#after their first clutch was destroyed and there was nothing he could have done to save it. to have this tiny little precious baby

[bitchfitch]

I'm doing a little drawing of Lordakai and Eri and im just getting the poser set up rn.

and like. I knew Eri would have to have been Real little when ze first hatched bc Toi'uhla isn't a very big person and Eri was just 1 egg out of 5. but actually like, Seeing how little they would be compared to him is genuinely making me tear up Despite the fact This is what the poser looks like rn.

[jennifer-jeong]

Guess who😊

As a reference to what you posted earlier, imagine that after the reader dies of old age, Xiao and Scaramouche encounter a reincarnation of themselves? It's your choice to make them mortal or not (I'm under your bed. If you make them mortal I will kick your feet at night.)

Take your time dear <3

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG FJDKSLA;FJDSA; life has been kicking my ASS but fuck it we ball HELLO MY MUTUAL THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST, I’ve honestly been thinking hard because I want to also request some ideas because your writing is so sweet ehehehe OK PLEASE DON’T KICK MY FEET AT NIGHT THAT’S HORRIFYING - I WILL MAKE THE REINCARNATION IMMORTAL

ALSO @iota1111 these are my ideas for that Xiao and Wanderer angst! If you read only to the *** in each fic, that would be where I’d end the story if it wasn’t meant to be a happy ending! (I would suffer!!!!)

Fluff + Angst | Xiao/Wanderer x GN!Reader Reincarnation

CONTENT Angst to fluff, happy ending, reader death, mentions of death, mentions of fighting/them taking their anger out on things

XIAO

When you passed away, Xiao was absolutely heartbroken. He knew it was coming, he prepared for it, he stayed by your side through your deteriorating health in your last few months. But no matter what, he knew it would destroy him, and it did.

No one saw Xiao for weeks after but everyone noticed that Liyue was safer than ever. Xiao engrossed himself in his work. Taking out his emotions onto the monsters in Liyue. He worked himself to exhaustion every single day. Zhongli still came to check up on him but knew Xiao just needed time.

He didn’t know what to do with himself. What was he supposed to do? You were gone. HIs sunshine, his muse, his… everything.

Xiao collapsed after giving himself no rest for who knows how many nights. Laying in the grass, he stared up at the moon. Asking himself what he could’ve done differently and if he could’ve "selfishly" extended your life. If he could’ve made you immortal like him.

He listened to the bugs chirp around him, the breeze drying the tears he didn’t know were falling. For the first time in a long time, he cried. He sobbed and bit back the urge to lash out at everything in the vicinity. He was on his side, clutching his aching heart, crying into the soft grass he used to lay on with you.

He had gone through so much pain in his life: his karmic debt, the abuse from his old master, losing his found family, and all the years of deafening solitude.

But nothing would ever hurt more than losing you.

Xiao cried his heart out and knocked out from the exhaustion and pain. He slept peacefully for the first time since you passed. *** Xiao woke up the next morning with a start. Confused and disoriented not because of where he had fallen asleep, but because he sensed something insane.

He sensed you.

It was your soul, the one he swore himself to. There was no denying it. Was this a sick joke? Was some old evil spirit messing with him?

It had been months since your passing but there was no denying it. It was you.

Unfortunately, years would pass while Xiao searched for you. He was obsessed over it at first but once he could tell that your soul was safe and alive, he relaxed just a little. He still wanted to see you again, hold you, and whisper how much he loved you, but he knew you’d find each other eventually. He made himself a silent promise that he’d find you no matter what. He didn’t really have much else to do for all of eternity anyways.

Xiao confided in Zhongli through these years, the elder god revealing the possibility of reincarnation, revealing that it’s not uncommon. Souls return to the Earth in many forms but he hints to Xiao that he believes what he’s sensing is indeed you in human form.

Eventually, Xiao would be on a typical nightly patrol, sensing your soul nearby as always. But it was a bit different today. It was stronger.

As if right on cue, Xiao entered a clearing and despite it being nighttime, he saw the sun.

His beautiful sun had somehow risen again against all odds. You didn’t know his name but you knew his soul.

He recognized the sigil on your clothing, it belonged to an adeptus master he hadn’t seen in decades. The draconic horns on your head told him you were reborn in a different body, an immortal body. One that had you trained as an adepti for these past years, likely hidden away in a domain. It clicked in his head. It’s why he could always sense you, but never quite find where you were.

You turned around after feeling his approach. He wondered if you could feel his soul the way he felt yours. If you longed for him even in your new existence. He had so much to ask. But you pulled him out of his noisy thoughts.

Your voice brought him serenity he had long forgotten.

His heart pounded as you spoke.

“I missed you, my love.”

Instantly you were in each other's arms.

“I missed you too,” he says as his voice cracks.

WANDERER

He was angry, reverting back to how he was before Nahida, the traveler, and you helped him. He blamed the gods, the world, for his sorrows, for his pain. He sought to destroy it all again for somehow making his suffering worse. He had felt pain similar to this. It was all too familiar for him. The constant cycle of loss, betrayal, and agony. But this time, he was on the brink of insanity.

You, his perfect flower, had finally wilted.

He’s stuck bargaining for months, reverting between stages of grief: anger and bargaining. Never able to move on past that.

He continues on his missions for Nahida because he knows it’s what you've wanted but also because he didn’t know what else to do with himself. Any of his combat missions turned into tortures and near assassinations. He used it as a tool to cool himself off, much to the silent disapproval of Nahida. But she knew he’d never disobey your wishes, your morals. You taught him better than to kill out of emotion.

Wanderer commonly visits the forests where you two used to adventure to find some sort of peace and familiarity. He tends to avoid the Aranara despite the fact that they know about your passing and would probably be able to comfort him about it. He just didn’t think he could handle it.

Seasons pass and on one of his trips into the sunny lush forests, growing again due to the spring season, Aranara bring him your favourite flowers when they bloom again the next year. They loved you dearly too, you treated them and the forest with such gentleness that they could never forget you. They didn’t know how to approach him earlier so they used this opportunity instead.

His heart ached and his anemo vision surged with energy when he saw the flower. He finally reached his breaking point, he fell to his knees on the grass and sobbed, clutching the flower to his chest. Letting go of all the stupid anger and bargaining. Who was he kidding, he just didn’t want to accept that he’d have to keep going without you. *** The Aranara tell him not to worry though, comforting and telling him it will be okay. At first he’s confused as to what they mean but Nahida walks out into the sunlit clearing, the sun about to start setting.

She tells him she knows it hurts but that the Irminsul has a message for him and it says that he should not fret and continue to live on and explore the forest. His tear stained face raised an eyebrow but it slowly turned to determination, he knew Irminsul would not lie.

It would take years but he slowly started to feel you nearby. He’d dream of you. The forest felt like you and he could feel your energy in the flora. He confided in Nahida and their bond only grew stronger, he’d also reach out to the Aranara when he’d adventure out of the city.

Eventually, the Aranara prepared and held a ceremony, sensing the birthing of something new, a nature spirit. Nahida described it using the term “nymph.”

Wanderer was silent as he put the pieces together. He held his breath as he realized it might be you. Your reincarnation.

He always saw you as his flower, but he didn’t think you’d become a nature spirit, he was not complaining about it in the slightest though.

Nahida explained that you would exist in the physical realm but had strong ties to the dream realm, you’d be immortal like Aranara are but you’d still be able to live with him in the physical.

As you manifested and blinked open your eyes, you immediately looked at him.

His hands were shaking, unsure if he was scared, happy, both? Was it really you? Had the world finally decided to grant him happiness instead of sorrow? Was this a gift?

But as you took gentle steps towards him, he realized something important:

It didn’t matter.

You were here again, in front of him. Nothing else mattered.

You reached out to hold his face with your hands. You knew him, you knew your soul belonged to him and his to you.

He drew in closer to you, holding your face and touching your foreheads together, tears threatening to fall.

Your beautiful voice spoke to him again in what felt like an eternity. He had almost forgotten what you sounded like.

“Don’t cry my love, I’m here.”

His eyebrows scrunched as his tears fell. He wraps his arms around you tight, never wanting to let go, scared you’d leave him again.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered shakily, scared that his voice would fail if he tried to speak.

“I missed you too. I’m here to stay.”

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[babybluebex]

rememories | tommy shelby x fem!reader

summary: the lee family trashed your betting room, including your most prized possessions, and tommy does everything in his power to soothe you and right the wrongs that the rival gang caused. pairing: tommy shelby (peaky blinders) x fem!reader tags: s1!tommy, tommy being a sweetheart, your daughter's name is thomasine (thanks @lost-in-sokovia for that one), no real warnings for this other than like angst? brief emotional distress? idk author's note: it's come to this lol. i'll be fixing my cillian masterlist later and reblogging it, so y'all can read all of my old tommy fics (and a few other cillian characters lmao) but i hope you enjoy this one!

The backroom was in total disrepair. Chairs were tipped over, things were thrown from tables, coins scattered everywhere and marks of bludgeonings on the walls. The poor little room was merely a shell of itself, its personality and life battered away. You could still hear your husband’s jaded laughter as he made fun of John for wanting to marry Lizzie Stark, but mere minutes ago now seemed like a lifetime away.

Scudboat sat as Arthur poured him whisky, and he explained how the Lees, “the whole lot of ‘em”, came in and destroyed the betting backroom. He was ambushed, he said, or he would have done a better job defending it. You held Tommy’s hands as fear made your own shake, and your husband sighed. “Find what can be salvaged,” he said, narrowly missing John’s angry fit as he kicked a box over. “Anything is better than nothing.”

“This is terrible,” you sniffled, and Tommy extracted his handkerchief for you. It was one that you had bought for him right after you had gotten married and just before he went to war, and you were always amazed that the silky cloth made it as far as it did. You dabbed at your eyes, scowling at your dark makeup that came off, and your heart beat fiercely against your ribcage for a moment. “The children. Was Finn here for this, Scudboat? Or Thomasine?”

“Nah,” he said. “Finn was off in town; Thomasine ain’t come home from school yet.”

“Oh, Tommy, they can’t see the house like this!” you whimpered and clutched your husband’s arm. “It’ll upset Thomasine too much. I’ll fetch her from school and keep her away from the house for a while until this is mostly fixed.”

