’t trust the Empire, and that distrust only continues as your dreams continue. You watch the things that happen to Echo, and his eventual desertion. You’re helpless to do much but watch the events that transpire. 

You wait patiently, biding your time as Echo and his squad try to find their place in the galaxy. It feels almost wrong to have such a front row seat to the goings on in his life despite never having met him in person before. Then again, he has a front row seat to your life as well, though your life is much more boring than his, even now. 

As the weeks pass and the disruption continues in the galaxy, your new home planet remains entirely untouched. There wasn't much special about it. No major exports, no convenient hyperspace lanes nearby, no major cities. It's a perfect place to hide. 

Echo has also found a place to hide. You begin to see a place popping up in your dreams regularly. An idea begins to form in your head as you learn about the place in your dreams. 

Ord Mantell. 

Cid's Parlor. 

You could easily find that place. Ord Mantell's not far from your current home. You could reach it in a matter of hours. All you have to do is take time off work and jump in your scrap pile of a ship. 

The idea makes you nervous. What if he doesn't want to meet you? What if he rejects you? Years. Years you've been waiting for this. You spent years thinking he was dead. Now he's within reach and...you're scared. 

You dream of yourself that night. 

You've already made up your mind, or fate has made it for you. 

You're halfway to Ord Mantell before the sun rises on your home planet. 

***

Cid's Parlor is a rather seedy place. You've been in worse, but you suppose for a front it's perfect. You take the stairs slowly, trying to remember to breathe. This is the moment. Two years ago you would have been running in and throwing your arms around him. 

It's been a long two years. 

You enter the bar, the inside not any better than the outside. There's a weequay and an ithorian at a dejarik table, and then the five at the bar. You recognize them from your dreams. Well, you recognize four of them. 

You've never actually seen Echo. You were always seeing from his perspective. You always assumed he'd look like the other clones, but then you'd seen the new group he was with and realized maybe they don't all look alike. 

You can pick him out in the group by process of elimination. You recognize the other three, having seen them at various points, and then of course there's the girl. You take a long look at Echo, tears gathering in your eyes. 

You're so close. So close. 

"Echo?" You ask, the bar seeming to go quiet as soon as you say it. 

Everyone turns to look at you, brows furrowed in confusion. Echo steps back from the bar, staring at you. He's paler than the others, his face sunken and gaunt. There's a headset wrapped around his head, and you notice the cybernetic right arm. 

The furrow of his brows lift into shock, his eyes widening as he stares at you. He whispers your name, almost too quiet for you to hear. 

You're moving before you realize it, your arms wrapping around him. He's solid and warm and his plastoid chest plate digs into your skin, but you don't care. He's real. 

His arms wrap around your shoulders, holding you against him. 

"I-I didn't think..." You sniffle, a tear sliding down your cheek. "Two years! I thought you were dead."

He lets out a chuckle, his hand sliding down your back. "Yeah. Everyone thought I was." 

You pull away as a throat clears beside you. Your cheeks warm a bit. You'd completely forgotten the others. 

"Echo...care to explain?" The one with the bandana, Hunter you think, asks. 

Echo slips his arm back around you, holding you against his side. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet my soulmate."

The guarded look on Hunter's face lessens just a bit. You hadn't expected to be welcomed with open arms and trusted immediately. Not after the things you've seen. 

You get introduced to everyone, and you find yourself sitting at the bar, telling Echo all about yourself. Where you came from, how you joined the GAR, why you left, where you wound up. He knew a lot already. He'd dreamed of you occasionally during the two years you'd thought he was dead. He hadn't really understood what was happening during that time though. To be fair, you hadn't either. 

You talk a bit about them, filling in some gaps in your understanding of what was happening to them. 

"We need somewhere to lay low for a while." Hunter says. 

"Well, I just happen to know the perfect place." You say. "It kept me hidden from the Republic and there hasn't been even a glance from the Empire so far."

"It's out of the way of most hyperspace lanes." Tech says, typing away at his datapad. "No major cities or ports. Mostly self-sufficient. Nothing anyone would be interested in." 

You shrug. "It's not much, but it is safe." 

***

"We're going in that?" Echo asks as you stand next to your ship docked at the port. 

"Hey, don't hate on Bertha." You pat the side of the ship, something clanging inside. "She helped me escape the Republic."

You lower the ramp, having to fiddle with it as it sticks for a moment. Echo gives you an incredulous look but you wave him in. She may be a bit temperamental, but your ship has a special place in your heart. 

"Tech will have a heyday with this one if you let him get his hands on it." Echo says, taking the copilot's seat. 

"Well, he's more than welcome if he gets bored." You say, firing up the engine. "Can't make her any worse." You grin at him, giving the control panel a solid smack to stop it from rattling. 

Echo doesn't relax until you're in hyperspace. You don't take it personally. You had been a little nervous flying the first time but though she was prone to rattling, Bertha flew perfectly fine. 

You turn to look at Echo as the blue of hyperspace surrounds you. You reach out, pressing your hand to his cheek. His skin isn't as warm as you'd expect, your brow furrowing a little. 

His hand lifts, resting against yours. Your thumb strokes his cheek, reminding yourself that he's real. He's right here with you finally. 

"Echo...what happened to you?" You ask. 

And he tells you. You spend the entire trip listening to his story. He starts at the beginning, explaining things you knew and many you didn't. You listen to it all. The good, the bad, the heartbreaking. 

You cry for him a few times. Cry for the pain and the misery and the torture he's faced. He wipes your tears, dampening his glove but he doesn't seem to care. 

You talk almost the entire flight, catching up on years of missed time. Echo only slightly clings to the seat as Bertha drops from hyperspace and you begin the hour flight to your home planet. It's slow going, Bertha not exactly made for speed. 

The others are already there when you land, by no surprise. Though your home was small, you could offer them a roof over their head until they found something more permanent. 

If they decided to stay here. 

You try not to think about that too much. 

"Glad you made it." Hunter says, eyeing Bertha as you and Echo step off the ramp. 

"Not you too." You make a face. "She flies just fine, she's just got creaky joints."

You can already see the wheels turning in Tech's head as he eyes Bertha. You lead them inside, showing them your small house. You only have one spare room and a couch but they assure you they can just sleep on the ship. You feel bad, but then again you hadn't really been expecting this when you ran from the Republic. 

You hadn't expected a lot to happen. 

You make dinner, probably the first home cooked meal they've had in a long time, or possibly ever. Echo hovers in the kitchen but you don't mind. You like having him close after all this time. You're still a little afraid you'll turn around and find he's gone. Like he's been a figment of your imagination this whole time. 

They leave you and Echo the house for the night, and you can tell by the look on Hunter's face it's deliberate. You hadn't really considered that but you knew anything could happen after you meet your soulmate.

You find Echo in your room after you finish cleaning up. He's standing next to the bed, tracing the carving on the wall. 

CT-1409 

You'd carved it after hearing it again in your dream. You'd been half dazed, repeating the number over and over in your head. 

He turns to look at you, fingers resting in the center of the 9. Your cheeks warm a bit, not having thought about that. You just have his designation number carved in your wall. You might as well have his name there. 

"I did that after I heard it in a dream." You say, approaching the bed. "I couldn't get it out of my head." You crawl onto the bed, kneeling next to him. "I put it there because it felt like in a way you were still with me, though I know now you never left." 

He drops his hand, turning to face you. He looks a little guilty. "I'm sorry for putting you through that."

"Don't apologize for something you couldn't control." You say, putting your hand on his scomp arm. "You're here now. That's what matters." 

He glances down at your hand before looking back up at your face, those big brown eyes shining in the orange light of sunset shining in through your window. 

