#Watching your only contention to the world even if he did kill everyone else being dragged away from you every night

[ceratedfish24]

Your takes on c!Scott and flower husbands have honestly been so refreshing that its reignited my old Hot Takes on c!Jimmy bc I detest the way people characterize him.

I feel like so many people portray Jimmy as this dejected downtrodden victim of bullying, which feeds into a narrative that Scott was cruel and abusive and awful or whatever, and tends to act like Jimmy doesn't have any agency ever. But IN REALITY??? Jimmy is not downtrodden and dejected and sad!!!!! In my opinion, Jimmy's defining character trait is his unshakable TENACITY! Ppl never want to admit that Jimmy is a little shit! That he acts out of spite, that his friends' teasing only tends to motivate him!! He *thrives* in environments that challenge him! AND to be so for real, he is a grown man with agency and decision-making skills and I'm tired of people acting like he isn't.

In general I feel like people just have the wrong outlook on him as a character. Maybe they've just collectively misunderstood him, or a Helpless Miserable Victim is easier to write about in fic, or they just want to project their own bullying-related trauma onto him or whatever. (People do similar things to Scar when talking about desert duo, which I understand even less). IDK. These are just my thoughtssssss sorry for rambling :P

No because you’re literally so real for this. Jimmy is SUCH a little shit. His response to Joel being mad at Jimmy for trying to kill him was to SHAKE HIS ASS AT JOEL. He taunted Joel because Jimmy successfully used Lizzie to bait Joel out. He tried to guilt trip Scott into giving him time. These aren’t negative qualities. This is a guy being silly with his friends. Embrace them when writing c!Jimmy. These are wonderful and realistic qualities.

Jimmy’s tenacity is so remarkable. He gets knocked down and all of his friends tease him about it, and he stands right back up with pep in his step. A lot of people treat Pearl the same way. Like, guys, these people are adults who make their own choices, and, often times, people who are given free will are not going to make the responsible choice most of the time when there are no real world consequences to their actions other than maybe “I might not get to be in the finale of this Minecraft series”.

There is SO much favoritism in the Life Series. Jimmy and Pearl are always reduced to their greatest tragedies, while Scott and Cleo are reduced to their most selfish moments, even though everyone else is equally selfish because IT IS A DEATH GAME. IT IS A COMPETITION. THAT IS THE POINT.

A lot of Jimmy’s deaths tend to be his own doing. Whether he unnecessarily made an enemy or just wasn’t being careful, a lot of Jimmy’s deaths are his fault, and that’s fine. He likes to play into bits. He’s not that serious about winning as opposed to making fun content. Pearl has made her fair share of mistakes and enemies, and that adds plot and drama to her content. That’s how she plays it, and it’s fine! Don’t infantilize them for dealing with the consequences of their actions just like everybody else!

Scott was widowed, and he had to watch his allies die before he did for seasons. Nobody ever comforts him about it. Nobody says “oh this man is so sad he’s just doing his best but he can’t keep his friends alive and it’s eating him up and everyone should baby him”.

Nobody even calls Joel toxic for constantly targeting Scott, but somehow Scott is toxic for teasing Jimmy now and then? (Which is not to say that Joel is toxic. He just finds it fun to target his good friend and knows where Scott’s limits are. It’s actually a sign of how close they are in real life). Nobody calls Etho and Bdubs toxic for being so mean to each other. Nobody calls Impulse manipulative when his whole thing in Third Life was betraying people. Nobody says Ren is controlling for taking the lead in Dogwarts or calling the Renwood Mound the Ren Mound. Scar is a liar and a scammer and no one thinks less of him for it.

Do you wanna know why? Because they’re friends having fun. Scott and Scott’s character should be treated with that same respect given to everyone else. Also, people need to keep in mind that Scott is not actively playing a character. Scott is just playing the game the way that cc!Scott wants to play the game, so any in depth analysis of Scott’s “character”? That’s an over analysis of cc!Scott in a competitive environment, and that man is literally on this site, people. He knows about Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss, Girldad. I’ve seen him reply to analysis posts on why Scott is manipulative. He’s literally just a guy playing a game for fun.

Imagine if someone accused you of playing an evil and selfish character because you asked your friend to give you the monopoly money they owe you. Or, worse imagine if someone accused you of playing a manipulative character because you let your friend land on your monopoly property without paying you????? Because you love your friend??????? Like, excuse me????????

Thank you for the ask!!!!!! 🩵🩵🩵 It’s always flattering when someone calls my posts “refreshing”💕💕💕(also I see you all the time and I love seeing your additions to my posts💖)

[backpackingspace]

Okay so I've been thinking about @nonbinarylocalcryptid Astyanax lived/daddy odysseus au. Which is some good shit in general. Yall should check it out. But specifically I'm think about what it would be like for this child to grow up on calypso's island. He would have been what ? 3-10 there??

[lovebugism]

hi! not sure if you’re still taking requests but if u are may i request the prompt “it’s okay to cry in front of me, you know. you don’t have to carry this alone.” with reader comforting steve? tysm <3

bug's blurb sleepover (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)!

Steve tends to feel things really, really deeply.

When Nancy called him bullshit at a Halloween party and ran off with the weird kid from chemistry class a day later, he felt like it was the end of the world. His world, at least. 

He thought it was going to stick with him for the rest of his life — that she was right, that he really was bullshit, and that that truth would haunt him forever. It did. It does. It lurks over his shoulder sometimes, like a shadow or a sleeping dragon.

And when Robin’s mad at him, like mad mad, it makes him feel like dying. 

One time he overestimated how tired he was after a shift and forgot to pick Robin up after band practice. He was startled awake from his nap out of nowhere, like his brain knew he’d done something wrong, and realized he was supposed to drive her home over an hour ago. 

He found her standing with her trumpet case under the awning in a futile attempt to hide from the pouring rain. She didn’t talk to him for days — not during the drive, not at work the next day, not until he was milliseconds from groveling at her feet for her forgiveness.

But it’s different when he’s happy. He’s got you and he’s got Dustin, and he loves the two of you so much it feels like he might burst sometimes. Adoration spills from his pores like so many little rays of sunshine, leaves him a grinning and gushing thing in the place of a teenage boy. 

It’s so much worse with you, though. Because sometimes he feels like his heart beats only for you — that it follows the rhythm of your pulse, that it will stop when yours does. 

He can taste every word that spills from your mouth, the one’s coated in venom and honey alike. He can hear every sound of your soul, too. It’s the crackles of an old record player when you’re content, autumn leaves crunching when you’re angry, and the sounds of a deep, deep ocean when you’re sad.

You’re embedded into every fiber of his being. You’ve entwined yourself with him without even realizing it, tucked yourself into the outer regions of his bleeding heart with a fuzzy blanket and a good book — no sign of leaving any time soon.

He loves you hard, too hard. So hard there’s no breath without you.

So when Vecna almost kills you, it feels a little like his life is ending.

He watches you float in midair, his feet still stuck on the ground, totally helpless. 

Tears spill from your glazed-over eyes and glitter beneath streams of moonlight. Your body is slack, but your fingers tremble and your brows twitch and your chin quivers. You’re not all there, but you can feel every ounce of fear like an ice-cold bath, painful and numbing all at once. Because you know that you’re going to die. And that there’s nothing anyone else can do to stop it.

Dustin shouts for help into his supercomm, begs for Max to bring her walkman or steal the nearest boombox they see and bring it with them to Lover’s Lake. They’re too far away, though, on the other side of town in Nancy’s too slow Station Wagon picking up more hunting supplies to kill the son of a bitch trying to kill you. He knows they won’t make it in time.

Steve shakes your shoulders and shouts in your face, but you still don’t wake. He keeps a hold of you until you’re out of his reach entirely — rising and rising and rising until you’re six feet off the ground. Then he’s just begging, shouting pleas up at you, at god, at Vecna — the shriveled skin creep doing this to you. 

“Please,” he shouts to everyone and no one all at once. “Please, just— you gotta wake up, okay? I’ll be better, I’ll be so much better, I promise. I’ll listen to all the music you like, watch all the movies you want — even the ones that suck — I’ll be a better boyfriend, okay? You just— You need to wake up!”

You don’t. 

You just keep on crying, like you can hear him in whatever world Vecna’s sucked you into. Eyes fluttering, neck jerking, lips trembling. You succumb completely to the monster’s curse.

It’s Eddie that saves you.

He rushes to the stolen R.V. for his guitar, the one Steve said made him look like he was overcompensating for something, the one that’s about to save your life. “What’s her favorite song?” the boy urges as he slips the strap over his head with pale and trembling fingers.

Steve looks over at his shoulder at him. It’s hard to see through the stinging tears. “Wh— What—” He can’t form words. Or thoughts, really. The only thing going through his head is that you’re about to die, that he’s about to lose you forever. It clouds his mind like thick black smoke.

“Her favorite song?” Eddie snaps. “What is it?”

He scrambles to answer. “Uh, it’s uh— it’s Take— Take On Me… Do you know that one?”

“No,” the boy answers honestly. “But I can try.”

That’s all they can do for now. Try. Hope.

He puts his fingers to the strings, trying to find the right placements, but it’s hard when you don’t know how to play the song and you’re shaking that you’re fucking freezing. Eddie’s forced to play it by ear and tells Steve that it won’t sound exactly right and that it won’t be loud without his amp. 

It takes him a moment to find the melody, but Steve hears it the second it comes — the synth-y da-da-da-dum, da-da-dah, da-da-da-da-dum’s that were practically engrained in his psyche after he heard it on the radio the millionth time.

You weren’t as afflicted by the earworm as he was. You loved it. 

The song came out the year the two of you started dating, so all he heard for months was that catchy beat and even catchier falsetto. You played it on the jukebox when you went to the diner, popped the tape into your radio whenever he was over at your place, requested for it to be played virtually wherever you went.

You hear the song from where you’re stuck in your own head. The strums of the guitar are quiet and a little out of tune, but the uncanny notes make sense when you’re trapped in a world that isn’t really your world. Suddenly you don’t see Vecna or his claw in your face — just Steve, Steve, Steve.

He’s with you at the diner with whipped cream on his chin, making fun of you for singing to the song so off-key. He’s with you in your childhood bedroom, spinning you around and singing all the high notes with you. He’s with you at Enzo’s, the fanciest place in Hawkins for your anniversary, and slips the mini-orchestra a hundred-dollar bill to play the song for you.

Suddenly, you’re on the ground again — back in Hawkins — and gasping for breath in his arms. You can’t see him from where he’s got his face tucked into your neck, but you can feel the scarily rapid beat of his heart and the way it matches your own.

Steve sobs into you, uncaring about how loud he is or how his snot and tears stain your t-shirt. Because he almost fucking lost you. And, for a split second, he tried to think of what a life without you would look like. He quickly came up short. There was nothing — no light, no sound, no music — just darkness. A void. 

Sometimes, he thinks he would’ve died with you that night.

Vecna is dead within the next twenty-four hours after the fact. You and Nancy take turns shooting bullets in the pale patchy skin of his chest where his heart’s supposed to be while Steve and Robin throw hand-made bombs in his direction. He trips and stumbles out the window while the rotting basement erupts into flames. There’s nothing left but ashes.

Steve doesn’t feel a thing for a little while after that, just the acute urge to protect the group of you even though the boogeyman is long gone. 

He doesn’t let go of you for days, always holding onto some part of you, because he’s terrified of you slipping away again. 

He lets Dustin sleep at his place when the boy asks, but it’s for his own peace of mind more than anything else. He doesn’t let the boy out of his sight until his mom gets concerned about him. 

He drives forty-five minutes to the hospital every day for two weeks with you so you can visit Max and Lucas, always with two peanut butter jelly sandwiches for them — just in case.

He’s on auto-pilot for a while. He just keeps on taking care of everyone else because it distracts him from himself — from his own inner turmoil, from the horrors he saw that night, from the boogeyman still in his closet.

It takes you a month for you to tell him what you saw. You were a lot like him in that way, still trying to hide from it all. You would’ve been more than happy if you could squish your great big problem into a tiny little ball that you could stomp underneath your feet and forget about completely. 

But that’s not how life works. 

The thing just swells and swells and swells until it takes everything in you to stay sane.

You sit Steve down on his bed and curl into his lap — knees to your chest, head tucked beneath his chin. And you tell him about it. Everything.

You tell him that Vecna showed you Brad, the boyfriend you had before Steve. It was a replay of the last night you saw him parked at Lover’s Lake, the very same place you had been when Vecna almost took you. You’re sitting in his passenger seat and he’s trying to feel you up. “Billy’s girlfriend lets him fuck her all the time,” he gripes when you swat his hand from your thigh.

“Then maybe go fuck Billy’s girlfriend,” you shoot back. 

It’s the last thing you’d ever said to him before storming off and catching the late bus back home. He went missing the next day; his car still there, but no sign of the boy himself.

Vecna shows you everything you’d been making yourself sick over for years, tells you exactly what happened to him that night.

A demogorgon appears in thin air and snatches the boy, takes him to the Upside Down like he’s some kind of light night snack. The thing doesn’t eat him, though, just plays with its food for a while until it gets bored and lets him rot. Brad was down there, for days, beggingfor someone to save him. Help never came, though. Just the slow, slow hand of death. 

“You never even looked for him…” you recite the words Vecna said to you, voice much softer than his cruel baritone one. “You let him rot down there while you threw yourself at a boy that didn’t even want you…”

Steve eyes squeeze shut then, like he’s trying to hide from your words. It’s about as effective as those idiots in horror movies who try to hide under their bedsheets from demons.

You sought refuge in Steve that night and many others, when Brad was acting especially douchebag-y. It was innocent at first. He was your friend. But somewhere down the line, you realized that you had bigger feelings for him than you ever did for your boyfriend. Steve, meanwhile, was still caught in the web of his complicated feelings for Nancy.

It wasn’t until you got kidnapped by Russian soldiers that he realized how much he loved you.

There’s just something about the end of the world that makes a person see clearly again.

Everything seems to hit him exactly a week later. 

He’d done a pretty good job at hiding it all — the nightmares, the panic attacks, the sleepless nights. He hid that all from you because you were recovering too. He didn’t think it was fair to dump all his hurt on you while you were still trying to get back to normal.

You noticed it very quickly, though, that Steve didn’t seem to be very affected by any of it. 

He was so nonchalant about everything, the kind of casual only a person who was aching could pull off. 

And he’d get real reserved at times, uncharacteristically quiet, and you’d ask him if he was okay. He’d scoffed and say he was fine —of course I’m okay, what do you mean? — while his cheek speckled with red and he blinked back glassy tears. 

You’d try to hug him and he’d let you, but kept shrugging off your concern — I’m fine, babe. I promise. I’m not the one who almost died.

Steve did that a lot. Made it seem like his problems didn’t mean as much because they weren’t as big as yours or Max’s or Eddie’s. He convinced himself that they didn’t. Why should he be upset when he didn’t have to meet the monster face to face or live through something traumatic all over again? What does he have to cry about?

But when he sleeps all he sees in you — in that spot at Lover’s Lake, succumbing to Vecna’s curse, while the rest of them try like hell to bring you back. In his nightmares, they never do. He watches your bones break one by one, piercing cracks in the quiet night that he can feel in his chest, before you fall limply to the ground again.

He wakes with a gasping breath, the same way you had all the time ago. You’re sleeping peacefully beside him, hair wild and face smushed into your pillow, but he can’t seem to get the vision out of his head — of your mangled body and sucked-out sockets. He stumbles off to the bathroom on tired and trembling legs.

You wake to the door slamming shut and stir at the sound of the faucet turning on. 

Light spills from the crack underneath the door, bright in the darkness of your bedroom. You watch Steve’s shadow with bleary eyes, how it stands in one place for a moment and then paces back and forth.

Wiping sleep from your eyes, you tiptoe to the door, but don’t do anything when you reach it. You just wait, listen. 

Steve mumbles something to himself that you can’t quite make out — you’re okay, stop being such a baby, jesus… is all you can hear. He sniffles as his feet pad the length of the tiled bathroom floor. It doesn’t take a genius to know that he’s crying.

Your knock upon the door is a soft one. You don’t want to startle him. The second he realizes you’re outside the door, he freezes.

“Stevie…” you call gently out for him. “Are you okay?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah—” Then again. “Yeah, I’m fine… Go back to bed.”

“Are you sure?” you press. “Do you want me to get anything for you?”

The boy has to take a deep breath in to stop himself from snapping at you. He’s angry at himself more than anything — for hiding, for failing at hiding. He runs two anxious hands through his hair and plants himself along the ceramic edge of the bathtub. 

“I’m sure. Just… Just go back to bed, okay?”

You don’t listen. You just slide along the door frame until you’re sat on the carpeted floor of your bedroom. Steve can hear your shuffling outside.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay. You know that, right?” you ask him through the door.

Steve puts his face in his hands before he can catch his scrunching face in the mirror. Just when he thought he wasn’t going to cry, here you come, pulling this shit. 

“I know,” he answers tightly, muffled through his palms. He rubs them up and down his face once, twice, and then a third time before throwing his hands into his lap. “But I’m fine, okay? Seriously.”

“You can cry in front of me, Steve. It’s okay. You don’t have to— You don’t have to go through this shit alone, you know? I’m here. I’m right here, okay? Let me help you.”

It’s that reminder that does him in; the assurance that you’re here and not a disfigured mess in the tall grass of Lover’s Lake. A sob spills from his mouth too abruptly for him to stop it.

“Steve…” you call for him again, heartbreaking on the other side of the door.

“I’m almost lost you,” he cries, more than himself than to you, then sniffles. “I’m almost fucking lost you.”

“But you didn’t. I’m still here. And I’m not going anywhere, Steve Harrington. The universe is gonna have to try a whole lot harder to keep me away from you.”

He manages a laugh through his tears. “It’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking,” you quip. “If Vecna couldn’t stop me from being with you, nothing will.”

The thought of that warms him. He realizes it’s not the universe keeping the two of you together, not fate or some higher power in the clouds. It’s love. It’s all the love the two of you have got for each other, stronger than any demogorgon or Russian soldier or dark wizard. And it’s love that’s gonna hold the two of you together for the next several decades, until you’re old and wrinkly and ugly. 

But Steve won’t think you’re ugly. He’ll think you’re as beautiful as the first moment he saw you — throwing up in the bushes outside Tina’s house after your first high school party.

You rise quickly when the door opens. Steve stands in front of you, eyes puffy and face red and smiling gently down at you anyway. “I love the shit outta you, you know that?” is all he can think to say. Because that’s all that he feels in that moment.

“Of course, I know that,” you grin up at him. Your hands rise to cup his jaw, thumbs swiping at his tear-stained cheeks. Your browns pinch in concern. “You okay?”

For the first time, he’s honest.

“No…” he murmurs with the soft shake of his head. His eyes dart away from yours and to the floor where his and your twenty toes stand, still on the ground, not floating in thin air.

“No�� I… I don’t think I am,” he confesses softly. His tired, sad, and heavy honey eyes flit back up to yours again. “But I will be.”

You nod until your words catch up to you. “Yeah. Yeah, you will.”

“If only out of pure spite of all the monsters to all the monsters trying to destroy our lives.”

“They’re gone now,” you promise, like a parent who’s checked under their child’s bed for shadows and ghosts. It works well enough. Here, with his face in your hands and standing in your shared bedroom, he’s never felt safer.

“Can you… Can you hold me?” he wonders, a little meekly because he feels like an idiot saying them. Then he feels even more like an idiot for feeling like an idiot. You’re his girlfriend, after all, cuddles sort of came with the package.

“Of course,” you answer without thinking twice. You grab his hand and tug him back to the bed almost immediately. “I’ll hold you for the rest of our fucking lives, Harrington, you know that.”

The two of you settle into the mattress. Steve uses you like a pillow, wraps all of his limbs around you and tucks his face into your neck. Your scent is a familiar one, warm and comforting, like home. “I like the sound of that,” he mumbles into your shoulder after a moment of quiet.