Tommy nodded wordlessly in agreement, and he began to take off his cap, but he quickly stopped. He was fixated on something on the floor at his feet, and you looked down to match his gaze, only to be greeted with the big leather book that held your most prized possessions: your photographs. You kept the album in the betting room because it was always filled with people, witnesses in case something happened, and, really, who would want to ruin Tommy Shelby’s wife’s photographs?

Your knees crunched on glass as you lowered yourself to the album, and you took it in your shaking hands. The dark green leather was stained black with spilled ink and oil, obscuring your gold-foiled name on the spine, and you opened the book with a creak of the old pages. You didn’t want to have to assess the damage, but the first page already had you weeping pathetically again. The first photograph, the first one ever taken of you and Tommy, sitting and laughing together as Ada tried out her new camera, years and years ago at fifteen and thirteen. It was gone. The page was yellowed all around where the photograph should be, but the picture itself was gone. You wanted to throw the book across the room and scream; you weren’t concerned with material things, many girls from Small Heath were the same way, but those photographs were your pride and joy. The next page was a formal picture taken of Tommy wearing his Army uniform, his lanky seventeen-year-old build a little too small for the uniform that he would grow into. The corner of the photograph was torn but, thankfully, mostly intact.

The third page made you press the book to your chest. Your wedding photographs. You and Tommy had gotten married quickly, two days before he had to go to France, and, in your haste, you hadn’t been able to afford much. You could only afford a single copy of each photograph: one of you in your Sunday best that was your wedding dress, one of Tommy in his uniform, and one of you together. All three photographs were torn to shreds, settled in the spine of the book, waiting for you to find them. Those wedding photographs were the most important thing in the world to you, and now they were gone. Not even pasting glue could fix it. “Tom!” you sobbed, pressing the back of your wrist to your mouth. “O-Our wedding photographs! Th-They’re all ripped up!”

Your husband’s attention went from Scudboat to you, and he walked over to you and knelt down next to you. He took the small bits of photographs in his fingers, examining them intently, and he sighed heavily. “Fuck, love,” he whispered, and your sobs grew heavy. If Tommy was resigned to fate, then there was no chance of them being fixed. “I’m sorry.”

“We-We don’t have any extras, do we?” you stuttered. Your mouth felt dry as your fingers tried to match the ripped edges of photographs up, but they were too far gone. “Tom, d-do we have any others? Th-These aren’t the only ones we have, right?”

Tommy sat down next to you and put an arm around you, and he watched you frantically sob for just a second more before he used his strength to pull you into his chest. The photo album fell out of your hands, and you clutched your husband as you wailed in sorrow. Your wedding photos were gone.

“Mummy?” you heard a little voice call from the doorway, and you turned to see your wee daughter, Miss Thomasine Sophia Shelby, standing at the door. She was holding her school books in her arms, the pink ribbon in her hair coming loose. Thomasine was born just after Tommy come home from France, five years ago, and she looked like a Shelby, dark hair and bright eyes, but she had her father’s smile. “Mummy, why’re you crying?”

You sniffled and wiped at your eyes, not caring that you streaked your makeup to hell and back, and you mumbled, “People came into the house, did us over. I-I’m just sad, that’s all.” You didn’t want to worry your daughter with the real reason why you were so upset, because, truly, you felt silly for being so distraught at fucking photographs. It felt ridiculous for you, as a grown woman, a mother, to be crying over photographs.

Thomasine ran to you and sat her small body in your lap, and she wrapped her small arms around you. “Don’t be sad,” Thomasine told you, and you laughed humorlessly. “It’s okay, Mummy.”

You sniffled and soothed your hand down Thomasine’s hair— the ends of her long hair were turning a little ginger, just the same as her father’s tended to do in the sun— and you kissed her forehead. “Thank you, love,” you whispered. “Hug your father, he’s sad too.”

Thomasine crawled out of your lap and into Tommy’s, and Thomasine started to suck her thumb as Tommy stood up and settled his daughter firmly on his hip. He offered you a hand to stand up, and you sniffled as you gathered the soiled photo album up in your grip and stood up on your own. “If you find any of ‘em,” Tommy called to the room, and he gestured to the album in your arms. “Bring ‘em to her, don’t waste time. Yeah?”

You hardly slept that night. After securing the house and making sure that there wasn’t any other part of it that the Lees had touched, you had tried to go about your life normally, but it was difficult to pretend like you didn’t know that, at any time, rivals could enter your home and slaughter every last one of you. You put Thomasine to bed after dinner, and your girl fell asleep quickly, but you yourself were awake for hours. Tommy had taken your photo album and put it away in his wardrobe; “If you keep it, you’ll fret over it forever.” He was right, of course, because, when the sun came up, you had tugged it out and was trying to sort through the scraps of photographs on your bedroom floor. The room was cold and part of you wished that you could be in bed, holding your husband close, but you needed to do it for yourself. You had managed to salvage a single photograph by the time Tommy was blinking himself awake, and you sniffled as you beckoned him over. “Tommy, look!” you exclaimed. “I-It’s Thomasine!”

“Jesus, woman,” Tommy sighed groggily. “Have you been at this all night?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed. “Her baby picture, look!”

Tommy reached down for you and he took your hand, and he helped you stand up, his hands going to hold your cheeks. “I know you’re having a hard time with this,” he whispered. “But obsessing over it is only going to make it worse. They’re as good as gone, darling.”

“B-But—” you sniffled, and Tommy shook his head.

“You have to let it go,” He told you firmly. “Come back to bed, you don’t have to be awake for hours.”

“Oh, Tommy,” you sighed, shuffling back up to bed. Your joints hurt from sitting on the floor practically all night, and your vision watered up as you watched Tommy gather up the album and photograph scraps and set them back in his wardrobe. “What am I going to do? All of my favorite memories are lost.”

“You still have the memories in your head, love,” Tommy told you, sitting next to you. You leaned into him and pressed your cheek to his warm chest, and you sniffled as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I just…” you mumbled. “Our wedding pictures is the thing I’m most upset about. We were so young, and that was before everything went to shit, and we were so happy…”

“We’re still happy,” Tommy assured you. “We’re happier now, because we have Thomasine. We’re a complete family now.”

“You know what I mean,” you said. “We were poor kids, and-and looking at those pictures gave me hope that you’d come home when you were in France. They were my lifeline for a long time, and to have them ruined like this…”

Tommy’s lips formed into a thin line, and he rubbed your back comfortingly as you finally laid down and tried to settle into sleep. Your sleep was thin, hardly even deep enough to call proper sleep, but you finally woke up and got out of bed when you heard shouting down in the bottom of the house. You were used to that, but you still felt like you ought to make sure everything was alright, so you pulled yourself from bed and went about groggily getting ready for the day, slipping on a dress and spraying on perfume before descending the stairs.

The noise seemed to be coming from the back room, the ruined betting room, and you carefully pushed back the plush curtains and opened the doors to see a sight. Your eyes first landed on your husband, dressed in his old uniform. It certainly looked too small for him, tugging a little at his chest, but you clenched your teeth together at the sight. How long has it been since you saw him in the pea-soup-green uniform? Five years, at least. “Tommy,” you said softly. You couldn’t help yourself from stepping closer to him as his head snapped to look at you, and his hard gaze softened in the way it always did when he saw you. He never subjected you to his steely gaze, and, whenever you saw it, it always reminded you of what a feared man he was.

“Fuck, love, what’re you doing down here?” Tommy asked. “You’re supposed to be asleep still.”

“Heard shouting,” you said softly. The other men were bustling around the room as you smoothed your hands up Tommy’s chest, and your eyes went all watery again. “This isn’t happening, please, no.”

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked. “Talk to me, darling, what’s the matter?”

“How long have you known?” you asked, sniffling. “Leaving us like this, how could you?”

“What?”

“The uniform, Tommy!” you cried. “You’re being called to the war again, why else would you have this shit on?”

Tommy grabbed your cheeks and kissed your forehead, and he angled your head to the side. Arthur stood there, behind a massive camera, angled at a blank space on the wall, and your breath caught in your throat. “What is this?” you asked.

“I’m not being called back,” Tommy explained. “I got to thinking about our wedding pictures, and I went to see the photographer who made them. He said the film was too old and that they couldn’t make you new copies, so the next best thing was to retake them.”

“Oh?” you asked. You sniffled and wiped your nose, and you gently reached out to touch the camera. “We… We’re retaking our wedding pictures?”

“With a few adjustments,” Tommy said. “Back then, I couldn’t afford to even get you so much as a bouquet, but now… Well, I took your measurements to a dress shop, and even though the dress was pre-made and only adjusted to you…”

“Tommy?” you whimpered.

“I got you a wedding dress, love,” Tommy told you. “Better than the flour-bag Sunday best that you had on.”

You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands, and you sobbed once before flying to your husband and crushing him in a hug. “Oh, Tommy!” you cried. “Thank you! Can I see it?”

“Pol’s got it in the kitchen,” Tommy told you. “Go put it on, why don’t you let me see it?”

The dress was beautiful. Eggshell-colored silk that fell below your knees with long sleeves and deep neckline, very fashionable and pretty, and it fit you like a glove as Polly helped you into it. She primped you a little, fixing your hair and patting red rouge onto your lips, and she upturned a vase next to the stove and handed you the bouquet of wildflowers that Thomasine had picked a few days earlier. You felt timid and almost nervous as Polly escorted you back to the betting room, and you cleared your throat once you passed the threshold, afraid that, if you spoke, your voice would give up on you.

Tommy looked to you in an instant, and he gave you a small smile as he stepped towards you. “Aren’t you a sight?” he said in his rumbling timbre, putting his hands on your hips, and he kissed your lips for a moment before he added, “Thomasine might get a brother before the day’s over, if you keep looking that beautiful.”

“Oh, shut up,” you giggled, and he steered you in front of the camera as you smoothed down your dress. You were suddenly nervous, and you clutched Tommy’s hand as Arthur cranked the camera, preparing it to go off. “Tom?”

“M’right here, pet,” Tommy said, squeezing your hand. “Just smile; everything will be fine.”