"I made a promise once." He says, staring at you. "To someone very close to me. We promised each other that after the war ended, we'd find our soulmates and settle down somewhere. Get married and have families. Grow old together far away from everything else."

You smile softly at him, gently guiding him to sit on your bed with you. "Well, I'd be more than happy to help you keep your part of the promise."

You sit with him, talking late into the night. There's no rush now. You have all the time in the world. 

***1 Year Later***

"Just a pinch of this." You say, blindly holding out the jar of spice. 

It's taken from your hand and set on the counter, your ears picking up the small clink of metal on tile. Hands grip your waist from behind as you stand on your toes to reach the second shelf of the cupboard. 

"You know I can reach those easily." Echo murmurs in your ear. 

You grin at him over your shoulder. "I know. I also know you love looking at my ass."

He practically purrs, hands sliding lower. "I do love your ass."

You press back into his hands, one flesh, the other cybernetic. He'd ditched the scomp a few months ago now that he's retired to a boring civilian life. 

"We don't have a lot of time before they get here." You say, straightening up to try and slip out from where he has you pinned to the counter.

He presses against you harder, hands moving to trap you between him and the counter. "They can wait for dinner." He breathes into your ear, pressing his half-hard cock against your ass. "I want dessert first."

You bite your lip, letting out a strangled moan as he grinds against you. "At least turn the burner off." You breathe. 

Echo presses a kiss to your neck before he pulls away, reaching back to shut off the stove. You turn in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as he turns back to you. 

He pins you against the counter once more, molding his lips against yours as his hands trail back down your sides. You deepen the kiss, pulling him even closer. You can feel him, fully hard against your stomach now. 

His hands grip your waist, easily lifting you onto the counter. One of your hands slides up to tangle in the curls that have regrown over the last few months. He groans quietly against your lips, hands parting your thighs for him. 

He steps between your legs, your skirt riding up around your waist, revealing your panties underneath. His fingers rub the damp fabric, teasing you before he tugs them aside, meeting your flesh. 

You moan into his mouth, pressing your hips into his hand as he circles your clit. You're already worked up just from kissing him, the familiar heat igniting under your skin from his touch. 

"Kriff." You breathe against his lips, grinding against his hand. "Make me feel so good."

He hums contently against your lips. "Good. You deserve to feel good." 

You slip a hand down his front, palming him through his pants. "I'd feel better with you inside me, though.".

He grins, pressing one more steamy kiss against your lips. "Yes, ma'am."

You shriek as he tugs you right to the edge of the counter, holding you steady with one hand while the other pulls his cock from his pants. 

You wrap your arms back around his neck as he presses close between your legs, teasing your slit with the head of his cock. You moan quietly, playing with the ends of his hair as he slowly presses into you. 

He groans, pressing his face into your neck as he slides into your warm passage, your body wet and ready for him. 

It never gets old, the feeling being so connected to him invokes. Your very soul seems to hum with pleasure from being so close, so connected. You wrap your legs around him, holding him as close as you can as he settles inside you. 

He presses a soft kiss to your lips as you sit in the moment for just a second, savoring the feeling before he begins moving. His thrusts are slow yet deliberate. They reach deep into you, the tip of his cock brushing that spot inside you over and over. 

You won't last long, you know it as your legs begin to tremble around him. You moan against his lips, hands fisting his shirt as he picks up the pace just a little. 

You whine as you cum around him, milking his own orgasm from his body. He moans into your neck, holding you tightly as he spills into you. 

You stay still, just breathing and feeling each other for a few moments. Your hands gently massage his neck and his shoulders, easing the ache you know he feels from his cybernetics sometimes. 

He presses gentle kisses to your neck, not enough to leave marks but still enough to pull quiet sounds from your lips.  

He kisses a trail up your jaw to your lips, both of you pausing at the knock on the door. 

"Hunter's gonna know." You murmur against his lips. 

"He probably already does." Echo says, kissing you once more. "Probably heard us halfway down the street."

Your cheeks warm as he pulls away from you, fixing his clothes before helping you look presentable as well. You turn on the stove once more before pulling out the disinfectant spray. 

Taglist:

@stressed-cherry @ladytano @freesia-writes @dangraccoon @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @stunkbiggu @endofthexline @padawancat97 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @rosechi @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @maddiedrmr @gwalchmai2970 @clonemedickix @anxiouspineapple99 @idontgetanysleep @originalcollectionartistry @thrawnspetgoose @thorsterstrudle @littlemissmanga @sinfulsalutations @dystopicjumpsuit @multi-fan-dom-madness @starrylothcat @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @blueink-bluesoul @wings-and-beskar @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator

[sorrowsofsilence]

memento mori • n.s

pairing: noah sebastian x gn!reader

words: 1.6k

warnings: ANGST, grief, loss, death, mourning (this is kinda heavy, please do not feel like you need to read im getting out feelings)

summary: "if you're watching this, im dead."

note: i think i was feeling some kinda way because i don't really know where this came from lol, but here's a quick little blurb if you enjoy angst <3

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING A REAL PERSON IN A FICTIONAL SCENARIO! I AM NOT IMPLYING THEY WOULD ACT THIS WAY OR DO THE THINGS IN MY FANFICTION- IT IS FOR FUN, AND IT IS SIMPLY FICTION! <3

I sat in front of my computer screen, shell-shocked as the haunting words of his last video echoed in my ears.

"If you're watching this, I'm dead."

My heart clenched at his words, chest tightening as my breath caught in my throat. My room around me felt cold, too large and too empty, even with the myriad of knick-knacks and photos that adorned every available surface.

With trembling hand I reached out a to replay the video, but hesitated before I could do it. His face was frozen on the screen, eyes full of sorrow and resignation. A face I had fallen in love with; a stranger’s face that had brought so much unanticipated joy into my life.

His voice echoed through the silence again, the words heavy with grief and regret.

For what? For whom?

Refreshing the page, I watched his face light up the screen- his brown eyes warm and laughing, a stark contrast to the somber look from the end of the video. I watched as he talked about his day, his love for music, his appreciation of movies and games. It was all so normal, so Noah. It was easy to forget, just for a moment, what the end of the video would bring.

Then came the shift, where his bright demeanour began to fall away, replaced by a solemnity that felt unnatural on his usually vibrant face.

"I have some news," he began, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of his words. Even though I’d already heard him say it, part of me still hoped the next words out of his mouth would be different.

"But before I tell you," he said with a long pause, staring directly into the camera as if he knew I was watching, “I want you to remember the fun we had. I want you to remember the laughter, the joy...how I always kicked ass at super smash," His voice wavered with a stiff laugh, vulnerable and raw.

"I want you to remember me as I was, not as I will be."

My vision blurred with tears as his gaze bore into mine through the screen. Pulling my knees to my chest in an attempt at comfort while sitting at my desk, I choked back the tears that threatened to spill.

His words, even though for thousands, felt painfully intimate; like we were alone in an empty world, sharing a private moment of heart-wrenched farewell.

The long-haired brunette continued, "If you're watching this, I'm dead."

The harsh reality of his words hit me again like a physical blow, the tears falling as saliva grew in my mouth, lips quickening.

I watched his face crumple with sorrow before he collected himself, taking a deep breath. An inked hand came up to rub his face, as though he was struggling with words.

"There's no easy way to say it," he said, voice trembling with held-back tears, "I've been sick for a while... I didn't want anyone to worry. So, I kept it to myself."

Taking my sleeve, I rubbed my eyes as he continued.

"But now..." His voice wavered, "Now, I'm gone."

I watched in helpless agony as he tried to smile through his tears, a raw attempt to offer comfort, that he may have needed more.

The image of Noah, smiling despite everything, was a painful reminder of just how much I had lost; what the people in his life had lost.

“And I’m sorry.”

