#I'm not nearly as devastated as I expected to be

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

The Bad Batch Finale Spoilers

Was that a Happy Ending? In Star Wars?!?!

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Demon King Headcanons

You have accepted the Demon King’s marriage proposal!

I wasn't planning on writing a second part, but some of you gave me ideas and I decided on short headcanons instead. The image of a big, buff, evil Overlord lovingly doing house chores for their human was too tempting.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance

[Main Story]

The proposal, as you quickly found out, came as a surprise to everyone. Not even the King’s loyal butler knew of such intentions; he’d assumed they were finally going to destroy everything and everyone at once. To him, the dramatic scene of you and his Lord enveloped in flames was anything but a romantic confession. It was your final battle. So one might imagine the poor lizard’s confusion when the Demon King returned with you following behind. “S-sir?” He questioned meekly. The armored creature nodded at his servant. “It has been done. We’ll plan the wedding upon our arrival home.” The what? His baffled expression must’ve given him away, because the Demon continued: “What’re you gawking like that for? Didn’t I ask you earlier how humans forge a bond?” The butler stumbled to search for his words, swallowing dryly. “Well y-yes, your Majesty…I just didn’t expect it to be anything more than curiosity.”

The same speechless reaction repeated itself all the way to the Kingdom. Soldiers, diplomats, other monstrous entities of the unknown Land, they all greeted you in disbelief. So much, in fact, that you began to poke fun at their hesitant response: “I am his mortal enemy”, you’d announce with a dramatic bow. “Spouse! We talked about this!” the Demon Lord would quickly correct you, flustered.

Truth be told, you're not quite sure what made you accept this ridiculous offer. Perhaps a mixture of intrigue and disillusionment. The city you've dedicated yourself to stood no longer, burnt to a crisp along with its corruption and crookery. In a way, the monster had unshackled you from a responsibility you no longer wanted to bear. And if that wasn't enough to convince you, well, the sight of the Ruler himself kneeling before you certainly sealed the deal.

Although it may take a while for you to accept the idea that your worst adversary had actually been infatuated with you this entire time. Were there even any hints? During your last battle you nearly died. You'd crawled out of an enormous crater on your fours, bones shattered and ligaments torn. When you pointed this out to your groom-to-be, he stared at you in horror. "I had no idea humans were that fragile. I was trying to adjust my strength so as to not do any harm." You could only nod, patting away the sweat beads forming on your forehead. Uh huh. Maybe it's better you didn't experience his full range of attacks.

Ever since the devastating revelation, he's been extra careful when handling you. Sometimes he'll awkwardly hover his large hands above you, with a concentrated frown on his face. "What the hell are you doing?" you ask, eyeing him suspiciously. "I'm trying to be gentle." he'll answer. "You're not even touching me." Fair point, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

The Demon King will often ask you about customs from your world as a way to make you comfortable, just in case you get struck by the occasional homesickness. His Realm is very different from what you're used to, after all. Lamentably, his own years spent in the human world were not too fruitful from a cultural point of view. He was either busy stalking you or devouring the souls of the innocent. Now that he has nothing else to worry about, he will gladly listen and even do his best to actively participate.

You wake up shrouded in thick smoke. Overwhelmed by heavy déjà vu, you rush down the grand stairs, searching for the source of the fire. Are you being attacked? Enemies of the Demon King? You elbow yourself against the kitchen door, similar to when you left your home to find the city ablaze. The Demon Lord turns to face you, visibly overwhelmed and exhausted. You gawk at the scene unfolding before you and remember to close your mouth, mainly out of politeness. "It's too small. I'm afraid I cannot use it", he reveals timidly, holding a human spatula between his fingers to showcase the impractical size difference. You glance at the disastrous attempt behind him and manage to deduce he'd been trying to make breakfast. In an unspoken agreement, he steps back and allows you to take over.

"I'm surprised you let him burn down the kitchen", you mention to the butler once you get a moment to yourself. The scaly servant sighs, and theatrically lifts his clawed hands in hopelessness. "Pointless to argue with him when he's like this, (Y/N). In my entire life serving the Family, I've never witnessed a more stubborn leader." He points to the lavish portraits adorning the walls with a faint smile. "And, to put it frankly, he's obsessed with you. I've never seen him in a more deplorable state. Marrying a human?! The shame, the outrage!” he cries out. “No offense intended to you, of course. You must understand." You hum in agreement, a tad uncomfortable, yet sympathetic. "M-maybe it'll tone down after the wedding?" you suggest as encouragement. "Oh, no, I suspect it will only get worse", he bemoans in return. Then, he promptly straightens his back and resumes his duties.

You go on your own way, not wanting to burden the lizard in his work. As you cross the hallway, you find the Demon King himself scanning each room, somewhat agitated. He notices you and his features soften. "I was wondering where you'd vanished." You approach him with the words of the butler still ringing in your ears.

[entitled-fangirl]

A sigil of mine.

Summary: the reader is taken from Winterfell while Cregan is at the Wall. He's a vengeful man.

Warning: kidnapping, dread, guilt, blood, scars, branding, talks of torture, our boy Cregan embodying Joel Miller when Ellie gets taken in the Last of Us

This one is dark

A/n: based on an ask! Also, fuck the Lannisters

I'll proofread later🫡

Masterlist

..............................................

"Lord Stark! An urgent letter has arrived from Winterfell!" A brother of the Wall yelled over the sound of the harsh wind that roared through the icy halls.

Cregan turned his entire body to him, a sudden pain in his stomach. What could be so urgent?

Cregan nearly rips the letter from the man's hand as he nears. The letter is stained with a dark red in places and he feels himself choke a little.

Lord Stark, Winterfell is under attack. By the time you read this, I will be long gone. I tried to protect the Lady as best as I could.  It was an honor to serve under House Stark and see you become a man. Please forgive me. Maester Tinedel

Cregan's hands shook violently as his eyes roamed over the paper another time. Then once more. His jaw set harshly as he looked up to the man that had brought such devastating news. "When did this arrive?" He growled lowly.

"Just this morning. Is it dated by any chance, my Lord?"

Cregan flipped the page and surely enough, the old maester had been wise enough to do so.

The air in his lungs escaped, creating a cloud in the cold air.

"Three weeks now."

The man stared in confusion at Cregan's sudden distress. "Is everything alright?"

Cregan crumpled the paper in his fist. "Ready my horse."

The brother of the Wall shook his head, "My lord, it is the bulk of winter. You can't possibly leave in such conditions. And you are not properly pack-"

"Ready. My. Horse. I leave within the hour."

The Warden of the North stormed away, a heaviness in his step from the sudden weight on his shoulders.

…

Cregan had always thought the travel to the Wall and back took too long on a good day.

Now, he was a mere bundle of nerves trying to tie what he could to his horse.

It would take too long. Whatever happened had happened and he wasn't there to save them.

To save her. 

He knew the guilt would eat his alive no matter how long it took him to get back. 

Surely another letter would arrive soon if things had turned for the better, but he wouldn't wait for that letter to show. 

The odds of one never arriving were too high.

"Are you certain of this, Lord Stark?"

He turned to the stable master with the hint of unshed tears in his eyes. "I'm not sure of anything. But I must return home."

The stable master nodded in acceptance, "And you're really not going to take men with you?"

Cregan huffed in frustration. "I cannot take men from the Wall. Their war is here. I cannot ask them to fight my own war as well."

"My lord, you're fighting both wars. Surely you can allow for some assistance."

Cregan hoisted himself up onto his horse. "I cannot promise when I'll return. But, should everything be righted, I will write back."

"If I may?"

"Yes?"

The man heaved a long sigh as placed his hands on his hips. "I wouldn't wish this feeling on my worst enemy, my lord. May the gods be with you on your journey and at your arrival."

Cregan bits the inside of his cheek. "Thank you."

With that, Cregan clicks at his horse, and the long journey began.

…

As expected, the journey was grueling. The cold was killing him from the outside in, but the constant need to stop and warm up was killing him from the inside out.

He couldn't even eat without thinking of the blood that stained the letter.

He couldn't sleep without thinking of the screams of his wife as another man's hands laid on her.

Even in the best case, the horror was too much to bare.

Despite his initial crumpling of the letter, Cregan kept it stashed away in his few belongings, smoothing it out and reading it every night before sleep consumed him. 

Just to crumple it again.

…

Despite the journey taking a usual two to three weeks when the weather was obedient, Cregan made it back to Winterfell in a week and half.

The consistent shiver to his bones only spurred him faster. 

He had plenty of time to consider his plan, should he truly be in need of one.

And now was the time to use it. 

…

Winterfell laid still. 

Cregan had expected fire and battle. A sound of swords clashing and men roaring.

Quietness was worse.

He had managed to get through the bulk of people with his hood up and his usual dire wolf cloak long abandoned. 

For in this moment, he was no Stark. 

He was a vengeful man.

He managed to sneak into the walls of the very place he should have been highly welcomed in.

For such a burly man, he was deathly silent. His boots made no sound on the stone floors, and his breath was so low that it may be thought that he didn't breathe at all.

He stood outside of his own chamber that he shared with his wife. He reached up and his hand faltered against the wood of the door. He couldn't dare open it.

"Oh, Lord Stark! Oh, thank the gods!" A female voice shrieked in relief.

Cregan flinched at the sound, turning on his heel to see the woman. His wife's handmaiden. He relaxed a bit.

"Oh. Sorry, milord. I didn't mean to frighten you. It's just I didn't know when you would return. Or if you'd return at all. And I-"

"Where is she?" He quietly interrupted.

The handmaiden stiffened and her face fell. "I… I dunno."

"She's not here?" He dared to ask.

She wrung her hands nervously. "You don't… you don't know?"

He tried to hold back his frustration. "Are they still here?"

She shook her head. "Left not long after the attack. Left just a few of us to pick up the pieces."

"And my wife? What happened to her?"

She let the silence set. 

He sighed in frustration and his hand moved to the chamber door.

"I wouldn't, milord," she warned.

He threw her a glare and dare to step in.

He should have listened.

The room laid in disarray. The furs from the bed were thrown on the floor. The furniture was moved, an obvious conflict had occurred. But that's not what Cregan's eyes moved to.

It was the scraps of clothing that were strewn across the room in various places. Some bloody.

His jaw went slack and he knelt down and picked up a strip of the cloth. Stark blue. 

His thumb rubbed at the fabric. He knew it well. His favorite dress on her. 

"They came in the early morning." The handmaiden spoke from the doorway. "Lady Stark had just gotten dressed for the day. I was… I was braiding her hair at the vanity when…"

"When..?" Cregan questioned. 

"It happened so suddenly. The screams."

He stood. "Who did it?"

"House Lannister."

Cregan took a deep breath. "Is she dead?"

"Milord-"

"-Was she slain by a Lannister?"

"No. Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

"They took her. She could be dead now, I dunno. But they took her alive."

He felt a bit of relief move down his spine. "When you last saw her, she indeed was drawing breath?"

"Yes."

"Then that's enough for me. And Maester Tinedel?"

She tilted her head back and forth. "He lives. But barely."

He kept the fabric in his hand. "Take me to him."

…

"My Lord!"

"Please, don't get up on my account." Cregan stood at the elder man's bedside. "You're still healing."

The maester relaxed and leaned back against the headboard. "It takes more than a blade to change my loyalty, dear Cregan."

"You've been with me since the day I was born, old man," he teased. "And still you defend me when I am not there."

"There has been no greater honor."

Cregan pulled a chair to his bedside, sitting down. "Tell me what you remember."

"It's not a pleasant story for you, my lord. But very well." He leaned back in thought. "I was in my chamber. It was morning. I heard sounds from the corridor and I dared to go venture out. I defended as much as I could, but an old man is no match to young men with longswords. They took the lady from her room. As far as I know, they still have her-"

"-Do you know where they are now?"

"I'd assume they moved back to Casterly Rock. I have reason to believe that you have been betrayed by one of your bannermen, my lord. How else would they have gotten through the North so quietly?"

Cregan considered the man's words, running a shaky hand over his growing beard. "Who?"

The maester grunted as he sat up further. "I could hardly guess, my lord.

"Whoever it is, I'll murder him where he stands."

…

Gathering men together quickly was not a difficult task for Cregan.

Many men had skin in the game of thrones, and equally so, most were loyal unto death for their lord.

While most banner men would have answered a call to war, there wasn't enough time to gather an army while he was there, leaving the job to one of his closest bannerman, the Lord of House Bolton.

His mind laid in constant worry. 

…

In time, the men made it to Lord Reed, the last of the Northern Lords before being out of the North entirely. 

"'Tis truly a shame of what happened to the castle," Lord Reed said as he ushered Cregan further into Greywater Watch. "Any ideas of who might have done such an act?"

He shook his head, eyeing Lord Glover next to him. "No. No, we haven't. Hence why I don't have an army behind me."

"Well, that's understandable. Whoever did such a crime should be punished by all the gods alike, sneaking such an ambush like that."

Cregan nodded, "Yes, yes, they should. I thank you for housing us on such short notice."

Reed forced a smile. "Of course, Lord Stark." He continued moving down the hall. "The North would never sit by while a Lord's wife was taken from him."

Cregan's foot faltered. He paused completely. His voice was low. "I never said my wife was taken."

Lord Reed froze in pure fear at his mistake.

And he was shoved against the wall with Cregan's wolfish growl in his face. "Where is she?"