By the time night fell, you had a whole slew of new film, new pictures to replace the ruined ones. Recreations of your wedding pictures, an updated picture of a smiling Thomasine, even one of Tommy kissing you when the camera went off on accident. Thomasine was tangled in your skirts then, gazing up at her daddy, and you looked at the film as you sat by the fire that night, smiling and admiring it. That was your favorite memory; you, your husband, and your daughter, smiling, laughing, loving. It was perfect.

[1toreyouapart]

What It Cost

****THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY BASED ON REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE PEOPLE OR MUSIC MENTIONED IN THIS STORY OUTSIDE OF LILITH AND SADIE AND MAYBE A COUPLE OTHERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT UP FOR FANFIC INVOLVING REAL PEOPLE***

Terrible summary: Five years since she last spoke to him. Since she last saw him. Now his face and his voice is everywhere. She can't escape him.

Five years ago Noah destroyed her and the life they had built. Now he’s back and seeking to make amends. As much as she wants to say that it's too little too late, is it?

CW/TW: Angst, mention of addiction, cheating. Mention of character death. Language. Smut (later on). PinV, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it, friends), oral (f&m receiving). All smutty warnings happen later on, so I’ll update TW/CW warning labels as those parts are written and posted. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can fix it! Thank you!

Part 6 - Lilith

Noah had text her two hours ago, asking if they could talk. Again. Since then she'd been an anxious mess. Part of her was shocked he hadn't just shown up like the last time. Everything in her told him to tell him no. That there was nothing to talk about anymore. He had said he was sorry and they could go about their lives. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Couldn't bring herself to tell him to leave her alone. What the fuck was wrong with her? She should hate him. So why couldn't she?

Sadie joined her on the back porch, handing her a takeout container and a fork. Lilly couldn't help the smile at the small gesture. She'd sort of started the tradition back when the two of them had just met, always giving Sadie food from her and Noah's dates. Now it was her doing it after hers and Jolly's.

"He wants to talk."

"So, no stomach for food at the moment?" Sadie took the food back, knowing too well what happened if she ate while nervous. It wouldn't stay down long.

"I don't know what to say." Lilly sighed, her stomach starting to churn more forcefully.

"Listen," Sadie began. "I know we all know I'm still pissed at him. But, maybe hear him out? He at least seems like he's trying."

Lilly huffed out a laugh, dropping her head into her hands, elbows resting on her knees. She had expected Sadie to tell her to ignore him or to tell him to fuck off. Which almost would have guaranteed she agree to talk to him. Probably something Sadie had counted on, actually.

"I don't know-"

"Lilly, I heard him, too. He's never sounded like that. Jolly said he's been locked up in his room since." She sighed. "Maybe talk to him. If you don't want to hear what he has to say, that's fine, but at least give him a chance to do what he should have done years ago."

Sadie had a point. Never had she seen Noah like that. Sure, she had seen him close a few times when things weren't going right, but never to the point that he was on his knees, clutching his chest like that. The way he had sounded, like he was breaking. Shattering right in front of her. How unfocused his eyes had been. He hadn't been there in the present. Noah had been somewhere else in his mind.

Chewing on her bottom lip she picked up her phone, debating between texting him back and just calling him. Suddenly Sadie reached over, taking her phone from her.

"Hey!"

"Jesus. You both need to learn how to just get on with it." Sadie laughed, typing out a response for her and hitting send. "He'll probably be here soon. I'll make myself scarce."

***

Her heart leapt into her throat as she watched him pull up, her hands beginning to shake. Fuck. Right now seemed like a real good time to start smoking. Maybe she should have had some wine or something first. Either way she needed something to calm the nerves. Yet here she was empty handed, watching as he climbed out of his car, a tall iced coffee in hand. No hoodie this time. Just a pair of shorts and a plain white shirt.

She watched, helpless, as he climbed the steps onto the porch. Watched as he walked over to her, holding out the iced coffee for her. Her stomach flipped at the realization that he had brought her some kind of peace offering.

"Iced spiced chai, double shot, with a pump of pumpkin, right?" He asked, his voice soft.

"You remember my order." It wasn't a question, more of an observation than anything. Carefully, she reached out, taking the coffee from him, grateful to have something to hold. "Thank you."

Noah nodded, sitting in the chair opposite her. She had to admit to herself she was shocked that after all this time he had remembered something so small. Then again, she clearly hadn't changed much in five years if she still got the same coffee every day. Nervous, she took a sip, not daring to look up at him.

"Sorry about the other night," he started.

"I don't know. I think that's the most honest I've ever seen you, Noah," she quipped, wincing at her own harshness. "Sorry."

"No," he chuckled. "That's fair. That's really fucking fair."

"I'm not sorry that I finally was honest with you. I am, however, sorry that I started having a fucking panic attack, though."

"You're okay, though?" She asked, finally looking up at him.

Now that she looked at him she could see just how tired he was. Like he had barely slept. And deep down she felt bad for him. And maybe a little guilty. Maybe she shouldn't have been so hard on him the other night.

"Honestly? Been better. But, comes with the territory, I suppose."

The two of them sat there, a heavy silence falling between them. There he was, being honest again. The Noah she had known would have said he was fine. He would have skirted around the issue entirely and made a stupid joke.

"Listen, Bambi. I fucked up. Royally. You didn't deserve any of the shit that I did. Even the stuff you overlooked from the start." He grimaced, remembering some of the shit he had done.

"Noah-"

"Nope. Not done. You are also the first person I should have reached out to once I got sober. Instead I've been too chicken shit, as Nicholas loves to point out, to face you because the shit I put you through at the end? That was beyond fucked up. Like, way beyond. I was doing shit just to hurt you. And you deserved better. You still deserve better."

Lilith sat there, gripping the coffee he had brought her, feeling like she was going to vomit. Tears blurred her vision, her mind racing. Here he was, giving her more of an apology than she had ever thought she would get. And as much as she wanted to be angry, she just couldn't anymore. She wanted to scream and yell and call him an asshole, but the anger and the words just wouldn't come. Where did she go from here?

Tag: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

[summercreolefanfictioner]

the scent wafts in, her name making him beg on his knees chap 6

Touya spent another few weeks alone on his own devices, always locking himself up in his room and only going out to grab more books from the library, eat his daily food serving, or lie down on the garden grass for a few minutes before returning to his room. One would think the eldest Todoroki should've been desirous, aching at the thought of alcohol or cigarettes, or struggling from resorting to violence anytime he's alone. After all, one does not simply withdraw from the bad things they had. But Touya didn't; nonetheless, this wasn't easy. All he could do in his room was scream without a sound—literally.

Sometimes, he would remember Enji's face and how the mere look made him so angry he almost tore the pages of the book he was reading. On other days, he would draw his face marred with a scar running down his eye, and after he was finished, he would scribble black paint all over and destroy his art like there was no tomorrow, eyes cold and empty as he spouted things in his head. Fucking old geezer. Scum. Bastard. Good-for-nothing father. Despicable shit. He does not flinch every time he says them in his head. He'd been doing it for a while, after all. It wasn't like therapy could make him forgive Enji for everything he had done. No amount of apology could make up for all the trauma and abuse he endured.

On most days, he would write good memories in his journal. It could be as random as the first flowers he brought to his mother, playing with his siblings, the fun times with Himiko and Twice, and mostly... her. Yes, that woman. The love of Touya's life. Even if it was as mundane as buying groceries together or doing the laundry, he would write about them in detail. Sometimes, he would even draw her face because his memories were getting so vivid the more he spent his time in this facility, and everything became clearer and brighter.

He remembered the day after he took her home, and it was very important because Touya knew it was the start of him getting in trouble with her. It was 11 am when she dropped by the bar despite it not being open yet for tonight's party. She was met with Tomura and Spinner playing some random video game when she asked for Touya because he left his jacket and other string of excuses to see him. When he went downstairs, she had to resist the urge to just gawk at him (she still did, and he noticed it as much) because he was shirtless with his pants riding low on his hips that she could practically make out his hip bones and the lining of his underwear. He was sleepily scratching his head, eyes narrowing as he scanned his surroundings to see her clutching his jacket to her chest as her life depended on it.

"Y-You forgot to take your jacket," she shyly mumbled, handing the piece of clothing to him as she looked away to stop herself from ogling because, heavens, this man was ripped. RIPPED. The contours of his abs and muscles screamed good, sexy times in bed (and she should stop herself from behaving like some hungry animal in front of him.)

Bury your perverted thoughts. Bury your perverted thoughts.

Touya took it from her hand, confused as to why she avoided his gaze. "Thanks."

"I'll go now." She has to make a quick run for it. This was bad. He was looking as hot as hell. She was doing something scandalous. "H-Have a great day, Dabi-kun!"

And just when she was about to go, Touya grabbed her arm, his expression so calm and nonchalant, like he had no idea how much effect he had on her. Honestly, he knew, even just for a tiny bit. He would just act like he didn't because it would only spoil the fun anyway.

"Wait here. I'll just grab a shirt and walk you home."

Now, it might sound so innocent, but to the others, particularly Tomura and Spinner, it was... unusual. They knew Touya was not the type to involve himself with women. Sure, there were plenty of girls who tried their shot, but Touya never indulged in the idea or act of hooking up with women. He'd rather do his job and get shit over than flirt. Sure, they know about his dating history with Ruka, but other than that, Touya was single as a pringle. So, hearing Touya say he would walk this woman home was different.

Tomura and Spinner decided to act like they didn't hear anything as Touya went downstairs, finally wearing a fresh, white shirt as he accompanied her outside. While walking, he was closely observing her as she nervously tried to calm her breathing and keep her distance from him. Once they were in front of her unit door, Touya spoke, "Are you sure you're not missing something?"

She shrugged. "I think so." She turned the keys in her knob and opened the door. Thank you again, Dabi-kun."

Once the door closed, he glared. She was feigning innocence on his question. After all, he still has her work ID, and he saw the spare key she left in his jacket. It was a simple invitation to her humble abode. A bold move. She was playing it safe with her little mind game.

He smirked.

Two can play that game.

The following days, she drops by the bar even if it isn't opening time to ask for Himiko, and Touya knows she is playing with the way she occasionally glances when she thinks he isn't looking. Sometimes, she would purposely leave a piece of her—a handkerchief, earring, lipstick, and compact hand mirror—she wouldn't give up until she got his attention. Touya had to admit she had the upper hand in the situation, collecting all the items she left until he knew it was inevitable to be far from her.