And here he was, apologizing to us for dying.

His brave facade crumbled then, and he broke down, weeping openly on screen. Noah’s sobs echoed through the quiet room, filling the spaces between my cries. I wanted to reach out to comfort him, but he was no longer there…only his digital ghost remained, memorialized within the code.

"I don't want you to mourn me," he said, his voice merely a whisper. "I want you to celebrate me for the life I've lived, and not the life I've lost."

His words knotted in my chest, a cruel irony in the face of the anguish that strung me. How was I to celebrate him? When every fibre of my being felt shredded by grief?

"You’ve been my friends," he continued softly, “and in a weird way, my family. You’ve joined streams with me through my best and worst times. I read every comment, every message; you didn’t know it but you gave me strength and laughter when I needed it most.”

Tears welled anew in my eyes. The impact of his sincere words left my heart racing, and limbs warming in misery.

"I need you to promise me something," he choked out after a moment, his gaze unwavering from the camera.

I sniffed, wiping my eyes again, his plea holding an intensity that made it impossible for me to look away

"Promise me you won't let my story end with my death," he said, sharing a small smile.

His voice tremored, yet it was filled with a surprising steeliness. "Promise me that you'll remember the joy, the laughter... the love."

His eyes held a fervour that pierced my heart; a vow exchanged under the silent witness of testimonial sorrow.

"I want you to take whatever you’ve found in my videos. Every smile, every piece of advice- every Mortal Kombat combo,” He paused, swallowing harshly with a dismissed laugh. "I want you... I want you to live."

The weight of his words hung in the air like a solemn promise. Live. He wanted me to live, us - fully and completely

"Love generously," he whispered, "Don’t take being here for granted.”

Noah smiled, nodding towards me, “You are worthy, and you are cherished. You make an impact on this earth, whether you believe so or not. You have a purpose.”

I continued to sob as his words flowed out of the speakers, dancing through the room in a mournful ballad.

His brown eyes bore into mine from the screen as he tucked a strand of brunette hair behind his ears.

"But most of all," he added, his voice barely more than a whisper now, "I want you to know that even though I'm not physically here anymore, I'll always be with you."

His words wrapped around my body in a comforting hug, and I squeezed my knees closer to my chest. As I rested my chin upon them, letting the tears stain my jeans I shared a bitter smile with the man I appreciated more than life itself.

The finality of Noah’s message was there – stark and painful – yet beneath it was an underlying message of hope and resilience.

"Thank you," he smiled after a pause, wiping away his cheeks with the sleeve of his black hoodie, "Thank you for being a part of my journey."

The screen blanked as the video ended, leaving me alone in the silence.

A sense of loss washed over me, raw and broken, desolate and despondent.

I sat there for a while longer, holding my body as his words echoed in my mind.

'Love generously. You are worthy. You have a purpose.’

The sentiment clung to the edges of my consciousness, like a mantra slowly seeping into my being.

My steps felt heavy and slow when I found the strength to leave my room, each one an effort to move forward.

Grief was insidious like that, invading every thought and action with its hollow grasp, embellishing its roots deep beneath the skin of heartache.

Yet, was I allowed to mourn someone who was ultimately in the end, a stranger?

But when I crawled back up the stairs, into the safety of my room, I crawled into bed and let myself open his channel once again.

Unwanted tears welled up again as I glanced at the screen, scrolling through the various streams and uploads. For so long, it had been my window to Noah - his thoughts, his creations, his heart-warming smiles.

Now, it was merely a screen- the end of the illusion that I had been a part of his life, even though we were strangers separated by thousands of miles.

The digital veil was a beautiful thing; allowing us to feel a brief sense of connection- until it’s pulled away.

And although we were strangers, he reached out to us in his most vulnerable moment.

He had shared his pain, his fear, and ultimately his hope for those of us left behind.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, I hovered my thumb over another video title - 'Noah's Adventures: Ocean with the Boys’.

When I hit play, there he was. Alive. Vibrant.

His infectious smile tugged at my heartstrings as he pointed excitedly at the stunning sunset around him, knocking into his best friends. The brunette’s laughter filled my room, dispelling the stifling silence that had taken hold of my heart.

With every passing second of the video, I cried, my chest aching as my throat tightened with grief and pain- yet nostalgia and laughter as I smiled with him.

"Ya boy Noah here," he said with that familiar twinkle in his eyes, "Me and the gang thought a picnic would be a good idea,”

He then held up a container of sacramental bread, his bizarre favourite snack.

“I got jesus bones, Nick’s got the vodka.”

The chorus of laughter that erupted as Noah smiled cheekily into the camera left my heart aching at the sight of his friends- his family.

I mourned for them, too.

This was the Noah he wanted us to remember: full of life.

As the video drew to an end, the screen filled the brilliant hues of orange and purple splashed across the sky, as if painted by an ardent artist.

Noah looked at the camera with a serene smile.

"Life is a masterpiece," he said, out of breath as he stood upon the hill, capturing the water behind him, "Each day is a new brush stroke adding to its beauty.”

The video ended with a shot of the sky, Noah's laughter dancing into the twilight.

His last phrase lingered into the silence:

"Remember to appreciate it."

memento mori.

tags:

@thefallennightmare @xxkittenkissesxx @deathblacksmoke @nyxisnotok @anameunmusical

@sitkowski @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86

@whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13

@somewhere-diamond @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak

@darkmxgician @sprokat @thatchickwiththecamera @reyadawn @xserenax-13

@philomenie @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @blend-in-with-the-madness @rumoured-whispers

@anything-more-than-human @blacksoul-27 @sweetwombatpizza

[riverbutghost]

Stop The Pain

Pairings: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Even though you weren’t supposed to be on the field, you were. And you weren’t alone. You got a rookie under your wing, and that was fine until you got shot.

Categories: Angst/ Fluff, happy ending

Warnings: Graphic language, blood, wound, military stuff, sexual themes. Also, Medic!Reader.

The reader’s call sign is Pearl. I don’t know why.

A/N: This is my second fic and i’m over the moon with my first one aaaaggggh!! Anyway, happy reading lol, don’t forget to rb to support me :) still waiting for the day when someone’s gonna request something-but no complaining-

“Keep your eyes open, kid!”

You yelled over the storm, one hand pressing on his wound and the other trying to pull him by his arm. He was trying so hard not to close his eyes, but you knew it. You knew he was dying soon.

“C’mon, kid. Just a little, ugh, longer,” You huffed as the storm got stronger.

The mission was the hardest mission you’ve ever been to. And it was the first mission you had to use a knife to kill someone. A fucking knife. You were a medical professional after all, why would you need or use a knife to kill someone?

“I swear to God or whatever is above there-“ Your breath hitched and you stopped talking as a bullet pierced through your thigh. You pulled the rookie with you to somewhere safe, then looked at your thigh. It was bleeding.

Thankfully it wasn’t something fatal, but it still hurt. You looked at the kid, you were still holding him with one hand. You quickly retreated your other hand to his wound.

“Deep breaths, kiddo. You got this, I know you do.”

You checked your comm, but it wasn’t there. You suddenly started to feel helpless, useless.

“Shit, okay- you’re okay. We’re okay-“

He coughed blood, making you feel a lot worse.

“C’mon kid, just a little more, stay with me.”

He nodded his head but his eyes were blurring. You wanted to stop the war. It wasn’t fair.

“Talk to me. How old are you?” You said while trying so hard to stop the bleeding. You ripped your shirt, which was under your vest, and started pressing on his wound with it.

“I’m twenty two- this my first…” You nearly cried. this was his first mission, and he was dying. No, you said to yourself. You weren’t going to let him die, he had to live.

“You’re not going anywhere, buddy.” You tried so hard to reassure him, to let him know that he wasn’t dying soon. But he was.