“Well, buckle in, baby. ‘Cause I got you for the next, like, six decades.”

You feel his smile form against your skin as Steve tucks himself inside your soul.

[poetryvampire]

✨ Falling into Place ✨

Pt 2 (pt 1 can be found Here )

Gn! Reader x Rolan x Zevlor

Words: 4,835

Summary: Unsure of how they may react to finding out you're poly, you can't bring yourself to admit your love for either Zevlor or Rolan. Despite your efforts you fear your presence is driving a wedge between the tieflings.

Contents: Angst with a happy ending, mutual pining, self esteem issues, love confessions, touch starved, Nsft, oral, creampie.

Notes: Thank you so much Anon for requesting this and for you and everyone being so patience and kind. 💜💜💜 I really loved this prompt and very much enjoyed writing it. Enjoy! 🥰

 Luckily for you the day was horrifically busy. Hardly any time to dwell on Rolan's icy glances or what might really be going through Zevlor's mind. Your party set out to a village not far off from camp. If the rumors and supposed sighting were to be believed, this had been a hide out of the goblins. The moment you entered the village it was clear  there would be no need for an investigation. Sounds of panicked screams rang through the streets leading to the middle of town that was marked by a plume of black smoke overhead. You found the horde- larger than you had hoped- in a full rampage: terrorizing villagers, taking prisoners and hurling fireballs at everything they could. In the midst of the chaos you were ready, not only to put your all into saving the village but also to let your concerns slip away and focus on the task at hand.   

 The battle lasted longer than expected but eventually ended in victory. Those that chose to flee did so without any prisoners; a great win in your books for the time being. You were left feeling more worn than you had in ages but could not allow yourself to stop. Much to Zevlor's dismay you had neglected to tend to your wounds-a few scratches nothing major- before you flew into looking after civilians, seeing what else needed to be done. 

 The second the danger had dissipated your mind was flung back into turmoil. You could barely focus on Karlach as she summarized her talk with the village elders. A chill of fear ran down your spine as you caught sight of Rolan and Zevlor in the distance. For the first time since setting out they seemed to be speaking to each other. Though on closer inspection Zevlor was healing the wizard’s arm. Once the magic subsided you noticed Zevlor moving slightly closer to Rolan as he spoke, as if to be mindful of a sensitive topic. Finally he placed a reassuring hand on Rolan’s shoulder only for him to knock it away. You could feel your heart hammering in your throat as you watched Rolan tense, his tail swinging defensively behind him. It was clear by the tightening of Zevlor’s jaw that the wizard’s words were less than kind. 

“Don’t look so worried they’ll be fine.” 

 You suddenly snapped back to the world around you and to Karlach who was watching them as well. 

 “What?” you squeaked. 

 “I’m saying you can stop being such a sad sack, they’ll be fine!.” She gestured at the two. Before you could pull your thoughts together she continued. “Can tieflings get a little heated? Of course! But Zev and Rolan are good guys. And even if they do fight they’re not in rut so they probably won’t kill each.”  

“What!” You shouted, your anxiety coursing through your whole body.  “What are you talking about?” 

 “Well, sometimes if two guys are going after the same mate -hypothetically that is- things can get a little over charged, bit emotional, they might have a row. To show off but also to beat the shit out of their opponent. It can get nasty from time to time; I watched a poor bastard get gored once, you know. ” Karlach searched your face for anything other than horror. “But our boys are waaaay too sensible for that. Like if that were the case. Hypothetically, you shouldn’t worry.” 

“Oh my gods.” was all you could manage after blowing out a long breath.

  Though you appreciated the sentiment, the idea of them actually fighting over you put your stomach in knots. Just as alarming was the notion that your emotions had been so obvious. Every little action was getting to you, making you question your judgment. Not only about your tiefling companions but everything. Certainly you were over thinking to the point of torture yet it felt like a just punishment for you being the one to create this mess in the first place. 

  As the sun began to set a generous group of thankful locals ushered your company into a pub, happy to treat you to food and drink. You were glad for the proper meal but the jovial atmosphere of the celebrating villagers was deafened by Rolan's thin lipped silence. Surrounded by music, dancing and noisy chatter you had no choice but sit there and stew in your discomfort. Worse still was the concern in Zevlor's eye. He knew something more was wrong than you were letting on. 

 The air kept growing heavier, the anxiety which raged in your chest coming to a boiling point. The moment it seemed that all your companions were distracted you took your chance and made your way out the door as slyly as possible. You moved quickly, as happy as you were for the quiet there was something in the stillness of the night that made you feel small. By the time you were out of the village the prickling in your eyes  turned into scattered tears at your own foolishness.     

 Silently you thanked the gods as you finally sat by the campfire, it was a small comfort but it helped you feel less alone. You hugged your knees to your chest as you wondered if calling the mission there maybe for the best. It seemed the only sensible choice. You would break up, regroup and continue alone. Or at least with a different arrangement. Before you could properly map out a plan you were interrupted. 

 Rolan approached you slowly, a familiar grimace on that handsome face. You would have given anything to see him smile again.

"Have I done something wrong?" Rolan asked, breaking the silence.

"What? No, of course not." you shook your head.

"Than you haven't brought me here to torture me?" There was a strain in his voice that you hadn’t heard in a long time.

“No! Rolan, I would never do that to you.” Panic spread through your gut, thousands of words flew through your head, many of them leading  to his resounding rejection. How could you have been so senseless?  

 “Then why else would you want a useless wizard with no experience at your heels other than to bask in his humiliation.” His words were laced with venom. “If that was you intent bravo! You’ve done an excellent job.” 

“Rolan, don’t say that.” You plead, wishing to banish every terrible thought from his mind.  

“ If I've mistreated you, it wasn’t my intention.” He spat. “Truly. I know I’m not great at, well, handling these types of things. I know I’m not- not anything really.” 

 “Rolan, please-”   

“Let me speak.” He snapped. Rolan’s voice was sharp but his eyes held a wild desperation.

You nodded, thankful to be sitting down, that he couldn’t see the weakness in your knees. Rolan paused to take a breath as if drawing words was as painful as pulling an arrow from one's chest.

“I’ve never had a talent for speaking on my emotions. Even more so on matters of the heart. I used to barely believe that love was real. Or maybe I just wanted to believe that to make myself feel…” He laughed bitterly. “Less alone? Perhaps. But I was wrong. I’ve loved you since the Grove.”  

Rolan let out a shaking breath as he began to pace like a caged animal.  

 “How long ago was that? And yet I’ve done nothing. Like I was waiting for this to happen. I think I hoped that would be better. If you loved another I might be able to bear it,” He shook his head, gaze turned downward. “But not Zevlor.” 

 You felt dizzy. Numb, as if he had knocked the air from your lungs. 

 “Of all people. Zevlor? Not only another tiefling but one that has my affection-my respect? He is my better in every way. Stronger in heart and body. More handsome, more wise, more charming. I am already painfully aware that I am no hero, or beloved leader. I don’t need to be reminded at every turn what I lack.” Rolan didn’t dare look at you, still you could see the moisture in his eyes as plainly as you heard the trembling in his words. “He speaks to you with such ardency, it makes me sick. Had I done the same, things may have been-”

A sudden rustling in the darkness made both of you jump. You had been so lost in the revelation of his words your surroundings all but faded away. Your personal nightmare continued as a weary looking Zevlor stepped into the light. 

 “By the Hells,” he breathed, moving closer to the fire. “You gave me a fright. Have you both gone mad? First you wonder off,” Zevlor took a moment to look you over. You’re sure he caught the panic in your eyes. “And then Rolan disappears altogether.”  

“And just why does that bother you so deeply?” Rolan interjected before you could think of what to say. The sadness in his face slowly turned to rage.        

“Don’t be a fool. For all we know there’s still goblins about. Ones that were keen to try and take prisoners to Gods know where. It’s dangerous. You could have-” 

“But not for the noble Hellrider himself.” Rolan sneered. “He’ll be perfectly fine. Can’t miss an opportunity to play knight in shining armor, can he?”

Zevlor paused, his lips thinning, his eyes fixed on the wizard.

“It has been a tiresome day, Rolan. Perhaps it would be best to get some rest.” The paladin suggested. 

“Of course, heavens forbid our great hero do anything outside your watchful eye.” 

 “Please!” Zevlor hissed. “Clear your head. Go now before-” 

 “Before what?” Rolan raised his voice, suddenly stepping closer to Zevlor. Your heart hammered, breath ragged as panic consumed you. Would they actually try and hurt each other for you of all things? 

 “Before you say something regrettable.” Zevlor answered flatly.  

“Such as what?” the wizard challenged. “That your old age has turned you into a blithering mother hen?” 

“Watch yourself, lad.” This time it was Zevlor that took a step closer to his would-be opponent. 

 “Is it not true?” Rolan laughed spitefully. “You dote on them enough like some guardian  of their virtue. Well, guarding it for yourself, I imagine.” 

“Hold your tongue!” Zevlor growled, baring his fangs. You shivered realizing just how big they were. “Don’t you dare question my honor. I have my failings but I am no cad.” 

“What honor is that, oathbreaker?” the wizard pushed, ready to break or be broken. “The kind you spar with? Tell me, does training often end with your pupils underneath you?” 

 Zevlor’s hand shot to Rolan’s neck, roughly taking him by the collar. The younger man latched on to his arm in an attempt to throw his opponent to the ground. Zevlor easily overpowered him, trying to hold him still as Rolan’s hands began to glow with magic. 

 “Stop It!” you screamed louder than you thought possible. Your vision swayed for a moment as you jumped to your feet. Your whole body shook with nerves as if begging  you not to do what you were about to. But you had to end this before anyone got hurt. 

“Stop it, I can’t stand this anymore!” You erupted in hot tears, completely unable to hold it back. The tieflings froze their infernal eyes locked on you. “I didn’t want any of this. I didn’t- This- this is all my fault.” 

 You tried to go on but the shallowness of your breath and flood of tears made forcing speech painful. Your cheeks burned so bright with shame you could barely meet their gaze.

 “Just try to breathe, it’s okay.” The concern in Zevlor’s voice made your guts twist. You must have been so pitiful in his eyes.   

  “N-no please I’m-I’m so sorry.” Your head spun, you just needed to get the words out. “I’m in love with both of you. I didn’t- I’m sorry! I don’t know how It h-happened. I just couldn’t say. I didn’t want to hurt you. I love you more than anyone. And I've been open and had more than one partner before and I just- I know a lot of people don’t like it or think I'm a whore and couldn’t stand the thought of losing either of you and how could I choose? Zevlor, I love you wholly. Rolan, I love you completely. But I don’t expect you to put up with this or me- I’m so sorry for, for…” 

The more words you pushed out the lighter you felt, as if you had detached altogether from your body. Your throat was tight, gasping without even realizing it. Suddenly it all came crashing to a stop and your vision turned to darkness. 

 The first thing to come back to you was the feeling of grass beneath you. You breathed deeply, trying to figure out why your body felt so heavy. It was a low soft voice that drew you back to earth. You slowly opened your eyes trying to seek out the familiar sound. The haze surrounding you morphed into your two tieflings. Rolan sat with his head down, back slumped as if weighted down by defeat. Beside him knelt Zevlor speaking calmly, his hand grasping the younger man’s shoulder. 

 Everything flooded back to you in a horrid wave of embarrassment. You wanted to jump to your feet, your panic returning to you but moving your head so quickly only caused you to groan at the dizziness that ran over you.

 In a moment Zevlor was at your side  

 “Careful, now. No fast movements.” His eyes searched yours, once satisfied that you were alright he smiled. Despite everything, seeing him above you still made you blush. “Easy. Just take your time and breath.” The paladin held his hand to your back helping you sit up. 

“Oh gods,” you groaned, your voice a bit raw. “Did I, did I really…” 

“Faint? Yes. You came terribly close to the fire. Thankfully Rolan caught you with a spell.” He answered. 

 You looked at Rolan sitting across the fire. His eyes were glassy and swollen, the stains of freshly shed tears in his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry.” you spoke quietly. You couldn’t remember the last time you wanted to crawl into a cave and never talk to anyone again so badly. 

 Before you could find the strength to drag yourself to your tent to cry in peace, Zevlor wrapped a shawl around your shoulders, his hand sliding down your arm before slowly letting go. Heat spiked in your throat again. He touched you so gently it hurt. 

“Thank you.” you said weakly, not able to tell if there was a real chill in the air or it was just the heartache. “I was thinking we should pack up tomorrow and call this off. I can look into it letter and maybe-” 

“What?” Zevlor cocked his head. “How long have you been unwell? Do you need to see a healer?” 

“No. But,” you paused, voice trembling. “I think we should just go home and put all of this behind us. The faster we go our separate ways the faster we can move on.” 

Trying to swallow down your tears you look away waiting for his confirmation for what felt like a lifetime. Instead you feel his warm, weathered hands envelope yours. 

“My heart, why would we do that?” 

His words hung in the air. Just as you thought, the second you turned to him the tears returned. 

 “Was all this because you take multiple partners?” He asked. 

 You could only bring yourself to nod and to your great surprise Zevlor broke out into hardy laughter. It seemed even to startle Rolan.  

“My apologies,” He chuckled. “I feared something grave. But by the Gods that’s nothing. No, that’s perfect. You’re perfect.” Zevlor studied your face, he was beaming. “I’ll admit it’s been some time since I’ve had such an affair, but I am very familiar. It was quite a common practice in my youth.” 

You were breathless. Again you tried to push out words but all you could manage was a highly embarrassing squawk. 

“Dearest, I can think of no greater honor than being at your side. With or without others. I only hope to be worthy of you.” Zevlor kissed your hand not breaking his gaze. 

“Don’t say that.” you laughed. You can’t recall ever feeling such a strange concoction of emotions. Wild fear and unbound happiness swirled within you, blending into one. “I’ll die of joy.”  

Zevlor’s hand rose to your chin, drawing you closer to him. 

“Then I shall revive you.”He whispered before capturing your lips with the same passion he had that morning. Gods, it had only been this morning. The warmth of his skin made you want to cling to him but he did not let himself linger too long. You both knew not everything was settled yet. 

 When he broke the kiss Zevlor’s eyes were alight with an awe you had never seen before. It was a youthful excitement that radiated from him. 

 “Rolan,” Zevlor called, turning to the tiefling that pulled his head from his hands. He held out his hand, a clear offer to join you but Rolan only looked at him hesitantly. Finally Rolan moved forward, his eyes casted down and full of shame. As the wizard stood awkwardly, Zevlor took his fidgeting hand and kissed it as well. You could have sworn a flash of blush tinged his grim face. It only seemed to fluster him farther. 

“Well, I owe both of you an apology. To say the very least.” Rolan began slowly. “My emotions got the best of me and I was cruel and childish. I hope you will be able to forgive me.” 

 As always the wizard melted your heart with such ease. His remorse dreadfully apparent you sought only to comfort him. 

“Rolan I already have. This whole ridiculous mess is my fault.” 

 “A miscommunication. On all our parts.” Zevlor corrected.

 You reached out to the wizard cautiously as if trying not to scare away a frightened cat. Gently you tugged on his sleeve and despite his hesitation he sat down though not as close as you would have liked. 

“I’m just,” Rolan pressed his lips together, shaking his head. “I never dreamed something like this would happen. You’re both wonderful. All the time but especially to me. You’re too kind to me, I don’t deserve it.” 

“That’s the most absurd thing you’ve said all night.” Zevlor interjected. 

 A half smile crossed Rolan’s lips but still he regarded the both of you like you might strike him down at any moment. 

“I must admit I don’t know how to feel. If you had told me you loved me before I would have been- well absolutely over the moon and unsure if I might have fallen victim to some ungodly succubus- but I would be terrified. I don’t know what I’m doing and I just want to be good for you. And to double that!” he laughed awkwardly. “My head is spinning at the thought.” 

Your eyes traveled over the wizard’s face, taking in his knitted brow and tired eyes. You reached for a loose strand of hair and neatly tucked it behind his ear. 

“Rolan,” you spoke as your hand fell to his cheek, caressing his warm skin. “More than anything I want your happiness. You’re already great just as you are. But I want you to be comfortable. If you want we can take things slow, we try things and see how we feel. You don’t have to decide anything right now.” 

To your astonishment Rolan pressed his face into your hand, hungrily, keeping his eyes shut tight. 

“I’d like that.” he managed between kissing you palm. 

Unable to stop due to the serge of joyful energy that rang over you, you threw your arms around him. To your delight he reciprocated instantly, holding you tight to him. Before you knew it you were kissing him. His mouth, his cheeks, his forehead. Everywhere you could reach. He clung to you even harder as if the smallest breeze could take you away from him. 

 “Could you hold me for a while?” He asked, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

 “Of course, Rolan.” You cooed to him. 

 You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt so comfortable as you did in that moment. In the low fire light you lay with your beloved tieflings, your head on Zevlor’s chest, Rolan at your side, his arms wrapped around your middle. This was a subject of your wildest dreams yet the exhaustion of the day set in fast and before too long you were fast asleep.  

The revelations of that night did not disappear with the rising sun. The notions of it being some stress induced fantasy were banished when you woke to find yourself sandwiched between the two men. You slipped from between them easily, safe with the knowledge that you would be in such a position again soon. 

 To say you were correct was perhaps an understatement. Over the next few days the anxieties which had weighed you down were replaced with an insatiable need for closeness. As you traveled onward the simplest of tasks were tinted with a new found excitement just by being in each other’s presence. Every brushing of shoulders or lacing of fingers thrilled you utterly. All three of you become terribly aware of just how long it had been since you had allowed yourself such intimacy. Without fail, every evening you’d find yourselves packed together, now unable to stand sleeping alone. 

 Eventually you settled in Rolan’s tent. His talents for magic affording you more space and comfort. He had conjured a large bed that overflowed with blankets and pillows. Penalty of room to spread out; not that you wanted to. Despite keeping mostly chaste thus far, it was no secret that you craved the warmth of each other.  

 You found yourself in Zevlor’s lap, never missing an opportunity to settle in his strong arms. Between sips of wine, the paladin would plant soft kisses on your neck. As usual, Rolan sat separately choosing to take his time before cuddling up to either of you. Hopefully he would move in soon; there seemed something particularly tantalizing about him that night. He looked more relaxed, almost peaceful as he leaned against the headboard, dressed only in a robe, his loose hair framing his beautiful features. There was a dreamy look in his eye that made your heart flutter.

  With a feather light touch Zevlor held your chin, turning your face to his.You welcomed his kiss reveling in the taste of his wine laced mouth. Blush bloomed across your cheeks as you felt his finger tangle in your hair. You tried to adjust yourself, gripped with the sudden need to have your hands on him. Pushing yourself flush against him you moaned before you could stop yourself as you felt the solid bar of his erection beneath you. The heat you had so desperately tried to keep contained now pooled at your core. Aching for relief you rocked your hips against his and spurred him on. Tightening his grip he kissed you feverishly, sucking and biting your lips until they were half raw. Zevlor’s free hand glided over you keeping you pressed tight to him. Your clothes become tighter and more uncomfortable by the minute. 

 “Do you want this, my heart?” Zevlor broke the kiss to look at you.. 

 Heart thundering you could only beam up at those perfect fiery eyes before turning your attention to Rolan. He was watching you intently, face flushed, not a whisper of jealousy or unease to be found. 

“Gods,” his lips curved into a playful grin. “Don’t stop on my account. I’m quite enjoying the view.”

That settled it. You pulled away from your paladin and moved off the bed altogether. 

“Yet, I’m sure we could give you a better one.” You grinned making quick work of your clothes, letting them fall in a puddle at your feet. 