There was just something about her he couldn't figure out, and the way she was chasing him was amusing. Normally, women would be upfront with their feelings for him, and he would keep his mouth shut and do his own thing because he didn't want unnecessary things meddling in his life. With her, it was different. She would rather go with subtle hints than bombard him with the idea of a romantic relationship, and this was shameful considering she is still off-limits (she's dating that cheating asshole, and no one knows if she plans on breaking up with him). To further prove his suspicions, Himiko would always tell him how much this woman likes him and that he should give it a try.

She keeps glancing at me when she thinks no one is looking. Sometimes, she brushes her skin on mine to prove her point. When I look at her, she shies away, blushes, and fidgets. If I get near, she might feel it's too intense, so she makes those hic sounds.

And so he succumbed to the temptation—to the thrilling idea of having her—because one night he had a dream that they were secretly meeting somewhere in a forest where they could get lost in each other—and yes, it was a perverted dream. Touya swore he had to turn on the cold shower to calm his nerves as he pumped his cock up and down to release this pent-up frustration. Her skin. Her smell. Her eyes. Her smile. Her long hair. Her fair skin. Her hidden body underneath the clothes. Her. HER. EVERYTHING WAS ALL ABOUT HER.

The next night, he had a match in the illegal fight club, and while he had won, the injuries he had sustained rendered him vulnerable. He wanted to rest, and although he had a room upstairs at the bar where he worked, he didn't want to go there tonight. Tonight, he wanted to feel something. He still doesn't know why, but Touya was aching for a sensation, and his brain gave him a bad idea. You have a spare key. Go to her. Chase that feeling. Screw him for having these thoughts, limping his way to her door as he tried to compose himself. So what if he's got all these bruises and cuts?

I bet she can patch me up good. I bet her touch would be amazing.

Realization. So that's what this was. Touya, for the first time, craved someone's touch. And it's not just any touch. It should be hers. Her touch. Not anyone else.

When she opened her door cautiously, she immediately shrieked in surprise. He smirked at that.

"Hey," he murmured, leaning against the doorway with one arm. Touya didn't miss the way she eyed his bruises. "Have you been waiting?"

This was bad, yet it felt so good.

NEXT CHAP

THE SCENT WAFTS MASTERLIST

a/n: writing this got me burning up like this was a sin. this is guilty as sin, I swear. I might have forgotten some people to tag, but feel free to dm me or comment if you want to be added to the taglist

taglist: @rueclfer @skiiyoomin @bbluefllame @crookedherringcolorclod @suksatoru @m-4399 @allurearia

[the-pen-pot]

He saw Arthur burst from the forest, wide-eyed and pale-faced. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, and fear locked his expression in its clutches. One hand stretched out as if to grab him. So near and yet so far. The moment fled. Gravity won, and there wasn't even time for Merlin to cry out as the bandit's weight dragged him over the cliff and into the stormy waters below. **** When Merlin is hurt during a bandit attack, Arthur finds himself torn between the longings of his heart and his duties to the crown.

Chapter One

They were going to die.

Merlin's breath stalled in his chest as the dappled sunlight glinted off the blades that surrounded them. They had made camp no more than a candle-mark ago, and many of the knights had taken their ease. Their swords were a few paces away, buried point-first in the earth. Only Elyan had been standing sentry, and now the tip of a dagger pressed into the hollow of his throat: his life nothing but a bargaining chip.

'Don't, Your Highness,' one of the men growled, no doubt noticing how Arthur had glanced towards his weapon. He looked like the leader, scarred and grim: a survivor through-and-through. 'Make a move, and he dies.' He gestured to Elyan. 'Now, how about you hand over that trinket you're carrying? I've a buyer who'll offer a great deal of coin for such a relic.'

Merlin ran his tongue over his teeth, cursing their bad luck. The bandit wasn't wrong; they had been on a quest to retrieve a cursed amulet that was poisoning the land. In theory, only forge-fire could destroy it. That, or a fireball of pure magic. The gold had boiled and seethed as he plucked apart the foul fortune woven into it, and by the time he was done, not a trace of its presence remained. Unfortunately, it seemed perhaps just a touch of its malice had latched onto them – a final vengeance – because with its destruction they had nothing to offer up in surrender.

'I don't know what you're talking about.' A hint of an empty smile hooked Arthur's lips, but Merlin could see that strategic mind at work, racing through the possibilities. He was more than just a pretty face; more than one enemy had forgotten that fact. They may be outnumbered, by they were far from defeated. Arthur would not go down without a fight, and Merlin wasn't about to let him fall to the blade of some two-bit bandit with delusions of grandeur.

'None of that, now.' The knife dug deeper into Elyan's throat, and Merlin winced in sympathy. 'Your men don't have time for these games.'

Around them, the peace thickened, interrupted only by the sigh of the breeze in the branches and the song of the birds. No one dared move. A single flinch could be enough to tip the scene into violence.

Leon's gaze was fixed on Arthur, his determination to keep the Crown Prince safe writ in every line of his expression. His own life would be forfeit if it meant Arthur was spared. Percy ducked his head, watching the closest attacker from beneath his furrowed brow. People never underestimated his strength, but they often overlooked his cunning.

Lancelot seemed to be searching for the right words to diffuse the anger that simmered in the air. Good to his core, Merlin knew he would hope these men could be reasoned with, even when faced with all the evidence to the contrary. Gwaine watched the scene with dark eyes, his expression fixed in that empty, jovial mask that meant everything was about to go to shit. He kept glancing at Elyan, who appeared furious for having been caught off-guard.

All the knights were at the wrong end of at least one sword, but the bandits had dismissed Merlin's presence. After all, he was just a servant. They did not consider him any kind of a threat.

Their mistake.

He reached out with his magic, hoping to plunge them into sleep, but though his power rose willingly to his call, no one so much as swayed on their feet. The spell coiled like smoke around them, invisible, yet no matter how hard Merlin tried, it could not sink its claws into them.

It took longer than he would have liked to notice the charms they wore on their wrists: cheap bits of metal stamped with runes – protections against the efforts of a mage. It seemed unlikely that they knew Arthur counted a sorcerer among his confidants. The Prince and his knights had known about Merlin's magic themselves for less than a year. It remained one of Camelot's best kept secrets, and Merlin cursed his bad luck for coming across a gang of thugs who had some common sense.

If he conjured up a fake and handed it over, it would disintegrate as soon as they touched it. They'd know they were being tricked within moments. Still, just because he could not use his magic on them, that didn't mean he couldn't use it at all.

First things first, he decided, he had to get them and their pointy blades away from Arthur and the others.

'This amulet?'

The illusion in his grasp gleamed butter-gold, as vivid as the real thing. Even if placed side-by-side with the original, he knew no one would be able to tell the difference. His magic leant it a touch of extra sparkle, and he watched an ugly smile crack over the leader's face. His body language shifted as cool eyes raked up and down his frame, no doubt finding him wanting. He saw what Merlin wanted him to see: baggy clothes over a lanky physique; no sword, armour or rank. He looked at Merlin and saw someone harmless, the same as almost everyone else in Camelot.

Everyone who didn't know his secret, anyway.

'Give it here, boy, and no one has to get hurt.' It was said in a cajoling tone, as if the bastard wouldn't stab him in the gut the moment he got close enough to reach. He could see that in his eyes: the cruelty of a bully. Still, that was something he could use. No way would this man like being outwitted by a peasant.

Merlin glanced at Arthur, seeing the emotion in that blue gaze. He knew the amulet was fake: he could guess what Merlin was going to do. It was written in the tension that hardened his jaw and the lines upon his brow. He gave a fractional shake of his head, as if urging him not to go down this road, but they were running out of time. The others needed just one moment: a split-second where the balance shifted, and he could give it to them.

'Why don't you come and get it?'

He darted away like a deer taking flight, ducking through the trees and sprinting into the welcoming gloom of the woods around them. Behind him, shouts of outrage rose in chorus with the clash of swords. The knights had taken advantage of the bandits' distraction, as he had known they would, but they were still outnumbered. He would have to trust in their superior skills to get them all out of this alive.

Arthur's cry of warning – Merlin's name made hoarse by fear – was enough to tell him he was being followed. Even if not for that, he could hear boots crashing through the forest: a steady percussion that underscored the shouting, bellowing rage of the men who chased him.

Merlin ducked under a tree branch, lengthening his stride as roots threw themselves out of his way only to rise up in his wake, forming loops to trip the unwary. He might not be as strong as a knight and he had little luck with wielding a sword, but he could outpace any of them, especially if they were weighed down by chain and plate armour. Dressed in nothing but linen, he was light on his feet, though lacking in protection. He tried to ignore how the space between his shoulder-blades itched, vulnerable. At least the bandits didn't have crossbows. If it came to a fight, they'd have to catch him first.

Voices hounded him, cursing and yelling as his pursuers careened through the undergrowth. Their threats were little more than garbled sounds, too distant to make out, but Merlin knew he'd be in trouble if they got their hands on him.

Overhead, the wind picked up speed, rattling leaves and waving the branches against the sky. His magic rose with it, a rushing swell of power that delved down beneath the roots and surged in the sap of the trees all around him. Wood creaked and groaned, stirred to new life, but Merlin didn't dare look over his shoulder and check what was happening. One stumble could cost him everything.

Was it his imagination, or were the voices baying for his blood getting fewer in number?

It took a moment for him to realise that another noise embellished the air. It started as little more than a low, rolling roar, but by the time the forest turned damp and lush around him, the din of the cascade had grown all-encompassing. It thrummed between the trees, battering at his ears, and he stumbled as the fringe of the woods released him onto a large, flat outcrop of water-slick granite.

Bending over, Merlin braced his hands on his knees, licking the spray from his lips. A stitch bit into his side, and his throat was parched from panting for every breath. Beneath his feet, an underground river found its freedom, tumbling from the top of the cliff into a deep pool below: all frothing rapids and a raging torrent. It was a long drop, at least as high as Camelot's curtain wall, and Merlin grimaced at the dizzying height before turning back to face the way he had come.