“What the fuck?! “ You yelled when another bullet landed on the tree behind you. You wanted them dead, all of them. Fuckin’ terorists, you mumbled. Killing and torturing people, that’s what they fuckin’ do.

“Stay here, yeah? I’ll find a comm.” You told the kid. He nodded his head, trying not to drift away. You took his gun.

You stood up carefully, walked around the secure area that you found surprisingly. The area before you was almost empty. The keyword is almost.

You placed the sound suppressor on your gun, the rookie’s gun, and shot the enemy who was kneeling before a dead body. He didn’t even have a chance to look at you.

You quickly scanned the area and carefully kneeled down next to a dead body, which was wearing a balaclava. You figured it was someone on your team. You took the little piece and put it on your ear.

“Hello, is anyone there? It’s Pearl, I need immediate help. Please is anyone there?”

You were shaking now. You gripped your thigh, the pain making you more stressed than ever.

“Is anyone fuckin’ there! God damn it!” You yelled and stood up, going back to the rookie.

“Hey rookie, you good?” You swallowed the shakiness.

“Not- not a rookie. Soldier-“ He flinched and gave a shaky breath.

“Of course, just stay with me a little more, hm? ”

You were on the verge of tears now. No one was there. No one could help the kid. No one. You pressed your com.

“Please, I need help-“

A static voice came suddenly from the other line. You held your breath.

“Pearl, where are you?”

You relaxed a bit after hearing your lieutenant’s voice. He spoke in a cold manner, but you knew him. He was worried.

“S- Ghost, I don’t know I- We- The kid is dying- I-“

Your hands started shaking, your breath was limited. You tried to think about different things, but it was hard to do that in your situation right now.

“Are you hurt?”

“My t-thigh-“

“We’re comin’ , stay where you are ‘kay?“

You nodded your head stupidly. You looked down, the rookie was barely breathing.

“Hey kid, c’mon they’re coming!” You yelled and started tapping his cheek to wake him up.

He groaned but still didn’t open his eyes.

You were fully crying now. You didn’t know why were you crying. You’ve lost many many people in your life, some young some old, but this has never happened. Yes, you’ve shed a few tears but you’ve never felt like this.

“What’s your name, kid?” You wiped your nose on your sleeve.

He didn’t answer. You closed your eyes for a moment and when you looked at him, you checked his pulse with trembling hands.

He was gone.

Your shoulders dropped. Your eyes started producing more tears, if that was possible.

You gripped his dog tags and pulled them out. You looked at his name.

Theodore Moreau

You wipes your eyes then got up. No, you tried to, because there was a sudden pain that made you whimper and fall down again.

You had forgotten about your thigh.

You held your thigh, but your head was pounding. You weren’t sure if that was because of the shot. It was because of your panic attack.

You needed your Simon.

You cried harder at that thought, feeling selfish. But you needed him. Maybe he wasn’t thinking about you like that, but after that night you were sure you would talk to him about your feelings. Because losing someone was so easy at this point.

You closed your eyes, gritting your teeth and holding your wound.

You tried thinking about something else, something that would take you away.

You drifted away.

-

Simon was nauseous.

He was panicking inside, but didn’t show a single emotion on the outside.

Were you shot? Were you wounded? Did you need him?

He was angry.

Angry at Price for making you fight with the enemy. Angry at Soap for leaving your side to fight someone.

Angry at himself because you probably needed him and he wasn’t there.

Gaz looked at Price.

“Where are they? What if they’re both dead-“

“What? No way, yer aff yer heid.”

Simon shuddered at the thought.

“She’s not dead, Kyle.” Simon’s cold voice was heard. He had an authority, making Gaz shut up.

“We’ll look this way, and you’ll look thay way, got it?” Price spoke suddenly. Everyone agreed and went down the paths.

Simon thought about the first time he felt a thing towards you. It was three months ago.

-

You were cleaning Simon’s wound.

He was super close, you were super close. He was looking at your eyes while you were looking at his bicep. It was a sight.

You were a sight.

“You’re staring, Simon.”

His heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name. It suited you.

How sweet would his name be if you moaned it. Just for him-

“Simon.”

He cleared his throat.

“Sorry, had a rough day.”

You smiled at him. That sweet innocent smile.

Fuck, he thought.

“It’s okay.” You continued working on him, your touch gentle.

“Am I hurting you?” You asked him with genuine concern.

He gulped.

“No, you’re not.”

You smiled again. He was feeling lightheaded all of a sudden.

“Well, that’s it. Come again if it starts to bleed, Simon.”

He sighed and nodded. You stood up from the medical bed, and washed your hands.

Simon wasn’t sure if he was okay.

“Simon are you sure you’re okay?” You asked him while removing your white uniform, which was something like an apron.

“I’m, yeah. I’m okay. I’ll just leave,” He stood up quickly.

Your face fall. Did you want him to stay?

“Okay, uhm…” You cleared your throat.

“Do you mind me coming to your room tonight?” You asked him innocently. His pants were tightening.

“What?” He found himself asking.

“Y’know, to- to look at your wound. If that’s okay for you?”

He was sweating now, wanting nothing more than taking off his mask.

“Yeah, yeah that would be okay.”

You licked your lips. He sighed. Don’t, he wanted to say. Don’t do that.

Your gaze fell to his pants, making him more uncomfortable. Your breath hitched and you gulped.

Your eyes met again.

“I’ll come tonight.” You said breathlessly. He nodded.

And he couldn’t wait for the night.

He was right to feel that way. Because he felt like he was born again that night.

-

“Ghost?”

He turned to Soap, shaking the images of you from his mind.

“Yes sergeant?”

Soap pressed his lips tighter than before.

“I know you care about her.” Simon felt claustrophobic all of a sudden.

“I-“

Soap held a hand for him to shut up.

“I know. And I know you’re my superior and I have to respect you, but you were super loud, Simon.”

Simon gave a slow breath. Soap cracked a smile.

“And I know she cares about you too. I saw how her breath hitched when she saw you on the treadmill.”

Simon smirked. But his smirk fell when he realized you weren’t with him. You were in God knows where, and he was talking about you and him and your relationship with Soap. He gulped.

“Focus, Soap. We have to find her.”

Soap nodded.

“We will.”

-

“Pearl!”

You immediately opened your eyes and looked around frantically.

“Oh my God! You’re alive.”

Price sighed and looked at your form.

“Price, I’m sorry. Couldn’t save him.” You said while trying so hard not to sob. He gave you a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay, he knew it was going to be a hard mission. He was a real soldier.”

You smiled weakly.

“Let’s get your wound cleaned up, yeah?” You nodded and let them take you to the truck.

“We’ll meet the helicopter in a second, Pearl.”

You nodded and clenched your jaw. The pain was starting to feel unbearable.

“Where is Simon?” You asked Gaz, who was holding you at the back. He scratched his neck.

“I’ll inform them.”

He held his comm.

“We found her, meet us in front of the heli.”

“Roger that.” Came Soap’s voice in a second.

You closed your eyes, finally feeling relaxed. You weren’t sure if you’d be mentally relaxed though.

-

-

-

You felt like an absolute shit when you woke up. You didn’t wake up because of the beeping or anything, you woke up out of nothing.

“Simon.”

Simon shifted his mask, you assumed, and turned around.

“Y’good?”

You nodded and swallowed.

It was pitch black other than the little lamp near you on the nightstand and it was comforting.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have been on the field in the first place. It’s our fault, and I’m sorry.”

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault, Simon.” You smiled reassuringly at him.

“It’s not gonna happen again, don’t worry.” Simon said while looking at the floor.

You put your hand on his, which was on your side.