 Any lingering doubt that your lovers wanted you was banished by the hunger in their eyes as they raked over you. Never in your life had you felt so desired. Zevlor was quick to follow you, shedding his clothes while lavishing your neck and chest with wet kisses. He swept you into his arms like you weighed nothing, laying you gently in the center of the bed before eagerly climbing atop you. You held in a moan taking the view of him. At the scars that littered his muscles, at the full, thick cock that hung between his legs. Instinctively you spread your legs in anticipation. He continued his ministrations, mapping your body with his lips. 

 It felt like an eternity before he settled himself between your thighs. You shivered at the vibrations as he groaned against your aching sex. His expert tongue ran over you collecting every drop you had to offer. In no time he had your hips in a vice grip to still you as he moved his mouth over you. You surprised yourself at the wantonness of your moans, almost embarrassed how quickly he was pushing you to the edge. 

“Please, Zevlor, I- Please.” You babbled, unsure of what you were bagging for. But the tiefling granted your wish all the same as you felt something prod at your entrance. His tail slowly sank its way in and out of you before beginning to curl and pump you farther. 

 “How is that, sweet one?” Zevlor asked between flicks of his tongue. “Soon you’ll be nice and ready for us.” 

Us. The thought was almost too delicious for words. You casted your eyes to Rolan, who was wide eyed, now palming himself with earnest through his robe. You reached for him, whining desperately. Now too drunk on pleasure for shame. The wizard moved to your side without hesitation. Half frantic, you pulled open his garment and sighed at the stunning pattern of ridges in front of you. His cock was long and stiff as stone, it’s head shining with precum. Rolan hissed and shuddered as you stroked his length. Zevlor pursed his lips around you, suckling lewdly. Your hips snapped, a wave of heat rushed over you as your climax took you without warning. You writhed and mewled as you spilled yourself over Zevlor’s eager tongue.

 Rolan swore. Both at the sight before him and how tightly you gripped him. Breathing hard with lust Zevlor gently slipped out of you and raised his head, the evidence of your release still on his lips. In a swift motion the older man pulled Rolan to his side and captured his lips, drawing a loud moan from the wizard.

 “Is that good? Do you want it?” Zevlor growled between rough kisses. 

“Yes, Gods, yes,” Rolan repeated, trying to lick up every bit of you from his mouth.

 The second he was over you your hands were on him, your legs wrapping around his slim hips to draw him closer. Rolan’s eyes danced over your form as if trying to take all of you in at once as he carefully eased into your warmth. A slurry of whimpers erupted from you as each ridge dragged against your insides, teasing and stretching you deliciously. Before long Rolan found his rhythm and set a rougher pace than you had expected. 

“Rolan! That’s-you’re so good you're so perfect -Gods-” You were gasping half breathless at his unrelenting assault on your depths. 

 Zevlor ran his fingers through your hair while singing your praise sweetly. You pawed at him quickly loosing you ability to form words. You licked your lips, lolling your tongue out at him making your need clear. He complied happily and brought his fat, heavy cock to your lips. You relished his strong earthy taste as you sucked deeply, taking as much of him as possible. You moaned around him as he started to move, his eyes fixed on you, watching his manhood pump into your greedy mouth.

“That’s it, my love. You’re so beautiful like this.” Zevlor gasped. 

Without thinking your hips began meeting Rolan’s thrusts with abandon, the feeling of being filled with both your lovers intoxicating you utterly. 

 “I love you, I love you,” Rolan cried looking at his lovers, teary eyed. “I want this, I want you.” He chanted his love over and over as his movements became sporadic, his breathing ragged.  

 It was impossible to tell who came first. You were suddenly overwhelmed with heat. Rolan trembled, his hips slowing as he filled you to the brim just as Zevlor groaned lowly spilling down your throat. It was pleasure unbearable, coiling and snapping at your core, sending another orgasm coursing through you.

 You were all a mess, but a deeply satisfied one. You ended the night tangled together, secure in each other’s arms as if that were the way you were always meant to be.

[moonrisecoeur]

soothing - leon kennedy

a/n: (PLEASE READ) hey! this is moon! this post would not show up in the tags with the long and detailed warning i put on it, so i made that a separate post. please read this post first before you even look at this one (that post will have the normal info like what content is it and word count along with more notes).

—

leon knows you’re… obsessive. he’s noticed your harsh glares and you possessively holding his waist when you’re both out together. he doesn’t miss the way you talk to other people, especially other people you know would theoretically be leon’s type. he assures you that he’s yours, he belongs to you, that no one will never get to have him the way you do, but it doesn’t make those feelings go away for you; it only mellows them for a short while.

he can’t say he planned for his partner to be so insanely obsessed with him, but it does make him feel better sometimes. especially when he’s having really rough days. when he feels worthless, like the only purpose of his existence is to be a weapon for the government to apathetically throw at problems, you’re there. you remind him, in your own twisted little way, that he’s valuable to someone. even if it’s in a “i need you like i need oxygen so no one else can ever have you and no one else deserves to lay a finger on you i will cut their hands off if they try” kinda way.

the world is fucked up anyway, who’s to say he gets to judge moral character? you make him feel desired and wanted, so what if you’re not a good person?

he’s rather introverted anyway, so it’s not like he’s going out every night and meeting new people. combine that with low self esteem and trauma from, well, being leon, he’s drained and can’t be bothered to care if you’re a little too obsessed.

hell, his last ‘relationship’, if you could call it that, was with a girl who tricked and betrayed him time after time and yet he loved her despite it all. maybe he has a type for the bad ones.

he loves you now. he knows he loves you. he knew he loved you when you once risked everything to save him, and he knew you loved him when you got very brutal revenge on his behalf. he kinda likes your violent side when it works in his favor.

but he still tries to keep you from doing the worst that he knows you’re capable of. he knows if he said more than a few words, or god forbid smiled at any of his friends who you thought ‘wanted him’ (because why does literally everyone want to fuck him?) you’d lose it. he tries to keep your temper contained, so he plays nice, though it’s worth it to him.

to have someone want him so badly that they’d kill for him and do anything to keep him… the idea makes leon’s knees weak. he’d do anything to feel wanted and needed for you. the more you claim him as yours, marking your territory, the more butterflies he feels in his stomach.

you tell someone, “he’s mine, so either back off or i swear that i will fucking rip out your teeth one by one.” he watches them run away pitifully, before turning his attention back to you. you’re smiling at him, and bring your hand up to play with his hair.

“sorry you had to see that, know you don’t like it,” you say softly.

he brushes it off, because he always does. he knows you mean well (even if you don’t). he knows you only threaten others or act violently because you love him and he needs that love. besides, you’re so thoughtful for apologizing because you know he doesn’t like seeing this side of you (which is not entirely true but he did feel bad for that person).

one day, you stumble upon him in your shared room while he’s crying. he tells you it’s okay, it happens, he’s learned how to get through it by himself. you shake your head, noting that this obviously isn’t okay. you sit next to him on the bed, wrapping your arms around him, and you two sit like that for just a moment.

“you’re okay,” your voice stills the air, brings him back to reality, “you’re not in danger, and i’m gonna be here to protect you, okay? i’m here because i care about you, so let me care for you, baby.”

he nods with tears in his eyes, resting his head on your shoulder. he’s forgotten what it feels like for someone to really care, to hold him and tell him he was going to be alright.

after a moment, he’s able to get his breathing under control.

“thank you…” he whispers.

“of course, baby, i’m here for you. i’m always gonna be here for you, i care about you so, so much, leon. no one else will ever care for you the way i do, as much as i do,” you murmur, and he doesn’t seem to notice something glaringly wrong with what you just said.

he doesn’t notice the thoughts swirling around in your head, adoring how fragile he is right now, wanting him to always be like this so he’s always this vulnerable, this dependent on you. he can’t notice any of it. he just lets you hold him, and holds you back in return.

you hold each other until he starts to pull away first, rubbing his teary eyes with the back of his hand, “god, i- i’m sorry. jeez, nothing even set it off. one minute i- i was fine! and the next…” he trails off, and you tell him he’s okay. he’s allowed to be vulnerable and emotional with you. you like him like this anyway. or maybe you just like the way his blue eyes shine when he cries.

and you’re wayyy too overpowering just as a person for him to ever be in charge, especially in bed. sometimes it’ll be soft, just two lovers touching and fondling each other, gasping and moaning and kissing wherever possible. but sometimes your possessive side comes out. it happens the most when he does something you don’t like, i.e. ‘flirting’ with someone else (he was just talking and joking around).

he does like your possessive side though. he likes being pinned down, and if you think you’re not strong enough, trust me, you can put yourself in the right position to make it so he can’t get out from under you. or you could just handcuff him or tie him up, that always works, but there is just something about being physically held down and kissed until his brain shuts off that makes him into a perfect fucktoy.

he likes when you pull out a marker and write stuff like ‘mine <3’ or ‘property of y/n’ on him. especially if it’s with a permanent marker and in a place that people can easily see, on his wrist or neck. he feels claimed, owned, a sense of being property belonging to someone else, not himself.

despite loving your darkness, leon appreciates that you’re rather… soft on him. you take it slow so he has time to adjust, make his heart jump with love and affection every single time you praise him (which you do often bc how could you not? it’s leon, c’mon now) he knows you have it in you to be harder, to fully degrade and humiliate him if you really wanted to. you choose not to.

one day you come home, covered in what he can assume is not your blood. his stomach drops at the thought of what you did, and he goes through every possible interaction he had that day that could have made you do something so drastic, so terrible and cruel. he comes up with nothing.

“what… happened?” he asks, nervously. he tries to keep distance between his body and yours, but you’re closing in on him.

“killed two birds with one stone… literally…” you smirked as he takes a cautious step back, feeling what used to be butterflies in his stomach turn to this heavy sense of dread, “that girl that told you your eyes were ‘so pretty’ and… that guy that touched your arm like he wanted to fucking bite it. don’t worry, sweetheart. i took care of them.”

were you expecting him to thank you? for… committing murder? he’s… at best he’s disappointed and at worst he’s literally horrified.

and it’s terribly timed, but on a separate note? you look insanely hot covered in blood. maybe the feeling in his stomach is only half fear and half something else, or maybe one of his kinks is being afraid for his life. who knows?

you come closer to him, and he can’t find it in himself to ask you to stop approaching him, closing in on him like a predator does it’s prey, “baby,” you murmur to him, softly like you do when you’re soothing him when he’s crying, your hands both coming up to cup his face, getting blood all over his cheeks. your thumb brushes against his bottom lip and he swears you’re intentionally smearing blood on it, “it’s okay,” you say.

it’s not okay, dude. you just killed two people.

maybe you’ve killed more that leon doesn’t know about, and tonight was the night you felt like having him see you like this. you could have gotten away with it if you wanted to, and he would never have known, but you chose to let him find you like this, clothes ruined from how much blood splattered on them, that sadistic ass smile on your face.

you wanted this. you wanted him to see you like this. you wanted to take him like this.

you lean in, pressing a bloody kiss to his forehead (imagine whatever kinda scenario necessary that fits this height wise for u i’m sorry >.<) before leaning in to kiss his lips, both tasting the iron and feeling the wetness of the blood dripping down your chins as he touches you back gently, his hands caressing your arms as you hold him and landing softly on your hips, like he’s saying it’s okay, i accept you for the monster you are.

he knows it’s wrong, he knows he’s a good person and you’re not and there’s a clear line that you’ve brazenly crossed, but he can’t help the butterflies he gets when you’re the darkest, cruelest version of you. covered in blood and all, you want him. despite all his flaws, you want him. he can’t deny you, not when you’ve only ever soothed him when he has traumatized breakdowns and assured him that he’s more than just a weapon or a tool, that he’s loved and needed and wanted.

you press one of your legs between his thighs, forcing his legs open and he lets you, whining as you continue to kiss him, and your hand palms him over his jeans. he feels weak, cornered, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him when you lean to whisper in his ear, “mine.” and he whimpers pathetically, nodding fast as you kiss his neck just a couple times, gently and bloodily.

despite everything, you’re just so endlessly gentle with him that he can’t help but let you get away with this. maybe if he could just get the image of their faces out of his head, he could get over it. once you’ve made him cum three times in a row, his body on the brink of giving out on him, safe to say that’s when he finally forgets. he can’t really think much of anything.

“oh, sweet little thing, don’t you understand? i had to get rid of her, she wanted to get in the way of our love,” you say. and he’d just nod dazedly.

���o-okay,” he mumbles. his brain is foggy and your touch makes it hard to think, but if you say it’s true, then he’s inclined to believe you. clearly, you were doing the right thing by getting rid of her. obviously.

“and that poor boy, it’s too bad that he was a whore, wanted to grope your muscles so fucking bad, hm?” you smirk, “did you like it when he did that? when he touched you?”

“n-no, i-i only like when you do stuff like that to me,” he says he exactly what you want to hear, grasping onto you for support, knowing without you he’d fall apart, “please, i don’t care what you do or… or who you hurt because you love me! just please love me!”

“of course i’ll love you,” your tone softens, you take the victory with a smirk turned soft smile, brushing his hair out of his eyes behind his ear, “you’re so pretty when you’re obedient.”

conditional praise; truly the best way to manipulate him for example: “you’re such a good boy when you only look at me.” that’s his kryptonite, because leon thrives off of praise. being told he’s a good boy makes him giddy on the inside, even if he tries to control his reaction. praise is how you control him.

and after you’re done with him, you put your clothes in the washing machine, take a shower, and walk out like your normal self. he makes you both dinner and you cuddle him to sleep just like usual. though while you’re fast asleep, he lays awake, thinking about what just happened.

he’s always known this could happen, and maybe this isn’t even the first time you’ve killed someone because of him. he’s known for a while now that you’ve become cruel and violent when it came to his relationships with other people, but he can’t shake the feeling of fear deep inside his soul when he physically saw what you’re capable of.

even in your sleep, you touch is soothing to him, and he remembers that he doesn’t really have any better options. he’s convinced no one will ever love him as strongly as you do (not just because you’ve told him that but because again, he’s got low self esteem and you’re way nicer to him than he feels like he deserves).

does he just let you be? no, that wouldn’t sit right on his conscious. does he continue to try and curb your violent tendencies against his better judgement and morals?

or does he try to leave you? he thinks he knows you wouldn’t ever truly hurt him, and he wonders whether or not you’d let him leave if he tried. (he’s not going to, but he wonders...) he just… doesn’t see what else he would do. find someone else? they won’t love him like you do. be single? sure, and be miserable every day because all he can think about is your love, your touch, you.

“what do i do with you…” he mumbles to your sleeping form, resting his head against your chest, feeling the slow heartbeat pumping inside. he likes how it shows your humanity, your normalcy. the one thing about you that doesn’t feel so far away from him.

leon loves you. truly. he doesn’t want that fact to be overshadowed by how disproportionately and insanely you love him. he loves you, still cares about you, still wants to see you happy. you make him happy, in some ways, even if you really terrify him in others. you comfort him and soothe him, you assure him that he’s safe with he wakes up with nightmares from the horrors he’s seen.

he wants to care for you, wants to be the one to hold you when you’re sad and you’re having a bad day. somewhere deep inside his heart, he wants to protect you and keep you safe. even if he knows that’s absurd (because you’re a killer… god he can’t get over that..) he can’t help that his nature is to care for people. maybe that’s what drove you to such insanity in your love for him: in his heart, he never stopped caring about other people. he is the same selfless hero he always was. his softness and care for everyone around him is what made you fall for him… and what made you insane when it comes to your love for him.

despite how terrible you are, he remembers all that you’ve done for him, the moments where your softness and gentleness really showed. he loves that side of you the most. that’s the one he fell for, after all. but he’d be amiss to think that’s the only side of you, or to not acknowledge the other. your cruelty towards people other than him is a side of you just like your kindness towards him is a side of you. they coexist whether he likes it or not.

he comes to the conclusion that there is no sweet you without cruel you, and he must learn to love both or to love neither. he decides he’ll love both, but still maybe try to keep the evilness contained. maybe he can try to talk you out of killing more people.

and when he begs so pretty for you to focus on him and not on the girl trying to flirt with him at the coffee shop, how could you refuse him? if you pulling him away to suck dark, tender hickeys into his neck is the alternative to you killing that poor girl, then he’d say that’s a win-win.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

You know, I think Killer getting reunited with his brother after his escape with Color would be really interesting, whether it goes well or horribly wrong.

If it goes well, it would be really interesting to see how Something New Paps deals with Killer not really being his brother (though I am of the idea that he'd love Killer for Killer as well. I just also think it would mean him grieving his brother yet again. This time knowing he'll never have his brother back). It would also be cool to see how he'd get along with the Epic Sanses. I also really would love to see explored what his tentative new dynamic with Killer might be, and how that may change Killer's dynamic with the others too (would he be less codependent with Color with Paps in the picture? Or would he just become dependent on both?).

If it goes horribly, well, it would be interesting to see exactly how horribly. Would Killer panic enough to kill him again? How would he react to that after so long? Would Killer even believe that that's his brother? Would he just deny everything and turn away and then be haunted by the possibilities forever?

I just hhhhhhhh. I've been thinking about them so much. I've never see content about them explored, ever, and the possibilities are giving me brainrot

Yes! This is the stuff I want to see with killer from this fandom. Not more of the same! Let me watch these doomed siblings suffer or heal. The angst having to grief the person you never knew you lost while they’re right in front of you, looking at you, looking through you—only it’s something else with your loved one’s face. Uncanny valley im telling you.

I personally think Papyrus will have a difficult time actually accepting that his brother is gone. Hed subconsciously see signs in Killer—same smile, same twist of the corner of the mouth even if the nature of the smile is different from when Sans told an awful pun, because now Killer is smiling like that when he tells horrible stories he seems to think aren’t horrific at all.

I think how this reunion unfolds definitely depends on the exact situation. If Killer is still trapped under Nightmare or not, or if Color has rescued him.

And if Papyrus has any memory of what Killer did to him and everyone else—because Killer did spend years upon years murdering and horrifically torturing Papyrus and all the others as if they were nothing more than toys.

Killer could look at him, and all Papyrus could see is that empty, dead eyed look as he screams and cries while Killer breaks his bones. As if Killer didn’t recognize who Papyrus was, and if he didn’t care who he was.

And Papyrus, how his reactions during those times could’ve affected Killer. He was in unimaginable pain, terror, and confusion. Hatred and anger and spite are understandable reactions. What are some things he might’ve said to Killer during these moments that stuck with Killer? Begging and pleading, cursing and screaming? Attempting to get Sans to “remember who he is”?

As the world Reset around Killer, did others eventually start changing too? Even if only in small easily missed ways, even if they forgot by the next Reset. Chara and Killer were always in search of something new, after all.

Could Killer trust himself at all around Papyrus? Or would he immediately start thinking about how he has killed him before, how Papyrus could be here for revenge or even worse—for Sans.

Would some part of Killer despise Papyrus for being weak enough to forgive him, just like he always did for the human? Would Killer feel the need to kill Papyrus again—believing it’s what it has to do to prevent something even worse (Stage 4), or perhaps out of panic as you mentioned, or even that anger at Papyrus or just the unimaginable confusion and stress and pain that Papyrus’ presence brings (Stage 3).

Would Papyrus’ presence disjoint Killer’s “placement” in time.

Would seeing him make Killer think he’s back in the Underground with Chara, and thus Papyrus is another enemy he has to deal with. Would he be unable to accept that the Papyrus in front of him is his Papyrus, or would he think it’s just one Papyrus out of a gazillion more, and therefore not worth wasting energy on?

I can definitely see Stage 1 being reluctant to actually be around Papyrus. Not because he hates him or is disgusted by his “weakness” and not even because he thinks he has to kill Papyrus—although he’s very aware that some parts of him very likely do think those things—not only because he can’t trust his own mind, his own desires, but also because he just..feels horrible around Papyrus.

He idealized this image of Papyrus and the life he thinks they used to have, but he has changed. He has done a lot of things. He couldn’t even accept a hug from Papyrus for very long without pushing him away in tears. I think he’d definitely benefit from having his brother back in his life, although I doubt it’d be a very frequent thing.