The tip of a sword halted him in his stride, and he sucked in a breath as he stared down the length of the blade at the man who gripped its hilt. The leader was alone, his hair matted with sweat and his leathers torn. Blood trailed from a scratch on his cheek, and his eyes were half-mad with rage. His lips pulled back, baring a broken front tooth along with the rest of his snarl. He trembled with anger, but the weapon remained steady and firm, braced to run Merlin through if he so much as flinched.

'The amulet.'

Merlin swallowed, his mind racing. If he tried to duck past him and flee, he'd probably end up with a sword stuck in his back. He couldn't retreat. There was nowhere to go but over the waterfall, and he didn't rate his chances in the tumultuous waters far below. In the end, he had no choice but to open his hand and let his eyes flash gold. The illusion dissipated into sparkling motes as he spread his palms in surrender. 'I don't have it.' He wet his lips before offering a shrug. 'I never did. We destroyed the amulet two days ago. It's long gone.'

The bandit's scream of fury echoed around them, a cresting note of inarticulate anger that rode the clouds of mist boiling up from the foot of the waterfall. Merlin's magic bunched, braced and ready to retaliate, turning the iron arc of the striking sword blow to nothing but ash before it could touch him.

Yet, for all it spared him from the bite of metal between his ribs, his spells did nothing to stop the bandit's body crashing into his own. His legs, already burning from his mad dash through the forest, wobbled at the sudden weight. He staggered, fighting off the clumsy flurry of punches as he grabbed at the man's wrists. It was a useless, frantic scrabble, neither of them able to get the upper hand, and Merlin's breath caught in his throat as he stumbled backwards.

His foot found nothing but empty air.

There was a split-second of perfect stillness so strikingly clear that he wondered if his magic had stopped the world. Except no. He could feel it, distant and unreachable, pushed from his grasp by the single point of contact where the man's protection charm touched Merlin's palm.

He saw Arthur burst from the forest, wide-eyed and pale-faced. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, and fear locked his expression in its clutches. One hand stretched out as if to grab him. So near, and yet so far.

The moment fled. Gravity won, and there wasn't even time for Merlin to cry out as the bandit's weight dragged him over the cliff and into the stormy waters below.

[spaceyaceface]

🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 Please can I request a 17 with Ominis? If it hasn't been done yet? Thank you so much!

YES AN OMINIS REQUESTTTT I love my precious boy so much! I hope you enjoy! I really really liked writing this one :)

17 - "for years i have yearned for you, in secrecy and silence."

Warnings: None :)

Link to prompt list

The letter wrinkled a bit as she kept it clutched it tightly. She had received it less than a day ago, but she had already memorized every word, reading it over and over again as the train rattled across the tracks.

It was from Ominis--the man she had loved since they met at Hogwarts. Even as the years had passed, she had never found anyone that compared to him. She closed her eyes, reflecting on the words once again, so lovely in is neat script.

My dear friend,

I no longer have the strength to carry on as if I do not have a war brewing inside me---as if it has not waged since the day I met you. I've always known this want and desire is nothing but futile, but I cannot let it go unknown any longer.

I am in love with you, as the sea loves the shore, as the day loves the night. I am incomplete without you; a mere man in misery, longing for a heart he does not hold. For years I have yearned for you, in secrecy and silence, knowing I should be grateful you consider me your friend. But I could not help it. Do you even comprehend the music that is your voice? The fire that is your touch? I cannot describe it. There is so much to you I could never put into words.

I am sorry for this letter. Sorry you read the words of a man so filled with longing, he lets it destroy him. You need not reply. You need not apologize for the beauty that has so completely ruined me.

Forever yours, though you are not mine,

Ominis Gaunt

She had booked a ticket to the next train to Hogwarts, unable to properly express herself in words as he had done. She needed him to know she felt the same. She needed him to know she was hers, completely.

When the train stopped, she rushed to the Floo station, and found herself in Feldcroft in an instant. He had bought a small cottage there after school, wanting to stay near Anne and Sebastian. It had been too long since she had visited him. She never knew his heart had ached the same as hers when they were apart.

Her knuckles rapped against the door, and she held her breath, the letter still held tight in her hand. Finally, the door opened, and there he stood---beautiful, but a bit distraught. His hair was messier than usual, not kept in neat, perfect place, and there were shadows under his eyes. They both stood there for a moment, in silence. Then his mouth opened as he said her name---he had smelled her perfume.

"Is it... what are you doing here?" His voice trembled. His hand held tightly to the doorframe beside him.

"Is it true?" she asked, desperate. "Ominis, is it true, what you wrote in your letter?"

His lips pressed together, and he sighed, hanging his head. "Every word. I told you, you didn't need---"

"I needed to tell you that I feel the same," she said, stepping closer to him. "I can't say it as beautifully as you, not even half as well, but I love you, Ominis. I always have."

His posture changed immediately, tension falling from his shoulders. "You... you love me? Truly?"

Her hand came up to rest on his cheek, pulling his face to turn towards hers. "Truly," she whispered.

He couldn't bare another moment with distance between them. His hand cupped her face, thumb brushing over her lips before bringing them to meet his own.

And for the first time, he felt complete.

[clovermarigold]

Mk Oneshots: Raiden x waitress Fem. reader

Note: I am SO sorry for this image

You had been working at the tea house for a few months now, after your father insisted you find new work outside of the family business. You honestly should have seen it coming. It was well known in the village of Fenjian that you were the unluckiest person to walk the face of the earth. 

You had nearly driven your family’s rice farm into bankruptcy after accidentally tipping off a cart down a hill that crashed into your season's silo and allowed the entire harvest to be eaten by mold. To make things worse it was anything but your first offense. You had worn a new scarf your mother had made for the new year. Unfortunately, this scarf was very long, and very flammable. The fire nearly destroyed three people’s houses that year. The final straw for your father had been when you had gone into town with your sister to chaperone her and her betrothed. Well… previously betrothed.

The two had insisted on walking one of Fengjian's few gardens privately without you present for a few minutes. You had insisted that your father would not want the two to be together unsupervised but promised to give them some time alone and watch them from afar. However, upon entering the garden and leaving to watch them from atop a hill. You attempted to pick a plum from one of the trees. This backfired when the tree turned out to be half rotted, and upon jumping and pulling. The tree knocked down and rolled down the hill, hitting your sisters engaged. His family was outraged, he was hospitalized for months, and they called off the engagement. 

This string of bad luck has earned you a less than favorable reputation in Fengjian. Madam Bo had been the only one in the village who was willing to take you in. Claiming that, “wild women are often too much for small minded people”. While you don’t think she would lie, you don’t doubt that the fact she could have you work without pay played a role. Though she likely regretted her decision when she had to pay for all the plates you broke.

Kung Lao sighed at his friend, this had been the fourth night in a row they had gone to Madam Bo’s for dinner. Usually, they preferred to go once a month, due to her high prices. But lately Raiden had been dragging him out. On one hand, he shouldn’t be so upset about it, after all, Raiden was the one paying. But on the other hand, it was painful to watch his friend swoon at one of the waitresses, never actually doing anything to woo her. 

“Again? Is your wallet ok?” Raiden only smiled as they entered the tea house, “If my wallet is feeling any discomfort, it’s only because you insist on eating the entire menu every time we come”. “Ah, Raiden, Kung Lao, welcome back” you said, almost stumbling over, hair a mess and visibly ruffled. 

Kung Lao groaned at the sickening sweetness of Raiden, “Thank you, we are gratuitous for your hospitality”. Sitting in their usual spots, it was obvious Raiden was distracted. “I’ll make you some tea," Raiden watched as you walked away, never once looking away, until Kung Lao caught his attention “Well, that was embarrassing”.

“What?” Raiden asked obliviously. “This” he gestured to him, “You. For the last four nights we’ve been coming here. And for the last four nights, you’ve done nothing”. “I hardly consider–” a loud crash sounded as the teahouse’s attention was drawn to you on the ground clutching your hand. Raiden was quick to run over, “Are you alright?”. “Ah, no. I spilled some of the hot water and dropped the pot. Madam Bo is going to kill me” you said as he helped you to your feet. “I’ll handle Madam Bo. Let’s get you some ice for that burn”.

“Really Raiden, it is unnecessary,” you insist as he pulls you to the counter making you sit down, “Your health comes first, and Madam Bo would agree with me”. “Agree with what?” as if her name was spoken thrice, she appeared from the back room, the faint smell of nicotine telling you she had been on her smoke break. “Ay, not again” you winced at her scolding. “I swear you will be the death of me” she said, walking behind the counter and scooping a handful of ice into a rag to make an ice pack. “I’m sorry Madam Bo, I’ll work off the price of the pot–” Raiden interjected, “I’ll cover the price of the pot, Madam Bo”.

You looked stunned at Raiden, “No! I couldn’t possibly have you do that for me”. “Please, it’s the least I can do–” Madam Bo held up her hand to cut both of you off. “Neither of you will be paying. It was an accident, one that left you injured, I might add. I would not make you pay for that more than you already have, my dear. And you” she turned to Raiden, “You have made me proud. Taking care of her is no easy feat. I can tell you that much”. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as she side eyed you, “Go dress your wound and finish your shift early”. “Thank you Madam Bo” you gave a small bow before rushing off to finish waiting for your last tables. 

“You know, you would spend less money on others belongings if you actually spoke with her” Raiden raised a brow in confusion. “She’d break more of YOUR plates if you would actually make any moves on her” Raiden’s mouth opened and closed as he looked for words, “I.. I don’t know what you're talking about”. Madam Bo only rolled her eyes before choosing to lean against the counter next to Kung Lao and light a new cigarette. “You know those are bad for you, right?”, “You want to stay my favorite? Stop talking”.

Finishing the two of their meals, Raiden laughed as Kung Lao palmed his sore and overstuffed stomach, “You were hungry”. Kung Lao only groaned in discomfort, letting out an obnoxious belch. The sound of the check being laid onto the table drew Radien’s attention to you smiling down at him. 

Thank you“” Raiden said with a smile, grabbing the check. But looking down at it only had the words, ‘My shift ends in ten minutes’. Looking up, you were already gone, leaving Raiden stuck with a starstruck expression, jaw dragging the floor.  Standing, and leaving him alone with the bill, Kung Lao walked over to the smoking Madam Bo and reluctantly handed over a number of bills. 