Reed gasped and fought against the man, but was no match. "I… I don't know what you mean, my lord… p… please.."

Cregan pulled him away by the throat to hit his head against the stone wall again, repeating himself. "WHERE IS SHE?"

Reed sputtered and groaned at the pain. "I… They didn't tell me… I swear…. I swear that to you."

"Your word means nothing to me." Cregan looked over his shoulder to Glover. "Write back to Winterfell. Tell them Lord Reed is dead."

"…My Lord?" Glover faltered.

"Tell them."

"Aye, my lord."

Reed shook violently in Cregan's grip. "I swear. I swear! I don't know! Please!"

Cregan leaned into the man's face. "You're gonna tell me what you do know. Aren't you?"

…

"Fucking Lannisters!" Cregan's voice roared through the Watch. "Get Glover. We're leaving now."

"My lord?" One of the men asked.

"Do what I said."

"Aye."

"May house Reed learn from its mistake."

…

Little did Cregan know yet, Loreon Lannister's brigade had been stopped by the Blackwoods, just shy of Lannister territory. 

The young Lord Benjicot Blackwood had rode out to meet them when word was sent of a brigade sneaking through his land. 

He raged at the sight of a terrified woman clad in a Stark blue dress. He vowed that the Lannisters would not see to their land should they refuse to surrender the woman to him.

Hence the small battle that had commenced.

But that was two weeks ago. 

Cregan looked over the land, the blood still staining the grass. "Think they made it?"

Glover hummed. "Lord Benjicot is a formidable enemy, I've heard. Wouldn't want to anger that boy in the slightest."

"Thank fuck!" A voice yelled over the field.

Lord Benjicot rode his horse out to the group in a fast trot. He spoke when he got closer "Knew you'd be quick but I figured it would be another few weeks."

"Don't underestimate angry northern men," Glover grimaced.

"Or Blackwoods, it seems," Cregan chimed in, looking over the field. "I believe I'm indebted to you in some capacity."

"Don't speak too soon, Lord Stark," Benjicot smiled. "You haven't asked how we faired."

Cregan's brows furrowed. "And how did you fair?"

Benjicot's smile grew. 

"We have her."

Cregan reached a hand out to steady himself on his horse from the sheer relief that swept through his body. "Gods…"

"Fucking bastards should have journeyed by sea if they were smart. Should've known that any ally of the Queen is an ally of mine."

"You have her then? In Raventree Hall?" Glover asked what they were all thinking.

"I do."

Cregan voice recovered. "Take me to her. Please."

…

"My lady?" One of the Blackwood handmaidens spoke up.

Y/n looked up at the woman. 

The faint hints of scratches and bruises were still on the lady's skin, but she had been given time to heal due to the Blackwoods' bravery. But regardless, the tremor in her hands remained. 

"I've been sent to inform you of a visitor that will soon be arriving."

Her heart leaped from her chest. She found herself moving more to the window and peering out. 

Cregan.

The man and his horse moved as one. It had always impressed her. 

Her sluggish behavior left the second he came into view. 

Not caring for her shoes, her cloak, anything, she ran past the handmaiden quicker than her feet could move. 

Tripping and stumbling along the way, ignoring the pain, she finally made it to the large doors of Raventree and bolted out of them.

Cregan had just pulled his horse to a stop when he caught sight of her.

He couldn't remember actually getting down from his horse he had gotten to her so quickly.

His strong arms held her to him in a vice grip, his hands indecisive of where to stay- her waist, her back, her hair, the constant need to feel her wholly gripped him.

Equally so, her arms wrapped around his neck firmly, as if to make sure he was real. 

"Fuck. Don't ever do this again," he sighed as he placed his chin on the top of her head. 

She sobbed lightly against his chest and her hands gripped his cloak so tightly her knuckles turned white. 

"Are you hurt?" He asked in worry. 

She hiccuped through tears. 

Cregan pulled her away, cupping her cheeks so he could study her. "Speak to me, pretty girl. Where are you hurt?"

She hiccuped again. "I… I'm fine."

"Where did they touch you?"

"Cregan…"

"Where?"

Benjicot had caught up at that point. "I wouldn't say they were delicate with her, Lord Stark. Most of it is faded, but the ones on her arms are rather nasty."

Cregan never looked away from her, keeping her eye contact. He tilted his head down, silently asking to gaze at her arms.

He hesitantly pulled her sleeves up and gawked slightly. 

Green bruises still remained at her wrists, no doubt from dragging her along. He tried to ignore the faint scabs from the scrapes that laid in various spots. 

"They did a number on you, didn't they?"

She looked at him fearfully, beyond nervous for his reaction to all of this. 

Benjicot spoke up again. "You've no idea." He placed a steady hand on the woman's back, ignoring Cregan's protective glare as he did so. "You're safe here. Why don't you show him?"

"Show me what?"

She turned to look over her shoulder at Benjicot, "Must I?"

Cregan was growing frustrated. If there was one thing he hated, it was no knowing things. "Show me."

She hesitantly nodded, and Benjicot stepped up to her, untying her bodice from the back. Once he did so, he spun her around to have her back face Cregan. Then he gently pulled down her sleeve until her right shoulder blade was exposed. 

A Lannister sigil was burned into the skin. Ugly scarring around the marred flesh. 

Her head was hung in shame as she stood there, avoiding eye contact with everyone. 

Cregan's hand came up to brush the skin achingly slow. He couldn't find words. 

Benjicot broke the silence. "Amidst this, there is good news."

"I guarantee there isn't," Cregan growled back quickly.

"I have Loreon Lannister under my care as well."

Cregan's head snapped to him. "What?"

"The man is in my dungeons, Lord Stark."

Cregan's hand moved up to Y/n's hair, brushing it aside to fully view what was exposed of her back. 

But his eyes couldn't move from the brand.

"Inside, you say? Still breathing?"

Benjicot let out an amused chuckle. "I refused to take that privilege from you."

Lord Stark's hand brushed her shoulder again. "I fear I owe the Blackwoods more than I own."

…

Not long later, Cregan stepped into her room. 

She turned her head towards him.

Cregan was covered in blood.

She stood suddenly. "Are you harmed?"

His brows furrowed, looking down at himself, as if forgetting all he had done. "Oh. None of it is mine."

"You killed him?"

Cregan sighed and shut the door. "We'll not discuss this now."

"Cregan-"

"-No. Don't ask again."

Her face fell a bit. She moved to the window and sat again. 

He watched her. "Forgive me. There's still rage in my heart."

"Still? Is it because of me?"

He faltered. "No. No, of course not." He rubbed his chin. "You did nothing wrong."

"If I had journeyed to the Wall with you that day, would you have been as angry if Winterfell was attacked?"

He paused as considered her question. "You know the answer."

She hummed and looked out of the window.

He followed her gaze. "Forgive me for taking so long."

"I watched out this window."

"I know you did."

"What if Benjicot hadn't have found me?"

He sat down next to her. "He did though."

"But what if he hadn't?"

Cregan dared to reach out and pull her hair aside, tugging her sleeve down to see the brand again. 

She finally turned to look at him with teary eyes. 

"I'd rather not think about those things," Cregan answered softly.

"Will you wash yourself, please?"

He paused, remembering the blood all over him. "Sorry, sweet girl. I didn't realize that would bother you so much. I will, I promise."

She looked back to the window. "Will we go home soon?"

Cregan stood to go to the washbowl across the room. "We will in time."

"What's stopping us, Cregan?"

He didn't have the heart to actually say that it was her. "Be patient, my girl, alright?"

…

Benjicot walked with Cregan down the corridor. "I apologize that I did not manage to capture Lord Jason. That will haunt me."

Cregan shook his head, "You've done much for the North. We'll not forget this act of kindness."

Benji grinned, "The North remembers."

"Indeed."

"Tell me something, my lord?"

Cregan nodded.

"What did you do in those dungeons?"

Cregan sighed, crossing his arms over his  chest. "I wouldn't want you to think differently of me, old friend."

Benjicot shook his head, "Nothing could do so, Cregan. You've seen me rather bloody. It's only fair."

He paused and considered his words, carefully phrasing himself. "A part of me hopes that his son doesn't find out what I've done to his father. It was almost too much to bare."

"What do you mean?"

Cregan pulled his dagger from his belt, running a hand over the blade. "I'll have to sharpen this later, if you understand what I'm saying."

Benjicot nodded. "I believe I do. But more context might be beneficial."

Cregan leaned forward and spoke lowly. "The dead man wears a sigil of mine in return."

The Blackwood's eyes looked down to the dagger and back to Cregan. "I see."

"If there truly is life after death, my friend, I hope he lives the next with my reminder."

"Surely, he would. I'd say you were merciful in ending him regardless."

…

Cregan rubbed her thigh absentmindedly as the maester inspected the brand. 

"It's healing well, but as you can imagine, it will leave behind a nasty scar."

Cregan clenched his jaw at the thought of his own wife living with a lion burned onto her. "No risk of a fever?"

He shook his head. "A clean burn like this rarely risks such a thing."

"Well, the north thanks you for your work."

The maester excused himself.

Since finding her again, Cregan had a difficulty understanding what she was going through. She was bottling everything up, he could tell. 

"Sweet girl?" He asked gently, continuing to rub at her leg.

"Is it ugly?" She responded quietly, her eyes fixed on the floor.

Cregan wasn't sure what to say to that. "It looks painful. Is it?"

She hummed, eyes still anchored. "It didn't hurt as much as the laughs."

"They laughed? While they did this to you?"

She nodded. 

Her hand moved up to pull her sleeve back up, but Cregan was quick to stop her, placing his hand over hers. 

She looked up questioningly.

"You're as gorgeous as the day I met you." His other hand moved hair behind her ear. "And as beautiful as the day I married you. As well as when I left for the Wall this winter." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek gently. "You're just changed is all."

"But the-"

"-Yes. Yes, it pains me to see it. But not because of what it is, but because you were hurt and I did not defend you as I should have."

Silence fell over them until she spoke up.

"Tell me I'm yours."

Cregan froze. "What?"

"I need to hear it. To really know."

"Well, you are. You know that."

"Please, Cregan."

Cregan stood from the bed, rounding it until he was behind her. He reached out and brushed the brand again, trying to ignore the shiver that went down her spine. "You're mine."

The words relaxed her, her shoulders moving down.

Cregan placed his hands on her shoulders, gently massaging them. "You belong to the Warden of the North." He grinned. "A vile and vicious beast intent on killing anything that nears it. Almost anything."

She smiled lightly, the first one in weeks. "And what is that one thing that the wolf likes?"

"A pretty she-wolf that brings down his defense."

One of his hands moved to the back of her neck and she all but melted, her head leaning back now. 

He continued this for a while, letting the silence sit, but he soon leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to the marred skin of her shoulder. 

"You're mine." He kissed her shoulder. "And I don't need a brand to prove so." He kissed behind her ear. "You know who you belong to, don't you?"

"…you, Cregan."

"Hmm?" He feigned. 

"You."

He smirked and nipped at her ear. "And who is that? Tell me."

She turned as much as her injuries could allow. Her voice softened as his eyes gazed into hers. "Cregan Stark. I belong to Cregan Stark."

"And I do to you, pretty girl."

He closed the distance, placing the softest kiss he'd ever managed onto her lips.

When they pulled away from one another, she spoke. "Do we get to return soon?"

He nodded, twirling her hair between his fingers. "Soon. I'm only waiting for Lord Bolton to arrive with the men."

"Th… what?"

He puffed out his chest in pride. "I don't do well with spoiled southerners. Bolton is riding an army to the border of Lannister territory, with Benjicot's permission, of course."

"An army? You can't start a war over me."

"I didn't start anything, my love." He kissed her again. "I only finish it."

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[slayfk]

I just saw your post about western North Carolina. I've been following the situation (mostly through social media) and I'm devastated. This part of the country has always been one of my very favorites to visit (I'm in Georgia) and I want to help if you know of any mutual aid or organizations? I donated to the Red Cross but thought I would ask if you had any suggestions. I'm so sorry this is happening to y'all

i included resources and donation links at the bottom of this post

the great smoky mountains (appalachians) are the most visited national park in the united states, having received over 13 million visitors in 2023. despite this, its residents are hated or at least largely ignored by the majority of the united states. they are portrayed as hillbillies and conservatives that deserve nobody’s time. this is far from the truth. appalachians have been mistreated by the government and general populace for generations. they are given next to nothing and expected to be able to survive that way. it’s disgusting.

everyone who is not from appalachia , i recommend reading more about just how much it and its residents has been abused by the united states government. even reading through the wikipedia article on the social and economic stratification in appalachia can be helpful in understanding how fucked up this area has become due to the abuse of capitalism. i urge everyone to do some research on the coal mining industry when you have the time. not many people know just how bad it really was, and just how much it’s affected the mountains and the people in them.

here are some interesting articles i found on a quick search:

“Coal Mining in Appalachia” by The Moonlit Road

“A History of Appalachian Coal Mines” by Kenneth Lasson

“Coal’s Legacy in Appalachia: Lands, Waters, and People” by Carl E. Zipper and Jeff Skousen

“Nearly 60 years after the war on poverty, why is Appalachia still struggling?” by Dr. Abigail R. Hall Blanco

“Human Rights in Appalachia: Socioeconomic and Health Disparities in Appalachia” by Evan Smith

“Passive, Poor, and White? What People Keep Getting Wrong About Appalachia” by Elizabeth Catte

“Culture, Poverty, and Education in Appalachian Kentucky” by Constance Elam

[star-har]

nightmares

| satoru gojo x reader | fluff |

gojo is dreaming - at least he thinks he is. it all feels too real; the weight of your collapsing body in his arms as you cripple to the floor; the warm gush of blood leaking from your side, staining gojo's skin like a nightmare; the sound of your heart coming to a dull throb where he presses his fingers to your pulse.