“It’s okay, I got shot. Accidents happen.” He clenched his jaw.

“Not to you,” He said your real name in the end. It made you shiver.

“We lost that kid, sadly. What if that was you? I would’ve never forgiven myself.”

Your expression fell after the mention of the kid. You suddenly felt disappointed again, at yourself.

“I want to give his dog tags to his family.”

He reached out for your face, gloves already off. He stroked your cheek and you suddenly felt touch starved.

“Okay,” He mumbled, words vibrating his chest. You blushed.

“Don’t do that.” His hand found your lips, caressing them softly.

“What?” You said, meaning it.

“Don’t blame yourself.” You sighed.

He moved his hand to your chin and caressed there softly too. He was making you forget things, and you weren’t complaining.

“Can I see you?” He stopped caressing your face and took a deep breath.

“You don’t have to!” You suddenly said.

He took his mask off in a second. Your mouth was hung open.

“You’re really pretty, Simon.” You bit your lip, tilted your head. He felt his heart beat faster.

“Knock knock knock!! Pearl!”

A sudden voice was heard and Simon quickly put on his mask.

“How is our little Pearl?” Soap’s sickly sweet voice came in, behind him was Captain Price.

“I’m really good, actually .” You smiled at them softly then made eye contact with Simon.

“I’ll need assisting for a while, though.” You said mischievously. Soap laughed at that.

“Well, you sure need it.” Price said looking at Simon.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” Simon rolled his eyes then got up.

“I gotta go, I’ll see you tonight?”

“You will.”

Simon got out, smacking Soap’s head on his way out. Gaz came in a second later, making you stop your chit chat.

“Well, that was disgusting. But I guess I won the bet!”

You rolled your eyes while laughing at their antics.

You couldn’t wait for the night.

Just like 3 months ago.

That was so rushed. I hate it tbh but this is my second fic and I’ll improve. I just feel like I can’t sum up my fics? Whatever, please like and rb if you liked it!!

[nanaloveswo-men]

FEEL LIKE I AM HUMAN

CHAPTER - 1

wc: 2.2k

prologue

Pitch black engulfed the house, everyone already fast asleep, except the two siblings. The night outside was quiet, the only sounds that could be heard coming from the room in the middle of the hallway. 

"Madara, I'm going to tell you this again, I'm not sure if our supplies will last much longer than a week, we need to back off now." For a moment, the moonlight illuminated Madara's expression, and you were sure that you got a glimpse of tiredness, or even sadness passing in his eyes. 

You would never be sure though, after all, the room was still covered by the dark of the night. 

"As I said before, this is none of your business, so do not worry. We will back off when I told so." You sighed loud at his response, tired of this discussion, but most mad that he couldn't just hear you. "Let's end the night here, ok?" 

Madara never asked anything, he didn't need to. He was the head of the Uchiha clan, if he wanted anything, he would order, and he would be obeyed. Still, he had a sweet spot for his siblings, so for you, his only little sister, he would ask. Even beg, if it was necessary. You could just trust your big brother because he was going to fix everything up. 

"Madara, I sew, each one of our soldiers every day, I see them dying, suffering, crying, for so many years that I can't even count now." You approached him, your voice weak and low, almost whispering. "Of course this is my business, as you say, they are my clan, my family!" 

In the silence of the night, Madara could hear the break in your voice, actually, he swore that he was hearing your heart beat. Loud and rhythmic, his own heart answering, loud and rhythmic. 

You couldn't bear this anymore. You weren't a fighter, since a child, you were raised to be a princess, the pretty little sister of the clan.  Still, you had chosen the medical camp, happy to be of any support. Happy to help your people, happy to help your brothers.  

At this point, this war was meaningless to you, why put so many lives on the line of death when you were gaining nothing in return? For some kind of pride? Past unresolved fights?  

"Madara, no one is going to be mad at you if you accept Hashiramas's offer, trust me, everybody wants to end this. Please, think. Think about our future, not about the things that happened in the past. Please, I'm begging you." You whispered, but he stood in silence. You turned away from him, you didn't want him to see the tears almost spilling from your eyes. 

Madara tensed. In fact, he did want to accept Hashirama's offer. Just like everybody else, he didn't want to keep this war, but would he be weak if he did so? What about the sacrifices the Uchiha clan made along the war, what about the people that trusted him? Honestly, he wasn't sure about what he should do.  

This situation was sad, you and Madara weren't the ones to fight, but now, you couldn't come to an agreement. "I'm sorry" he finally said.  

You left the room without giving him a second look, but instinctively, you knew that he would be still in the same position, standing in the middle of the room, the weight of being the Uchiha leader trying to bring him down. 

… 

'Need to clean this mess.’ You thought looking around the nursery. Everything was out of place, and the trash can was looking kind of nasty, full of blooded tissues, used needles and other things that you didn't want to look at. "It's filthy" you whispered to yourself, trying to fill the silence on your mind.  

The nursery was full, looking at the floor, you could see a bunch of men laying on the futons while a couple of medical ninjas were checking on them. Still, the place was quiet, 'almost dead', you thought.  

From time to time, you could hear some of the man moaning from pain, other times, you could see the medical ninjas whispering to each other. 

Thinking better, probably the nursery was full of noises, just on your mind that was totally in silence, impeding your ears to hear the fuss of the afternoon.  

The sound of glass breaking took you out of your mind, quickly, your body turned to the entrance of the tent. Madara entered the nursery, almost knocking someone over and breaking some medicines on the way. 

"What is happening?" you shouted, adrenaline already running through your veins.  

Then you noticed. Izuna passed out by Madara's side, blood running down his legs. Both brothers' faces were pale, but at least Madara was still with his eyes opened. 

For a moment, you thought that Izuna was gone, he had lost much bloody, his body was cold, and he was white as a ghost. But you were a medical ninja, and you would never give up on your brother's life. Never. 

Madara was sitting outside the tent, his head was up, eyes looking straight into the horizon, but he wasn't seeing anything, hearing nothing, for a moment, he even stopped breathing.  

Izuna was dying. Izuna was dying.  Izuna was dying. Izuna was dying.  Izuna was dying. Izuna was dying.  Izuna was dying. Izuna was dying.  Izuna was dying. Izuna was dying. 

Suddenly, a hand touched his shoulder, taking the leader out of his trance. 

"He is going to be fine. Izuna will live." You said, tears rolling down your face. 

… 

"I need to tell something." Madara said one morning during breakfast.  

Izuna and you looked at each other, silently asking if the other knew anything about what the older Uchiha was talking about.  

"I discussed with the elders, and we decided that it is better for the clan that I accept Hashirama offer of peace. It's time to finally end this war."  you gasped, almost choking on your food. You looked over at Izuna, and he had the same reaction as yours. Obviously, he didn't know anything about this sudden change either.  

Over the last few weeks, Izuna and you were out of political business, Izuna because he was still recovering from his injury, and you, well, because you were a woman, and the elders didn't like to share any information with you. Still, good news were good news. 

"You can't say this from nowhere!" you said, smiling almost reaching your ears. Your heart was beating fast, just like that night, but now not because you were mad, but because you were excited, happy, proud.  

"I can't believe you took this decision without me! I'm the second on command, you should have waited for me!" Izuna shouted, pretending that he was angry, but both you and Madara could see through his behavior.  

Madara laughed at your faces, quickly returning his attention to his plate.  "Just eat your food and be happy about it". Even though he hadn't said anything directly to anyone, you knew that almost losing Izuna had made Madara think better about this war. He couldn't lose the future of this family because of the past. 

'I'm proud of you' Madara could read on your eyes. 

... 

"Elder brother, I don't think we should trust the Uchihas that easily. Their clan is marked by hatred, pain and blood. You should think better about your decision."  