Raiden could care less. He had a date. 

Taglist

~~~~~~

@themoon-shines

[thebadgerclan]

Over

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x reader

Summary: It’s all over...

A/N: And here’s the sad-ish fluff!  I have a few ideas for some Nikolai fluff, so I might write some of that too 😂

It was a miracle.  The sun shone down on his face as Aleksander staggered to his feet, the light overwhelming after the darkness of the Fold.  Sunlight had not graced the Tula Valley in over 400 years, and now, thanks to Alina, it shone brightly.  His nichevo’ya rose from the sand, knowing their master was wounded.  But Inej and Zoya managed to kill them, the Neshyenyer slicing them down like they were nothing at all.

When Aleksander got to his feet, Alina was standing before him, tears in her eyes.  “Now,” he said.  “You know sacrifice.”  “Beyond anything you’ve ever known,” she snapped, and Aleksander shook his head.  He knew sacrifice, he knew the pain Alina felt, he knew it well.  He’d felt the same pain when he found you, a gaping wound in your abdomen, a First army issue bayonet lying at your side.

“Aleksander,” you’d cried, clutching your stomach.  “Aleksander, I..”  “Shhh, it’s alright, my love,” your husband said, gently pulling you into his lap.  “I’m here.  Right here, Y/N.”  There was far too much blood, and you were too far from camp to make it to a Healer.  “Sasha,” you wheezed, a trickle of blood escaping your lips.  “I love you.  I love you so much.  I have always loved you.”  You knew you were dying; the pain had stopped and your entire body felt warm.  “I love you too, my darling,” Aleksander said, kissing you softly.  “I’ve got you.”  You died in his arms, your husband’s nichevo’ya howling with his grief and rage.

“And look what it did.”  “Indeed.  Look what it did.  Perhaps you now understand what it truly means to sacrifice, to lose.  You have my sympathy for what comes next.  When you realize that what you’ve done solves nothing.”  Aleksander pressed a hand to the wound in his abdomen, so very near where yours had been.  “The world doesn’t need a Saint to protect it, it needs a monster.  And while I remain, let me be your monster, let me carry the hatred of this world.  Tell me, Alina, who will be there to be your equal, to save you?”

Alina grabbed his wrist when he reached for her. “I will save myself,” she said, pushing his hand away from her.  Aleksander fell to his knees, wracked by cough, and a nichevo’ya formed from his body.  It surged forth and took Alina by the neck, lifting her into the air.  Aleksander tried to call it off, but it smacked him back, ignoring its master’s command.  Inej threw the Neshyenyer, the blade arcing to destroy the shadow demon, letting Alina fall to the sand.

“You can’t control them, can you?” she asked, her voice raspy.  “You can’t control any of it.”  Aleksander smiled softly.  “I thought I could control it all once,” he said, extending his hand to her, in one final attempt.  “Find peace.  And for a moment… I swear I did.”  He lifted his face to the sun, closing his eyes, allowing his thoughts to turn to you.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met.”  “I bet you say that to everyone.”  “No, just you.”------ Your nose pressed to a bouquet of roses, a soft, shy smile on your face.  “General, are you asking me on a date?”  “I am, Miss L/N.”----- Your face, pressed against his pillows, hair a mess, mouth open as you slept.  “Y/N L/N, I cannot wait to make you my wife.”----- The ring he’d made; black diamonds and gold, glimmering on your finger, tears in your eyes, a beaming smile on your face.  “I love you,” you’d repeated.  “I love you, I love you, I love you!”----- You in your wedding gown, shimmering gold shot thorugh with black, your gaze whilly fixed on him.  “Aleksander Morozova, I will love you until I am dust on the wind.”  “Y/N Morozova, I will love you with every part of my heart.”----- You, lying naked in his arms, the sheets draped over your waist, pressing kisses to his chest.----- You, standing before your vanity, fastening your kefta.----- You, curled before the fire, reading.-----You.-----You.-----You

A white hot pain pierced him, and Aleksander looked down to see the Nesyenyer lodged in his abdomen, Alina’s hands wrapped around the hilt.  He sputtered, black blood dribbling from his lips.  “Without me,” he said.  “Know they will come for you.”  “Let them come.”  Alina withdrew the blade, and Aleksander toppled backwards.  She stood over him, her face blocking out the sun.  “You make sure I am buried with Y/N,” he said, feeling himself weaken.  “Please.”  Alina nodded, and Aleksander gasped.

Behind Alina, another figure entered his field of vision, you.  You wore your black kefta and you were smiling at him.  “Aleksander,” you said, extending a hand to him.  You’d been with him since your death, but he’d been unable to see you until now, when death was creeping in.  “Y/N,” he managed, his eyes closing.  But when they opened, he felt a new surge of strength, and he rose to his feet.  “My love,” he said, pulling you into his arms.  “Y/N.”  “It’s alright,” you said, holding him as tightly as he was holding you.  “It’s all over now.”

After several minutes of holding you close, Aleksander looked behind, seeing his body sprawled on the sand.  “I was always with you,” you said, cupping his cheek.  His scars were gone, the Stag’s wound on his hand completely healed.  “Every moment, Sasha.  You fought so hard for so long, my love.  But now you can rest, you’ve earned it.”  Your husband let out a sob and sank to his knees, clutching your kefta.

The month since your death had been the most difficult month of his life.  Going on without you had been next to impossible, and now that you were here, now that he was dead, Aleksander could process everything that had happened: the choices he’d made, the friends he'd lost, the pain he’d suffered.  You knelt beside him, pulling him into your arms.  “Shh, Aleksander, let it out.  It’s alright, I’m here.  Just let it out, my love.”  Aleksander buried his face in your chest, relieved to find that you carried the same smell, the scent that always comforted him.

“I missed you so much,” your husband managed.  “Oh Y/N, every day without you was torture.”  “I know, my darling,” you replied, carding a hand through his hair.  “But you’re here now, and you never have to be without me again.”  “Promise?”  He felt like a child for asking, but the thought of ever leaving your side was unbearable.  “I promise, Aleksander.  I love you, I love you so very much.”  “I love you too, milaya,” he replied, kissing you at last.  For several, blissful minutes, your husband kissed you, pulling you into his lap.  “We have eternity together,” you said.  “And I will love you for every last minute of it.”  Aleksander blinked back tears, kissing you again.  “As will I, my love.”

[blowflyfag]

Wrestler ANNUAL: Winter 1983

Andre vs. Slaughter 

WHY THE WWF IS DETERMINED TO BREAK SGT. SLAUGHTER

Why does the WWF fear Sgt. Slaughter so much? Every well-known and lesser-known scientific wrestler has been trotted out to try and defeat Slaughter and his infamous Cobra Clutch. But why? What terrible threat does Slaughter pose to the WWF And who wants him stopped?

PHOTOS BY STU SAKS

BOB BACKLUND. Bruno Sammartino. Pat Paterson. Andre the Giant.

These four brilliant wrestlers have, at one time or another, been opponents of Sgt. Slaughter. And they form part of a bizarre pattern which leads some knowledgeable WWF observers to conclude, tentatively and with great, great reluctance, that the WWF is out to destroy Sgt. Slaughter.

But why?

Some could say that Slaughter’s foul, underhanded ways beg these men, these wrestlers of honor and integrity, to confront him on the wrestling field of battle. Yet Slaughter, for all his violence and sadism, is not necessarily the worst rulebreaker ever to set foot in the WWF territory.

But something about him has united the WWF scientific wrestling community in a manner never seen before. And it goes far beyond his attitude, his threats, his total behavior. The WWF fears Sgt. Slaughter. They fear what his ultimate victory will mean to the Federation.

And they are out to destroy him.

This time, it is the scientific wrestlers who act vague and uneasy. Usually it is the rulebreaker who avoids a direct answer. But when questioned all who have confronted Slaughter studiously avoided any mention of a conspiracy against the demented ex-Marine.

“Well, you know, that Slaughter is a mean man and I wanted to give him the whipping of his lifetime,” said Andre the Giant. “That is why I wrestled him. 

[It seems Sgt. Slaughter never gets a break. Night after night he is in the ring against the toughest wrestlers the WWF has to offer. Andre the Giant lines Slaughter up and fires a right.

Slaughter tries to roll Andre over into a pinning combination, but the Giant’s weight is too much for him. If Slaughter isn't against Andre, it’s Sammartino or Backlund or Morales. The WWF has not been easy on Sgt. Slaughter.]

“Doggone that Slaughter, he deserves to be swimming in his own blood,” said Bruno Sammartino. “No, I don't talk to anyone else. I want Slaughter for myself.

“He comes in here and makes big-mouthed statements and says how he’s going to beat me and take my title away,” said WWF champion Bob Backlund. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I’ve had it up to here with Slaughter’s mouth,” cried Pat Patterson. “He’s opened it one time too many and I want to be the one who closes it. Permanently.”

[Andre uses his powerful arms to prevent Slaughter from completing the application of his Cobra Clutch (above). Slaughter rakes Andre’s eyes to break out of a bearhug (below).]

Patterson’s comments invite another explanation for the rough treatment accorded Slaughter thus far. Maybe the idea of a conspiracy isn’t sound enough. Maybe the overwhelming hatred exhibited by WWF scientific wrestlers is merely a coincidence.

Mauve each of these wrestlers is operating out of pride. Maybe they do, deep down, acknowledge Slaughter’s strengths and dangers. And just maybe, they want to be the one to end his career. 

Call it macho. Call it selfishness. Call it an obsession with duty. Andre, Bruno, Bob, and Pat each have different, compelling reasons for wanting Slaughter destroyed. And now the race is on as to which one gets the job done first.

If they do.

“Let ‘em send as many of them as they want,” said Slaughter. “I know how to stand and fight. I’ve seen duty in the worst battles in history. I’m physically prepared, I’m mentally prepared, nothing or no one will take this position from me.

[Sgt. Slaughter scoffs at the competition the WWF has presented before him. He doesn’t even consider it competition.]

“I battled long and hard to get here,” continued Slaughter. “I had to fight through artillery and machine gun nests and go over landmines and fire up at planes strafing my position. I had to do this alone, just me. Of course, I have the General, my manager the Wizard, and he and I battle side-by-side. No gutless coward is gonna take this hill. 

“I’ve seen the whites of Andre’s eyes. Smelled Bruno

S foul breath, absorbed Backlund's crying, and Patterson's whining. They can charge up the hill as often as they want but when they get to the top, they’d better be prepared to meet Sgt. Slaughter, United States Marine Corps. As they say, Hell has no fury like a Marine enraged. Just remember that.”

So who will be the one to stop Slaughter? Will it be Andre? Backlund? Sammartino? Patterson? Or none of them. Maybe Sgt. Slaughter is tougher than they think.

[beevean]

Here's a potentially cool writing prompt if you're up to it:

The Castlevania 3 gang faces up with Dracula at the end of the game

Or as an alternative them watching the Castle crumble after their victory

It's over.

With shaky fingers, Trevor wipes his own face, caked with blood and Dracula's ashes. The other hand still clutches his Vampire Killer, warm and thumping in his palm as if it were a creature.

It used to be his only company, a sacred heirloom of a family no one accepted. Not anymore. Sypha brushes a strand of his hair from his wound and tucks it behind his ear; his heart jumping at the touch only means that he's still alive. Despite the hell they marched through... they are all alive.

Trevor takes a deep breath of the fresh air outside, and thanks God that he's able to do that.

"I couldn't have done this without you, my friends," he speaks the first words after Dracula had dissolved into a mist of darkness and hatred.

"Aw, don't be modest, man!" Grant claps his shoulder. "You did all the grunt work. We just cheered you from behind."

"Nonsense. I wouldn't have survived on my own."

"Trevor, man, d'you realize what you just did? You killed Dracula! With your own hands! Just bask in the victory, will ya?"

Trevor smiles and adds nothing else. Yes, he did it. The cruel Count is no more. He had stared at his twisted face, carved with loathing Trevor could not begin to understand nor accept; and he struck it over and over, with the determination of mankind behind each and every blow. He fought in the name of all the people that he had hurt and killed, the terror and despair he spread in the land. And with that, he had prevailed. He even had the marks to prove it.

A gasp from Sypha, to his side. "The sunrise is so beautiful, today."

And indeed, it was. Sweetened by the aftertaste of their victory, the sight of the sun tinging the crumbling ruins of the cursed castle with oranges and pinks is nothing short of breathtaking... only matched by Sypha letting her hood down, allowing her hair to cascade down her back.

"No use in hiding anymore, is it?" he smiles. Something in that mysterious sorcerer had allured him ever since he had freed her from her stone prison, but indeed, she was particularly lovely with her face out to the world. Perhaps she could be free to live as her wonderful self, now.

"Not with you," she murmurs, leaning her head on his shoulder.

But someone is missing from the celebrations.

A few feet away from the others, Alucard does not seem as impressed at the sight. With his cape, he protects half of his face from the sun rays getting brighter and brighter.

Ah, but of course. His vampiric heritage did not matter one whit to Trevor, who only saw in him a noble soul. It did, however, weigh on the prince.

Trevor did not just destroy an evil beast and its lair. All of the sudden, the ruins of Alucard's childhood home and the ashes of his father no longer felt like a victory.

"How are you holding up, my friend?"

Alucard flinches at the last word. A small fang gets caught on his lip.

"... Mother's soul will now rest in peace," he eventually replies, with a hand on his heart.

It's not an answer to Trevor's question, and that alone confirms the worst of his suspicions. But he pushes the turmoil in his chest to the side, not wishing to upset Alucard further. There will be the time to grieve what they had all lost, and there will be time to decide what to do in the foreseeable future. For the time being, they can only rest their weary bodies and souls, and admire the light of the sun washing away the last of Dracula's shadows on Wallachia.

They had won.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

All we have; Thor x sister reader

*Author’s note*

So this fic took me some time but after a while I finally came up with how to come about this. To the anon who sent this all the way back close to the beginning of the year hope this story finds you and thank you for being so patient.

Warnings: ANGST!!! Events of infinity war, main character (death)? Reader was blipped, depression, denial. Sad Thor basically.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@queen-paladin​

@gay-and-ready-to-cry​

@austynparksandpizza​

________________________________________________________

*Thor’s POV*

Failure.  A feeling I never once felt before up until now. Even when I was banished by my father and lost my hammer, it was nothing compared to now.  My father, my home, nearly half of my people, my brother, and now—now my sister.

And only two of those things weren’t taken by the same person.  When Thanos came for us after Asgard was destroyed by Sutar in order to defeat Hela, we could only manage to send half of the people down to Earth before we were attacked, but even with those people safe the rest could not. Heimdell was one of my dear friends to die first after he used the last bit of strength to send Banner to warn the Avengers of Thanos.

My sister and I did our best but with him already in possession of the Power Stone, he had us badly outmatched and out strengthened.  Then he had Loki killed right before our eyes, the two of us helpless and could only watch as he snapped his neck.  For a brief moment I thought we were dead when our ship was destroyed but then we came across the Morons.  Led by a rabbit and his tree companion.

After getting Storm breaker forged for myself and my sister even obtaining a newly gifted gauntlets to harness her power of Starlight.  Next to me, I would say she’s the strongest Avenger (even though she never wanted to be one).  Her being the Goddess of the Stars, she is basically a star in human form with enhanced strength, speed, can fire star beams from her eyes and star bolts from her hands. That’s why some people on Earth called her ‘Star bolt’ or something along those lines.

Together we came to Earth with the rabbit and tree and we were on the verge of victory until Thanos arrived.  I had him, as did my little sister.  She fired with all her might as soon as he had completed the gauntlet and retrieved the last of the Infinity stones.  Then I used Storm-breaker to impale Thanos before he could do the snap.  I had shoved the blade of my newly forged axe into his chest, as deep as it could go and had the Mad Titan on his knees.

His final words were that I should’ve gone for the head, then he lifted the gauntlet and snapped his fingers as a bright light flashed before my eyes.  I had demanded him that he tell me what he had done when I saw the gauntlet burnt to a crisp, but the coward fled through a portal.  Next thing I knew, people were disappearing into dust.

“Brother?” I heard my sister say and when I turned to her I saw her clutching her stomach.  “I—I don’t feel so good.” I soon took notice of the same dusty flakes coming off of her.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no hey. Hey (Y/n) come here, come here little sister.” I held her together burying my face into her neck.  “You’re right here. You’re right here with me, yes? Just like the old days, the two of us together. We’re okay, we’ll be okay.” She smiled solemnly as tears glistened in her eyes.

“Goodbye brother.” She whispered.

“No, no there’s no goodbyes not for us. Please my little starlight, stay with me. I-I can’t lose you too!” but soon she faded away and all that was left was dust in my hands.

All of that happened just 4 weeks ago.  The week before, we found Thanos and hoped we’d use the stones to bring everyone back only to find out that he used them to destroy them.

Not wanting to hear anymore, I did what I should’ve done at that very day I lost everything. I went for the head.

After that, I couldn’t take it.  Numbness and emptiness overtook me.  What was life on Earth without my only family left? She was my little sister, she was my best friend, my guiding star.  From the day she was born, I made an oath to always watch out for her.

I had promised mother and father that I’d never let anything happen to her.  Before Loki came along, it was just the two of us.  We got into the worst sort of trouble, but she was always there to get us out of it using her charm and wit.  Thinking back now, that’s probably how Loki learned to be the silver tongue he came to be.

But now they were both gone.  Leaving me as the last of Odin’s children.

*Present day 4 weeks after Blip*

The humans were calling it The Blip.  After half of the universe had been snapped away, that’s what they called this tragic event.  Their governments and politicians trying to get the records of everyone around the world who had been blipped, trying to rebuild, but there was nothing I could do to help them.

“Hey Thor.” Banner’s voice spoke up.  I didn’t respond.  “I managed to locate Valkyrie and Korg. They said they’ve settled all the remaining Asgardians in a small town in Norway called Tønsberg.” I remained sitting in my chair looking out the window.  “Look buddy, I know that—things hadn’t been easy. But don’t you think your people need you? Or at least let them know you’re okay?”

“And what do I tell them? Hmm? Can you-can you answer me that Banner? When I go there the first thing they’ll ask me is where is…..” I stopped and brushed away the tears from my eyes.  No scratch that, not tears I just have something in my eye.

“I get it. I miss her too man. Your sister was—someone really special. Remember she helped me after I found out that I had been the Hulk for two years.”

“I helped too you know.”

“Yeah but not as much as she did.” I shook my head softly chuckling.

“Yeah she—she always did like helping those who needed it. The stars seemed to have dimmed without her here.” There was silence before I finally stood up and turned to Banner. “Thank you for finding them for me Bruce.”

“You gonna be okay pal?” he asked me.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine. I’ll be sure to keep in touch about how things are going.” I gave him a firm pat on the back before I took Storm breaker into my hands and flew off towards Norway.

When I got there, New Asgard was a small little town on the edge of some fishing docks where I saw the remaining few of my people all trying to rebuild our new home.  When they saw me, they bowed their heads but I didn’t acknowledge them.

“Hey Thor you’re alive!” up ahead I saw Korg, Meek and Valkyrie gathering up some kegs of beer. I walked up to them and hugged Korg (even though there was no emotion to said hug).

“Where’s (Y/n)?” asked Valkyrie.  I breathed heavily and asked her redirecting the question.

“How many of our people are left after the Statesman was attacked?” she looked at me skeptically but answered.

“We were just about to land our rescue ship when suddenly half of those that were saved turned to dust.” So even when half of the people managed to escape, they too were cut in half and Blipped away.  My sister’s escape plan for our people was in vain.

“Right well, you two continue doing what you were doing. I’m just going to uhh—” I took one of the kegs from Korg and walked off without another word.

I managed to find me a small cabin that hadn’t been claimed by anyone and decided that this would be my cabin from now on.  It was the furthest cabin than the rest of the village so thankfully no one should suddenly burst in on me.

I set the keg down before plopping myself down on the floor next to it.  I looked down at my wrist to see the old bracelet (Y/n) had made for me back when we were kids.  I took it off my right wrist and examined it.

It wasn’t much just made from the finest Asgardian thread and the jewels were of pure diamonds, rubies and a couple of emeralds.  In fact it was a sibling bracelet that she had made for all three of us. The ruby represented me, the emeralds were of Loki and she was the diamond.