"stay with me, baby," he whispers into your hair, dragging your nearly limp body down where you're concealed from prying, dangerous eyes.

"you can do it, stay with me."

"is everything okay?" you barely manage to speak around the knot in your throat, clutching onto gojo's shirt like a lifeline.

the sheen in your eyes tells gojo you already know what's happening. knows your heart hasn't stopped because of gojo's lips on your skin. but you remain in denial, searching gojo's gaze for confirmation that you'll be okay.

"you're okay," gojo mutters immediately, quick to comfort the frantic look crossing your face as you turn to look at your bleeding side. "fuck— you're okay." he's not sure who he's talking too; the raging voice in his head or the love of his life draining away without him.

he tries to hold them in— the tears. digs his teeth hard into the inside of his cheek to drive the burn behind his eyes elsewhere- anywhere. but god is it difficult to maintain his composure, with you like this.

"i'm not going to die, right?" you whisper the words, tone desperate and hopeless, silently urging gojo to meet your stare.

"no- no." he says the words firmly, as if the mere thought of you living today will manifest this reality to diverge it's path. but even then, gojo can only hold in so much. "fuck, no baby. you're going to be just fine— just hold on. nanami will be here soon, just please—"

the first tear falls when gojo meets your stare, defeated and utterly devastated to find the previous presence of fear and despair vanquish from your eyes.

instead, gojo finds understanding. understanding as you come to terms with what's happening, come to terms that this will likely be the last time you'll ever see your husband's face again because nanami is still fighting the special grade, hands full. he won't be able to help.

and gojo hates it. he loathes it. how you've accepted your fate before gojo can even comprehend what's at hand- your beautiful life.

"stop— stop looking at me like that. please." he begs, turning to bury his face into your neck. he doesn't want you to see him cry, not now- not when this may be your last... "stay with me. please. don't leave me, baby. you're all I have left."

he chants the words like a mantra, urging the universe to hear his pleas, begging to the gods he'd never cared for to save the one person who made his life worth living.

it's hopeless, he knows this. but he can't help it.

"it's okay, "toru," you whisper with a smile, a hand sliding in his hair to urge him to meet your gaze.

"everything's going to be fine. don't worry."

he believes you. every single limb in his body does. you could tell him the world was ending and he wouldn't hesitate a second before shipping you off of earth. you could tell him that he was dying and he'd spend the last few expecting minutes kissing you for however much time he could.

it's only natural his body responds this way— because you're you.

but fuck— it hurts. hurts because everything in him is screaming it won't be okay, but he can't show you that.

not when you were always being okay for him.

so he only holds you close, peppering kisses into your hair before your heart manages to wring its last few beats.

ーーー

gojo snaps awake with a gasp, throwing himself abruptly out of bed as he clutches his sweat-drenched shirt, fisting the fabric to his chest as he attempts to calm his racing heart.

a dream— that's all it was. right?

he reaches for you across the bed, seeking the warmth of your body and the steady thrum of your heart— only to be met with cold.

your side of the bed is empty, sheets ruffled - cold.

"baby?" he climbs out of bed, being met with utter silence.

he stands there for a moment, clutching his fists by his side, silently urging for any sign of you to present itself - a floorboard creak, the soft hum to a song as you prepare tea, your cat's paws scratching the floor as it follows you aimlessly in your wake.

nothing. not a sound.

usually, gojo likes the quiet. likes warming up with you on the couch as he dozes off with you reading on his chest, likes brushing your hair as you sleep soundly - that's the only quiet he can stand.

his heart crashes to a halt, a ringing sound reverberating through his ears, growing louder with each repetition. the walls seem to squeeze him in, trapping him inside.

it had felt so real, his supposed dream, that he begins second guessing himself. he's always confused dream with reality, once waking up from one with your baby sleeping in his arms to find with a break of his heart she had never existed. it felt so real, so gutting- like now.

it was a dream— it had to be. it was. because fuck

-

"toru?"

your voice — that's you.

his gaze flies from his shaking hands to find you at the doorway, frowning up at him, your cat purring soundly in your arms, asleep.

gojo acts quickly. in two, long strides, he's got you in his arms, tucking your frame into his chest and away from the rest of this cruel, undeserving world.

"satoru?" your voice drips in worry, your cat clambering away from your embrace before you return his hug with your own desperation to learn the reason behind your husband's abrupt reaction. "what's wrong, love?"

gojo shakes his head slightly against your neck, finding the consistent beat of your heart against his chest like an angel's melody to his soul.

"just stay-" his voice shakes, wrapping you too him impossibly closer, heart to heart. "don't you ever leave, y/n."

you realise quickly what's happened- gojo knows this because of how you're hand has fallen beneath his shirt, gliding your smooth palm along his back in comforting circles, smoothing fingers over the scars that lay there.

he knows you, more than he ever could anyone else. knows the slightest shift in your voice means you're upset, knows when you walk slower it's because you haven't slept.

knows when you come to trace his scars, it's because you want to ground him. want to show that you're real— you're here and you're not leaving.

"I'm here, 'toru," you whisper into his shirt, placing a kiss where your mouth meets his shoulder. "i'm never leaving. never."

he hums a weak mhm into your body. "promise?"

"oh, baby," you whisper. "of course. you could never make me leave. love you too much too do that. promise."

he believes it. every limb in his body does. it's only natural.

after all— you're the one truth that gojo finds won't ever fail him.

[barcaatthemoon]

your best girl || alexia putellas x reader ||

You comfort Alexia when she returns after the Olympics.

18+

Everybody had a job. You had nearly forgotten that with the craziness of the Olympics. Alexia worked hard to be the best captain for her country that she could. There was only so much that her on-pitch presence could do. Their issue was at the coach's level, and the team suffered because of that. Alexia had only come back to you a couple days early after being knocked away from the medals, and that was where your job started.

It was always difficult gauging the amount of space to give Alexia. You understood how devastating a blow it was, having lost the chance for a medal at your first Olympics. Back then, you had wished that someone would have helped you pick up the pieces of yourself, but instead, you tried to brave it all on your own. Alexia wasn't like you, and that was where you apprehension about talking to her came in.

The thought of smothering Alexia and pushing her away haunted you constantly. You needed to do something to show her that you were there for her that wasn't over the top of dramatic. And so, you dropped as many little hints that you were just waiting for her to come to you. You thought for a moment that you'd end up driving yourself mad waiting for Alexia, but the silence and tension in the apartment only lasted for a few days at most.

"What is all of this?" Alexia asked as she stood behind your desk chair. You tried to turn, but Alexia was holding you forward. You could feel her lean down a bit, reading over your analysis of the games for work. "You've been busy."

"Never too busy for you though," you told her. Alexia dropped her hands from your chair, finally allowing for you to turn and face her. "I'm glad to see you up and around a bit."

"The bed felt a little cold, and I know that it's not really a big thing, but I was hoping that you had some time to join me," Alexia said. You nodded, quickly saving the small additions you had made to your analysis paper before shutting your computer down and following Alexia into the bedroom.

It looked like she had been cleaning a bit before she came to get you. The nest of blankets that Alexia had created to curl up and wallow in was now dismantled. She had tidied up her laundry from the floor and made the bed, which you knew were big steps. Aside from that, you didn't let the candles on the bedside table or the songs from your R&B sex playlist playing.

"How exactly am I helping you warm up the bed?" you asked teasingly. Alexia played it innocent as she sat back on the bed. She patted the spot next to you, and you all but rushed over to join her. Sex hadn't been on the table for you mentally when Alexia got home, but you were a bit relieved to not be waiting weeks like the last big loss Alexia had faced.

You didn't understand how someone so amazing could get down on themselves so easily. Alexia was under immense pressure from fans, but it was nothing compared to what she put herself through. You felt guilty learning from those around Alexia that it only got worse when you came in the picture. In your eyes, you were washed up and spat out by the game, but Alexia held you in the regard that some had during your prime.

"I did have a couple of things in mind. I think that I need a little reminder of who I am." Alexia ducked her head down until her face was tucked into the crook of your neck. She was being shy, like she was ashamed of really asking for what you wanted. Still, you completely understood wht she needed. It wasn't exactly what had become your normal, but you were still definitely up to reminding Alexia that she didn't have to win everything in order for you to love and cherish her.

"I get that you need this for what happened in Paris, but forget about football and the Olympics completely. Right now it's just the two of us. I am just me, and you are just you." Alexia struggled to take your words to heart at first, but that was expected. You were used to this little speedbump, but it was the most important part of everything in your eyes. "You love me despite the fact that I haven't worn a jersey of my own in three years. I'll love you even if you never put another Spain or Barcelona jersey on again. I'll love you when the day comes that your body can't handle the game anymore, and I will take care of you when you inevitably push yourself too far again. Do you know why?"

"No," Alexia answered. You turned her face so that she was looking at you and you only.

"Because I did not fall in love with Alexia Putellas, the footballer. I fell in love with the woman who doesn't know how to tread lightly, so she wakes me up at odd hours every single time that she gets out of bed. I fell in love with the woman who goes out of her way to take care of her community and everybody that she cares about. I fell in love with the woman who runs into the arm of the couch every single morning because she's too busy watching me walking into the kitchen. I fell in love with you because of what I saw off of the pitch," you told her. Alexia was blushing deeply, unsure of what to do with praise in that sense.

"I just wanted to win and make you proud. You got this new job after working so hard these past couple of years to learn Spanish. You're doing so much, and what have I done to compare?" Alexia confessed. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Alexia was constantly doing things that often made you feel a bit inferior, so it blew your mind a little to hear that Alexia had been feeling this way too.

"Ale, you are the best soccer player in the world. I'm only here because I gave up and called it quits. You're doing amazing things all of the time. You're the best in the world, and let's face it, I wouldn't have gotten my foot in the door if I wasn't your girlfriend. I could have worked and worked and worked forever, but they wouldn't have cared." Alexia's face changed from its formerly soft expression to a hardened one. "I'm not here to argue about my achievements with you, I'm here to remind you that this one setback won't define your worth."

"Just you wait, they'll be referring to me as (Y/n) (Y/l/n)'s girlfriend. Hopefully one of the better ones," Alexia said. She sounded so confident and sure of herself that you had to believe her.

"You'll always be the best one. Hopefully you'll also be my last one," you told her. Alexia leaned in and kissed you, slowly pulling you on top of her. You let the kiss progress naturally, neither of you pushing things too far without the other pressing equally as much.

"Take this off," Alexia requested as she started tugging at the hem of your shirt. You sat back and started removing the pieces of your clothes that Alexia asked you to. In turn, she briefly moved you off of her lap to completely undress herself. The tension in the room thickened a bit as she laid down again, legs spread as you stood at the end of the bed.

"You look unreal," you muttered as you moved onto the bed. You didn't want to leave Alexia waiting. Alexia didn't want to wait either, guiding your head between her legs without any ounce of hesitation. You could see that Alexia was already wet. She wasn't soaked but still undeniably wet.

You didn't have a chance to tease Alexia. She guided your face to her cunt, movements on the cusp of being pushy. Alexia was almost always in control, and she doubled down whenever you were topping. She didn't want to wait around or be teased, Alexia wanted to cum. You still had your chance to revel in the taste of her, even if it wasn't in the same way that she got to with you.

It didn't come as a surprise to you to have Alexia grinding her hips to move against your tongue. She didn't seem to want your fingers at all, working herself up on just your mouth. You loved it, loved knowing that you could make Alexia feel so good with just a few simple movements. Topping Alexia gave you a rush that you'd be riding for the next couple of days, until Alexia felt up to the task of "putting you back in your place."

"I'm so fucking close. Don't stop, please don't stop," Alexia swore. She wasn't usually one for pleading, but you'd take it. Her hands were gripping your shoulders tightly, nails digging in as you savored every drop of her that you could. Alexia let you continue with the strokes of your tongue past her first orgasm, only pushing you away after the second. She rode one high into the next before her brain and body seemed to catch up to each other.

She was sensitive, and her legs jerked shut, nearly hitting you in the process. You didn't sit back and stare, instead going straight into the bathroom to get a warm washcloth. Alexia let you clean her up, not saying anything to you until after she had grabbed new clothes to wear for the night. You stripped the bed and put everything in the washer, slightly surprised to find Alexia waiting for you in the kitchen when you were done.

"I don't think I let you know how important you are to me. I don't know how badly I would have spiraled without you here," Alexia told you. You blushed as she wrapped her arms around your waist and held you from behind. "Tomorrow, I start training again. I've only got a few years until the next World Cup and Olympics."

"I mean, I guess," you sighed. Alexia pressed a kiss to your cheek before she grabbed a snack to take into the living room. You went decided to go to bed, already well aware that Alexia wouldn't get to bed for another hour or so at least. You set an alarm for 1, deciding that if she wasn't in bed by then, you were going out to the living room to collect her yourself.