As always, Tobirama was trying to put some sense inside his brother's head, but just like every other time, Hashirama wouldn't listen to anything at all.  

Just like everyone else, Tobirama wanted to free the Senju clan from the war, but still, he wasn't sure if they could trust the Uchiha, not because he had something against their people, but because he didn't trust the power they held. 

Hashirama smiled, patience as always. "I'm happy that you are worried, but we don't need to fight anymore, you'll realize that when our alliance starts to grow. " Tobirama frowned at this, not happy to be turned down by his brother. "For now, you just need to trust me." 

Just like in any other time, the young Senju would trust Hashirama, hoping that things wouldn't get out of control (of course, Tobirama would never let that happen). Now, he was going to do everything he could to construct the village his brother always wanted to create, even if he was with the Uchiha clan.  

"This isn't going to end well, elder brother" he warned one last time. 

… 

Reunions, reunions, and more reunions. The following weeks were full of political meetings. You weren't part of them, but your brothers would they you the gossip of the day by the night, when the three of you were having dinner. 

Usually, Madara complained to about how Hashirama was an idiot, and he was surprised that the Senju clan was still alive with him at the lead. Still, you could see in his eyes and in the smile, he tried so bad to cover that Madara actually liked the other man. 

But above all the topics Madara liked to complain about, definitely his favorite was about Tobirama. Apparently, 'he is a pain in my ass, he always has something stupid to say, and other things to cry about to Hashirama', the Uchiha leader said one time.  

It was dark by now, and you should probably be sleep by now, but you couldn't help but continue sitting at the table while hearing Madara complain about the last meeting he had with the Senju brothers.  

"I guess he really doesn't like this Tobirama." You whispered to Izuna.  

"You know, I think he's still being nice considering the circumstances." He said back. 

But you didn't understand. You looked confused at Izuna. Madara had the right to hate all the Senju's, but why the specific hate towards Tobirama? 

"He was the one who stabbed me." He explained after looking at your confused face. 

All the color run out of your face. Okay, you didn't know that. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to talk about this." You whispered, feeling guilty pool at your stomach. 

Even though things were good now, since Izuna was injured, anyone had discussed the incident, just pretending that nothing had happened. But you knew that happened. Sometimes, when you were alone, you could still feel Izuna's blood on your hands, the iron smell confusing your senses. 

Izuna took your hands in his, and only now you noticed that you were shaking a bit. "It's okay, I'm good now." He smiled. "My ego is hurt now that you thought that I was so weak that I would die by the hands of a Senju." He said with a smirk on his face. 

"Sorry, you were so pale that I thought that you were dead and a ghost already." You teased. 

"Nah, I wasn't that bad." 

"Yes, you were." 

"Stop!" 

You laughed at him, and Izuna showed his tongue back to you. 

"What are you two doing?" Madara asked, amused by your childish behavior. 

"Nothing!" You answered in unison. 

... 

"It's huge!" Your cheeks were already hurting from the big smile stretching on your face. "I can't believe we're going to live here" Madara was also smiling, happy that you liked the place Hashirama and himself were so proud of. 

You looked around, seeing from the top of the mountain, the wooden houses that, from little to little, were forming the new village. On the left side was the Uchiha district, and on the right side was the Senju part. "Did you and Hashirama already think of a name for the village?" you asked, returning your attention to your brother. 

Madara paused for a moment, looking straight at a big tree. "Hidden Leaf Village." A strong wind passed by the two of you, swinging Madara's hair, letting you see the light in his dark eyes. 

"I love it, it's pretty." You smiled. 

… 

Tobirama sighed for what felt like the tenth time. Almost ten minutes had passed since Hashirama dragged him by the streets of the Leaf, and he still had no idea where they were going. 

"Don't worry" his brother said, and he wasn't worried, but for sure, he was stressed. Finally, they stopped in front of what would be, in the future, the hokage tower. 

Tobirama frowned. "What are we doing here, elder brother?" He could here hear talking coming from inside the building, and he didn't like what he was listening, it almost sounded like it was Madara's voice. 

"I want you to meet someone." And Hashirama entered the place, leaving Tobirama with no other option besides entering the building too. Just like he predicted, Madara was there, with Izuna. 

"Like I was saying to you, before, this is my younger brother, Tobirama" Hashirama presented him. 

"Nice to meet you" A woman appeared from behind Madara's back, offering him a nod and a shy smile. 

You looked at the man standing in front of you. He was tall, with a weirdo gray (or white? You couldn't decide) hair, a shit expression, and three cute little red marks adorning his face. 

So, this was the infamous Tobirama Senju. 

tag: @thenightperson

[the-writer-ofthe-fandoms]

Silent Cosmos (Edward Cullen) (Ch. 2)

Pairing: Edward Cullen x GN! Mute!Reader

Words: 4.0k+

Warning(s): Intense car accident scene (its a nightmare/memories. involves blood, gore/body horror), mentions of minor character death/parents dying, swearing, anxiety/stage fright, bullying at Forks mentioned but no scenes depicting it, edward watches MC sleep lmao

A/N: Here is chapter two! I really like this one personally. There is a lot of just narrative, but a good amount of dialogue too. I enjoyed writing the Edward and MC scenes :^) I hope you guys like it too. Taglist is at the bottom.

Series Masterlist

"Bright Star, while thou thy lonely way

Pursu'st in yon expanse of blue,

Thy gem-like form and steady ray

Attract the heedless peasant's view...

...And fancy whispers in mine ear,

That those who once were here beloved,

To friendship and affection dear,

Now from this fleeting scene removed,

Repose, bright star, in thy ethereal sphere."

-- William B. Tappan, "To the North Star"

---

You sigh as you look at several outfits you laid out on your bed. It was Saturday and you spent much of your time getting the last few things unpacked before tonight. The former captain, the firefighters, and the sheriff decided to throw a party at the station for your uncle. Being his immediate family, you had to attend. Your eyes lingered on an outfit that would look nice but would also be comfortable and casual.

As you started getting ready, you began recalling the week you had at your new school. Like Emmett promised, he looked out for you in gym. Apparently, some of the students thought it would be funny to try and target the new kid in the various games the teacher had the class do. Emmett stayed by your side, helping catch dodgeballs or watching your back for 'stray' balls from volleyball. He was easy to get along with. You appreciated that he was more laid back and seemed to always have a smile on his face.

You met Jasper in history. You sat next to him with Alice on his other side. He was tense and looked like he was in pain. You wanted to express concern for him, but recognized through your own experiences dealing with chronic pain from your accident that it can be annoying to have people ask if you're alright. So, you gave him a smile and as the week came on you two were friendly. Alice helped with that of course.

Alice was already treating you as if you both had known each other for years. It was overwhelming at first, but you found that her bright smile and eagerness to talk with you endearing. She has already offered to take out for a shopping and lunch day several times, which you may take her up on next weekend if she were to ask again. You appreciated her friendliness.

You met Rosalie during lunch and met her a second time by your locker; hers and Emmett's were next to yours. Edward had managed to convince you to sit with them the next day after your first. She absolutely, drop dead gorgeous and you couldn't help but stare. You remembered the tense glare she gave you when you sat with them and you almost wanted to bolt out of the cafeteria. Her face softened though when Emmett whispered something in her ear and place a quick peck on her cheek. Still, she almost kept her distance from you and made very minimal steps in engaging in conversation.

The Cullen children were nice. You would be a fool if you couldn't tell there was something amiss with them. They all had matching eyes gold eyes though you noticed by the end of Thursday a few of them had nearly pitch black eyes. There were also times when Alice would stare off to space or Edward would laugh under his breath at nothing. You remember one day you brushed your hand against Edward's as you both reached for his fallen pencil, and you noticed how cold his skin was.