I can see many instances where guilt, fear, and shame just leads to him trying to “hide” from his emotions in Stage 2, which leads to the usual avoidance behaviors. Which may also lead to him subconsciously blaming Papyrus for being able to have any effect on him at all—given how Stage 2 views it when situations and people are able to make him “feel” anything. As if they are attempting to control him.

So many interesting possibilities—especially given how much Papyrus may know. How much knowledge is he working off?

{ @stellocchia }

[theamityelf]

i am eating and chewing your yandere content, its so good, i love it so so much, if youre still taking requests maybe some yandere mukuro and naegi? I always think there's a lot of potential there but there's not a lot of content for it

Oh, I love it. I need to pick what time period I'm going with...

----

It didn't take much.

A smile, a greeting. Asking about her opinions and experiences. The time he asked if she needed help carrying her bag (and she had to run away because if he came any closer he would notice the smell of blood coming from inside it), the time he asked her if she was coming to lunch (and she blushed so badly, Junko later said her face looked like one big zit). Or maybe it was nothing to do with her at all; maybe it was because of how he was with everyone else, or how they were with him.

Maybe it was even as simple as the fact that she was used to traveling light, used to picking a few things she could carry and disregarding everything else.

She could carry him easily.

"Uh, Mukuro?" he said. "Are you okay?"

Right, she'd been staring. He'd taken the time to ask her if she wanted to join his group for ice cream after school, and she was being weird.

How embarrassing. She was definitely blushing again, now.

Well, it wasn't like that mattered. She was weird. She was socially inept and ugly and useless, and none of that mattered. Because the world was going to end soon, anyway. Maizono or Kirigiri could take him to a school dance, but Mukuro could pull him from the school before it turned into a warzone.

"Go on without me," she finally said. "I need to discuss something with Junko."

"Oh, okay. See you tomorrow!" Makoto and his friends vacated the classroom, leaving only...the 'despair sisters'.

Junko was sitting in her seat, filing her nails. Mukuro walked over to her and just stood there, waiting to be acknowledged. There was no doubt that her sister already knew everything she was feeling. She always did.

"Well?" Junko eventually said, her eyes meeting Mukuro's with cool amusement. "Are you too scared to ask, or do you just love wasting my time, skank?"

"I'm not scared," Mukuro answered. She did have a heightened awareness of the seriousness of this situation, but what she felt wasn't fear. "And...I'm also not asking."

"Gadzooks! Could it be that the worm has grown a spine?!"

"He can easily be spared from the plan. We don't need him in order to do what we intend to do."

"No sh!t, dumb*ss! The despair doesn't kick in when it's fvcking necessary!"

"The despair doesn't kick in if the plan doesn't happen, either." Mukuro's fingernails bit into her palms, as she forcibly steeled her tone and held her sister's gaze. She'd never threatened disobedience like that before. "You have everyone else in the class. You have me. You don't need him. Really, for a guy like him to keep his memories and watch them die that way...it would be more despairful than losing his memories and getting killed in the first or second round without understanding anything."

"So. You're suggesting he languishes in the data center while the killing game plays out, then you collect him in your nasty little arms once it's all over? Once the world is in ashes and there's no one else to love but you?"

"Essentially, yes."

Junko's lips curved. "And what's your contingency plan for how he'll react to knowing your designs for him?"

"He won't know about it until it happens."

And Junko's expression went blank, as though she found Mukuro's answer terribly boring. She rolled her eyes. "Fvcking atrocious. I can't even hint with you. Hey, Ultimate Soldier. You didn't secure your perimeter. Kind of a rookie mistake, dontcha think?"

"What?"

She dipped her head to the side, indicating a desk a few seats away where a familiar composition book lay open. "He forgot his notebook, smart*ss."

Mukuro wheeled around and heard a gasp from the doorway, and then retreating footsteps.

She broke into a sprint. Naturally, she was able to catch him, hand-gag him, and drag him into an unoccupied classroom before he could even think to yell.

Makoto's ineffectual squirming, his kicking and his elbowing, his growling and his vain attempts to speak...Mukuro was sure that she was blushing again, as she allowed more of her body to touch his than was strictly necessary to subdue him.

She was restricting his airflow, so he was going to pass out very shortly. And then she would have to contend with her sister. But for now...

"H-Hi," she said awkwardly, as he struggled in her arms. "Um, sorry. Sorry that I, uh...If I'd known that this would happen, I would've laid down a rug here. And maybe worn some perfume. I mean, I guess you can't breathe anyway..."

Fortunately, Makoto lost consciousness before she could say anything else.

She let go of him, so she could watch him slide out of her arms and rest on the tiles, all helpless. She took stock of what he must have overheard. Jeez, she must have sounded like such a pathetic, lovesick...

She heard Junko coming before the door moved. Immediately, she positioned herself defensively in front of him. Her sister was not allowed to kill him. That was the one thing in the world she wasn't allowed to do.

"Well, this is a clusterfvck, isn't it?" Junko deadpanned. "I guess not much of a cluster. It's just him. This one tripping hazard of a guy. I could just bite his little cheeks."

"I've never asked you for anything. Just him."

"Au contraire! You're not asking, remember? Where did that spine go? Did your body reabsorb it?"

"I-"

"This is boring. Take him to your dorm room, keep him there. I'll figure out what to do about this, as always. Can you manage an iota of stealth this time, you troll?"

Mukuro's heart soared. "Yes. Thank you."

"Oh, shut up. Out of my sight."

She princess-carried him to her room.

----

(I thought about making Kyoko the one who overheard, but the outcome there would be too similar to the Yandere Taka one.)

[satuguro]

*ೃ࿐ BLUE MONDAY

[ ACT III: KNOWING, WANTING ]

ethan landry x reader

#SYNOPSIS— you facetime someone first and you hate it, ethan can't tell when you're joking or serious, and you really hate richie's style.

#CONTAINS— murder!, gore!!!!, satire (!!), familial issues (implications of abuse), mentions of anxiety/ptsd, richie x reader (heavily one sided), stalker behavior!, fake dating, richie (yes, he needs his own warning), suggestive content

#AUTHORSNOTE— i'm so sorry for such a late update and the lack of activity on my blog, my mental health took such a plummet.

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III

the low hum of the computers in the radio studio and the soft sound of music paying through the control room speakers were the only sounds you heard as you spun around in your chair. a clean spotify playlist— something you weren't supposed to technically use for radio, but your station manager used it, so who cares? — played soft music on air as you waited patiently for your last song to end.

humming softly to yourself, you scrolled mindlessly through social media, taking in the last few days of relaxation you had until you finally began with you and ethan's little plan.

reluctantly date richie. gather information. get the fuck out and give it to the police.

and if all else fails? well, you'd kill him (something ethan was surprisingly not that disturbed with. talk about sibling rivalry.).

you hadn't spoken to either of them ever since sunday, when you and ethan formulated your little plan at an aesthetically pleasing botanical cafe.

the music came to a slow end, and you paused the playlist before turning on your mic. "that was my last song of the night. remember; variety hour with blackmore university radio's music manager— which is me, if you've been paying attention —is every thursday from 9 to 10. good night, new york." and with that, you returned the radio on auto play, allowing it to bleed into a few promos.

the radio and studio office was dark at this point, lacking any form of life other than you. with an entire radio station being led only by college students, it was common for everyone to be gone by the time 6 pm hit.

but you were a bit of a masochist. so here you were, doing your mandatory radio show in the ambiently lit studio and office of your station. it smelled of soft lavender from the plug-in wall scent one of your co-workers put up, and the only lights came from the lamps and soft yellow light that was put in to replace the fluorescent white that you swore made days go by longer.

your headphones were over your ears, one of them pushed back behind your ear to allow yourself to hear the outside world (you had to be cautious nowadays). pulling your tote bag over your shoulder, you locked the studio door behind you and closed up the station. and as you walked down the dimly lit stairs to the exit, you half listened to the echoing of your footsteps as you shut the door behind you.

fall was your favorite season. not just for the fact that the weather was a perfect mix of not too hot and not too cold, or that it was the last few months before you fell deep into procrastination due to the lack of sunshine, but it was because it was always so beautiful. red and browns, yellows and oranges, all painted on once-green leaves before they fell.

the crunching of the leaves below your feet as you began to walk back to your dorm was soothing behind the autumn playlist (which you had carefully curated, of course) you were listening to. and it would've gone on like that for the entire walk home. the same walk you did every thursday without fail, when barely anyone was out and about on campus and when it was only you and whatever weather there was that evening.

but you could feel someone watching you.

as though someone had poured water down your back, your skin prickled and the hair on your body stood up as your walking suddenly came to a stop. pushing your headphones down around your neck, you dared to look behind you.

nothing. nothing but the darkness of the rest of the campus, barely lit by the flickering street lamps. the light from the lamp you were standing next to bled into nothingness, revealing practically nothing to your eyes.

your hands dug into your pockets as you grabbed your phone, swallowing thickly as you dared to stare deeper into the night. deeper into the darkness you stared.

and then you dared to turn back ahead of you, walking with a stride quicker than how you usually walked. step by step, shoes crunching in the leaves as you briskly walked, keeping your chin up in faux confidence, as though you weren't hearing another pair of footsteps walking in the same exact pace you were.

and then you came to a sudden halt.

and you heard the extra footstep from someone that certainly wasn't you.

and you began to walk faster. step. step. step. feeling those heartless and emotionless eyes staring in to the back of your head much like you had stared at the back of your father's head. hungry. blood thirsty. desperate to feel the warm crimson on your skin.

you could hear them breathe. heavy and warm, excited and thrumming with adrenaline because it felt as though you were paying attention to them. you were finally reacting to them in the way they wanted you to; by running away in fear.

you pulled out your student id card, slamming it against the card reader before opening the door to your dorm building and shutting it behind you, chest heaving as you tried to compose yourself.

you went to the elevator, slamming on the button to get you up to your dorm room.

your feet walked briskly on the hallway as you made a beeline for your dorm room, hands trembling as you found yourself disassociating, barely showing any emotion at all if it weren't for your shaking hands. but as you were pulling out your key, you saw the flower on the ground.

lilies of the valley. your favorite.

looking up and down the hall, you grabbed it hastily and you unlocked the door, shutting it behind you and letting out a breath. staring down at the flowers, you pulled out a single note with a heart drawn on it in crimson red ink.

"fuck," you breathed, shaking your head as you walked into your room and locked it behind you, throwing the lilies into the trash as you swallowed thickly.

who else could have done this? who else in your life was most likely to follow you like a predator stalking its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?

richie.

he was stalking you. richie was fucking stalking you.

you grabbed your phone, scrolling before you found a contact, clicking facetime on it and waiting patiently as you tried to clam the harsh beating of your chest. once, it rang. then twice. then three times, and you almost reached over to hang up, if it weren't for the face that the little sound came out of your phone speaker, signaling that he actually picked up.

"hello?" ethan said, his face squished by his pillow as he peered into the phone screen. "you actually called me. i never took you for a facetime person, but uh—"

"is richie there?" you hissed, almost scared to raise your voice as you paced your room frantically. your hands moved on their own as you took your ring off of your finger and began to run it over your knuckles.

back and forth. back and forth.

"no, i don't think so— what's going on?" ethan sat up in his bed, voice hushed low as he looked down at you. you were moving— he could see it —and he looked haphazard as he stared at you through the phone. protectiveness striked at his chest again as ethan gripped his phone tighter. "y/n, what's going on?"

"ethan, he's stalking me," you hissed, panic evident in your tone as you tried to compose yourself.

back and forth. back and forth.

"i— i was walking home from work and i swear to god, e, it was him. and he probably left these fucking flowers at my door too." you flipped the phone camera to show ethan the trashed flowers. "i'm not having second thoughts or anything, but if i have to deal with his stalking it's honestly just gonna be a pain in my ass—"

"you're not having second thoughts?" ethan ran a stressed hand through his hair, breathing out a heavy exhale. "jesus, y/n, if i were you i wouldn't even pull through with this shit."

"good thing you're not me then, huh?" you swallowed thickly, walking to your bed and throwing yourself onto it, letting your back hit your mattress. raising your phone so that ethan could see your face clearly.

you hated facetiming people.

"okay, that's all," you stated, as though letting him know that his brother was a stalker was just the most casual thing in the world. "i'm hanging up now."

"w—wait!" ethan said hurriedly right before your finger pressed the bright red button. face dusted light pink, ethan looked over your (once again) unreadable face. "can we.. stay on call?"

"no." you blinked. "why would we?"

"because i'm basically sleeping in an apartment with a stalker-murderer!" ethan hissed, voice coming down to a harsh whisper as the sound of the apartment door opening and closing rang in his ears. "i don't want to be, like, attacked in my sleep or something."

"he's not gonna attack you when quinn is there," you stated bluntly, finger still hovering over the big red button. "even if he does suspect something. you'll be fine." and you almost pressed the red button again. almost.

"y/n," ethan groaned, letting his free hand cover his face. you were so stubborn, so brutally honest, and yet ethan found himself not even minding it as he practically pleaded for you to just stay on call with him. "just.. just stay with me for a bit, okay? promise you can hang up once i fall asleep."

you narrowed your eyes at him. "do i look like a guard dog to you?"

"you basically act like one."

you stared at ethan, practically challenging him silently as he stared right back at you with those warm hazel eyes. "please?" he added, making you suck in a breath as you huffed.

"..fine."

an appreciateive smile spread on the boy's face as you set your phone down, murmuring a half hearted, "i'll be back," as you went to do your skincare routine and get ready for bed. "don't die," you added before you shut your room door behind you.

bad joke.

you washed your face, letting your hands move slowly down your face as you let out a long sigh, feeling your continuously tense shoulders relax. staring at yourself in the mirror, you found your face blurring into the background, melting into your bathroom walls, features seeping into the tile, melting into the grout.

you stared at yourself in the reflective one way mirror, face blank, pupils constricted as your reflection stared back at you. it felt like you were floating far above your head, unable to anchor yourself in the present.

the voice of the detective felt like someone was speaking to you from underwater. his voice was so garbled, so muffled, you could barely comprehend it. “y/n. you have to at least say something.”

but what was there to say? that you mashed up your father’s brain and liked it? that was a bit straightforward. and only a little bit too guilty.

what were you doing? you were putting yourself into the same position you were in those few years ago; a position of danger, playing a victim just to feel the satisfaction of watching someone’s life melt from their face. and that satisfaction didn’t come with any kind of remorse, because it took a special kind of person to make you want to see their brains on the outside rather than the inside.

you were regressing. maybe you really weren’t over what had happened to you. maybe you never would be, and you felt tour skin prickle at the thought, your hands gripping the sides of your sink as you stared at your mirror.

“your mother says you were protecting her.” the detective leaned in, putting his arms on the table in front of you both. his gaze weighed heavy on you, and you could feel him scan you like a file; taking in how expressionless you were, how even after everything that had happened, you didn’t shed a single tear. “was your father abusive, y/n?”

and that made your eyes snap towards his, cold and cunning, staring at him, unblinking. but if you peers too closely, focused too much on the emotion behind your eyes, the exhaustion of living, you could see that you had every reason to feel nothing for what you had done. you had every fucking reason to smash your father’s head in.

the door to your bedroom shut behind you as you walked back into your room, throwing your shirt over your head and grabbing one to sleep in. "hello?" ethan's voice came through your phone, your breath hitching when you realized he waited on call the entire time while you disassociated in the bathroom. just another day.

"hey." you made yourself comfortable in your bed, hands coming together under your head as you laid it down on your pillow, staring at your phone right next to your bed. an awkward silence followed for nearly five minutes, the only sounds coming from your breathing and ethan's mild shuffling. your eyes had fallen shut as you listened to ethan's breathing through the speaker.

"are you scared, y/n?"

the question, the sudden break of silence didn't make you move. you only kept your eyes shut, silently manifesting for the sweet arms of sleep to clamp around you. you hummed in response, pretending to think, but you knew how you felt. how this exact situation made you feel like you were 16 again, killing your own flesh and blood for just an ounce of freedom.

you hadn't broken at the seams yet. you were still here, breathing, eyes shut, on a phone with some boy you had taught how to smoke only a few days ago.

that's what mattered.

"are you?" you asked, dodging the question easily.

".. yeah." ethan sighed, the sound loud through your phone (he needed to move away from the phone just a bit, but you didn't feel like telling him that yet). from his side, he laid on his back on his bed, eyes set on the white ceiling above him as he spoke to you, someone emotionally stunted (he would never say that out loud, a it would be hypocritical of him to do so), about how he was feeling. "i think i've always been scared. of richie, i mean."

you stayed silent, your eyes slowly opening as you looked at your phone. the waver in ethan's voice, the way he almost felt ashamed to tell you how he felt.. he was being genuine. "what has richie done to you? to make you scared of him, i mean."

ethan's jaw clenched, eyes unblinking towards his ceiling. staring. gathering memories he had tried so desperately to forget, but every time he saw richie's face, he could only remember them. "he was always the more popular one. him and quinn— i was like.."

"a nerd."

"rude, but true." ethan sighed slowly. "one time, during middle school, i snitched to my dad that richie had brought a girl into our house —he was in high school, mind you —and i couldn't sleep because they had been fucking in his room. and that lack of sleep made me late. my dad doesn't like it when we're late." he breathed in shakily. "a few days later, after my robotics club, i was walking home and a bunch of high school kids drove up next to me and, uh..."

your brows furrowed. ".. beat you up?"

"yup." ethan popped the 'p', breathing in deeply before exhaling again. "and i saw him. richie. sitting in the back seat of the car just watching as these teenagers more than half my size beat me up to a pulp. and he smiled at me. as though i deserved to have my torso bruised and my face slammed on the concrete in the 7th grade." ethan chuckled humorlessly, his laughter quickly fading. "point is.. he always gets what he wants."

he sounded so.. defeated. years and years of being tormented by your own blood made him so afraid to speak up; to the point where he didn't even feel like doing so anymore.

you didn't know how to respond.

".. you're still up for killing him?" you asked, voice slightly unsure due to the fact that ethan had just casually spilled some of his trauma over the phone to you, who was half asleep and barely coherent at this point.

"i wish it didn't have to be this way—"

"no you don't."

"what?" ethan blinked, brows knotting together in confusion as he looked at his phone in disbelief over your words.

"you don't mind that it went this way. because you hate him." you sounded so factual. so casual, as though the entire situation was a case you could easily dissect and observe from a far. "and he's done a lot of shit to you and others. the people he's killed. the people he's manipulated. people like richie don't deserve anything." your words became sour, laced with the poison from the past.

"how do you do that?" ethan asked you.

"do what?"

"be so calm in this situation. this is dangerous shit— y/n, you're willingly putting yourself in danger."

you swallowed hard, weighing your words in your head. "it's because i don't want anyone else to die like his victims did. and i," you blinked, "i want to get them their revenge."

"by killing him?"

"if i have to." a beat. "are you still okay with that?"

was he okay with that?

ethan didn't know. he had been walking through the entire week as though he was nothing more than a ghost— eating and drinking to survive, speaking only when spoken to, living his days out of fear because if his brother had been killing people, when would he turn on his siblings? when would richie kill quinn, or chad, or mindy, or tara, or sam, or him?

he didn't want to tell the police and had his brother escape from their confines the next day.

ethan sighed. "if i'm helping you, then yes. i am." a beat of silence, as though his thoughts were overcoming him, as though he was weighing his options in his head. he knew you were perfectly content with the silence over the phone (as you probably didn't want to be on the phone with him for so long in the first place), but ethan wasn't like that. he wanted to talk, but about what?

he wanted to talk to you.

he wanted to know you.

"if we're going to be working together, don't you think we should know each other more?" and his question came out as such a pure example of simple curiosity, simple human want to know of someone simply for the sake of knowing someone. to walk past one's walls and know the little facts about them.

you were not one to let people do that. you were not one to let someone simply know you, because your mind didn't work that way. it felt off, it felt odd— the idea that ethan wanted to know you before the shitshow began.