[izvmimi]

katsuki wakes you up from your midday nap with his yelling.

it isn't exactly a rude awakening - you just turn with the sudden ruckus coming from outside your bedroom - but it's enough to cause you the tiniest bit of alarm, even if being together at home is the safest place you can imagine on this earth.

it's saturday evening and he thankfully will not be gone for patrol, so you could afford the extra time to sleep off a worsening migraine. you shift out of your bed, satisfied that a combination of ibuprofen and extra z's have done their work, and make your way out towards the source of the fuss. as you get closer, you're happy to know that it's nothing serious - rather katsuki is simply speaking at loud volume into his phone, presumably irritated, but not devastated by something.

he doesn't hear you coming as light as your footsteps are, and you stand at the doorway to observe him.

"what the FUCK do you mean 'there's nothing you can do'?! i spent hours making these arrangements and you expect me to just accept a gift card like my anniversary is replaceable?!"

you blink, suppressing a yawn still, and watch him. he's agitated and you're pretty sure he's justified, although it probably isn't great for him to yell so much, even if your ears are somewhat attuned to it given your many years together. it's not like when you met him he was exactly the stoic and silent type at all times, although he could be if he wanted to.

but why would you want him to be any different than himself?

you step forward after a few more moments of him hunching over, gritting his teeth as he hears whatever palliating excuses the customer service has on the other end, then press a hand to his shoulder. he stiffens - in fact, he almost pales at your touch and his voice drops nearly to half the number of decibels, a barely audible whisper. reassessing his anger, he nods to you, then to the agent he cannot see, and clears his throat.

"i'll be a little more uh..." he glances at you, and you're smiling at him, but you're giving him the look that pleads him to be nice, and he sighs, "judicious about my willingness to do business with you in the future, but i'll accept a gift card. for now."

with that, the conversation ends. katsuki looks red for a different reason, the gentle sting of embarrassment in his cheeks. you decide not to rub it in, and find a way to settle into his lap.

"what's going on, baby?" you ask. he makes a sound of displeasure, then adjusts your position balanced atop his knee, running a hand through his hair. he then looks at you again, appraising your own emotional state before deciding to change the topic. after all, it's probably best you don't know why he lost his temper.

"did you nap well?" he asks first, nuzzling his head in the crook of your neck.

"not with you hollering," you tease as he lets his teeth graze gently on the skin of your collarbone. he looks up and frowns.

"was it that bad?" his voice is quieter now, lower. you tilt your head.

"you yell all the time. it's fine, i'm used to it. partially deaf at this point."

he frowns again, then mutters a "sorry."

your hand cups his chin. that one word is spoken too softly.

"hey, i'm not made of glass. speak up." you say, squeezing. he smiles, circling his own hand on your wrist before pulling it towards him to kiss the underside.

"sorry, princess!" he says louder, and you giggle, turning your head.

"what? can't hear you?"

he pulls you in and yells directly in your ear, and you scream, and he holds, both of you laughing together. once the two of you calm down, he sighs and leans back into the couch, making sure to take you with him so that you're resting on his chest.

he exhales deep and you wait, knowing he has more to say.

"you know," he starts, tracing circles into your palm, "i had an ex-" you bristle for a moment, and he grins at you, then kisses your forehead, "that thought i was too loud."

"loud, yes. too loud? i'm not sure," you reply.

he shrugs. "she would bristle any time she heard me talking. i would never yell at her, but i guess i scared her in some way just by the tone of my voice."

"mm." part of you wonder what they expected; he's always lived boisterously, with no pretense otherwise, but you keep mum.

"so i felt like i couldn't really be myself around them. obviously not the way i can be with you."

katsuki looks away from you for a moment and in space as though he is thinking, and then soon time is up, and his focus shifts back to you, giving you a cheeky grin.

"thanks for putting up with me," he says. again his voice is soft and quiet, because he addresses you with care, not because you've demanded him to adjust for you, but because he wants to.

you peck his nose. "well, when i go deaf in both ears, i'll reconsider."

he rolls his eyes playfully, and you pull his ear and yell, "i love you!"

he threatens to throw you off of him again, and you playfight until you're both rested on the couch, content in each other's arms.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Its always really great to read your work in my free time. Would you maybe consider a short story involving the hero's sidekick being killed by one villain, so the hero's primary villain goes to their hideout to console them

"Hey." The villain announced their presence as softly as they could, wary of startling the hero.

The hero didn't startle. They didn't even look up, or twitch. They continued to stare at a blank piece of the floor, jaw set, like the flagstones contained all the answers in the universe.

"I - uh - I heard what happened." The villain moved closer, slowly, making sure not to dip out of the hero's periphery vision. "I'm sorry."

The hero was clutching something in one white-knuckled fist - what was it?

"I know my saying that doesn't change what happened," the villain pressed, as the hero continued to say or acknowledge nothing. "But I'm so sorry for your loss. They were a good kid. Brave. How are you..how are you doing?"

It was a scrap of clothing. A bloodied scrap of clothing. The sidekick's uniform.

The villain closed their eyes briefly, releasing a breath. When they opened them, the hero's gaze was locked on them. The villain nearly jumped. The hero's stare was dark, boring into them with a drill-like precision, fierce and hard enough that the hairs on the back of the villain's neck stood on end.

They'd seen that stare before. Just the once.

And what had followed...

They threw caution to the wind and crossed the room to the hero's side, kneeling in front of them and taking the hero's jaw firmly in their hands.

They had come expecting tears. Heartbreak. Something they could soothe and console and hold the hero through, perhaps, though the two of them would never speak of it again.

They should have known better.

"I know you want to kill them-"

"-Don't." The hero's voice was raspy, but unforgiving. They let the scrap of clothing fall to the floor, like it was nothing, and not the red flag of a bull fight screaming. "Don't try and stop me."

"You try and stop me. Every time."

"I'm not you."

"No," the villain agreed. Calm against the tempest. They dug their nails a little harder into the hero's skin, grounding. "They actually looked up to you."

"Fuck you."

"I'm not suggesting you don't seek vengeance," the villain said. "I'm merely suggesting you be smart about it. But that's another matter."

The hero bared their teeth, though they hadn't lashed out yet despite the dark look in their eyes, so the villain was definitely taking that as a win.

The villain caressed their cheek; wishing they could find some joy in the corruption of it, in the proof of what so many good people were willing to do in the name of grief and justice.

They couldn't.

Not when the hero looked like that. So hollow. Like if the villain simply scraped out the fury, softened the sizzling hatred a bit, let time heal the hurting, there would be nothing left all.

"Do I need to tell you that it wasn't your fault?" the villain asked.

"I know whose fault it was!"

"Good."

"Are you going to try and stop me?"

"Tonight, yes. Tomorrow...that's on you."

"You didn't even like them."

The villain shrugged. They both knew liking someone wasn't the same as respecting them, and certainly they weren't convinced the sidekick wouldn't come back as a poltergeist if the villain let the hero loose to lay carnage on the very night they died.

No. The villain didn't even like them, but they did like the hero, and they knew what the hero's sidekick would want them to do.

"Is that why you came here?" the hero demanded.

"No. Unhappy coincidence. I came to check on you."

The hero finally wrenched their head free, chair scraping as they surged to their feet. "I don't need checking up on. I'm fine. I'll be fine when I feed that bastard their own windpipe."

There were many things the villain could have said to that, and would have said to that, on any other night. As it was, they watched the hero. Watched the shaking volcano of them, the tremors and ever more devastating fragility of something that might just shatter completely.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," the hero snarled. "And don't you dare say that it's okay for me to be angry."

The villain shut their mouth. About to say just that, and more.

The hero shook their head. They slumped back into their seat, in perfect stillness, as quickly as they'd moved.

"Tomorrow," they said. "Tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow. If that's what you truly want. Then I'll help you kill the bastard myself."

The hero reached for the scrap of material again, tucking it close against their chest, head bowed. Their fingers continued to tremble. The villain was not stupid enough to consider it weakness.

Tomorrow.

The villain would pick up the pieces after that.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Best Prom Ever 👗💞🪩

Chrissy asks Eddie to prom purely to piss off Jason, you're devastated but Eddie is so happy so you fake a smile and hide how you feel.

So much for the magical prom night you wished for, but not all hope is lost.

This is a fluffy, angsty fic but this is an 18+blog so mdni,

💌🎀

There's this crushing weight on your heart when Chrissy asks Eddie to the prom. It must feel like a dream for Eddie. So why does it feel like your heart is breaking into a million pieces?

It's meant to be just a typical boring Monday but now your whole world feels like it's been shaken.

Of course he says yes. Looks at you for a second before hand and you give him an encouraging smile, hide the way you feel like you can't breathe.

Chrissy was a sweetheart. She would be good for Eddie. You resolve to ignore the stabbing pain in your chest and plant a fake, happy smile on your face.

You knew the two of them had a budding friendship, but you never expected this. Eddie hated prom and everything it stood for and yet he was agreeing to go with Chrissy.

If you asked would he have gone with you? No, of course not. You slip away from their conversation, your ears are ringing and the deep ache in your chest is only getting worse.

You hurry to the bathroom and into a cubicle, lock the door and let out the tears you were struggling to keep at bay.

There was a small part of you that hoped Eddie would ask you to the prom. You could go together and make each other laugh, dance like idiots and be in your own little world.

The bubble was quickly burst seeing Chrissy ask Eddie. Of course he wouldn't say no. This was Chrissy you were talking about. She was the cheer captain and Hawkin High's princess.

Shakily you get up and head out to dry your tears, try to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest and put on a happy smile. For Eddie.

He has a smile on his face for the rest of the day and at lunch he's telling the rest of Hellfire Club what happened.

"I mean, Chrissy told me she asked me to prom to get back at Jason for being a douchebag but I can be a little bit excited right? This is Chrissy Cunningham, we're talking about" Eddie babbles on to you while you're eating lunch.

He's been talking about prom for the last ten minutes.

Jeff raises his eyebrows at Eddie. "Dude, what about the whole "Prom is just a bunch of bullshit, you'd never see me step one foot in conformist shit like that" Eddie pauses as he steals one of your fries then answers Jeff's question.

"Dude I still feel that way, however this is a chance to piss off Carver and I never want to miss an opportunity like that" he explains and you listen half heartedly.

This is why he was going? A revenge fantasy for him? The thought depresses you and you make a vow to yourself that you will enjoy prom night in a different way. Maybe you could stay at home, watch a bunch of horror movies or sappy, wholesome movies and binge on snacks.

That made you feel a little bit better. But there was still a small part of you that dreaded Friday night.

💌🎀

Eddie shows up at your house half an hour before prom. Well, he climbs up through your window like he always does and nearly ruins his outfit.

He looks gorgeous, he's paired his leather jacket with a black dress shirt and black jeans. He frowns as his eyes trail over you.

"Why aren't you dressed yet? Proms starting in half an hour"

"Oh, I'm not going to the dance" you shrug and Eddie gapes at you. His big brown eyes are wide and searching as you flop back down in your bed, already cosy in your comfiest nightwear and ready to binge watch your favourite movies.

"But..." You turn to him and fake a smile once again, fuck, you were getting pretty good at this.

"Go and have fun Eddie"

"It won't be the same without you princess" you feel a tug at your heart but shake your head. No. You were not giving yourself false hope that deep down Eddie had feelings for you.

"Don't be silly, you'll be with Chrissy, you'll have a great time" you assure him and he gives you a faint smile.

"But my best girl won't be there" fuck. Why did he have to say such sweet things, he's still lingering so you give him a gentle nudge to the door. He looks back at you one more time and then he's gone.

Your night of movies and binging in ice cream is interrupted by Steve. He comes into your room and is at your closet, pulling out the dress you bought for prom.

When you were secretly hoping maybe Eddie would ask you.

"Steve, what the hell are you doing?" He turns around with one hand on his hip and gives you that "Mom" stare he usually reserves for the kids.

"You're not holing up in your room feeling sorry for yourself and missing prom. I missed prom because I felt shitty about Nance and you were there for me. Now I'm returning the favor. Get dressed honey"

You're tempted but the thought of seeing Eddie with Chrissy hurts your heart all over again.

"I don't know if I can watch Eddie with Chrissy, having the time of their lives. I mean, of course I want him to have fun but do I have to see it?" Steve settles beside you and puts his arm around you.

"I'm going with you. Robin and Vickie too. Fuck Eddie Munson, you will go and have the time of your life with us, now get dressed" he orders.

"So bossy", you mutter but kiss his cheek before you take the dress into your bathroom and start getting ready .

💞💌🎀

Prom is boring. He kinda expected it but it's even worse now he's here. The music is shitty and while Chrissy is really a sweetheart, all he can think about is you.

Would prom be more fun if you were here? Absolutely yes. Jason is glaring daggers at him and that is barely giving him any satisfaction.

Chrissy is looking at him all sympathetic and that doesn't help his mood. "Is yn not coming?" She looks around for you and Eddie shakes his head glum.

"No, she's having a movie night instead" Chrissy bites her lip, looking shocked.

"It's prom. She can't miss prom" he shrugs the weight of your absence weighing heavy on him, he's so tempted to just ditch this shit and go and be with you.

Chrissy softens when she looks at him, "You're really not having a good time huh? I'm sorry, I thought at the time this would be a good idea, but you're missing your girl and well... I miss Jason" she murmurs softly and Eddie while he doesn't get how anyone could miss Carver, he does sympathise with her.