But, despite the discrepancies you've picked up, you liked them. They actually sought to engage in conversation with you since they could under stand sign. Their eyes never lingered or blatantly stared at the raised scars on your neck, not even when you first met them.

That's not to say everyone else ignored you. You had some students talk to you with the help of Edward or any of the other Cullens that lingered around you, but, you could tell quite a few were hesitant in speaking with you. You could feel their curious eyes stay on your neck until yours met theirs. You were used to that from your old school, though at least most of the people here were polite.

There have been a few mean comments and some weird rumors spread about you already. Most of them revolved around you being with Edward for most of the school day. You only heard their directed comments towards you in the morning before first period, when you weren't with a Cullen. You paid it no attention. Some remarks hurt, but as long as they didn't outright say it to your face or harm you, you let their remarks roll off your back.

You applied finishing touches to your look for tonight's party as you concluded your recount of your week at Forks High. You looked in your full body mirror, smoothing our creases in the fabric before approving of what you picked out for yourself. You wondered how the party was going to go. Your uncle, Robert, and your aunt, Phoebe, were bound to go off and converse with others.

Were you to just follow them around or would you stay in a corner until the night was over?

You close your eyes and sigh deeply.

You heard your aunt call your name downstairs.

"It's almost time to go, honey!" She yelled. You open your eyes and give yourself one last glance over in the mirror. You put on a tense smile before leaving your room, heading downstairs.

"You look great." Phoebe smiled, bringing you into a tight hug. You look at her and gave her a thumbs up. She looked good too, her dress fitting her nicely and her makeup was minimal but still beautiful.

When you first started living with her and your uncle it was almost too much. Phoebe looked so much like your mother, her sister. It took a few months to not see your mother in her, but thankfully your brain, despite the trauma you experienced, started registering her as Phoebe. You two have been close since.

"You look good too. That dress is always a good choice." You sign, smiling at her.

"I'm glad you told me to hold onto it. I can't believe I considered getting rid of it when we packed." She laughed and did a small twirl.

You heard a wolf whistle and look over to the stairs at your uncle, who had a cheeky grin as he stared at his wife.

"You look stunning." He winked to your aunt. He then looked at you with a smile. "You look great too. I like what you did with your hair."

"Wow, you actually know how to dress up, Rob." You chuckle, teasing him. Robert was a big believer in comfort and practicality over looking nice so it was rare to see him in something stylish like this.

"Oh ha ha." He said dryly but kept a smile. He glanced down at his watch and his eyes widened. "Shoot, we got to get going. I don't want to be late to a party thrown for me."

---

There were a lot more people at the fire station than you were anticipating. You expected the crew and their families and the sheriff maybe, but this was a lot more than that. Forks is a small place, maybe this was a rare event here. Regardless, you were glad to see many welcome your uncle to Forks and to the station.

It had been about fifteen minutes since you and your family arrived. You had met all the other firefighters and their families; met Sheriff Charlie Swan and his daughter Bella, who you recognized from your history class; and met various of other Forks citizens who came to meet the new captain. A few familiar faces from school floated around at the station too, though you only met three that were children to the other firefighters.

You glance to the large clock on the wall and glanced to your uncle, who was with the former captain. They were getting ready to go to where a microphone was placed in the station for a welcoming speech in about 10 minutes. You were standing idly by you aunt as she conversed with a few of the wives of other firefighters. Even if you could comfortably speak, you wouldn't know what to even talk about with these women. Your aunt discussed her career as a nurse while the others talked about their jobs.

You heard your name being said behind you by an all too familiar voice. Your face brightened with a small smile when you saw Edward. Next to him was a man and woman you've never seen but could tell they were also Cullens by their golden eyes.

"I didn't expect you here." You walked up to him, then glanced at the two with him.

"My father is the chief physician in Forks so he was invited." Edward gestured to the blond man.

"Hello, I'm Carlise." He offered his hand.

"And I am Esme, Edward's mother." She also offered her hand. You shook both, noting how cold their skin was. "Alice is around here somewhere, probably talking with Bella."

"Nice to meet you both."

"It's nice to meet you too, Edward here has talked a lot about you." Esme grinned, a teasing look in her eyes. You saw Edward give her a embarrassed look which made you silently laugh.

"Ah, the man of the hour." Carlisle grinned and step forwards. You jump a little when you see your uncle's arm from your side. You didn't even hear him approach with your aunt in tow.

"You must be Dr. Cullen." Your uncle grinned. Immediately your aunt and uncle and Edward's parents fell into an easy conversation, leaving just you and Edward.

"Are you having fun?" The bronze haired male asked.

"It is nice. I've mostly been following them around." You gesture to your guardians. "I am curious about the refreshment table though, so I may head over there."

"Would you mind some company?" Edward tilted his head slightly, his lips upturned into a small smile. You give him a nod and start making your way over to the food, he followed close behind.

One thing you picked up is the Cullens drew attention no matter what. You can see people's eyes linger on you and Edward. You noticed their stares when you met his parents. And if you could find Alice, you were sure people's gazes would linger. You got used to it in school, but it seemed more awkward when it appeared many people outside of Forks High had their focus on them.

"Everything alright?" Edward's voice was soft as he spoke.

"Yep." You give him a tense smile as you reached the table, looking over the contents.

'I just wish people here didn't have staring problems. Who cares if they look good?' You thought as you grabbed a small plate and started picking up things you liked. You swore you heard Edward chuckle next to you. You look back to him and gesture to the spread as if you were asking if he was going to eat.

He held up a hand and shook his head. "We ate before we came here."

You nodded and quickly ate what you picked out.

Right as you finished your last bite, you heard tapping through the speaker. Looking over to where they set up a microphone you saw your uncle and the former captain of the station. You throw away your plate and keep your spot next to Edward.

"Thank you everyone for coming!" Theodore, the former captain, greeted. Everyone clapped and a few people let out loud 'whoops.' "We are here today to welcome Robert Kennard to the station, our new fire captain."

Your uncle waved and smiled.

"Forks welcomes you warmly, despite the constant cold weather." Many in the crowd softly chuckles at Theodore's words. "And I can speak for the crew in that everyone looks forward to working with you." The former captain steps back from the microphone, letting your uncle step up.

"Hello! Thank you guys for putting this on." He laughed and raised a glass of what you assumed was champagne. "I was concerned at first. When I got offered the position while I was still down in California, I was worried about moving my family up here... starting a new life. However, their support has been unwavering and here we are now."

You heard him call your aunt's name and your name. You froze.

You could see your aunt make her way up to him but you were hesitant. It wasn't that you didn't want to support him, but you weren't sure why a sudden rush of anxiety hit you. You take a step forward but pause.

"Are you alright?" Edward asked softly, his thick brows furrowed as he leaned forward, maintaining eye contact.

You purse your lips and give him a subtle shake of your head. You saw him look confused for a split moment before his facial expression went back to concerned.

"Would you like me to walk forward with you?" You nod at his suggested. He nodded slowly with a small smile and placed a hand between your shoulder blades. Gently, he pushed you forward and guided you to the front. His form stayed next to yours as you moved through the people to get to the front of the small crowd.

When you got close enough to your uncle, you felt Edward's hand leave your back as you kept walking forward. You glance back over your shoulder and saw him waiting at the front, his golden honey eyes never left your form. You flanked your uncle on his right while Phoebe stood at his left.

"To my lovely wife Phoebe, thank you for encouraging me to take this step in my career. Your support has me falling in love with you every second." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. People in the crowd aww'd. "And to you," He looked to you with a smile full of fondness. "Your support towards mine and your aunt's careers has been so appreciative. Raising you as if you were my own has been such a treasure, thank you." He then hugged you tightly before turning to the crowd. "Thank you guys for having us here."