"you don't have to get to know me."

"i want to know you." ethan's breath hitched. "nothing like.. personal, or anything. just like.. what's your favorite season?"

"well, that's really pushing it." you heard his small chuckle on the other end, your eyebrows softening ever so slightly at the sound. "it's autumn. and yours?"

"spring." ethan blinked up at his ceiling. "i like the rain. the smell of petrichor— a lot of people hate it but i just.. don't."

you hummed in acknowledgement, turning your head towards your phone. "favorite color?"

"forest green. and yours?"

"greyish blue. like the kind that appears at dusk when there's fog over the ground." you felt your body relax a bit; the questions were fortunately far more shallow than you thought they would be. ".. are we gonna do this until you fall asleep?"

"if you don't mind," ethan murmured softly, shifting gently in his bed.

"what if i do mind? i do have shit to do tomorrow, you know," you muttered under your breath.

and ethan would've felt pretty bad by your words. you were always so brutally honest yet so horribly awkward (it was painful to watch at times, he had to admit), but there was one particular question weighing on his mind ever since he picked up your call. one that you had easily deflected moments before. "y/n, you didn't answer my question."

your brows furrowed. "what question?"

"aren't you scared?" ethan swallowed thickly, eyes spacing out as he stared at his ceiling, at the darkened abyss of his room. "for your life, for your friends, for anything?"

were you?

you didn't want to be honest with him. you didn't want to tell him that in all honesty, you were terrified. terrified of losing the friends (that was a strong word for it) you barely had, of losing the small bit of family that was still speaking to you with faux smiles and condolences even though they were under the impression that you were an unpredictable woman.

and unpredictable women terrified them.

but your emotions were always increasing tenfold with every passing hour, the thoughts being so jumbled up and so strong that you had simply learned to drown them out. to continue on with your life with your tornado of thoughts and no one to speak to and no one to look for because you were used to doing this all on your own.

you had dealt with it on your own before. you could deal with it again.

but rather than lie to ethan's face, you found yourself confessing much like a sinner to an angel. "i am. i'm terrified, ethan." and that was all.

your fingers flew over your keyboard, the past year of having to write essay after essay finally paying off as you typed furiously into your laptop.

evelyn campo murder 2020

evelyn campo murder cambria california

evelyn campo case

you had only found a few articles on her murder, most of them not even mentioning the girl's name, much less many details about her case (unless you counted grim retellings of the crime scene). there was only a brief mention of a possible suspect (the man you had a date with in literally a day), but other than that, nothing. the police had no leads.

"why isn't there much on her murder?" you asked, scrolling down an article with a frown on your face.

ethan sat next to you on your bed, peering over your shoulder as your eyes scanned your screen. jesus, you read fast. "quinn told me that her parents wanted to keep it under wraps," he murmured, only catching glimpses of the article's words. "but i heard they got some private detectives on the case, too."

"sounds like small town gossip."

"oh, that's cause it was." ethan's eyes landed on one quote from the article as your scrolling finally came to a stop. adam's apple bobbing at the sight of it, he read, '.. found stabbed an approximate 78 times ..' the sheer strength and passion, the excitement richie must've had when he killed evelyn made his stomach sick. and ethan would've easily puked over the side of your bed if you didn't speak to him, breaking him from his stupor.

"hey, stay with me."

and just like that, ethan did. his mind was brought back to the present.

"right. sorry." you oculd feel his breath fan gently over your neck as he continued to look over your shoulder. "if we find the fingertips of his current victims, we can connect him to her— evelyn's —murder."

"maybe he kept them." you looked at ethan, confusion written over his face at your words. "it's just a guess, i dunno. but if evelyn was richie's first victim, then he might have kept parts of her. like a—"

"trophy. oh, this is so fucked," ethan muttered under his breath, moving to lay horizontally on your bed, the situation at hand easily driving him to exhaustion as he stared at your ceiling.

"we should first find out who his most current victims are, if possible. see if anyone our age has gone missing in our university or nearby universities." you looked down at ethan, whose face laid near where you sat. "if we can't, then we need to find those fingertips."

"right."

a beat.

"richie's working, yeah?" you asked ethan, who nodded as his doe eyes turned to you.

"yeah. he can't really be anywhere but work right now.” a hint of a smile graced his features. “i stole a look at his scheduling. he’s probably knee deep in papers right now.” he saw your eyes flash over in worry, the glint disappearing just as quickly as it arrived, and ethan knew. he simply knew that ever since richie gave into his impulses and followed you home, you were on edge.

you were just good at hiding it. good thing ethan was a little bit too observant when he wanted to.

"y/n, he's working." silently reassuring, ethan gazed at you, reading your indifferent face, searching for any more sign of fear or worry, but it was gone. you had gotten rid of everything before it could show even more.

"right." you looked away from ethan, feeling his stupidly innocent gaze still lingering on your as you looked back at your laptop. if you were to meet with ethan anywhere else but your dorm, richie surely would've gone out of his way to see. at least in the safety of your dorm room, you could shut the blinds and lock the door and be sure of your safety.

"what're your guys' plans tomorrow?" ethan asked you, finally allowing your to move on from the indirect topic of your emotions.

you shrugged. "no idea. i never texted him first— that's embarrassing."

"you seemed fine with calling me first last night."

"i never said that wasn't embarrassing." you rolled your eyes, almost hearing the stupid small smile that graced ethan's face at your words.

a minute passed in silence, the only sounds being your typing as you tried to build your list of articles on evelyn's murder. you had a grand total of 5 articles; better than you thought, but not as much as you would've liked.

he shifted umcomfortably in his seat, the dead silence only a bit too awkward for him. "shouldn't you know your plans, though? just in case he, uh," ethan clears his throat, raising his brows knowingly. he didn't want to say the word; but you already knew what he was implying.

"kills me?"

"well, yeah."

"he's not going to kill me," you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. "not yet, anyway. i'm too close to mindy; if i suddenly go missing after a date with him, mindy will find out for sure."

ethan's lips twitched into a small frown, hazel eyes darking with turmoil as he listened to you. "evelyn was my neighbor, y/n. she literally lived down the street from me; he's unpredictable—"

you almost winced at that word.

you could feel them all staring at you. whispering harshly, practically pointing at you as you stood at the doorway of your aunt's house, hands clasped together in front of you. your mother believed that having you locked up in the room of your new shared apartment in new york was unhealthy; and maybe she was right. for once, she had your best interests at heart, only you knew the outcome of her plan to assimilate you back into society under your shiny new last name.

"she's unpredictable," your aunt hissed as she talked to your mother, shamelessly looking you up and down as though you were some freak of nature, ignoring the clouded look over your eyes because you were barely keeping it together as it was. "you saw what she did, didn't you?"

luckily, you barely reacted.

"i know that, e."

"you know," he sat up in his seat, moving to sit next to you, facing the opposite way with his long legs splayed out on your bed, "after he was questioned by the police, he'd come home as though he had just come home from work or something. and he'd," he let out a sigh, "talk about it. like it was something so fucking casual."

"around you?" your eyebrows raised at that.

"no, never around me. but he would around my dad." contempt laced ethan's tone as he continued. it was hatred, but there was something underneath it that was something akin to jealousy, you realized. ''he'd tell him everything. what they asked that day. the leads he thinks they have— and he almost sounded proud that he was their only suspect."

"can i ask something?" you shifted to face your body towards his, your legs lightly touching his side. "if you were so sure that richie was the killer, why didn't you say anything?"

"because my dad worked for the department. so richie had an in." there it was again, you noticed; that familiar contempt. "and even though wayne bailey wasn't a part of the case, he upheld richie's innocence."

you blinked. "your family is fucked."'

"oh, i know."

"do you think you're the same way?"

ethan's eyebrows raised at your blunt question. he would've laughed in your face at your honesty if it weren't for the fact that you were dead serious. you stared at ethan, almost unblinking, expecting an equally honest answer back. "oh, you actually want to know?"

"yes?" you frowned a bit, tilting your head to the side a little. "did you think i was joking?"

"maybe?"

your brows knotted together. "i'm not joking, though."

"well, i know that now," ethan groaned, cheeks dusting pink out of slight embarrassment. "i haven't been diagnosed with anything other than like.. seasonal allergies and peanuts. maybe my moral code is a little messed up because i told you last night that i'm willing to help you kill my brother if i need to," his hands moved as he fell deeper and deeper into his ramble, "so maybe? the answer is maybe."

you listened to ethan ramble intently, watching his hands move as he spoke, as he ranted his jumbled thoughts in his mind to you. and in any other circumstance, you would've found ethan bailey annoying. he talked too much, couldn't handle silence, and had a way of going back and forth on things.

but you didn't mind ethan. he was tolerable.

you liked tolerable.

"or maybe the answer isn't maybe and i need to see a therapist. because i don't particularly feel bad for trying to put my murderous sociopathic brother in jail — not as much as i probably should, by the way — so the answer might be a yes, but for the sake of my sanity the answer is still.." ethan's string of words died in his throat when he realized he had been rambling for a good minute now.

you seemed like the type to interrupt someone who was speaking far too much and far too fast in a short period of time, but you hadn't said a word.

you were listening to him. staring (albeit a little creepily; had you blinked yet?) and observing ethan as he spoke too much about an uncomfortable topic to try and get rid of the unsettling feeling in his chest.

ethan cleared his suddenly dry throat as he stared into your eyes (for someone who hated to socialize, you held eye contact a little bit too much sometimes). "the answer is still a maybe," he managed, officially finishing his ramble. offering you a tight lipped smile, he added, "i rambled."

"you did." you replied.

"i'm sorry i did."

"nothing to be sorry about. i don't mind it." you stared at him for a little longer, blinking before turning back to your laptop, failing to notice the way ethan's face turned a prettier shade of red at your nonchalance. "when richie and i are out on our date, you should look for any ids or items he may have kept from his victims."

"right." ethan focused his attention to the task at hand, ignoring the way your prior words seemed to echo in his mind. how could he be thinking so deeply about such a thing when you were acting as if it was nothing? you were just a nice person; there wasn't more behind your words. "you should try and be out with him for a good few hours just to give me time."

"a few hours with richie. sounds great." you clenched your jaw, your fingers stopping on your keyboard. but they were still thrumming on your thumb, each finger tapping your fingertip in an undisclosed rhythm. "any pointers? like anything he may like in a person that'll make him," your nose wrinkled at your words, "not want to go home?"

"he likes you as you are already." ethan paused, biting his bottom lip gently as he reevaluated his words. "actually— he likes girls who he can't really have. like sam?" he rolled his eyes as he remembered their hellshow of a relationship. "he pined after sam for like a year just because she was dating someone before they got together."

ethan avoided your gaze as he looked at your laptop screen. "you know when he listened while we pretended to have sex? how he waited," from his peripherals, he could see your expression sour with anger at his words, "until you 'orgasmed'," ethan made faux quotations with his fingers, "before he left?"

"yeah." the memory of richie's shadow under ethan's door made a sick feeling broil in your stomach. and that feeling only grew when your mind came to a horrible assumption. "you don't think richie's interest in me grew after that night.. do you?"

ethan finally looked at you, his jaw clenched in anger and protectiveness as he nodded once. and that alone made your face fall in horror.

richie partly wanted you because it meant he deemed you 'forbidden' territory. because he believed ethan was interested in you first.

you groaned, letting your upper body fall back on your bed. "your brother's disgusting," you stated, staring at your ceiling.

next to you, ethan sighed. "i know."

you stood stiffly as you stared at the black dress you wore. in any other circumstance, you would've been comfortable with how you looked. you had styled your hair and this was one of your many black dresses that fit your features well, and to top it off, you wore a heart locket necklace and had your bag over your shoulder.

but knowing what you were getting into, it was hard to stay completely confident. you had basically shoved more of your strongest emotions into the deep dark hole in your mind just to keep yourself sane, but you couldn't even deny the sickening feeling in your chest that seemed to grow with every passing minute.

you still had no idea what richie's plans were. maybe it was something boring, like a movie then dinner. or maybe a walk in the park that would eventually lead to your death.

all you knew was that he would pick you up at 7 pm. that was all richie texted you, and now it was 6:45.

15 minutes.

"hello?" ethan's voice on your phone made you snap out of your thoughts, jaw clenching as you looked at yourself one last time, making sure not a hair was out of place just to keep up the facade.

you had called him again. at this point, you were wondering if you were lacking self respect for yourself, choosing to continuously call ethan during times of high stress in your shared situation.

you really needed to stop calling first. it was getting embarrassing.

"hello." you looked at your phone, watching as ethan tried (and failed) to set up his phone on his bedside table. you had been in a call for 30 minutes now, and while most of the conversation was honestly just ethan talking and you replying with short comments, you didn't mind it too much.

"are you, uh," ethan swallowed hard, "ready? hasn't been back since work so i'm guessing he's on his way to you now."

"i'm ready to get this over with, if that's what you mean." you set your phone up on your table, thankful that anika and mindy were out on another one of their movie dates (mindy was a little too excited to watch evil dead rise), so you could speak without interruptions. you sat on your desk chair, showing the upper half of your body to ethan, who was sitting on his bed, his back laid back on his head board.

but when he saw you, dressed up and looking a little bit too nice for his shitty brother, ethan sat up. throat running dry like it always seemed to and cheeks heating up, he managed an almost shy smile as he looked at you. "you look.. nice."

"thanks." a pause. "do i not usually look nice?"

ethan's eyes widened in shock (and slight fear). "i didn't say that! i just haven't known you for that long and i've only seen you like a handful of times but i swear you always look nice! you just look especially nice tonight. for richie." his nose crinkled in disgust at the thought.

you were all dressed up for his brother. and while the entire situation had made ethan throw up almost daily and feel far too many negative emotions that he didn't know how he felt anymore, he knew one thing as he looked at you, sitting so casually as though you weren't stopping ethan's train of thought.

he was jealous. and worried. and feeling far too protective over you, someone who could definitely handle everything on your own.

you tilted your head a little as ethan ended his short ramble. "ethan, i was joking."

"oh." ethan nodded, clicking his tongue as he tried to play it cool. "right."

lightly glossed lips curled up slightly, revealing a small smile. "thank you." your hands pulled your ring off of your finger. you let it run over your knuckles; back and forth. back and forth. the heated metal (you hands were and it was only a little disgusting) moved easily over your skin as you tried to calm yourself.

9 more minutes.

"y/n," ethan said, making your eyes focus again. "be careful, okay?"

your mouth opened to protest, but ethan continued on.

"and i know you said you could handle it," he said pointedly, making you shut your mouth, "but i want you to be careful."

three loud knocks at your dorm door made you jump, hand closing over your ring and curling into a fist as your steady heart began to pound loudly in your ears.

he was here.

"i have to go." you grabbed your phone, voice lowered down as you looked at ethan one last time. and for a brief moment, he saw just how worried you were. "you know the plan. be careful." and with that, you hung up.

the door to you and mindy's shared dorm felt far away as you walked out of your bedroom, shoving your phone into your purse before opening your dorm door. richie stood outside with a single orchid in his hand, its petals pristine and white as he held it. sleazy eyes traveled down your body, as though he was silently taking in your every curve, every exposed area of skin. and not even caring to seem the least bit subtle, richie took his time traveling back up to your face, his cold eyes watching you with interest.

as though you were some unpredictable toy for him.

"you look beautiful," richie murmured, making you force a smile as you tilted your head to the side a bit. shutting the door behind you, you looked him up and down; an open button up black shirt with a white shirt inside and some black jeans. the lack of effort in his style was infuriating— why did you have to dress up but he showed up as though he robbed old navy?

"you look.. good," you managed, unable to keep your honesty at bay as you managed a tight lipped smile. your lackluster response made you want to walk back into your dorm and lock it, but richie only chuckled at your response.

"nothing else?" he asked, handing the orchid to you. "i got you another flower."

another flower. you tried to hide your disgust at the confirmation that richie really was your stalker, instead taking the orchid with a tense hand. as you took it, richie began to walk down the hall of your dorm building, ready to lead you out.

"thanks," you stated, walking next to him and reluctantly allowing him to take the lead. wary eyes watched him, taking in the way he seemed to have perfect posture, how pleased he seemed in himself, as though his mere presence was a blessing to you, and the way he was staring right back at you.

observing. watching, pupils almost dilating as he took in how perfect you looked under the fluorescent light of the hallway. richie could feel his heart pounding, adams apple bobbing as he took a moment — just a moment — to admire his date. his date. the phrase rolled off of his tongue quite nicely.

you immediately averted your eyes back to the hallway in front of you. "so," you began, ignoring the way his eyes felt on your skin, "you were pretty enigmatic about this whole date. i almost thought you'd kill me or something." the dry humored joke fell from your lips before you could stop it, and yet you kept your eyes focused on the hallway in front of you, barely a reaction on your face as blood rushed through your ears. as you both began to take the elevator downstairs, you heard richie laugh.

even his laugh sounded ingenuine.

he stood next to you, arm pressed against yours, a little too close for comfort in the empty elevator. "just wanted to keep it a surprise, that's all." richie's eyes traveled to your hand, watching as you rubbed your ring subconsciously, a lopsided smirk appearing on his face. "are you nervous for our date?" he asked.

eyes blinking, you looked up at him confusedly. "no," you said with a tilt of your head, "why do you say that?"

"because," richie said, looking down at you with a mischievous smile, as though he was always one step ahead of you. "you've been rubbing that ring of yours ever since i arrived. i'd call it a," he thought for a moment before clicking his tongue, "nervous tick." a knowing glint appeared in his eyes, and suddenly you felt a wave of sick paranoia wash over you.

you immediately stopped rubbing your ring, your head turning back to the closed elevator doors in front of you both. your distorted reflection stared back at you from the steel of the elevator doors, and it was as though you realized just how trapped you were. there was no going back from this plan.

again, you began to subconsciously rub your ring. and richie continued to watch.

#AUTHORSNOTE— i'm actually soso sorry for the long update & the cliffhanger, but thank you for reading!

#TAGLIST— @cham9ions , @netey6m , @mskitkatbubbles , @onlyangel-444 , @cyueksims , @tisthedamnseason69 , @helpimgoinginsanehaha , @anthemabby , @clemenscove , @vanillawhale , @lanascinnamongirll , @rhaenyra4ever , @shebreathedherlast , @datingspiderman , @marurubahbah , @taetae123094 , @kn1n3 , @nox222 , @ch9mpi0n , @ooyuhgetitig4

[akanesheep]

How they fell for MC: Part 6

Beelzebub:

The most challenging thing about Beel is getting him to notice anyone else around him. Our boy is focused on one thing… well two of you count his many athletic hobbies.

Once it was made clear that you were not food, you were just background for awhile. It’s just how Beel is to the outside world. His priorities in life are as follows:

food

Family

Sports

Everything else

I mean, at least you’re in the top four though, né?

Beel isn’t hard to warm up to or anything, he’s just intimidating to most everyone, so they avoid him. (And there was those two events where he ate whole demons who got between him and his food during a hangry rage)

He also isn’t a cold person. As you began to talk to him, and he began to open up to you, you learned that while he is a demon of few words, he loves his brothers. You can feel it as he talks about them. He likes hearing you talk about your other life in the human realm. He loves your cooking too, he looks forward to your turn to make dinner, it’s always human world food, and he is here for it! He looked forward to telling Belphie all about you when he returns from his visit to the human realm.

Then that event happened. Belphie? He was never in the human realm? Belphie killed you. How? How had this happened? He felt hot anger at Belphie’s actions… but he knew Belphie was hurting. He felt it through their link. He had known Belphie struggled after the fall… they all had… but he knew you could help him. But now you were broken on the floor… why couldn’t he move. What was this pain in his heart?