"I think I've ruined everything" he replies and the small bubble of panic inside of him grows bigger and bigger when he thinks about you on your own.

"Oh Eddie, I think you need to go and see her. You haven't ruined anything, she just doesn't know how you feel. Maybe because you realised at the last minute" Chrissy scolds him.

Doesn't realise how you feel... He goes over Chrissy's words several times before realising she's right.

He's head over heels. For you.

"Shit" Eddie yelps and ignores the way some of his classmates look their way. Chrissy still looks disappointed in him and that doesn't help either.

"Wait, why are you pissed at me?" He asks Chrissy confused, she looks at him like he's grown two heads and sighs.

"Eddie, you've left your best friend all alone while she's hurting and trying to put on a brave face because she doesn't realise that you like her back. She's been so nice to me so I'm pissed for her that it took you so long to get your head out of your ass"

Eddie winces and nods. Yup, he deserved that. Then his heart skips a beat as he repeats her words.

"You really think she feels the same?" Chrissy's glare softens and she nods. Oh fuck, yeah he had messed up.

"Oh wow" Chrissy gasps and he turns around to where she's staring at and there you are in a beautiful dress, looking ethereal and like an angel as you enter the room.

You were here after all. His heart is going a mile a minute but sinks as he sees you with Steve. Then it lightens when Robin and Vickie arrive at the same time.

Chrissy is looking at him expectantly and he swallows as he looks at you with Steve. He messed up. He should be the one making you smile like that.

"I think I'm too late. She's with Steve" he mutters and Chrissy shakes her head looking exasperated.

"Most likely as friends. Eddie I've never seen you be shy in your life so will you go and get the girl and stop being a wimp" he gapes at Chrissy's words then nods.

Yeah, he was Eddie the Brave. He could do this.

💞💞

Eddie walks over to you, he looks nervous which is rare for him. He's also staring at you in a way that makes you feel butterflies. Why wasn't he with Chrissy.

"You came" he sounds so relieved and this surprises you but he was your friend, of course he would want to see you at prom. It didn't mean anything else.

"Wait, why aren't you with Chrissy?" You ask him curiously and notice she's dancing with Jason.

"Yeah, it was a big mistake coming with her, huge. Should have taken my best girl instead of getting sucked into some dumb revenge scheme" wait...what?

"Eddie. This is Chrissy we are talking about, she's queen B and she's so sweet and kind and...' he cuts you off, his eyes softening as he gazes at you.

"She's not you" three words but there is so much meaning behind them. Oh. Well shit. Maybe there was hope after all.

"I was coming to see you. Prom isn't prom without my girl. I should have asked you because...because you're everything to me and I'm so in love with you"

Slow music begins to play, your classmates are chatting loudly, giggling but you can only focus on Eddie. "You do?" he nods and holds out his hand which you take.

"I love you too" you blurt out and he grins all dimples and happiness. Pulls you closer to him and the two of you sway to the music.

Eddie dances with you, has your hand in his and holds it over his heart. He leans down and kisses you. The whole world melts away in that moment and it's just the two of you, passionately kissing and lost in each other.

"Best prom ever" you whisper to him and lay your head on his chest. His fingers caress your hair and sway to the music with the guy you love.

🎀❤️

Take my breath away

My love, take my breath away

My love, take my breath away

My love, take my breath away

Take my breath away - Berlin

[sisitrip]

Future Whispers

My little crispy soul is trying to knit itself back together. I'm choosing to do that with an early Gallavich stolen moment.

_________________________

Ian smiled in the dark as Mickey swatted his hand away from the bathroom lightswitch. 

“That’s not like you,” he murmured. “You usually want to see everything.”

A warm press of air was the only warning he got before Mickey kissed him, soft and deliberate. Astounded, he stilled, afraid to breathe. It was still so new, this kissing, and like new things, it was precious. 

“Easy,” Mickey whispered when he finally remembered to breathe. “There’s no part of you that I don’t want to see when we’re doing that.” Mickey gave him another soft, astonishing kiss. “But, right now, I’m after less, especially with your family down there doing the most.” 

A high pitched squeal rang out from downstairs, punctuating Mickey’s point. 

He laughed, letting Mickey drag him to the toilet and push him to sit on its closed lid. Before he could blindly reach out for Mickey, his lap filled with his warm, heaven scented weight. 

“So, what’s “less” to Mickey Milkovich? I didn’t think you knew how to do less,” he whispered around another kiss, sliding his hands up and down Mickey’s thighs. Emboldened by the dark, he rounded his hands to Mickey’s ass and got a nip to his bottom lip for his roaming.

“I don’t do less. But, I’m settling for this until everybody knocks out,” Mickey whispered back, slipping a bit of tongue between his lips.  

He nearly lost track of the conversation as their kisses grew longer, more heated. 

“I’ll try not to take your ‘settling’ personally,” he breathed.

“Relax, it’s not like that. I'm just trying this mouth-pressing thing again.”

“Mouth-pressing?” he laughed against Mickey’s lips. “God, you’re so romantic.”

“That's what it is, ain’t it? Just two sets of lips pressing together in a sloppy way.” Mickey pulled his lower lip into his mouth and gave it an exquisite nip. “Be glad I didn’t call it tongue stacking.” 

“If you don’t stop describing it so beautifully, I think I'm going to cry,” he said, chasing after Mickey’s tongue with his own.

Mickey chuckled and leaned back. 

“I’m just calling it like I see it. Anyway, I’m still deciding if I hate this whole mouth-pressing thing. No wait. Yeah. I hate it.” Mickey immediately dove in for another tongue-filled kiss.

“Oh, that much is clear.” He pulled Mickey closer, hardening beneath him. “You definitely despise kissing.”

“Absolutely disgusts me,” Mickey said, tilting his head so he could kiss at a better angle.

He smiled into the next kiss.

“Then we should just end this horrible kissing and do something else.” He tried to pull Mickey’s shirt out of his pants. “I've been thinking all night how much I want to feel you come on my stomach while you ride me.”

Mickey stopped his roaming hands and buried his hot face in his neck. Despite the sheer number of times he’s been inside Mickey, the little mouth-pressing hater was still shy about dirty talk. He didn’t have ‘bashful thug’ on his dating Bingo card, but he was here for it.

“Gallagher, if people knew that Disney looking mouth of yours was all Pornhub, your stock would tank.” 

He lifted Mickey’s head by the chin and kissed him. 

“I’m devastated. I thought my mouth was your favorite thing about me,” he murmured, stealing tiny kisses. 

“Tied for first. If you ask me what it’s tied with, I’m braining you.”

They kissed languidly for a bit, heat banking just enough to kick his thoughts toward things beyond kissing. Future related things he’s been wanting from Mickey for a while now. His mouth, clearly not occupied enough, decided to start trouble. 

“What are you going to do when I’m like, 60 years old and my mouth-pressing game isn’t as strong?” he asked, going for Mickey’s chin with a kiss and landing on his nose.

There’s a beat of quiet. He expected Mickey to change the subject, like he did with all future talk. But, instead, he got no such brush off, as miraculous as that was. 

“I mean, your mouth-pressing game ain’t that strong now.”

He snorted. 

“But, if you’re asking for 60 year old Ian,” Mickey teased, kissing his cheek. “I think I might tolerate a lower level of mouth-pressing. But, let the record reflect that everything else has to stay above board.”

“Yeah? Everything else like what?” he asked, heart thudding a little at Mickey envisioning the future with him. 

“That arms and legs wrapping thing we do before sleep.”

“Cuddling?” 

“Yeah. That shit better not slack off.”

He beamed in the dark. “Noted. What else?” 

“Hugs from behind. They remain fully operational or I’m out.”

He huffed a soft laugh. 

“Of course. Anything else?”

Mickey’s quiet for a long time, stroking his hands up and down his chest. 

“You being the first thing I see when I wake up,” Mickey whispered. “And the last thing I see before I go to sleep.”

He said nothing, but his eyes got entirely too hot. Like a bat using echolocation, Mickey knew he was teetering on tears, even in the dark. 

“Keep it together, Gallagher.”

His emotional laugh confirmed Mickey’s suspicions and he was rewarded with a kiss to his forehead. 

“Is that-” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Is that all?”

“No.” 

“What then?” 

Mickey scooted until they were belly to belly and hugged him tight, like he needed support. When he spoke, his voice was vulnerable and rough with emotion. 

“Keep being happy to see me. Keep … keep wanting me to be around.” 

He wrapped Mickey up, heart splintering. It wasn’t Mickey’s soft plea that broke him. It’s the idea that one day he’s going to stop wanting him close, as if that was remotely possible. He’d tried keeping his distance and it had been like watching color violently drain out of the world. 

“That’ll never slack off, you hear me?” He squeezed Mickey tighter, meaning it to his marrow. “Never.”

Mickey didn’t say anything. He only pressed closer. 

He held Mickey in the dark for a while, listening to his family’s ruckus downstairs. Unbidden, the thought of being a husband, Mickey’s husband, bloomed into his mind for the first time. He smiled into Mickey's shoulder, frightened and excited by the thought. Husband.

Mickey pressed a sweet kiss into his neck and hugged him tighter, clearly thinking about some things himself. He decided to let them both off the hook. For now.

“So, my fingers must be tied for first with my tongue-stacking, right?” he asked, bouncing Mickey a little on his lap. 

Mickey snorted. “First off, it’s mouth-pressing. Second, your fingers are okay, but not first place material.” 

“My legs then.” 

“Those chicken sticks? Hell no.” 

He started giggling. 

“My eyes. You’re always saying how green and alien looking they are. You like that weird shit.” 

Mickey pulled back. “I do, but they’re second place. You know, I could just tell you instead of you guessing, Ian.” 

“If you say anything but my dick, I’m tossing you in the bathtub.” 

Mickey held his face in his hands. 

“How could it be anything but that? Your beef bus is insane.” 

He broke down laughing, pulling Mickey into another kiss. 

“My mouth-pressing and beef bus thank you for the compliment.” He grabbed Mickey’s belt. “You feel like taking that bus for a ride?” 

Mickey groaned and gave his cheek a tap. 

“I don’t know how you live being that corny. And the answer is no. I ain’t skeeting with your little brothers and sister downstairs.” 

“How about some more mouth-pressing instead? Just to make sure you really hate it.” 

Mickey sighed. “Alright, get that Disney mouth ready. Maybe by the time you’re 60, you’ll be better at this whole mouth-pressing nonsense.” 

That earned Mickey some tickling and his whispered giggles made the dark bathroom magical. He liked Mickey whispering about their future. He liked that Mickey thought about it at all. If they somehow manage to make it, he’ll remember this as the place where their lives started to take root and shape. 

On a bevy of future whispers in the dark.

[nothomegal]

"My beloved monster"

(Pyramid Head x GN Reader)

Summary: There are always limitations for someting, and when these affect your ability to show love, it becomes a huge deal, so big that it's crushing... Devastating actually. But love itself is a weird thing. It may not break down said limitations. But maybe, it can make you accept and find your own ways to love instead?...

Warnings: a bit angsty at the begining (but lots of love at the end!)

Word Count: 2.1k

(Y/N) looks at their monster, concern filling their chest as they take in his uncannily still form. Since the moment they woke up they knew something was wrong, because one; they were laying on a mattress instead of their lover's body. And two, because Pyra seemed troubled, he looked so unnaturally dull and gloomy…

His helmet positioned lower than usual, as if his gaze is constantly down, his shoulders slump, his overall posture hunched as if something heavy is dragging his body down…

Is he… Is he sad?

This possible explanation both concerned and intrigued (Y/N). They are aware that Pyra’s feelings and mind don’t exactly work like human's, in occasions it feels like he’s being guided by instincts rather than thoughts (especially when things get intimate). But right now it seems like he's experiencing something big, big enough to send him into this wretched state.

With a sigh, (Y/N) stands up from the matress and slowly makes their way towards the beast, their steps careful and a tag hesitant since they had no idea what to expect.

—"Pyra?... Are you alright big guy?"— you ask, concern lingering in your tone.

But the monster didn't move or made any noise of acknowledgment, which obviously made (Y/N) frown. They step even closer, and still no reaction.

—"Did I do something wrong?..."— you ask despite knowing well that you didn't, but you still felt the need to apologize. —"If so I'm very sorry. If you need time alone then I'll leave- "—

A deep low growl was all it took to shut them up. (Y/N) stiffed in their place as they wait to see what will happen next. But instead of witnessing something volent, Pyra only tilted his helmet evel lower, appearing even more upset whith whatever is bothering him.

This image of him was enough for (Y/N) to collect the courage to move again, making their way to their lover's sitting form. This time however, they don't speak or ask anything, instead they carefully place their hand on his large shoulder and let it stay there for a while.

When there was still no reaction, they began to slowly caress his skin. Hand slowly traveling from his big arm to his broad back, which seemed to do the job in soothing him judging by the way his muscles began to relax under their touch. That until their hand traveled to his helmet, and the second it made contact with the metallic surface, a noise nearly resempling a roar errupted from it, causing (Y/N) to recoil violently almost as if their hand got burned.

They stay frozen, clutching their hand tightly and close to their chest as they observe Pyra, feeling both sad that they aren't able to help him and afraid that they may pushed their luck too far.