The people attending clapped and cheered. You smiled at how warm the welcoming was, though that feeling of anxiety still lingered. The three of you stepped away from the microphone as the former captain came up to give a final few words. You glanced around for either Edward or Alice, but saw them both in conversation with Carlisle and Esme.

You take a deep breath and excuse yourself from your family. You weave through bodies and made your way outside. The cold air immediately nipped at your face as you wrapped your arms around yourself. You walk over and lean against your uncles pick-up truck.

You look up to the night sky and smile. It seems like the constant cloud cover pulled back enough for you to see the stars and moon. You felt giddy at just how bright the stars looked. You felt at ease now. You felt comforted under the night sky.

'Ah Polaris, my old friend.' You sigh contently when you found that bright star shining brightly in the inky black sky.

"Are you okay?" Edward's voice startled you. You jumped a bit and looked back at him with wide eyes, your heart felt like it was racing wildly in your chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"No worries, I assumed nobody would come outside." You offer a friendly smile, keeping your eyes on him as you felt yourself begin to ease.

"Parties aren't... my thing." He joined you, leaning against the truck. "Carlisle asked me to come along."

"I'm not big on parties like this either. I like smaller get togethers."

There was a brief moment of silence before he spoke again, repeating his previous question. "Are you okay?"

You exhale, your breath visible in the air.  "Yes. Just felt overwhelmed and wanted space."

"Ah. I can leave then."

"You can stay. I know you after all."

---

Edward smiled sincerely when you told him he could stay. Even though Alice and Esme did point out you left out and made comments for him to follow you, he chose to join you on his own. He wanted a moment of peace away from the other humans... and he wanted to explore your mind more.

He tried peering into your thoughts again as a comfortable silence washed over the both of you. Ever since you sat next to him on your first day at Forks High, he attempt to discern your mind. He was still confused at the presence of such a detailed cosmos that lies in your thoughts and how it wasn't always there.

Edward noticed he could always hear your thoughts when you communicated with him or others. However, outside of that he never was sure if he would be hearing your voice or viewing that space. He picked up you weren't aware of this. Nothing you ever did or said gave him any reason to suspect you were purposely putting up this galaxy to block him out. He also kept track at how the galaxy would coincide with your emotions. When you were stressed about going up to your uncle earlier, he could almost feel heat against his mind. He could see how bright the sun residing in the middle had gotten until he was pushed out, which was another thing he noticed.

It was like the galaxy was trying to keep him at arms length from you; always forcing him away from peering too deep into your mind.

Edward shifted his eyes to looking at the sky like you were doing, but his focus was purely on your thoughts. He saw the familiar galaxy once again and this time, it was the most serene he has ever seen it. The sun at the center, still bright, was calm. He didn't feel heat pushing him out. He just saw stars, planets, and various colors around. It was peaceful. Compared to the many thoughts from the party goers back in the fire station, this was nice.

Edward felt welcomed in this vast cosmos.

The scene melted away rather than push him out, causing him to look at you. You were now staring at him with an unreadable gaze.

"Do you know any constellations?" You asked him. It didn't take reading your thoughts to know how excited you were at the prospect of discussing this with him.

"No, I don't." He lied. In the 1970s he spent some time studying the stars. "But I take it you do? Can you tell me?"

"Sure!" He could barely contain the large grin threatening to form on his face at how excited you were.

He could hear your thoughts in tandem as you signed. You would tell him the constellation name and then point it out in the sky. You'd lean close to him, your arm barely brushing against his, as the the other raised up to the sky. He'd subconsciously lean in as well, easily finding said constellation on his own but he let you help him 'find' it. You hadn't mentioned to him before how much you adored stars, but it came to no surprise to him after seeing what goes on in your mind.

Showing him constellations came to an end when neither could see more through the lingering clouds. That didn't stop you from pointing out the brightest star in the black sky.

"The North Star represents guidance and direction." You explained to him. "For hundreds of years, it provided guidance to anyone who needed it in many ways."

'It helped after the accident.' Edward heard from your thoughts. It had him curious and he tried delving more but all he saw was space and felt heat keeping him at bay.

"You must really like stars." He smiled gently.

"Yes, I've been drawn to them since I was young. My dad was into anything space related, so I guess that's were it came from." You smiled, though the vampire could see a certain sadness lingering in your eyes. He then saw you shiver and immediately started shrugging off the coat he wore. "Wait, you'll get cold, Edward."

"Don't worry about me. I will be fine." He spoke softly, his lips upturned. He placed the coat over your shoulders and you gingerly slip your arms into the sleeves.

Confusion briefly flashed on your face. 'I expected some warmth. Ah well, this is still nice.'

Edward had to contain his chuckle at the thought that slipped through.

"Do you still want to stay out here for a few more minutes?" He asked.

"Yes, just a few more minutes."

---

It was near midnight when Edward slowly opened your bedroom window. He felt some guilt as he waited for you to finally fall asleep, but his interest in your mind hand him wondering what he would see when you were unconscious. Would that galaxy appear to him when you were asleep, or would he have full access to your dreams?

He easily slipped into your room, leaving the window open. His eyes scanned around at the various posters you had placed on the walls and the decorations lying around. He saw one half unpacked box in the corner then shifted his gaze to you, tucked under your covers in a deep slumber. There were a few plushies in bed with you and he couldn't contain a small smile when he saw one on the floor. Carefully and silently, he walked over and crouched down. He picked up the stuffed cat and leaned over, setting it aside next to the others. He found himself back near the window and zeroed in on your mind.

He saw a grassy field and a woman sitting on a blanket. He heard high pitched giggles from who he assumed was you as you ran around. It was clear he was seeing your memories. You were running, squealing, and giggling in what Edward could make out as a park. You glanced behind yourself as you ran and could see a man chase after you. He could make out the similarities in his face with your current face. Suddenly, you tumbled and hit the ground with an 'oof.' Your father immediately helped you up and sat you on his knee.

"Aww, poor baby. Are you okay?" He cooed.

"Yeah! My leg hurts, but I'm fine!" You giggled. Your father held your leg and your focus was now on your bloody knee.

"Hmm, you must of snagged it on a rock. Lets get you back to momma, my little nova." You were lifted up and Edward watched through your memories as you were brought to your mother on a picnic blanket.

Suddenly, he thrown into a new memory. He suddenly felt dread in his being.

It was dark.

He could hear what sounded like a car blinker non-stop clicking. You groggily blink and Edward started making out that you were upside down. He heard gargling and pained noises come from you. Your eyes barely focused but he started making out you were upside down in a car at night. He can see bright lights from the front and shards of glass. Then he sees all the blood and what looked like a severed arm on the ground. It was attatched to a feminine hand with a gold band on the ring finger.

"Sweetie? Oh God..." He sounded in pain and like he was crying. Edward then heard your name from your father. "Nova please answer me. Fuck, please."

You responded, but it wasn't a word. It sounded like you tried to say daddy, but it came our jumbled and wet.

"Nova-!"

Suddenly, all Edward could hear was a high pitched noise. It was the same he heard when Alice replayed her vision to him. A blinding light filled the car.

Then, it was that same galaxy. However, it was turbulent. He could see planets shake and stars dim. A sun, larger than ever glowed brightly before an eruption from the Sun's atmosphere blasts out and hits hum with intense heat. He stumbles back as his vision is back in your room, right as you woke up gasping for air.

Without you catching him, he was out of your room and in the forest. His eyes were blown wide and if he had to breath, he knew the wind would of been knocked out of him at all he viewed. He felt the sting of venom-tears fill his eyes.

"Fuck..." He muttered and sat down on the forest floor. His fingers carded his hair before he clutched tuffs.

---

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