After Lord Diavolo and Barbatos had visited, and you were alive again, he was happy you were back, but nothing would erase the image of your body broken on the floor. The sounds of his twin’s shrieking laughter. He had nightmares for weeks about that and dreams about Lilith.

That’s right, you were descended from Lilith, they explained that when they brought you back. Maybe that was why he felt calmer, less ravenous around you? He wasn’t sure.

In the days that followed, he wasn’t sure what to do. He was happy Belphie was back. He was hurt and angry at Lucifer for having locked Belphie up. He was angry with Belphie for hurting you, but you were still here. He just wasn’t sure how to interact with you, especially where Belphie was involved.

Slowly he watched as life moved forward in the HoL. He watched as you actually interacted with Belphie, the very demon who had hurt you. Even when some of his brothers wouldn’t acknowledge him at all. He watched as Belphie slowly responded to you. His heart was genuinely moved to see you doing what he couldn’t. He did whatever he could to bring everyone together… and when he was cursed by the reaper, you threw yourself headlong into saving him, even at the cost of your own life being shortened. He adored you human, absolutely and without doubt. You were family to him… and not only that, but you meant as much to him as Belphie did. Wasn’t there a word or something for this? He went to Asmo, as he was the brother who seemed to know the most about feelings.

‘Love’ Asmo squealed in delight as he bounced around Beel, ‘you’re in love!’ Ahh, so that was it. He was in love with you. He smiled and left Asmo to his excitement as he headed to the kitchen for snacks. He was going to watch a movie with you and Belphie. Now that he had his answer he was content.

Beel isn’t a complex demon, he is an adorable hungry love bug though.

@haydensky01

[joculatrixster]

"ill admit i dont watch sos nor raft streams but im calling out ppl who r calling scott specifically abusive and ive literally never seen anyone as vilinized as scott in fics i can think off the top of my head 3 fics ive seen where scott is the vilian and portrayed as jimmys abuser which is NOT true for anyone u mentioned." You can't say Scott is the only one villainized in the same breath as admitting you haven't seen content where other CCs get villainized by the audience.

Many of the *exact same people* who criticize Scott have also come out with posts talking about how uncomfortable Sausage makes them, some of them specifically citing his behavior toward Jimmy in SOS. Of course, I can't say that's true for everyone in fandom who criticizes Scott, but in my experience people critical of Scott are critical of others, too, regardless of their sexuality. Saying the criticism is fueled by homophobia doesn't track when the people criticizing Scott are also criticizing straight CCs/characters for very similar things.

Everyone has a different fandom experience based on what circles/fan archives/discussion boards they're on, and even on the same site people can have different experiences because of stuff like algorithms and who you're following. IIRC I have seen a fic where Grian, Jimmy, Joel and Lizzie were all siblings and Lizzie called out Grian and Joel for not being good brothers to Jimmy, while the only fic I've seen with Scott being "villainized" was a short ficlet where he did something small out of jealousy that didn't have any long term effects. I have actually gone *looking* for toxic FH fanfic and not found any. (I like complicated messy relationship story lines, so I feel like toxic FH in fic form would be fun to read.) Obviously this has not been your experience, but you seem to be treating your fandom experience as if it's the same for everyone else, which it's not.

its nnot just my experience when multiple multiple ppl have spoken out about how prominent it is specifically for scott again if its just a small issue id understand but the normalization is insane, ive seen a fic where scott turns jimmy into his pet doll and he needs to be saved from his clutches. ive read a gic where scott kills pearl and wants to destroy the entire world and has jimmy as his pet who he promised to keep as long as he stayed uner his thumb. ive read a fic where scott just leaves jimmy at the alter and pearl hunts him down and lashes out violently at him and we r meant to side w pearl for attacking him bc he didnt feel bad for poor jimmy. these were not obscure fics or small fics. u seem to assume an issue others r clearly pointing out theyve seen way more than others is only something some fridnge guy is complaining about instead of perhaps something UVE missed hm? uve seen 1 fic where joel and grian r kinda shitty to jimmy and get called out ive read multiple fics where scott breaks down jimmy as a person and needs to be saved from him, ive seen multiple posts calling irl scott smajor am abuser bc of one clip, ive seen pll say jimmy deadass is uncomfortable w FH and doesnt like scott which is just weird ass behavior. yes sausage gets flack i belive this but i haven't seen a shit ton of fics making sausage break jimmy soan mentally then get killed or punished in the end for being an irredeemable abuser. ive seen multiple of that for scott or just seeing scott in general in a veryyy negative light which is clearly due to an unfavorable interpretation of his character. which is fine, but name three fics where grian is intpreted that unfavorably w over 100 kueos. no seriously show me the fics where grian dies in the 3nd and its a thing everyone is happy about in the ficand they do not mourn him at all bc they hated him. go on!

its funny how ur orignal anon nitpicked my post and ur reply again nitpicks one part of a wider post as if the point i said was even what ur replyin to, im talking fandom space but even if i wasnt im talking life series fandom while i do mention oli thats just to ponnt out that One scott clip is not Just a scott thing, girl. vilinized in life series aka what i tagged, dont be stupid here its literally just making u look stupid 😭i used grian as an example bc hes someone who acts similar in the space i was criticizing and not sausage bc i am aware things may be different in a DIFFERENT context. ur majorlyyyy derialing and not rlly proving me wrong ur just proving that u dont rlly get what im saying which is fine but also all ur points r just...not disproving anything l. ur example is 1 grian and joel being criticized in one(1) fic(which is not what vilianized even means dude but hey ill give u this u did find one somewhat grian neg fic!) and 2 a guy not even in the fandom i tagged. girl...

[zaradress]

brothers best friend

pairing: Callum McGinley x Airey reader warnings: sexual content, age gap, unprotected sex, thigh riding, daddy kink prompt: Faye is Callum Airey's sister and has an extreme attraction to Callums best friend Callux.

Fuck he looked good. I sat as I watched him behind the scenes of a sidemen shoot. Every bone in me tries to disguise how attracted I am to him, since I know that nothing will ever happen between the two of us.

For one he is 10 years older than me and is not even supposed to be an option with how my brother would react to his best friend having sexual thoughts about me.

Cal would literally kill me if I even initiate something with Lux. But I couldn't ignore the fact that whenever he was around my knees instantly fold or my panties become less and less dry.

The thing is I can't get him off my mind. Perhaps it's because I'm just horny and have never had a sexual experience but if you ask me it's more than that. Since there was just something in me that wanted to make him proud or just want his approval and no one else's.

I haven't even realised that I have been staring at him for the past couple of minutes. Because of my staring Lux sent me a questionable look.

"Alright lets take 20, everyone", some person behind the camera shouted. Probably since they were going to be here the entire day. I am only going to be here for another hour until my mom can come pick me up. So I definitely understand why they are taking a break.

Callux starts walking towards me. My brother had left with some of the guys to get some food from the buffet. "Aren't you going to go eat?" I ask him politely trying to not make it obvious that just a couple of minutes ago I was thinking about him being inside of me.

"Not really hungry for food", he responds.

I give him a confused look. "Than what are you hungry for?" I laugh a little through the confusion.

His eyes travel up and down my body stopping at my clenched thighs that were closer together than anything else on this world. Lux sits down next to me. "Why are your thighs so clenched, here let me help you", he puts his soothing hand on my thigh. Trying to relax my muscles. His hand traveling further and further up my thigh.

Good thing I am wearing my jeans. Otherwise I probably would have come un done right there and then. I close my eyes and put my head back. Enjoying a feeling I probably will never feel again. He retrieves his hands and I quickly open my eyes again. "All better", he says.

"Thanks I guess", I say whilst crossing my legs. My cheeks turn to a rosey color.

"So why were you staring at me before", well what am I supposed to say to that, "that I was thinking about how you could fuck me good", that would just be stupid.

I look at Callum who looked at me in a shocked manner. "Oh my fucking god I did not just say that out loud. Please tell me I didn't say that", he laughs a little.

"Yes you did and yes I could", he says and gets up. Leaving me in utter disbelief.

I just can't believe I said that. At least he didn't feel uncomfortable. More like amusing.

The boys returned with food on some paper plates and sat down in the studio. Not being able to stand the weird tension in this room whilst Callux was talking to my brother as if I hadn't just seconds ago said that I want him to fuck me, I decide to get some food.

At the buffet there were a lot of options. But I was most interested in the rice so I took some rice and vegetables. I sat down in the empty room not even hungry.

I decide to not eat my food and just sit there playing with the strings of the holes in my jeans. All of a sudden someone sits down beside me. Lux. "There you are, I've been looking for you", I couldn't even look at him and hide my face in my hands. Still embarrassed over what I had done earlier. "Why are you hiding you're. Come on it wasn't that bad. I get it I was your age once too and fuck me I wanted to fuck anyone if they'd given me the chance", I laugh he gets a hold of my hands and put them down.

"Well the thing is, this is probably tmi but I just think I need to say this. I have never had a sexual experience, not even by myself and I have never had the urge to but I don't know lately every fucking time I see you...thats enough information", I tell him.

He looks at me a little shocked. His hand travel to my thigh stopping at a hole in my jeans. "Never? You have to be kidding right. There is no way not even you have played with yourself", he says his hand sliding in to the loose hole in my jeans. His hand caressing my naked thigh.

"I just never have had the urge. And I am honestly scared of doing anything to myself", he looks me in the eyes. I know what he is thinking probably. "I need to stop talking", I say.

The thing is just the feeling of his hand on my thigh could make me tell him anything if he asked me. "Don't rush it, okay? One day you will find a guy you find attractive and then things will just unravel", he tells me. "Because even if I wanted to give you that pleasure I can't. Cal is my best friend and it would literally kill me", he tells me. I nod understanding everything he is telling me.

Suddenly my phone begins to vibrate and with that Callum decided to leave. I pick up the phone and my mother immediately says that she's here. So I get my things and leave.

Before I can even enter the car she says something. "So you're staying at your brother place today. He's not very happy about it and neither am I but I have no other choice", she says.

"What do you mean you have no other choice?" I ask her confused as to what she means by that.

"I got a call from a client in Edinburgh and have to catch a flight today. I swear I'm going to change firms because this is actually not okay anymore", she says. Lately her law firm has been only sending her to the further away places and has had to travel last minute. She is in her own opinion starting to turn grey because of this.

"Well can't I just stay alone at home", she laughs.

We pull up to Callums apartment. "There is no way I'm letting you stay alone. What if something happens? No no I'm already turning grey there is no way I am letting you do that", she says. "I packed you a bag for the night get it from the backseat". She gives me a kiss on the cheek and leaves after I get the bag and shut the door.

I walk up to his apartment and lock the door after entering. Leaving all my stuff in the living room and sitting down on the couch. Intending to take a nap. But that nap turned into a three hour long sleep. Which probably would have been longer if I hadn't heard the door unlock.

The three boys enter. "I'm never doing sidemen shoots again it takes way to fucking long", my brother says.

"What are you yapping about you always want to be there", Harry said obviously exhausted.

"Yeah and then I end up regretting it", they all took off their jackets and shoes. Finally noticing me after.

"I didn't know your sister was staying here", Harry says. Callux looked at me slightly surprised I was here.

"Yeah forgot to tell you guys but my mum told me about it just a few hours ago", Cal says.

"Well I'm gonna hit the hay", Harry says.

"Same, well at least a nap", Cal says and turns to me before entering his room. "Don't do anything stupid and you know where everything is", he says and enters his room.

Now it was just me and Lux. Who has gone to the fridge to get a drink. "Aren't you going to go to bed?" I ask him.

"Not really tired so no", he says and sits down beside me.

"So you're not really hungry and not really tired than what are you", I laugh at him.

He laughs as well closing his eyes and putting his head back. "Really fucking horny that's what I am", he laughs. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. But I felt a little courageous. So with him not having opened his eyes yet I straddle his lap.

Immediately he opens his eyes. "What the fuck are you doing", he says placing his hands on my thighs. I put my hands around his neck.

"Nothing, just thought your lap would be more comfortable", I smirk lightly.

He takes a deep breath his eyes traveling from my eyes to my lips. I adjust a little to be more comfortable. To which he holds down my hips so it becomes more difficult for e to move as well as putting some pressure. A very light moan escapes my lips when I feel something pressing against my sex. I hide my face in the crook of his neck.

Because of the light moan he pushes against me again making me moan again. I started to roll my hips and he pushed hard against me. "Lux", I moan into his ear and he groans. "Harder", I tell him. And he listens pushing very hardly against my sex as I roll my hips meeting his.

All of a sudden he stops my hips. I look at him confused and desperate. "Straddle my leg. I want you to fuck yourself on my leg", says putting a hair behind my ear. I have never done anything like this. But I am submissive and oblige happily to his command. I straddle his leg and start rolling my hips hard and fast.

"Just like that", he says. "Such a good girl", he starts to bounce his leg which makes me moan even harder. He puts a hand against my mouth to muffle my moans.

I couldn't get enough of the sensation and I was getting closer to my climax. "Lux I think I'm close", I tell him.

"No you're not, I am telling you when you are close. You listen to me", he says. Only making more wet. I loved being controlled by him. Being told what to do.

I bite down on his shoulder lightly to muffle my moans. Because the constant rubbing against his leg and rough material was getting to me. "Now take off your jeans", he tells me. I stand up quickly and take off my jeans. He unzips his jeans. A prominent budge visible. But he doesn't take them off fully. I straddle his lap yet again in my underwear. He pulls out his dick.

"Lux how is that supposed to fit. It's so big", I tell him starting to get scared of the pain I might feel.

"Don't worry I will be slow and careful. It might hurt but you won't have to take me entirely", he says. His hands travel to my underwear pulling it aside. And then I position myself on him.

It hurt but in a good way. I moan silently knowing we aren't alone. I start going down his shaft. It was visible how desperate he was for it to go faster.

"Your doing so great just keep going", he says his hands guiding my hips. I reach the end and start to roll my hips. As he starts to fuck into me as well.

I wanted to scream instead whimpers were coming out because of how much ecstasy I was feeling. He started going harder. His dick pushing hard inside of me. Going in and out every time harder. I rolled my hips faster.

Never have I never felt anything like this. "Such a good girl aren't you", he tells me. "Such a good girl for Daddy aren't you", he says which makes me moan a little too loud. "Quiet you don't want us to get caught do you?", he asks.

"No I don't daddy, I'm sorry", I hold in my moans which is harder than what you would think. I get close to his ear. "Daddy", I whisper. To which he thrust became deeper and harder.

"Ugh, I don't know how much longer I can take", I tell him. Lux repositions us so he's on top and I am laying on the sofa.

"Just a little more, so daddy can come with you", he says.

The thrust were only getting harder and holding in my climax wasn't getting easier. "Alright princess you can cum now", his thrusts have become sloppier and he came inside of me at the same time as I did.

Still inside of me he lied on top of me a little. Applying as little pressure as possible. "Fuck that was good", he says.

He gets up and puts his dick in his away. Going to the bathroom. Lux returns with a towel. "Let me clean you up a bit", he says and starts cleaning me up.

I was still in shock of how good it was. Maybe it was worth the wait? "Lux?" I say.

"Yeah?", he says returning from between my legs to a normal state. I put my underwear to it's original state and go to my bag to get my shorts.

"Cal can't find out about this I say", to which he nods and agrees. I put my shorts on. "That was fucking amazing though.", I say and lay my head on his lap.

As I start to fall asleep again. Exhausted.

[un-pearable]

okay post sonic symphony post recap :D

1st mezzanine sweep (could see both the orchestra + the singers excluding when they went in the audience at one point) + we were right next to the projector (cool!!!!) and some of the speakers (ouch)

orchestral:

setlist (as best i remember, i wasn’t writing it down, PLEASE correct me):

sonic 1

sonic cd

sonic 2

sky sanctuary

sonic mania

“welcome to 3D”

believe in myself/it doesn’t matter medley

chao garden

“three new ones”

rooftop run

aquarium park/planet wisp

frontiers medley w/ stuff from third DLC

i was so excitedly surprised to see the new visuals!!! they did a really great job combining the new origins cutscenes with gameplay and the timing was INCREDIBLE esp for a live show. infinite kudos and honestly i can appreciate them waiting two years to actually do this since the cutscenes really tied to first few medleys together

conductor absolutely CRUSHED IT dude was very understanding that the audience was going to be Losing It consistently and he made it work. so much love to that orchestra they did a stellar job and im so sad they’ll get overshadowed by the vocal parts (which. yeah obviously. but they did SUCH great work and the conductor did a great job directing the audiences applause to them)

felt bad they had to stop between every single medley for applause but such is life . also experiencing live audience reactions for stuff like the chemical plant zone drowning trap and amy being playable in the metal sonic race was amazing

enjoyed the sky sanctuary medley even though it took the place of the sonic 3k music overall, so much kudos to the video team that was SO cool (AND IT HAD THE FRONTIERS ANIMATED SPECIAL!!!!! YEAHHHH WIN FOR KNUCKLES FANS EVERYWHERE)

the believe in myself/it doesn’t matter one’s are always so sweet to me i love how they frame them using the cutscenes from each of their respective stories + the end card 🥺 now do that for everyone else’s themes!!!!!!!!!!

i’m definitely forgetting at least one bit in there but it was so delightful all around, the new arrangements were so fun, unleashed sweeps as always but one guy near me was SUPER passionate about aquarium park im glad he was happy. the frontiers medley ended w/ the new supersonic form and having not watched that trailer this was the BEST possible way to see that new content holy SHIT!!!!!!!!

intermission: that was the single most positive bathroom i’ve ever been in and i mean that in the least weird way possible. everyone was so so so excited and complimentary (ty to the person who liked my pins and whose fiancé liked the tails one. i like it a lot too :]) also kudos to the stunning wave cosplayer i saw she was killing it!!!!! molly whoever you were i hope you enjoyed the second half as much as i did

vocal tracks:

setlist (i actually did write this one down):

i am all of me

what i’m made of

open your heart

knight of the wind

escape from the city

(new!!) superstars intro theme

his world

reach for the stars

fist bump

endless possibility

(fake out ending)

break through it all

undefeatable

live and learn

the fake out of having only the orchestra on stage and then l having i am all of me just START even before johnny + jun got on stage. incredible. we were all so distracted i have to find a clip of the audible chaos when the music started going and everyone clocked it was SHADOW FIRST. anyway so so so funny they only showed cutscenes from shth . no gameplay. gee wonder why

interesting structure too, compared to the order of the OG one in 2021 (which focused more on ramping up to the classics + live n learn at the end) this order bookended some of the less popular songs (reach for the stars and the new superstars theme particularly) with the BIG names

you should have heard how much people lost it when johnny said “you are… what i’m made of” i’m so proud of you sonic symphony audience. we are all sonic heroes appreciators

oh also johnny + everyone’s clumsy attempts to name drop/imply song names in their inbetweens. hilarious. astounding. i’m glad we’re your knight johnny