And to make things worse, their fear seemed to upset the beast even further, because soon another even angrier and louder roar errupted from the monster as he grabs the enges of his helmet tightly. This made (Y/N) even more afraid, but no longer for themselves, but for Pyra.

What is going on?! Is he in pain? Does his head hurt? Why is he so angry all of the sudden? Why...

Why does it look like he wants to rip his helmet off?...

Carefully and slowly, (Y/N) makes their way back to their lover. Movements wary and cautious, like they're in front of some wild animal.

When close enough, they notice something with the corner of their eye. It's a book, one they accidentaly stumble upon somewhere and been reading time to time. It wasn't anything special, just an classic old romance whith a lot of text and the only picture being the cover, which portraited the two protagonists being in each other's embrace and pressing their foreheads together in a loving and affectionate manner.

Oh... OH.

(Y/N)'s head snaps towards their lover, a frown placed on their face at the sight of his miserable form that was still holding his helmet and growling angrily, hatefully, at it.

—"Pyra..."— you call out softly as you step closer. —"Hey."—

They place their hands on top of his larger ones, making the beast stop fidgeting in place and stay completely still again.

—"Is that why you're upset?..."— you ask, voice gentle.

At first the beast does nothing. But when (Y/N) squeezed his hands slightly, that's when a metallic noise was made, which was something in between of metal scraping and a whine. It was new noise, noise that expressed nothing but misery.

But who wouldn't be upset after realizing how little one can do with their loved one while looking like this? A monster with no face, created with the sole purpose to spread pain upon others and drag them through eternal punishment. Pyramid Head never was supposed to love, he never was supposed to care for anything or anyone, only hunt and execute. But after (Y/N) came into this place... Just tell me, how couldn't he want more of them? How couldn't he desire to keep them? How couldn't he crave to have them close and feel their soft warm body against his? To feel excitement whenever they speak, the gentle tone of their voice, the sweet things they say about a creature like him... To fall further for them at the sensation of their soft lips on his damaged scarred skin, a gesture they made to tell him just how much he means to them withouth the need to use words...

(Y/N) can do so many things to show the love, affection and respect they have for him. Of course he tries to show them his desire for them too, but he can do so little... And that's just devastating. No matter how much noises he makes, no matter how carefully he tries to nuzzle his helmet against them... It will never resemble anything that another human could do to show love, it will never feel as sencere as what (Y/N) does... And it will never be possible for him to say these three words that make his inhuman heart pause and his chest squeeze in warmth whenever they leave (Y/N)'s lips...

These three words...

I love you.

After these intense seconds of dead silence passed, (Y/N) decided to take the matters in their hands and try again.

Slowly they slide their hands off of his and into his helmet. And this time the beast didn't pull away or made a sound, he just sat there in complete stillness.

—"I understand that we cannot do certain things..."— you say as you step closer. —"But do you think I care?"—

As they speak in a gentle voice, they run their hands along the metallic surface, caressing it carefully.

—"When I say 'I love you', I mean I love you, whole."— you smile as you say that. —"Head and everything included. I love you whole Pyra."—

Their words seemed to slowly break him, as another of these strange whines was emited. His hand slid off his helmet and placed on (Y/N)'s hips. For a second they thought he would push them away, but he doesn't, he simply keeps his hands on them.

Suddenly, (Y/N) stopped their caresses. Wich understandably caused Pyra's grip on them to tighten, as if to prevent they pull away from him. But of course, that's not something a deranged person like (Y/N) would do, instead they lean forward and wrap their arms around his helmet and press themselves closer to it.

—"And I don't say it expecting you'll say it back."— you mutter softly as you resume your caresses. —"But I know when you do try to say it back. It may not be through voice, or a kiss, or any other more intimate and 'human' action. And it doesn't make it any less important, if anything, it makes it more special."—

The two of them remain like this for a while. I probably looked so weird to embrace Pyra's helmet like that, but non of them seemed to mind it.

With a soft hum, (Y/N) pulls back just a bit and presses their forehead against the metallic surface.

—"Look, we can do that too."— you say playfully. —"Just like in the book's cover!"—

It was an immature and a cheap thing to do, (Y/N) knows it. But their efforts were recieved positively anyways judging by the soft rumble that was emited from the monster and the small careful tilt he did with his head to press it further against theirs.

However, this time (Y/N) didn't remain still for too long. Their arms soon unwrapped and began to travel down until their hands slipped underneath the beast's helmet. The second their fingers made contact with the soft and slimy flesh, a small shiver run through the monster's body.

—"Well, I know this is not something I could do with another human... But do I care? Absolutely not!"— you chuckle as you start to gently scratch the fleshy mass. —"And the fact that you even allow me to touch you there already tells me how much trust you have in me. See? No extra words or actions needed for me to understand how big of a deal it is."—

Their voice and scratches were soon recieved with the well known low rumbling, that was so similar to a deep purr. Pyra's hands slowly began to slide off their form as his body relaxed with each second. (Y/N) couldn't help but to childishly grin at his state, he looked so happy, almost like a cat recieving a good scratch.

They were about to tell more things, but the beast decided it was enough reassurance and that it's time for him to take action.

(Y/N) let out a surprised yelp when their body was suddenly dragged down by a great force and slammed against a solid torso. It all happened so fast that it took them a couple of seconds to process what just happened. The embrace was tight, keeping them caged in the beast's arms, so closely that it was almost suffocating...

Any normal person would freak out at that, too concerned about the wellbeing of their spine. But (Y/N)? Nah.

They let a small yet joyful laught as they attempted to wrap their arms around Pyra's waist, though due to their limited mobility and his huge size it was quite a task. Nevertheless, their attempts were appreciated anyways, and the amused rumple was a proof of it.

The monster curls his larger body around his human a bit more, holding them tightly and closely. So closely that he could feel their heartbeat, heartbeat that was slow and perfectly rhythmic, indicating just how calm and content (Y/N) was in his arms, trusting him completely and totally unafraid of his monstrous strength.

It was unclear how long they've been holding each other like that. It could be minutes, it could be hours... But what was clear for both of them, was that they didn't want to let go of each other, not now, not anytime soon.

Until...

—"Hey Pyra, one last thing."— you suddenly say.

Their sentence was responded by a quizical rumble.

—"Can you stick out your tongue for a second?"—

At first there is no reaction, as if Pyra was caught off guard with this seemingly random request. Nevertheless, he lose his grip on them just enough to allow his human to lean back. And as they do so, the pink muscle was already sticking out of the corner of his helmet and curiously wiggling in place.

(Y/N) smiles and gently grabs the tongue with both hands, slowly pulling it closer to them. They silently observe it for a comple of seconds, before bringing it right to their lips and giving a small kiss. Yes, it felt weird, maybe disgusting for some. But not for (Y/N).

After that sweet gesture they glance at their lover, who was completely frozen in place, even his tongue was no longer wiggling.

—"Look, we just kissed!"— you announce with a cheerful laugh. —"Y'know, maybe I was wrong. Maybe there aren't as many limitations as we thought. Sure, some methods are weird and all... But doesn't it feel more special? More like... Ours?"—

The monster remains unresponsive for a while, either thinking or just staring at their little naive form. Whatever the case it, their genuine expression of joy and warmth was enough to melt away whatever bits of doubt their lover had, and the shy wiggling of his tongue towards their lips was a clear demonstration of that.

After sharing some more 'kisses', (Y/N) was soon pulled back into this suffocating embrace again. And this time, it wasn't just desperate...

It was also warm, affectionate, intimate... Absolutelly everything about this embrace screamed one message and one message only, which combined with the soft purrs and noises coming from the beast, was much more clear...

I love you.

[zhuoyichenpretty]

Ep 25 Commentary

“難受嗎？難受就對了[...]卓大人，你習慣就好。” Is it difficult to bear? Good [...] Zhuo Daren, you'd better get used to it. —Zhao Yuanzhou, Ep. 1

Oh my god what the fuck ep 25. Ohhh my god. I don't think I ever stopped going "holy shit oh fuck" for the entire forty minutes. My head is in my hands. Why is FoF experimenting with onscreen physical/emotional/mental whump at a frequency and intensity previously unknown to man? To my favorite character? 我前輩子得罪了誰？？(Who did I wrong in my previous life??)

Quote from ep 1 because I had just re-watched it earlier in the day and those words came back to me not with any particular use towards interpretation but just as a characterization of—all of this. It is indeed difficult to bear.

Spoilers incoming.

Also spoiler for how I feel about this episode in case the sound of me wailing in lament in the distance makes it unclear: It was probably one of the most effective episodes for me thus far, personally. It struck many, many chords and did not stop for breath at all.

Honestly I'm kind of at a loss for words because I really, truly, did not expect shit would get so much worse for ZYC so incredibly rapidly. The speed with which the situation deteriorated broke the fucking sound barrier (I'm exaggerating, I'm being dramatic, but jfc I wasn't prepared). I apologize in advance if any of my reactions become a little bit repetitive, there are only so many ways I can express continuous distress and shock and despair.

My stomach dropped during the watchman attack scene. I can't believe how effective it was for me, this moment coming at the heels of ep 24, how that episode was a whole meditation on the goodness of ZYC's heart, his gentle and sensitive nature, the reasons why everyone loves him, the way things are bad but they will not break us and we may lose heart individually but we will persevere together.

And then in one single moment, all of that is threatened and very nearly destroyed. I felt every one of ZYC's dry heaves.

This drama is not one I necessarily go to for subtlety of intention, so the fact that I really had no inkling how at-risk ZYC's irreproachability would be in the coming episode despite being very invested in his arc made it all the more shocking and well-done, personally. They set him up as high as they could so they could tear him down as thoroughly as possible in an instant, and I did not notice the set-up at all.

I also have to say, I really appreciate PSJ. How quickly she cut to the chase about what he'd seemingly done, how she'd said the things that aren't just hard to hear but also hard to say. Because that's exactly what ZYC will care the most about. It seems to me her righteousness helped keep his own intact. In such a moment of complete and utter vulnerability and devastation, her moral clarity is as terrible as it is necessary and true to ZYC's belief system, just when it is most susceptible to collapse. And I say this not to mean that I think he is culpable for the supposed attack, given how much discussion the show goes into about culpability or lack thereof when not in one's right mind, but just that I find PSJ's moral compass to most closely align with ZYC's beliefs as he has been carrying them out throughout the show, and she keeps him from contradiction in a moment when it may be on everyone else's mind to spare him from the double-edged blade of his own righteousness. (Also, I may be reading too far into WX's statement later on that PSJ protected ZYC with her decision, but it could be interpreted that WX agrees or understands that as well on some level.)

And the fucking fact that all this takes place in front of a shrine for the Righteous God of Virtue and Blessing. As I said, I'm speechless.

(Speechless, she says, as she continues to ramble.)

Ouughhhhhh the reversals. ZYZ draping the cloak on ZYC this time. Fuck. The dungeon. Oh god. The way ZYZ loses more and more of his facade of calm, even just from his somewhat tense but understated distress in ep 24 to this unblinking, almost unseeing stare at ZYC in shackles.

Also, I'm glad for the moment PSJ and WX have to themselves once ZYZ proves ZYC's innocence. The way we get to see them navigating a situation so dire together despite its potential to push them utterly apart. PSJ's near-silent delivery of "friend" fucking kills me. It's loaded with so much emotion that neither the voice nor the term can truly handle that weight. That's art to me.

And then oh god, the Tianxiang Pavilion scene. I don't even know what to say. How everything spirals completely out of control. How we literally watch ZYC's worst nightmares play out. WX's first shout, the way I don't feel like I've heard that particular shade of emotion in her voice up until now, even with everything they've been through. Honestly, each of their expressions as the mob began to jeer and before they were separated was so effective. Ying Lei's indignation, PSJ's alarm, ZYZ's agitation, WX's fury. And the palpable panic as the crowd surged around them and pulled them apart.

I've watched this whole scene three times now. Every actor is giving their all here, and it's so impressive because this isn't at all the usual context of their angst and heartbreak. This isn't a decisive battle over life and death. The range of tragedy stretches so far in this kind of fantastical drama and yet they are able to create such tension and emotion that the shock of that first egg thrown has all the impact of a fatal wound. And it's worse in some ways because it means so little to an outsider and everything to this family.

That rage and helplessness in WX as she wipes ZYC's face and asks who threw it, when she says if the crowd goes any further, they'll fight back—her delivery is so raw. When I heard her lines, I felt the fantasy genre completely slip away for a moment and it became absolutely personal. Like, this point is getting a little away from mere commentary so please forgive the brief aside but those are words I can hear in my own family's voices.

Then, watching the very last vestiges of ZYZ's composure fully crumble away in real-time. God, I wish I could say something more substantive about ZYZ's entire reaction because it's so so good but I'm feeling levels of angst I truly don't know how to convey, which is really saying something given how much of an essay I usually write despite claiming I'm speechless.

Just. The way this is the most desperate and near-breaking we have ever seen them, in a completely different manner than the grief that has come before.

Alright, and then, the juxtaposition of the mob and the cheering crowd around ZYC?—yeah, that's when I started sobbing. As I've said before, the effectiveness, the efficiency, of TJR's acting. The way we can read every emotion off of young ZYC's face: his awkward pride, his self-consciousness, his bashful happiness. Even though this is a memory only recently and fleetingly alluded to in the previous episode and this is a ZYC we have never actually met, we know him and all his mannerisms and expressions so well. He is so alive with his character and so familiar, and then we cut back and, god, how unrecognizable everything is now. That absolutely broke me.

Finally, ZYC and Li Lun's conversation. Again, so so good and again, not sure I can offer much substance in my commentary to do it enough justice. I've been writing this commentary for over three hours now, so if my coherence is petering out, I do apologize.

This is so much of what I wanted and didn't even know I wanted from them, simply because they've been kept apart by the plot for so long. To see some of this come to pass is so satisfying. For Li Lun to claw so desperately at ZYC and try to bring him down, what that means about how he views ZYC's role in ZYZ's life right now. That this is twofold, to ruin ZYC and to be understood, and how he can never get the latter if he is still holding onto the former, wanting to pull others into the abyss rather than seeking a way to perhaps be pulled out of it. Li Lun is so precise in his brutality towards ZYC, digging his fingers directly into the worst of ZYC's fears, and yet ZYC is so insanely clear-eyed and incorruptible and incisive with his words in a way Li Lun has never experienced or had to combat (ZYC, articulate king fr). And for all of Li Lun's bluster as he continually makes to take the physical and conversational upper hand, how quickly that becomes a pitiful immaturity when ZYC truly fights back (in defense of ZYZ). Yan An plays this part so well, when he's looking up at ZYC.

And seriously, talk about ZYC delivering just the most on point monologues to struggling characters ever (ZYZ, Bai Jiu, now Li Lun), and doing all that after the day he's had?? To be honest, I don't know what direction this conversation will push Li Lun. I can see it go either way because yeah ZYC just basically rubbed in his face how alone and pitiable he is and how he'll never get what he wants out of ZYC, but at the same time I've never seen Li Lun so close to understanding why he has ended up alone, nor look so desperate enough to not be that he might end up making a different choice for himself. And just as Li Lun is that mirror showing ZYC the darkness of the abyss, ZYC must be reflecting to Li Lun how bright the dawn could be. (Oh the inextricable nature of character foils.) Even though ZYC has denied Li Lun the understanding he wants, he has seen through Li Lun so thoroughly that that is an understanding in itself.

And then oh my god. The reverting to Bai Jiu's voice and body. One of the most top-tier narrative choices ever. Li Lun, deconstructed by ZYC completely, is really so unbearably young in his heartache.

Okay, I think that's all I have to offer. I'm so wrung out, and I apologize if the quality of the commentary declined in the second half, but I hope some of this was enjoyable to read!

[stellarbit]

Grief

Word Count: 2.1k Pairing: None, platonic comfort Warnings: grieving the death of a pet, panic attacks, grief in general Summary: After the loss of your pet, you come to the Batch for distraction. a/n: Recently, I lost the center of my world and I'm devastated. This is a self indulgent attempt at comfort.

Grief threatened to crush your chest. Every breath was unnatural and hours of crying left your face raw. Hours that came from days of pain and fear - fear that the world was forever wrong.

Losing them tore you in half. Their death carved a hole in your life that consumed every thought of your future. A future you now constantly had to remember would never be the same.

In the immediate days following their passing, the world seemed an alien landscape without them. Hunger eventually drove you from the isolation of your quarters, but it was desperation for distraction that kept you from returning. That same desperation now found you at the skyport of Ord Mantel, standing silently at Tech’s feet while he worked under the ship.

No one had seen you in three days, but with your companion’s decline in health - it wasn’t a hard connection to make. Your extended absence made it so that the sight of you caught Echo off guard when he rounded the Marauder. Your sudden appearance nearly sent the spanner in his hand into orbit.

You remained silent as you stared down at Tech’s feet with a ghostlike appearance, not truly seeing. There was no life in your sunken stance - a stark contrast to your usual vibrant self. In lieu of calling out to you, Echo quietly approached.

Your lack of response was jarring. Normally, you wouldn’t have missed Echo’s presence, but your typical alertness was replaced by a hollow vacancy.

Then again, all other times you had a living shadow acting as an extension of you. It seemed that nearly a decade with this creature had made you dependent on their presence. They were woven into the very fabric of your day-to-day existence.

When he was only a few paces from you and you still hadn’t noticed him, Echo hesitated but broke the silence. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” His voice was low and cautious.

Against his expectations, Echo’s greeting didn’t jolt you. Instead, you gradually drifted your dead-eyed gaze to him with a flinch of a smile.

Echo’s greeting caught Tech’s attention. Finally noticing you, Tech ducked out from under his ship to find you looking back down at him. As he crouched his way out he said with pleasant surprise, “Oh, I did not notice you.”

Despite anticipating your next visit to be a solitary one, your unaccompanied presence unsettled Tech. The absence of your side kick felt was very off kilter and he'd not seen you quite this withdrawn before. 

You gestured to the Marauder, asking, “Need a hand?” Contrary to your haggard appearance, your voice was smooth as any other day.

From the bay door, Omega watched you hunch under the Marauder, settling into place as Tech and Echo left your side. As they stepped away, Tech shared a quiet look with Echo - it was worse than they had imagined.

Hunter appeared beside Omega, tracking your movements as Echo and Tech joined them. “How’s she doing?” Hunter asked as he assessed you from a distance.

“She seems to be holding up.” Echo sighed, turning to check on you again.

Tech’s hands squirmed at his sides. He wanted to scour his datapad and distract him from the discomfort of your company, but he remained present, albeit uncharacteristically quiet. “There is something off about her though.” Tech added in an unsure tone.

Omega shook her head in disagreement. “Of course she’s off.” Her eyes dropped momentarily, finding it painful to look at you for too long. “Seeing her alone is weird…” Glancing between her brothers, she shrugged a shoulder in your direction. “Imagine what it’s like for her, for years it was just the two of them. Now, she’s all alone.”

Determination worked its way through Omega the more she watched on. Watching you struggle stirred a deep desire to help. “We have to do something for her,” she announced, her voice firm with resolve.

Echo saw the cogs working in her head, saw the worried expression so similar to the ones sent his way. Having endured the void left by his core squadron, he understood the depths of loss and the scar it could leave. It was a scar he saw in your future.

“Omega,” Echo said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “There are some things we can’t help with.” Omega’s expression drooped, it hurt Echo to tell her and hurt her to hear. He struggled to find the right words to explain the rest. “This… what she’s going through… it-it’s something we can’t fully understand.”

Her expression hardened, determined once more. “But she shouldn’t have to go through it alone.”

Omega’s pure intentions warmed Echo. “You’re half right, Omega,” he responded softly. “While it’s true she shouldn’t be alone, this is something she ultimately has to face by herself.”

It was an experience solely singular to you. A pain only you could feel the full breadth of, but one your friends desperately wanted to share the burden of. 

“She should get off-world,” Omega suggested with a hopeful tone. “Be somewhere without memories.”

Hunter considered the idea for a moment. Seeing you work at half your normal pace discouraged further consideration. Gently, Hunter redirected the young girl, “That might be a tall order right now.”

Gently, Echo patted his sister’s shoulder. “Keeping her busy might be all we can do.”

Tech listened intently, his eyes never straying from you. His mind raced through a catalog of possible interventions, calculations and logic running their course. Ultimately, he concluded that there was nothing in his, or his squad’s, arsenal that could truly mend what had been broken. 

You’d lost an irreplaceable part of your life and were now alone in a way you hadn’t been in a long time - almost as long as Tech had been alive.  The magnitude of your loss was difficult for him to fully comprehend, as his attachments, though deep, were largely confined to his squad.

Tech recognized the stark contrast between how he and you approached the world. While he offered his expertise to strangers with a calculated detachment, you freely extended love and support, the kind that had been so generously bestowed upon you by your companion. 

He’d always wondered where that kindness was rooted. Now, the true source of your strength was painfully clear to him.

Without a word, Tech left his siblings to discuss their idea for helping you. He knew there was nothing he could say or do to remedy your loss, but he could at least make sure you weren’t physically alone.

Echo left to find Wrecker while Hunter and Omega headed back to Cid’s. They were all planning on sharing dinner with you. Even Cid, typically detached, showed her concern by agreeing to host the dinner, her gruff exterior softened by the situation.

So Tech watched you work, instructing you through the repairs and making a conscious effort to be more gentle than usual. You remained stoic, following his instructions with such precision that you might have been mistaken for a droid. Occasionally, Tech glanced at his datapad, instinctively seeking brief escapes from the heavy air that hung between you. While his intention was to support you, the task proved more challenging than he had expected.

Initially, the mechanical work seemed to distract you effectively. However, the relief was fleeting. As you delved deeper into the mechanics, your thoughts inevitably drifted back to your lost companion. The pain momentarily subsided was swiftly replaced by a resurgence of grief, disrupting your focus.

Your attention wavered enough that your wrench slipped and stripped the bolting you were adjusting. Panic took hold and you attempted to crank the bolt again, further stripping it.

Tech, noticing the commotion from a distance, set his datapad aside and approached to assess the situation. As he drew closer, he saw the growing panic in your actions; your hands shook so violently that the wrench couldn't find its mark.

Gently, he came up beside you, his movements deliberate and calm. Without a word, he took the tool from your quivering hands.

You hung your head low, collapsing onto your ass. Folding yourself into your hands, you murmured, “Sorry, Tech.” Your previously steady tone was now watery and broken.

“There is no need to apologize.” Tech said, lowering himself beside. He adjusted his goggles for a better look at the spot above you. “It is a minor fix.”

You didn’t - couldn’t - respond, only nodding. The mistake had thrown you right back into despair. The quaking in your hands took hold of your entire body. 

Watching you, knowing there was so little he could do, made him feel helpless. Tech diverted his eyes to the tool in hand. Feeling a profound helplessness, he gripped the tool tighter, his voice gentle as he ventured, “Is there anything I can do?”

Your response was a shake of the head, morphing into sobs that you barely managed to voice through.  “Can you bring them back?” The bite in your voice was discounted by a subsequent sob.

The idea had occurred to Tech. As a genetic replica of a man he didn’t even know, Tech could speak to the efficacy of cloning. Unfortunately, the idea was dimmed when it came to recreating the soul of your companion.

After all, it wasn’t the physical being you so loved, but their soul and their love. 

He’d seen the unique bond you shared. It was in the way they looked at you like you were their moon and stars, moved in perfect sync with you, and seemed to want nothing more than to see you smile.

They were, in every sense, irreplaceable 

Defeated, Tech could only confess, “I cannot.”

You already knew that, yet hearing it confirmed broke you again. You curled inward, your body shaking as sobs wracked through you. Suddenly, your head snapped up, a gasp slicing through the heavy air. “Oh, stars,” you choked out, the realization hitting you over and over.

Squeezing your eyes shut, tears fell down your face. In broken, sobbing words you said, “They were sick and I didn’t even realize. I waited too long”

Tech’s eyes widened slightly. “Do you blame yourself?”

A feral intensity flashed through you, and you whipped around to face Tech. “Of course I do!” you yelled;

Tech, unflinching, met your gaze steadily. “They were receiving treatment, you were—”

“They were getting worse and I didn’t catch it!” Your anger at yourself flared high. Shaking your head, a far off, horrified expression came over you as you slowly crumpled again. “I thought they were… oh stars.”

Discarding the tool, Tech slid closer to place a hand on your back. He lowered his voice, trying to anchor you back from the brink of despair. “You did what you thought was best based on what you knew.”

The hyperventilation calmed, but it left behind a vacant stare. “Then they deserved better than me,” you murmured, the guilt in your voice like a physical weight.

Tech’s response was immediate and resolute, “You cannot say that,” he countered. His voice carried a hint of urgency, not just to contradict but to correct a harmful thought. “They were cared for and you cherished them - that is what they deserved and exactly what you gave. Grief might cloud your view, but it doesn’t change the care you devoted to them.”

His grip firmed on your back and he insisted, “You cannot let your regret taint your love for them or their memory.”

You blinked at Tech, tears continuing to fall as you whispered. “Tech, there is a happiness I will never taste again.”

Tech resisted the urge to confirm that sad truth aloud, choosing instead to offer comfort through actions - a gesture he had learned from Omega. Rubbing circles on your back, he coaxed out another pained whine from you.

“I miss them so much,” you confessed, your voice breaking with each word.

“I know.” Tech hesitated for a moment, considering the breadth of your anguish. Slowly, he closed the gap between you, tucking his arm around you in a rare display of overt affection. “I believe they miss you too.”

There was no fixing this for you. There was nothing to stop your pain. He didn’t understand all of the complexities in your loss, there was no one who could, but he could remind you of a few things.

Of the flawed perspectives born in your grief. Of it not being your fault. Of the bond he’d witnessed. 

In hopes of calming your nervous system, he squeezed you a little tighter. “We may not understand every detail of what you’re feeling, but we’re here. We’ll stay with you, for as long as you need.”

****

taglist: @baddest-batchers @jetii @bruh-myguy-what

a/n: I love you, Seneca.

[dotster001]

It makes me want to read something sad. For example, there is a celebration at the college, but Remshekle does not participate in it because it is not official. Crowley tells MC and Grim that they can't participate in the preparations for the holiday and come to it because they are banned. MC agrees, but is still upset. What happened next I can't think of, but I would like some angst. How will the dorm leaders react to this?

That's What Friends are For

A/N: Hopefully this is what you were looking for. I got some angst in there, but also comedy and a nice ending, even if it's not the expected ending. I'm not super good at solely angst 😂

3k follower Masterlist

"Due to budgeting constraints, we cannot allow unofficial dorms to participate in founder's day activities."