^ re: prev i NEED a recording of that it was glorious. if anyone has one hmu

literally two minutes before the second half started i was telling my beloved friend i dragged along that all i needed to be happy was for them to have kept knight of the wind and it was the FOURTH SONG . WIN FOR JAY. 3 of my top fives within the first twenty mins of act 2. incredible

obviously escape from the city floored everyone. i think that got the most people singing but we were all already exhausted vocally it was very funny hearing what lines people mumbled. but it DID have the most call and response, with the biggest songs they would really just shut off the mics and let the audience sing a lot of lines it was so so fun

johnny took his leave from the stage (and complimented + thanked dave vives and also the fandom), said goodnight, and sometime around now tomoya ohtani was brought on (he deserved more applause and did eventually get it)

superstars theme was cool!!!! but right after city escape was funny bc . no one knows it. you go from most singable theme imaginable to everyone sitting as upright as possible and the half that wasn’t already recording to whip out their phones to capture it especially as they introduce it as “the first time this song has EVER played on this side of the ocean” lmao. hope you liked it london i’m glad you took us down a peg

his worrrrrrlddddd we all love it. we were all so tired. also we kept fumbling the lines bc we all like the zebra head version and rappings hard. i get it. video team did a fun job remixing the visuals for sonic + shadow + silver focus sections though it was really cool

reach for the stars really had people peetering out over the length partly bc we were all exhausted vocally and partly bc it’s sadly less iconic

i could not take fistbump seriously bc they had our beloved ian jr front and center for the whole video. it was glorious. they started w gadget for the opening bit and then bam ian jr everywhere. amazing . got a whole games worth of cutscenes with his beautiful face you did your creator (who was IN THE AUDIENCE) proud

good break before endless possibility though

possibilities are endless. ‘nuff said

jk the video was STUNNING and a lot of it was the opening cutscene which remains some of the best sonic animation ever to this day. and this song REALLY showcased how well the orchestra worked simultaneously with the band it was glorious . the use of the werehog transformation scene in time with:

mwa. stunning choice. and once again damn the band’s vocalist (dave vives) CRUSHED IT. johnny gave him a shout out for being a worthy successor at the shows he can’t attend and it was so so so deserved y’all are in for a treat

around here my ears + voice started genuinely feeling weird. the sacrifices we make for an absolutely wild experience (it’s all fine now though dw <3)

at this point they thanked everyone for coming + the band walked off stage and they turned all the lights off for a joke. me knowing they wouldn’t leave w/o live and learn was skeptical <- totally forgot they had a whole other guest star who hadn’t done his signature contribution yet

“one more” chanting ensued and my bro says he thinks they definitely had someone planted to say that but like. they did way more than one more. no way that was an intentional phrase

the band returned!!!! KELLIN QUINN KILLED IT

it’s dead. it’s dead and gone . my hearing and also the ability to play sonic music it’s been forever changed . hearing those incredible songs from frontiers + a full live orchestra backing up the astounding vocals (HOW) was incredible. this is when i could feel the literal balcony shaking . my vocal chords are going to kill me tomorrow

obligatory “just one more” was undefeatable and ngl im so glad they did it second, the hype up with break through it all made it even better despite them going the opposite in the game . should have used the cooler going supersonic clip from the trailers rather in game though . no one is immune to undefeatable + the extending music video was crazy good

ANOTHER “one last one” in which johnny was called back on stage, pretended to not know what people were asking for/what he was supposed to sing, got the ENTIRE crowd yelling the name of the song, and then and he + kellin absolutely crushed live and learn

it’s live and learn. it’s the perfect end note ft. quinn’s unparalleled vocals. what more do you need

they showed the really funny still shot of shadow overlaid on the moon for the last shot of the video and i know it’s the actual ending but it lingered for like 15 seconds and i couldn’t stop laughing . they showed all the dialogue captions leading up to him dying so i though they were going to show him falling to earth but nah. stock render brain store ass pose

still COOL AS HELL!!!!!!! they had us congratulate EVERYONE and all the individual band members and the orchestra and im so so so happy with how it went . one million thanks to these wonderful people they did a great job

a couple literally got engaged in the lobby. one group started belting sonic underground on like the third floor of the stairway. it was incredible. the oscar’s could never top this ty dolby theaterrr

absolutely incredible all around . special shout out to: the people lowkey cosplaying while still in formalwear (woman in a beautiful white dress wearing a rouge hairpiece i salute you. guy in blue suit and guy in orange suit you’re amazing. woman in the fanciest amy rose dress i’ve ever seen im in love). the people with awesome t-shirts i am among your ranks we love a fandom with cool shirt designs. people in full on cosplay i am so so happy for all the diversity in characters i saw. the line for merch that stretched all the way back into the theater at the end: what was the theater staff doing that was bonkers. the people handing out stickers that i missed i Will be stalking your online stores. all the people in normal formal wear carrying their plushies? amazing. the world is beautiful. goodnight everyone

[weirdestbooks]

The Shot Heard Around the World Chapter 24

Defeats of New York (Wattpad | Ao3)

Table of Contents | Prev | Next

August 27, 1776

What was he thinking? Why did he really believe that he could get away from his father? Why did United States—Thirteen Colonies delude himself into thinking he really had the power to get away from his father, that he really had the power to declare independence and become a country?

What gave him the right?

Panic and fear ran through him like never before. He supposed that he had been lucky not to see Father during the battle that morning, only spotting Scotland, who just seemed sad upon seeing Thirteen Colonies.

Vaguely, he began to register someone talking to him.

“States, you need to breathe. You’re going to pass out!”

The unfamiliar voice—

“James.”

James was right. Thirteen Colonies couldn’t breathe. His breath stuttered and stopped and came out in short little bursts, which prevented him from breathing very well, as black spots crept into his vision.

Slowly, Thirteen Colonies let his breaths even out, vision clearing. Miraculously, it seemed that no one had noticed his panic—or at least how bad it had gotten.

“We ensured you stayed upright so no one thought you were going mad,” New York said, his voice sounding distant with how foggy Thirteen Colonies' head was. He felt…he felt as if he was watching someone else control his body. 

Maybe someone was. It was all fuzzy.

“General Washington has a plan of escape. He is going to escape across the river since the British have laid siege. This is not going to be the end, United States of America, so snap out of it now! Your people need you!” the male voice said. And he wanted to Thirteen—United States—whatever his name was going to end up being, he wanted to break out of the fog and help. But it was…it was just so hard.

“Let me take control! I can help General Washington!” New York exclaimed. Thirteen Colonies wanted to react, but he felt foggy. He knew his body was moving, that his mouth was forming words that he could not hear, but he was not the one in control. 

He was watching.

Like his states.

“York—”

“This is my state, Uncle James, and if Father is unable to fight, then I will!” New York declared, his voice distant. 

Thirteen Colonies blinked, and suddenly, he was staring up at a darkened sky, faces crowded all around him. Faces…with his flag. Well, most of them, in any case.

“Father?” exclaimed one of the faces, his voice familiar.

“Mass...Massachusetts?” Thirteen Colonies exclaimed, recognizing it. Where was he? The states were supposed to be in his head, right? Massachusetts nodded, tackling him into a hug, and the other faces—other states—did the same.

“You’re here!” a voice that Thirteen Colonies recognized to be Maryland said. Thirteen Colonies was crying, tears of happiness and sorrow running down his face. These were his children—he was seeing the faces of his children for the very first time, and yet…

“Where am I?” he asked. He must have died. Father overtook their army and crushed them, killing Thirteen Colonies personally for his disobedience. He killed his children.

“We’re in your head! Well…our head? We didn't know you could come here. But this is where we are when we aren’t near enough to talk to you or take control!” New Hampshire said. Thirteen Colonies scanned the faces of his children again. They were all so beautiful and wonderful.

What has Thirteen Colonies dragged them into?

“Are you okay?” Thirteen Colonies then heard that unfamiliar male voice from behind him that everyone refused to name.

Thirteen Colonies shot to his feet, knocking the small colony—Rhode Island and Providence Plantations—off his lap.

The man looked kind, but Thirteen Colonies knew better than to trust that. He had been hurt by kind-looking people before. The most shocking thing about this man was his face—not flag or seal—just pale human skin.

The colonies in his head were a weird country thing. So what…what was this human man doing here?

Thirteen Colonies was scared.

“Hey, States. My name is James. I…I also exist here, even though I’m human. I…we don’t know why,” he introduced. Thirteen Colonies shook his head, feeling panicked.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” he muttered. He felt like he was going insane. What was happening?

Thirteen Colonies wished he was with his father again, with his father who could say a few words and make everything go away, everything have an explanation, some semblance of sense.

“Father, are you okay?” Virginia asked.

“Guys, I know you’re excited, but how about we give him some space,” James said, and Thirteen Colonies heard the other colonies scatter. He wanted to say something, but it felt like his mouth had frozen shut. “Jonathan’s a nice name. It was a good pick.”

“I should be back…I need to be in control. Father’s going to kill them all. I need to talk him down from that!” Thirteen Colonies said, unwilling to even begin discussing the stupid, stupid, human name he had picked for himself. This was a mistake. He should surrender now and save everyone from the bloodshed of his madness.

“It’s okay. New York has that handled. We’re not surrendering, and the British are not attacking. We’re evacuating across the river. Your son can handle that,” James said, his voice soothing and vaguely familiar, causing Thirteen Colonies to dreg up memories of long ago, back when he was a child.

He…he remembered James.

“You…you used to sing to me. When I was little. Before…before Jamestown,” Thirteen Colonies asked. When he was scared and alone, even when he had his aunt, that voice was always there to sing gentle songs that helped him sleep and made him feel safe, warm, and loved.

James nodded.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any answers about how I’m here. I hardly know myself. But…I’ve been trying my best to look after you, to keep the bad memories away so you can be happy,” James explained. Thirteen Colonies shot him a confused look.

“Bad memories?” he asked. What did that mean? Was James erasing his memories? Was that how Thirteen Colonies became so delusional to think that he could actually go to war against his Father and win?

“Whenever Britain got…rough or violent, I would take control to spare you the pain. So you remembered the good memories, not the bad ones. So you could be happy and content,” James said, voice tinged with sadness.

“He made me forget you. Or…stop talking to you. I spoke with Virginia before. I know that,” Thirteen Colonies said, looking at James in way of an explanation.

“I don’t like him, but…I think that shows that he did love you in a strange way. He…he could have killed you, and if he said you were insane, he would have been given clemency because it’s a good reason. But he chose to use martial law to make you forget so that you wouldn’t look insane. I can’t…I know it hurts, but it might have been the right call at that moment,” James said, looking conflicted.

“I…I guess so. I think…I think we need to go back to him,” Thirteen Colonies said, hunching in on himself and burying his face in his knees. 

“What? But you’ve been so excited about independence and being a country before? What brought about this change? You—you can’t be under martial law because you’re independent, but…Jonathan, are you alright?” James asked. Thirteen Colonies bit down a sob.

“I can’t fight him! He’s too strong. It would…it would be better to give up now and beg for mercy. I can…soldiers are one thing. Father is another. It’s better to return to being his colony before he runs out of patience. It will save everyone from his anger, and I can take the punishment,” Thirteen Colonies explained before waiting for James’ response. 

Instead of saying anything, the human pulled him into a hug, and it was so warm and safe that Thirteen Colonies just began sobbing, gripping onto James tighter, wanting the safety the hug offered.

“I know he’s held power over you before, but if we get independence, he won’t be able to hurt you. You’ll be safe. Permanently safe from him,” James pointed out, his voice gentle and prompting a new wave of tears.

Safe. What did that mean? Countryhumans were rarely safe, always part of so much violence and hate. Thirteen Colonies…he had been safe with his Father. The hurt was just a way of protecting him, of preparing him for the real world, where he could be killed at the drop of a hat.

It was…he was safe there.

Right?

“I can’t fight him,” Thirteen Colonies eventually said. “Seeing him…I’m scared, and I…I stop being the United States of America, and I just…I feel like the Thirteen Colonies again,” he explained. James squeezed him tighter.

“I’m sorry. I know this…this is terrifying for us all, the what-ifs and worst-case scenarios, but if we just give up, we never actually try, prove that it is possible to beat your father,” James said, pulling out of the hug, still keeping a hand on the countryhuman’s shoulder. “But you aren’t alone.”

“But I have to fight him, and I can’t do that! I can’t fight my father!” the countryhuman said, slapping his hands over his ears, trying to block out all noise. 

“You don’t have to,” James said. The countryhuman lowered his hands from his ears, looking up at James with a faint hope in his eyes.

“How can I not? I’m supposed to be their nation,” he asked. James laughed.

“New York is in control right now, helping with the evacuation. But to your people, it is just you. If you ever can’t fight due to your fear of Britain, I can take control and fight for you. To everyone else, the United States of America is fighting with them, but you don’t have to be the one to do that,” James said, gently taking the countryhuman’s hands and looking him in the eyes.

“Thank you,” said the United States of America before pulling the man into another hug. He didn’t know why the thought of facing his father stole his breath away and made him shake, but…at least he had the people who shared his body there to help him.

At least it ensured that he looked like he was doing something.

• ───────────────── •

September 15, 1776

Britain was glad to be standing in New York City. They had heavily shelled the land before landing at Kip’s Bay, but considering they landed unopposed, it seemed the shelling might not have been necessary.

They had also been able to cut off any rebel escape routes and capture some militiamen. Thirteen Colonies and his rebels would not slip away from him this time. He would see them captured and justice served. 

And then he would remind his son where his loyalties lay.

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep gripping your gun like that,” Britain heard Scotland say from behind him as the country slowly walked over and gently took the gun from Britain’s hands. Britain’s hands then curled into fists. “You seem upset for someone who is winning.”

“Thirteen should be in my hands by now! I told Sir Howe that a siege was a dumb idea and that we should have just attacked their troops and crushed them, but no, he insisted on a siege, and Thirteen slipped away! This entire thing could have been over!” Britain ranted, anger in his voice, throwing his hands in the air.

“Your flag is slipping,” Scotland warned, and Britain quickly returned focus to straightening the pattern on it. “And…Crùn, do you think that this rebellion will last forever?”

Britain scoffed, “Of course not Ath—Alba. But…I despise that it has gotten so out of hand that Thirteen has now deluded himself into believing he is mentally fit to be a country.”

Scotland raised an eyebrow, not saying anything but listening to Britain's rant, which was evident by the way his ears were.

“Even if it—” Britain cut himself off, unwilling to admit that he had been aware of Thirteen Colonies’ mental incompetence for a while. “He’s a child, my child, and he shouldn’t be a country. He can’t protect himself from France and Spain, from the Indians! He’ll die without me.”

“An Fhraing and an Spàinn might not be an issue. If Thirteen proves himself to them, they could recognize him and become his allies,” Scotland pointed out.

“Alba, I was trying not to acknowledge that,” Britain chided before sighing, “Hence why Sir Howe should have listened to me, so this whole mess could be over.”

“It’s not wrong to want to show mercy sometimes,” Scotland pointed out. 

“It is when it risks throwing the balance of the world into uproar. Thirteen cannot become independent,” Britain said. Scotland then sighed.

“If you don’t show him mercy, he’ll try again. Èirinn always has. You’ve heard that before, I’m sure—the more Thirteen fears you, the more he’ll do everything he can to avoid you. You need to promise not to punish him too harshly and allow things to eventually return to how they once were,” Scotland explained. Britain respected the man immensely, but his one weakness was that he was too soft on his children, too willing to let them get away with things, which would only hurt them in the end.

“I will ensure that Thirteen sees the necessary punishment for treason and hurting England. Or have you forgotten what he did?” Britain snapped.

“Sasann’s survived a lot worse than a blow to the jaw. I have faith that he will recover. I am not trying to insult your parenting skills, Crùn, but it is better to coax Thirteen back than force him back. One will ensure he wants to stay with you. The other will leave him bitter and resentful,” Scotland said, voice calm.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. My son deserves to be punished, and he is not escaping that, even if you want to show him mercy!” Britain snapped before walking away. His son loved him and knew his place, and once Britain reminded him of that, then his son would be back at his side.

No mercy is required for that.

• ───────────────── •

September 16, 1776

United States had been talking to General Washington, composing a letter to Congress about their present situation, when the alarm went off about British soldiers approaching their position. United States had frozen at the news as General Washington ordered riders to investigate, fear flooding through him at the thought of his father’s rage.

He then felt James approach, so close to him, a sign that the man with whom United States had begun conversing daily about their arrangement and his states was ready to take over if he needed it. United States shook his head slightly, snapping out of the fear. 

They were investigating the reports. There was no sign of his father yet. He would be okay for now.

“America, I am going to ride down to the southern part of the camp to observe the situation myself,” General Washington had said. “Are you coming with me?”

“Of course,” United States had responded, and the two set off. The ride was silent unless you counted James and New York’s whispered argument in the back of United States’ head.

“Sorry, Father!”

Anxiety still knawed at United States’ stomach, and when he saw General Reed racing back towards him and General Washington, the sinking pit that was forming seemed to grow even deeper.

“I can take over now if you’d like. I know he’s not here, but I’d rather you not collapse in front of Washington,” James offered. Once again, United States shook his head. He was staying for as long as he could, or so help him God—

“Okay, I get it,” James relented, backing off but nonetheless present.

“What’s happening, General?” United States asked once General Reed was within earshot.

“Lt. Knowlton’s rangers have begun a skirmish with British troops. We need reinforcements,” he said. United States bit back a curse. This was not what they needed, not after losing New York City. They needed a battle whose terms they could dictate, not a battle that was sprung on them.

Before General Washington could respond, the figures of Lt. Knowlton’s rangers appeared, the men seemingly having fled back to camp.

“That’s not good,” Pennsylvania muttered. Behind the rangers were the British Regulars, a clear sign that United States’ troops were fleeing the British line. Terrifyingly, the British forces were getting close enough that United States could hear their bugle and see the blue face that belonged to either Uncle Scotland or his father.

United States’ hands were shaking.

The worst part was what they were playing. It was not a standard bugle call meant to signal to the troops that they needed to advance or deploy; no, it was a song that was very familiar to United States.

It was called Gone Away, and it was no war song but a fox-hunting song, a song meant to signal that the fox had been killed and that the chase was over in a foxhunt.

Father was saying that he was a fox that had been killed, that the hunt was over, that the hunters had come to collect their prey. It was humiliating, and shame burned in his throat as tears pricked at the corner of his eyes.

United States could see his father now, see that his father was playing the song as well, and United States’ hands were shaking, and he couldn't breathe and—

Breath returned to the United States as James began to take over. The man slowed and calmed their breaths and stopped their hands from shaking.

United States was in control still, but James was now keeping their body calm.

“I can take over now if you want to go into our head and talk with your children,” James offered. United States didn’t want to leave his people, but…he couldn’t. He couldn’t fight right now; every instinct in his body was yelling at him to get on his knees and beg for mercy, from his father, from God, and accept whatever punishment he deserved. 

His fear of his father, a fear he didn’t realize was this strong, made him a liability in battle. He had to leave. 

So, United States backed away, and James took control.

“We need to prepare a counterattack. If we lose our force here, independence dies with us,” James said, turning his horse back towards the camp. He needed to get Jonathan’s weapon so he could fight.

He promised his brother he would do it, so he had to.

“I will send men to loop around the British and fire on them once they get behind them. Are you going to join them?” General Washington asked. James shook his head.

“Britain is with these troops. He’ll be keeping an eye on me. If I leave, I give it away,” James pointed out, glazing back at the approaching soldiers, “I need to stay here to draw eyes away.”

General Washington nodded and rushed off to rally men to fight as James returned to his tent.

“It’s wrong to fight,” Rebecca, a new human that had appeared in their head sometime in the last few months, said. She always advocated for them to give up and surrender to Britain because it would be safer.

Like Britain hadn’t hurt them before. Like Britain hadn’t made a habit of hurting them and hurting them until everything hurt.

Like Britain was someone who cared about them.

“He’ll hurt us if we surrender, Rebecca, you know this. We need to protect ourselves, and this is the best way to do that,” James responded.

“That’ll just make him madder. We can probably still convince him to show mercy if we surrender now,” Rebecca argued, some trace of fear in her voice. Despite the fact that James hated what she was saying, it was clear she did it out of actual concern for Jonathan and the states.

“We’re not going to surrender, Becca. We’re going to fight him, win this battle, win this war, and then we’ll be safe,” James said, voice dropping to a whisper, “Then we’ll finally be safe.”

• ───────────────── •

September 22, 1776

Britain hated spies. He hated traitors. He hated everything about them. He hated being tricked and deceived. 

So when parts of New York City began to burn, Britain immediately suspected that Thirteen Colonies’ sinful rebels must have been behind it. So when they found a man with physical evidence that proved he was a spy, he was eager to make an example of him.