"Oh. Okay. I understand. That's fine. I get it."

"I appreciate your benevolence with this decision."

You stood up from your seat, and left Crowley's office.

You knew that you were living here for free, in an unofficial dorm, nonetheless, so really that you could even be allowed to attend the festival at all was generous in itself. But your friends had been going on and on about the stuff they got to present, and the new costumes they would get to wear that represented the icon of their dorm.

You were honestly more upset that you'd have to tell Grim. He had been so excited to have a cool new outfit. His sad little face would just devastate you.

But you'd get through it. And maybe he'd understand. One day.

….

"Where is my child of man?" Malleus asked. He had finally been informed about a housewarden meeting, and was distraught that his favorite person seemed not to be present.

"Ramshackle is not participating in the founders day parade," The headmage said off hand as he continued to inspect the paperwork Azul had brought forth regarding the founders day buffet menu.

"Pardon?" Riddle seemed startled.

"With having to feed, house, and teach them on our dime, the Ramshackle budget, which was nearly non-existent as an unofficial dorm, is completely drained."

"But it's founders day. Ramshackle was there at the opening, wasn't it?" Leona said with a glare, sparking some widened eyes around the table.

"Yes, but-"

"You only have an 800th anniversary once!" Kalim burst out. "I can pay for their outfits and exhibits if I need to!"

"As could any one of us at this table. And everyone of us would without a second thought," Vil mused. "So I think something else must be going through that bird brain of yours."

Crowley stood from his place at the table, feathers clearly ruffled.

"How dare you insinuate anything less than benevolence on my part! I am simply trying to care for this school-"

"You didn't think about it, did you? Lmao," Idia's tablet cackled.

Crowley's jaw opened and closed a couple of times, before he said, "I am aware of the monetary situation of our housewarden, I just did not wish to infringe upon-"

"Damn, the turnip was right. You really didn't even think about it," Leona laughed.

"So we'll fund their part of the festival. What is our next topic?" Malleus sighed out in relief. He didn't want to even be part of this festival without you. The stares and whispers without your gentle reassurances would be overwhelming.

"No, no, the decision is final. Besides, Ramshackle doesn't have a known founder. Whoever they are was lost to time!" Crowley snapped, clearly embarrassed, and also very stubborn.

"-They can just dress in the Queen of Hearts' inspired attire-"

"-Obviously they will borrow clothing from my grandmother's collection.-"

"-They would look fetching in the fairest Queen's robes.-"

Three voices spoke up at once, and all three turned to glare at each other.

"See! This is why they can't participate! Ramshackle's participation will only sow dissent amongst you. Now let's move on!" Crowley cried, beginning to sweat from the rising hostility levels.

"Oh, shut it!" Leona snapped, before turning back to the housewardens. "It's obvious they'd look the best in an outfit designed after the king of beasts."

"Imagine how op they'd look designed after the god of the dead!" Idia mused behind the tablet, seemingly not realizing he hadn't muted himself.

"Probably not as "op" as if they looked like an octo mer," Azul hissed through a tight smile. "Imagine the radiance and brilliance of-"

"Both of you are gross," Vil snapped. 

"Why are they gross?" Kalim asked.

"Because they don't care about the festival, anymore. They just want to see Y/N in looks they find hot, and can slobber over" Leona grinned.

"Like your intentions are oh so pure!" Idia's tablet screeched.

The table erupted into shouts, the meeting long forgotten as Crowley curled up in a ball in his chair.

Meanwhile….

"We've all discussed it," Ace said as he sat on your bed. It seemed he was the appointed spokesperson of the first year crew.

"We aren't going to let the two of you wallow in despair while we have fun. So we aren't going to have fun either," he said with his signature grin splitting his face.

"None of us are going to participate in the festival!" Ortho interrupted, clearly too excited to wait for Ace to be dramatic.

"Damn it, Ortho! I was supposed to say it!" Ace pouted.

"Language! He's a child!" Sebek hissed.

"He's in advanced potionomics with the third years. He'll be fine," Epel rolled his eyes. 

"But you were all so excited to participate," you said, covering Grim's mouth to keep him from immediately agreeing to their thought process without a second thought.

"It's not fun without you," Jack muttered, looking anywhere but you.

"Look, like it or not, you've woven yourselves so tightly into our lives that we wouldn't enjoy ourselves if you weren't a part of it!" Deuce stated factually, his cheeks turning red as he realized what he said.

"So, like they all said, we aren't going to wear any cool costumes, or work at an exhibit, or eat at an all you can eat buffet-"

"IT'S ALL YOU CAN EAT?" Grim screamed.

"Because we're gonna boycott the whole thing and have fun doing something else," Ace finished with a glare.

"Forget it Y/N. Forget them!" Grim cupped your face with his paws, looking earnestly into your eyes. "There's an all you can eat buffet! I don't need a fancy costume! Let's go to the buffet!"

You gently shifted Grim to your lap, and scratched his ears. "You guys, I don't know what to say. That's so sweet of all of you!"

"Yeah, we're pretty cool," Epel grinned.

"Buffet…" Grim sadly trailed off, knowing he'd lost.

"And we can find even cooler outfits while we're out!" Ortho cheered, excitement clear as he buzzed quickly around the room. 

"Honestly, it was less about the outfits, and more about feeling left out," you said with a sad smile.

"We know," Ace grinned, playfully nudging you with his shoulder.

"It's alright, we can beat up Crowley so he lets you participate next year," Deuce grinned maniacally, wrapping an arm around your other shoulder as he sat next to you, nuzzling his head against yours when you set it on his shoulder.

"Besides, if I let my Liege's dearest friend be sad, what kind of knight would I be!" Sebek said with a grin.

"Dude, don't pretend this is just about Malleus. You totally were about to cry when you heard they were sad."

"NO I WASN'T!"

You giggled, watching as your idiot friends began to yell at one another. This was what you really would have been disappointed to miss. But luckily, thanks to how amazing they were, and how much they cared about you, you wouldn't have to miss it.

[dindjarindiaries]

How about

“Honey, have you been crying? What is it? What’s wrong?”

with everyone’s favorite Mandalorian, Din Djarin.

I dropped my phone before I could finish my message! I’m sorry it came across as short and rude. I just wanted to thank you for even considering my request and I appreciate all your work. Thank you so much again!❤️ (A/N: Not rude at all, dear - but thank you so much for adding such a sweet note!)

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompt: “Honey, have you been crying? What is it? What’s wrong?”

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

You peered through the visors that concealed the viewport once again, only to be met with the darkness of the Nevarro night. Another breath tightened your chest as the familiar needles pricked at your throat. You considered the emergency comm that you were kneading in your hand, but refused to use it.

There was no emergency, and thus no need to worry him. There was just an unprecedented loneliness.

Din and Grogu's most recent venture had run two days longer than expected, though Din had communicated that to you via holo. He had promised they would be back in two days' time, and that time had arrived. If another delay came their way, you didn't know what you would do, because you were certain you couldn't wait another minute.

The worst part was that you didn't understand why. For years, when your home was a ship and not a cabin, you were able to go even longer without seeing Din as he ventured on job after job. Now, long after the Crest's devastating fate and years spent close together...

It was just lonely.

You glanced over your shoulder at the empty cabin. Only a single light was on, casting much of the comforting space in an ominous shadow. It felt so empty without all three of you there, and it was getting unbearable. You had tried to keep yourself busy with errand-running and other tasks, but there were only so many mundane tasks you could do.

You exhaled and squeezed your eyes shut, holding the comm even tighter in your fist. It was time to come to terms with the reality that Din had faced another delay, and that you would have to sleep in an empty bed for one more night.

The prickling sensation around your throat didn't cease as you resigned yourself to your fate and prepared for bed. After all you had been through with Din, you refused to cry over something as pitiful as loneliness. Your emotions, however, didn't agree with your sentiment, and the prickling only got worse as you settled into bed.

Your cheek rested upon your pillow as you looked over at the empty half of the bed. The tightening of your throat only got worse until you had to obey its demands, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut once again as the tears fell. With the comm still nearby on your bedside table, you tried your best to sleep, and somewhere amidst your crying your body finally gave out.

It wasn't much longer until the sound of your bedroom door opening woke you up.

At first, you were alert, sitting up straightaway and nearly reaching for your blaster in the process. When you caught Din's silhouette, however, all that panic faded and was exchanged for the sweetest wave of relief.

"Din," your utterance of his name was breathless as you rose from the bed and approached him. He met you in the middle, leaving his travel pack on the floor in favor of returning your embrace. A gloved hand firmly held your back before it ran along your spine in a gesture so overwhelmingly comforting that it almost made you sob with relief into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry we were late." Din's voice was hushed, causing it to crackle through his modulator as he continued to hold on to you. He waited until you were ready to pull away.

"It's okay." You smiled as you braced your hands upon his beskar, studying every inch of his visor and taking it all in. "I'm just glad you're safe."

Din gave his helmet a fond tilt. "We were..." Din paused as he studied you in return, and his helmet straightened in severity. His chest stalled as he lifted a gloved hand to the side of your face. His thumb ran over your cheek in a slow, steady motion. "Cyar'ika, have you been crying?"

You blinked a few times at him in disbelief. Your lips parted as you sought a way to dodge his question, but if the evidence was there for him to see, then there would be no way of lying to him.

"What is it?" Din's free hand removed his helmet from his head in one swift motion before it rested on the other side of your face. His brown eyes were widened in concern as his gaze searched yours. "What's wrong?"

You exhaled, your throat tightening again—but that time, it was in embarrassment. "It was nothing serious, I promise."

Din circled his jaw as he gave you a once-over. "Anything that bothers you is serious to me." His brow wrinkled together more as his gaze found yours. "Please, let me help."

You held his wrists and offered a reassuring smile. "You already have." You gave his wrists a squeeze as he lifted an eyebrow at you. "By coming back."

Din's brow relaxed in understanding, but you still offered the confirmation he was seeking.

"I just missed you. That's all." Your voice was pitifully quiet.

Din immediately took you back into his arms. "Oh, cyar'ika, I'm so sorry. I had no idea." He rested his chin upon your head. "You can always comm me. You know that, right?"

You closed your eyes and shrugged. "I didn't want to worry you." You swallowed hard and added one more thing. "Or make you feel bad."

Din took a deep breath, and the movement took you with him. "I appreciate you thinking of me like that, but you don't have to. Especially when it comes at the sake of your own wellbeing."

You nodded and kept yourself nestled in his warmth. "Okay." You let out a sweet exhale. "But you're back now. That's all that matters."

"I am." Din kissed your head before he urged you away, gesturing with his head to the bed. "But rest also matters, too."

You huffed and shook your head at him. "Whatever you say."

Din kept you closer than usual as the two of you rested that night, bringing a relief that went beyond any words—and soothed the ache in a way only he was capable of doing.

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

[witchyleehibernates]

Sodapop in a Hunger Games AU is plaguing me and now I have ideas

Ponyboy’s name is called during the reaping, and while panicking, Sodapop volunteers as tribute. Ponyboy cries and it’s Steve pulling him away from the reaping and Darry is devastated, because no one expects Sodapop to survive, which is devastating for District 12 (yes I'm using the districts, but I don’t particularly care for the canon map? sorta?). The District loves Sodapop because of his Charisma and he’s genuinely so nice for being from the really poor side of town. The concept of Socs and Greasers still exists, but the District all gave him a salute with bowed heads.

During the ‘goodbyes’ Ponyboy clings to Sodapop while crying (he’s 13 and his favorite big brother is being sent to his death), Darry also cries and the three of them hug for the entire 5 minutes, and Sodapop cries after his brothers are told they have to leave. Darry carries Ponyboy who just… collapsed and cried. Steve visits next and just holds Sodapop while Soda cries, quiet plea’s to look out for Ponyboy as best he can. Steve just holds him while silently crying. Steve gives him his ‘RANDLE’ ring and Sodapop cries a little more. Sandy also comes to see him… and breaks up with him right before he has to leave. Sodapop is devastated.

Headcanon: Steve has a few specific rings that everyone in the district just know belong to him, he has three or four of them.

Sodapop has no clue who the girl is that came with him, he didn’t know her, nor did he recognize her, though she was around his age. Sodapop is stuck in his head, mine running through the memory of volunteering and just being relieved that he’d saved his kid brother from the games. And, to make matters hurt more, Two-Bit is their mentor. Two-Bit is determined to get his friend home, because he did not want to return to District 12 if he failed.

Sodapop’s leg ends up really hurt at some point, specifically in his left leg, and he develops a limp and his speed is cut down by a lot. He very nearly dies, but he’d gained an ally that had gotten him medicine and protected him. Said ally killed himself at the end of the games, and Sodapop was quite a bit depressed by this, despite knowing that they would have had to fight each other to the death. Sodapop had to kill the last remaining tributes and he very nearly doesn’t succeed.

Sodapop ends up winning the games, though he’d somehow angered the Capitol in the process and he doesn’t know how. Two-Bit doesn’t know how either, which is concerning, but the two of them return to District 12 and Sodapop is almost literally knocked off his feet when Ponyboy sees him. Two-Bit laughed as he caught and steadied the sudden duo. Ponyboy cried a lot, and Darry wrapped both of his baby brothers in a tight hug. In fact, the entire gang hugged, uncaring of who was watching.