With Scotland standing beside him, Britain listened as the young man gave his last words before he died. Britain shut his eyes as the man hung. Too many young lives were to be lost in this rebellion. The man had been a rebel and traitor but was so young. How many young lives were Thirteen Colonies going to cut short before he gave in? How many were going to die in this foolish war?

How many good men did his son tempt into sin?

This spy, Nathan Hale, he might have been an illegal combatant, but he behaved with great resolution, and although Britain abhorred what he had done, he could respect the man for his strength. 

Facing death was no easy feat, and the man faced it honorably. 

“I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country” had been the man’s final words, and jealousy burned within Britain that his son, a man who had betrayed his family, who was attempting to drag so many others into that same sin, had inspired loyalty so deep. What good had that child done to deserve this?

“Crùn?” Scotland’s familiar voice asked from beside him, a gentle hand placed on his back. “Are you okay?”

“I hate this all, and I want it to be over. It is time to stomp out this rebellion before more people die and time to return my son home,” Britain snapped. 

Regardless of what these rebels believed, he was not a man who wanted to murder men so young.

God, please ensure that all those who pass early in this sinful rebellion make it to your Holy gates. Even those who have been tempted into rebellion ensure that they find peace. I am sorry that I could not protect the son you so graciously gifted me from sin, but I promise that I will save him from sin and help his soul be cleansed. In Jesus’ Name, I pray, Amen.

With the victory at Brooklyn and their control over New York City secured, Britain hoped they would soon capture Washington or Thirteen Colonies. Both would be a big enough blow to the rebellion that it might help it fall apart, end sooner.

Britain wanted nothing more than for this to be over soon.

[lenaperseveranceoxton]

Questwatch really has the brainworms going...

Listen, I know it’s canon-compliant, seeing as Kiriko and Orisa shouldn’t be with Overwatch by this point, but it was cute to hear that Genji had been working on his Role Heroes’ backstory with Emily for weeks. They’re actual friends!

We could already assume Emily was part of the Overwatch family with how close she is to Winston and Mei (They are her siblings-in-law, your honor). There was that Overwatch 1 interaction where Winston invites Mei to hot pot with Lena, Emily, and Athena that was followed by an Overwatch 2 interaction where Winston says he can’t wait for the next hot pot with Mei. Then, there was also the 2018 OWL spray where they’re all watching sports on a couch. Classic Lemon Tea history right there.

What makes me upset is the fact that Emily doesn’t seem to be living at Watchpoint: Gibraltar. London Calling ended with Lena and Winston saying “We did it! We saved London!”, but we know Iggy is in danger in the upcoming co-op mission. That’s the thing that’s always annoyed me with the plot armor our heroes have. You’re telling me that Lena and Emily have been living safely in London for over five years while Talon has Lena on a hit list???

On one hand, a bit of angst where Emily says her goodbyes to Lena would make me cry, in a good way. (Their love will persevere through anything, damn it!) We see how appreciative Emily is of Lena’s vigilantism in London Calling. She would give up having her girlfriend by her side for the betterment of the world. Also, I love the idea of Mei being subjected to Lena being a sobbing mess without her girlfriend in the crew quarters. On the other hand, Emily is not safe in London. Period.

Let me make one thing clear: I do not want Emily as a hero. Ever. Not only do I not want the possibility of Lena and Emily killing each other (it’s heartbreaking enough with Winston), but I think Emily is perfect as a civilian. She reminds Lena what she’s fighting for, but she’s also a great parallel to Jack’s relationship with Vincent. Jack forgot what he was fighting for, putting his duty above all else, and distanced himself from everyone. Emily is the reason why Lena kept up with being a vigilante, the reason why Lena bumped into Iggy, and the reason why Lena and Iggy were able to stop Kace’s uprising.

All of this is to say that I love the idea of Emily being at Watchpoint: Gibraltar with the new blood of Overwatch. It’s as safe as she’ll ever be with Lena as her girlfriend, after all. I want to see her interact with more heroes, and I guess I’m a little disappointed by the heroes playing their Role Heroes campaign. If we could get Kiriko and Orisa, who are not there in canon, why couldn’t we get Jack? Have you SEEN him being an absolute nerd over chess in the Sojourn novel? It would be a great way to show players who don’t view external media that Jack isn’t just a grumpy old man.

Also, can we talk about Adventurer Tracer’s lines? “Was your knight on holiday?” when eliminating Mercy? “Sorry, I’m the knight in this realm!” when eliminating Pharah? HELLO??? I need to see a Lemon Tea and Pharmercy double date this instant. (People can grow apart after five+ years of not seeing each other. Sorry, Gency shippers.)

I haven’t even seen the rest of Questwatch. I’m “only” tier 42 as of writing this, and I haven’t seen anyone post all the chapters in their entirety. Still, I am LIVING for all this Emily content. Now, give her a voice. Give her a 3D model. Let her show up in Story Missions. I am BEGGING.

(I am so normal...)

[trickstarbrave]

i wrote smth....

im writing out of order again sorry

anyways this is from the vivi au. post azura shrine being destroyed i gotta go back and write that. and their introduction. and stuff.

vivienne from @mulberrycafe

--

It was quiet, just the two of them warming up by the heartfire. It was the dead of night, the only sound being the crackling embers and wind outside. Vivienne had woken up after everyone else went to sleep, being left beside Steren who opted to stay awake to watch over him. It’s not like he wanted to go back to bed after all that anyways. 

“... Your parents are dead then.” Vivienne finally said. Steren stiffened slightly. 

“... Yes.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Vivienne asked quietly, and Steren had to sigh. 

“I knew it would make everything a lot more… Awkward.” He had said he ended up there after trying to make a deal with a daedric prince to see his parents again. If he had said plainly that his parents were dead everyone would know he didn’t want to be alive anymore. What were they supposed to say to that? The only reason Steren didn’t end himself in the wake of his despair and disappointment that he’d never see his parents again was because he knew it would only compound his suffering. Even if he killed himself they wouldn’t be in any afterlife he would go to in this world, and he doubted Azura would suddenly look upon him favorably. 

He still didn’t know what the “Good” Daedra wanted with him. Steren thought Azura would be content that he fulfilled the prophecy with little complaints. Just like he said, he killed one of his fathers and said goodbye to the other on her orders. He did everything right. He played it by the book, and Azura was said to be one of the most benevolent princes. 

Yet here she was, trying to kill his lover and calling him Vivec. Here Mephala was, ordering his lover to kill him with that accursed fucking sword. He had no doubts Boethiah wouldn’t react the same, trying to take something from him or kill him for her own benefit. He was playing a losing game. 

“But I could have tried to help you.” Vivienne argued. “I-I could have--”

“Shh…” Steren wrapped one arm around him gently. “Vivienne, you did help me.” 

“No I didn’t--”

“Vivi,” Steren placed one hand on his cheek, his thumb stroking the skin, looking into his duo colored eyes. “You didn’t have to know to help me.” In all honesty, Vivienne trying to reassure him constantly or watching him like a hawk would have probably only put a strain on their relationship. “But you did. You helped me more than you know.” Steren took a breath, trying to steady himself from his emotions.

“When I met you I had nothing. I was in a world I didn’t know, a time I didn’t understand, in the most bizarre circumstances. I was used to nothing but being pushed around and thought I had… Nothing else to live for.” Steren continued stroking his skin. “I wasn’t ready to talk about it. I was certain it was over for me. And yet…” He felt a tickle at his heart and the subtle sensation of tears trying to sting at his eyes. “I started to feel… Alive again.” He took another breath. “I started to enjoy the walk. Enjoying seeing Skyrim.” His arm around Vivienne grew a bit tighter. “I… Enjoyed listening to you laugh. Listening to you sing. Watching you smile.” He knew Vivienne wasn’t always sincere, but it was never out of malice, just fear that the people he loved wouldn’t stay with him if he wasn’t. And besides, Steren wasn’t always sincere either. “I… I wanted to be here, with you. More than anything.” 

“But your parents,” Vivienne said softly, “If they’re dead in your world, what if they’re alive here?” It made sense to guess. Azura was typically one to try and give people what they asked for, at least somewhat. Steren also toyed around with the idea himself; what if in this world Nerevar or Voryn were still alive? He found a book at the college that offhandedly mentioned the nerevarine defeated Dagoth Ur, and shortly afterwards Baar Dau fell and many still blamed the eruption on Dagoth Ur. It was possible that somewhere in this world one of his parents had been brought back to life and was living out there. But then again, they wouldn’t really be Steren’s parents, now would they? If the nerevarine actually was Nerevar reborn, that meant Steren was never born and thus, no one for Nerevar’s soul to cling to. And on top of that, what if they didn’t even want to be acknowledged as Nerevar at all? They could have their own life and identity they built for themselves. 

How uncomfortable would it be to have someone come up to you and call you “Nerevar” and to be told they’re your child from another lifetime and another world? Even if they believed him, that would only add to their problems. They wouldn’t know anything about Steren. They wouldn’t love him. They wouldn’t have been waiting for him. They were probably still processing everything from their time in Vvardenfell. And that was only considering if Steren could find them. Did he really want to spend years, decades, or even centuries chasing after his past again? Chasing after his ‘family’? 

“I’ve spent so long chasing after answers of who my parents were.” Steren confessed. “Who I was supposed to be.” Steren had died one lifetime chasing after that, and all it had really done was gotten him killed. “I put myself in harm's way time and time again for those answers. But…” Steren’s eyes were firm in their resolve. “I know everything I need to. I know who my parents were. And I know that they loved me more than anything.” Gods did he know that. Even mad and crazed as Dagoth Ur, Voryn Dagoth still loved him. Still called Steren his son. Still wanted to have Steren in his arms and mourned the time he lost to see Steren grow up. And Nerevar loved him so much he couldn’t bare to leave him alone even in death, and continued watching over all of his descendants. 

“I don’t want to spend more of my life looking for versions of my parents that won’t even remember me. They might be considered the same by a daedric prince, but they won’t know me or remember me. They might not even love each other in this world, let alone had me.” It was kind of hard to fathom is parents not loving each other--far harder than to imagine himself never being born. Steren was born of a union that was forbidden, after all, and it was easier to picture Nerevar never going through with the pregnancy rather than risk his child being hurt or left alone like he inevitably was. 

“But…” 

“Vivienne,” Steren continued. “I’m happy here.” He was being completely honest. “I’m happy being with you. I’m happy waking up getting to see you every day. Far more happy than I ever was chasing answers.” He then smiled softly, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I’m choosing to be here with you. I’m choosing to be happy.” 

Slowly, Vivienne settled down, snuggling into him properly. He wrapped the blanket around the both of them, letting them share each other’s warmth and sit in silence to listen to the crackling fire. 

“I don’t know if you’ll be safe with me…” 

“Is anywhere in Tamriel really safe?” Steren asked, making a joke, resulting in Vivienne suppressing a laugh.

“I’m serious,” Vivienne countered. “I… I don’t know why Azura did that. I don’t know why she called me Vivec--why she hates me. I’m not Vivec.” 

“No, you aren’t.” Steren reassured him. “I would know it if you were.” He had met Vivec before, after all. In multiple lifetimes. He knew the warrior-poets mannerisms, his strange habits, and his way of speaking. He knew his flaws and how he tried to do what he thought was right even if it hurt others, or how he could be self-serving when he wanted to be. But Vivienne was… Soft. Insecure. Afraid--afraid of being alone, of being abandoned, or being hurt. If he lied and seduced it was because he thought he had to to survive, not to gain something more than he already had. Vivec was selfish because he started with nothing, and Vivienne was scared because of the same circumstances rather than selfish. “I didn’t think Azura was one to judge people so harshly based on appearances alone…” Sure, Vivienne’s skin condition was odd, but just as easily he could have been cursed at birth by Vivec out of spite or as a misguided “blessing”. 

“But the power--I-I destroyed the statue--”

“You are also dragonborn.” Steren added. “I’ve seen you devour a dragon’s soul and leave nothing but bones behind. Other stories from the nords say the dragonborn can level mountains or destroy entire cities. It’s not impossible you killed some daedra and destroyed a statue.”

“It doesn’t… Feel right.” Vivienne admitted. “Sorry, I’m not making any sense…”

“You’re tired.” Steren reassured him. “We can worry about it in the morning.” He then scooped Vivienne up, now that the two were warmed up properly. “In the meantime, why don’t we sleep a little bit more?”

“Mm…” Vivienne hummed softly.

Tucked into bed, Steren was even more firm in his resolve, holding Vivienne close to try and wash away the helplessness he felt as Kaidan had to carry Vivienne back instead. 

He was happy here. He was choosing his own happiness over the past, for once. He was deciding to leave whatever the Good Daedra had planned behind and to make his own happiness if they wouldn’t give it to him. His parents were dead and he would never return to their arms being in another world, but that didn’t mean he had to despair. He found something just as important right here, in his arms. 

No matter how much the daedra tried to take this happiness from him, Steren wouldn’t let him. He finally had something all his own, and he wasn’t going to let anyone take it from it. Not now, not ever.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Written In The Stars

Summary: Joel Miller x Fe!Reader -> It’s Christmas and Joel remembers Sarah and the time before the outbreak. 

Disclaimer: established relationship, angst, sad fluff, happy fluff, family dynamic, Ellie and Joel being father and daughter, Sarah, no use of Y/N, tears, Tommy being the annoying uncle (kinda) to Ellie. Also, mentions of Christmas - yes, I know it’s May but who cares. 

It wasn’t meant to be like this. 

The world wasn’t just meant to end and send him through the ringer for the rest of his life, with the added knowledge that his daughter, his Sarah, would never be able to live again. He’d never be able to watch her grow up, watch her graduate, watch her as she built her own family and career, never watch her even decorate a Christmas tree again. 

That was what seemed to pain him most. 

Living in Jackson, with his brother, and his second daughter, Ellie, had been quiet. It was kind. Every day became a routine, one that even Ellie had never been able to be a part of before. Joel would walk her to school before going to work himself, he’d tell Tommy to quit the smokes, Maria would then repeat the same. From there, he’d complete his work and patrol for the day before meeting Ellie at home or, more recently, your back garden. 

You were one of the teachers at the local school and Ellie had taken a liking to you. Aside from Joel, you seemed to be the only other one Ellie trusted enough to be around without him. Even being around Tommy and Maria made Ellie hesitant. But not you. Never you.

But, as much as these moments seemed to patch something up in Joel, even go as far to fix; something still stabbed at him. 

And it nearly killed him when he saw Ellie decorating the Christmas Tree. 

Earlier that morning, he’d been completely okay with Ellie starting without him. Besides, by the time he got home from patrol, you, Ellie, Tommy and Maria would have only just started so he wouldn’t have missed too much. 

But, as he walked through the door, his arms piled with logs, he felt something crush his heart. 

He was happy and content as he saw Ellie knelt by your feet, helping push some of the branches down at the bottom of the tree. This would be her first real Christmas with family and friends. And, still he smiled through the pain. 

He smiled and suppressed the tears from his eyes as he watched Ellie’s face light up as she was told all about what Christmases used to be like, before the outbreak. Told about how everyone would go all out, the whole street would join in. Except, as he stood back, looking at the finished product around his home, his heart felt like it was being squeezed by a crushing hand. 

Ellie was taking it all in, Tommy was standing beside Maria, and you were standing at the kitchen entryway, watching Ellie’s reaction. 

You had seen a similar look on Ellie’s face a thousand times before, but this one was something else, something bigger. Except, when you looked up to look at Joel, he took a step back and made his way towards the door. The other’s didn’t seem to notice. Although, you knew it wouldn’t be long until Ellie did. So, making sure she kept herself distracted for a couple of minutes, you sent her with Tommy back up into the loft to bring down that old Christmas box. 

“Maybe it has a Christmas cook book in it, or something.” you offered. 

Ellie nodded and got up, Tommy going after her. Meanwhile, Maria headed past you and into the kitchen to check on the Christmas stew she had made earlier. 

“Hey, I’ll be back in a minute.” you called out to her as you pulled your coat on. 

“Okay!”

It didn’t take you long to find Joel. Ellie had stronger tracking senses for him, but you had yours, too. 

Walking up the steps of Tommy and Maria’s house, you tapped the excess snow from your boots and made your way inside. There, you saw the back of Joel as he stood looking at the memorial Maria and Tommy had made when they first moved in together in Jackson. 

“Joel?” you called out his name softly as you entered. 

You recognised that he knew you were there but the closer you got, the more worried you became. “Joel? Hey, Joel? What is it? What’s wrong?”

One of his hands held him steady against the fireplace whilst the other held his chest. “Nothing. ‘Am fine.”

You shook your head and lay a hand on his arm, “No, Joel. It’s okay. Hey, talk to me.”

He looked at you for a moment before turning his tear stained eyes to his daughter’s name. 

“It’s been 21 years,” Joel pointed out. “It shouldn’t…shouldn’t it be easier?”

You looked at Sarah's name, also, before looking back to Joel. You placed your other hand on his other side and turned him to look at you. “Come here,”

You pulled him forward and a second later, his arms wrapped around you as you did to him. “Christmas…it’s a time to remember. Sadly, that sometimes means the pain feels like it’s growing.”

You could feel some of Joel’s tears hit your shoulder, so, gently moving him back, you cupped his cheeks in your hands and wiped the tears away and softly pressed a kiss to his cheek. You both remained comfortably still as he rested his head against yours with his eyes closed, feeling your hands go from his cheeks to his chest where he wrapped one of his hands around one of yours. 

“I never…” he swallowed. “I never thought I’d see my…look so happy.” 

You smiled as he talked about Ellie. 

“She’s your daughter, Joel. They both are.” 

Daughter.

That made his heart a little lighter. 

“Maybe you should share that with her, with Ellie.” you offered. “My grandmother used to tell me Christmas is the season for memories. Let’s be honest, there is a lot we’d both rather forget but, we’ve got goodness now, Joel. And so has Ellie. Tell her. Tell her about Sarah. Tell her about the sister she never got to meet, because through you?” your other hand came to his cheek again and held his face a little higher so he’d open his eyes and look at you. “Through you she can meet her and you can see her again. When it hurts, don’t let yourself drown in the pain. Tell people. Tell us. We’re all family, Joel. For better or for worse, we’re family. And we’ve all done what we’ve had to do to survive, but you’ve got the opportunity to live Joel. Live for her. Live for your daughters, Joel. Live for yourself.”

You heard Joel take a long breath before he finally nodded and looked at you through semi-clear eyes. You gave him a soft smile which, beneath the underlying sadness, he returned. Gently, you pushed the final few tears from his cheek, gracing it with a kiss before pecking his lips quickly and hugging him. 

“Now, come on, let’s go.” you told him. “Before Ellie tracks us down and hits us with an old cookbook.”

“What?”

“Oh, I, uh, I sent her with Tommy into the loft.” you told him as you lay your scarf back around your neck. “Maybe make something this year that isn’t Christmas Stew.” 

From behind you, you heard Joel chuckle before he shut the door behind him. 

By the time you both got back, Ellie had found some old photo albums from the family that must have lived in the home prior to the break out. Ellie still flipped through them as Tommy and Maria headed back to their own home to go to bed, and, as you stood in the kitchen making some fresh hot cocoa, you heard Ellie ask Joel a question and as you popped your head through the door carrying Ellie’s mug first, you shared a quick look with Joel. 

“Tell her. Tell her about Sarah. Tell her about the sister she never got to meet…she can meet her and you can see her again.”

So, leaning forward and sitting himself besides Ellie on the floor, he told her stories of Sarah. He told her of the moments he cherished the most and the moments when Tommy would tease Sarah for her love of Christmas and make sure he moved a decoration every morning that she would always put back, knowing full well he was doing it just to annoy her. 

And, funnily enough, the next morning when Ellie came downstairs, she found three separate decorations not in the place where she had left them the night before and Tommy sat at the kitchen table with Joel, trying his best to avoid eye contact. 

Maybe it wasn’t meant to be like this, having the world end. But having Ellie as a daughter and a niece…that was written in the stars.