I clenched it in my hand and raised it up ready to throw it as far as I could, hoping that it would be lost forever but something held me back.  My arm trembled before I brought the bracelet to my chest and held it over my heart as I felt tears falling down my face.

“I’m sorry (Y/n).” I wept.  “I’m so sorry little sister.” I continued to weep as the memories of my sister flashed through my mind like a film on constant repeat.

*1 month after The Blip*

I hadn’t really stepped out of my cabin since I had first claimed it.  I kept the windows shut and bolted, hardly any light really came into this cabin really.  Why should I deserve the light after my failure to kill Thanos? But I knew I had to step out because I had run out of beer from the keg I had taken a month ago.

So after restocking some more kegs, beer bottles, whiskey, tequila, whatever alcohol I could get my hands on at the time, I should be good for a couple of months or so, hopefully.  As I drank my fifth beer bottle a knock was heard at the door.

“Thor?” Valkyrie. “Thor come on open up it’s just me.”

“It’s unlocked as always.” I told her.  I heard the door open and she let out a cough.

“Geez what rolled up and died in here?”

“What are you doing here Valkyrie?” I asked her.

“Well our brewery ran out of whiskey and I figured only one person could be responsible for that so I came to collect some from you. Running this place is a lot harder than you think.” She said as she helped herself to some of my whiskey.

“Try dealing with keeping the peace of all nine realms on top of that.” I scoffed remembering after my first battle with the Avengers when I tried to keep the peace between the nine realms before father thought I was once again ready to take the throne.

“I can only imagine that. Definitely would take more than whiskey to take that hangover off.”

“Why have you really come Valkyrie?” she and I looked at each other and she said.

“To check on my friend who may I remind you hasn’t been outside in over a month except this past Tuesday to take most of our brewery.”

“I’ve told you as I have told everyone else, I’m fine.”

“Is that why you haven’t bathed in that time? No offense but you’re starting to smell worse than Sakaar.”

“Bathing is a lifestyle choice. If I choose the bathe or shower I will do so whenever I please.” She let out a heavy sigh.

“Thor, I know why you’re doing this.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do. Did you honestly forget why I went to Sakaar in the first place?” I remained silent. “Drinking my own problems away because I lost all my sisters including the love of my life. Who sacrificed herself to save me. You’re not the only one who lost someone you love. Take it from me, drowning your sorrows can only do so much, eventually the call to action will find you and you’ll have no choice but to get off your ass and fight.”

“Thanos is already dead, but even killing him didn’t bring anyone back. Much less bring her back. What call to action will there be?” I said brokenly.

“How about instead of focusing on the broken past? You help your people? They need a king.”

“No one needs me.” I sat down in my chair and turned away from her as I grabbed an old bag of Doritos and ate whatever was left in the bag.  I heard Valkyrie let out a heavy sigh before she left my cabin slamming the door.

Leaving me once again alone in darkness and solitude.

*6 months after The Blip*

‘It has been six months since the Blip when an alien wiped out half of Earth’s population. World governments continue to find an equal consensus but with the world still grieving can we truly move on? Our team has tried to reach out to any remaining members of the Avengers who have all but seemed to disappear from the public eye. Tony Stark aka Ironman has…..’

“Korg you mind shutting that blasted thing off? I thought we were going to begin Fortnite?” I told him.

“Sorry Thor. Just so you know I didn’t turn the channel to the news, it was just on there. Earth seems to have nothing but bad news to tell.”

“Yeah that’s all they really have to say these days.”

“Earth news is depressing.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” I muttered.  As we got the gaming system started up, Korg told me.

“Speaking of, there were reporters that came over the other day wanting to talk to you about the battle you had with Thanos back in that Wakanda place.”

“Hopefully either you or Valkyrie told them to screw off and to never come back here again.”

“Valkyrie took care of them. And she even called them some very nasty things.”

“And another good reason to put her in charge.” I muttered.  As the menu opened up and we picked our avatars we proceeded with the game.

“Just asking out of pure curiosity Thor, will there be a time you come out that doesn’t imply you stealing half of the brewery’s supplies? We really do miss you out there.”

“Who wants to go out when there’s a whole lot to do in here? You can’t get all these video game time out there? And here you don’t have to pay for any alcohol. Sure the cable’s a bit of a pain in the ass but what more could you want right here?”

“It does sound like a load of fun and a huge convenience but at the same time you might probably be doing all of this due to the loss of your sister.” I rolled my eyes and blew a nonchalant raspberry.

“These are just life choices, I can go out whenever I want to for whatever reason I want. My sister—” I trailed off thinking about her.

Just what would she say in this moment? How would she even react to seeing me like this? Most likely she’d be disappointed, she never did like it when either Loki or I got into one of our ‘moods’ (whatever she means by that).  Felt like she had been stuck in the middle and having to be the problem solver out of the three of us.

But now she’s just—she’s gone.  In all honesty, I’m glad she’s not here to see me like this.  Like I said, she’d most likely be disappointed that I’ve shut everyone out and refuse to do anything to help rebuild our new home.

“My sister isn’t even here. So why even try to speak as if she’s still here?” Korg remained silent. I took a deep breath in before exhaling and spoke in a more optimistic manner (or at least tried to anyway. I just wanted this conversation to be done.)  “Now then, let’s hurry and beat this round before that little douchebag Noobmaster69 logs on.”

“Yeah. I still can’t believe he called me a dickhead.” Korg said as we continued to play our game long into the night and even until the next morning.

*1 year and 4 months after The Blip*

Today seemed so empty. Much more so than any other day because today should’ve been a day of remembrance, of birth, a milestone for Asgardian Gods. Today would’ve been (Y/n)’s birthday, but just any ordinary birthday.  Today she would’ve been 1500 years old.  The big 1500.

She could’ve participated on her first ever hunting party and claim a prized boar to be eaten at a feast worthy of Valhalla, music and dancers, and at the end of the night the very stars themselves would dance for her (all thanks to her powers).  But there will be no hunt, nor song in her name, for she was one of the many who Blipped away.

I did, however, ask Korg whenever he came up for our annual video game binge to bring up a cake that I knew (Y/n) would love.  She always had a weakness for sweet treats, especially when we first came to Earth after Loki tried to take the Tesseract.  Boy was that a wild time when she went on that sugar craze and Steve had to coax her down from it but she refused to surrender her candy to him.

“Hey Thor, Meek and I are here and we brought the cake like you asked of us.” Korg’s voice called out.

“Bring it in here my friends.” They came in and there it was.  A three layered chocolate cake with dipped chocolate strawberries.

“So Thor is this another one of your monthly big dessert binges?” asked Korg.

“Not for myself.” I answered as I went over and dug through the drawers until I found some old candles and put them on top of the cake.  “You know, today would’ve been (Y/n)’s 1500th birthday. A big milestone in Asgardian culture.”

“Really? Is 1000 not worthy?”

“It is but it’s the 1500th that’s even bigger. Compared to Earth I’d say it lines with one’s 16th birthday. Where Earth teens can drive legally and all that fun stuff, in Asgard, when a god turns 1500 they are honored to lead a hunting party to find and skewer a prized boar. To be eaten at a feast worthy of Valhalla itself. Oh I remember my 1500th birthday hunt so well, I made (Y/n) my lead scouter and she dreamed of the day of her birthday hunting party.”

“Oh I see. And your sister, she liked chocolate?”

“Probably one of the few things she loved about Earth. Oh Korg you should’ve seen it. The first time she tried chocolate, I thought her head was going to explode.”

“Thankfully it didn’t otherwise how can one function without a head?” Korg said.  I lit the candles up and stared at them for a bit before blowing them out in honor of my sister.

“Happy 1500th little sister. If only I could’ve done more.” I then blew them out in her stand before taking them off the cake.

“She would’ve been happy either way Thor. Hunting party or no hunting party, she would’ve loved it either way.”

“You speak as thought my sister is still here.”

“She is. In a way. Though she is not here physically, she is all around us. Being the goddess of the stars, it’s like she’s still watching over us every night. At least that’s what the Earthlings say about her in their stories, right?” I shook my head chuckling icily.

“I appreciate the words of comfort Korg, but we all know the real truth. She’s gone, and there’s no way of bringing her back. And it’s all my fault.”

“Thor—”

“Sorry Korg, guess I don’t feel much like Fortnite tonight, sorry.” I started to walk off but I grabbed (Y/n)’s cake and left my cabin.

It was now nightfall and I had been standing looking over the cliff’s and the sea ahead.  I was at the last piece of my sister’s cake and I looked up at the stars that didn’t seem to shine as brightly as they used to. My heart felt heavy and tears built into my eyes and I wept.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you little sister. For anyone. It’s all because of me. It’s my fault. It’s my fault!” I stayed there for the rest of the night weeping under the very stars my sister once made shine.

Time just went by in a blur.  In fact time was irrelevant to me.  Only when I needed supplies like more alcohol did I ever show my face to my people. Valkyrie was proving to be a better King than I, I mean how can a King rule his people when he couldn’t even protect them? Let alone his own sister?

I was just—drifting at this point.  The only times I felt even the slightest bit of joy was video game nights with Korg and Meek.  Life may continue on, but I will always be burdened with the weight of my greatest failure and nothing was ever going to get me out of it.

[darkurgetrash]

WIP Whenever Tag ✍️

Thanks for the tag @lemonsrosesandlavender!

... Lead Me Through the Dark preview, anyone?

Hehe, please enjoy some nice yummy angst from poor depressed Tavlyn Fairchild, following last chapter's… incident. I'm sure there's totally nothing wrong and she's completely fine. Under the cut!

& no pressure tags to @graysparrowao3 @commander-krios @dutifullylazybread @kimberbohwrites @weaveandwood ❤️

“Hells…”

Tav rolled onto her side, pulling her knees to her chest and burying her face deeper under the covers as she tried to escape the midday sun streaming through the arches of her and Rolan’s bedroom windows. She should get up, she knew she should get up, but…

She just wanted to sleep.

It had been days since the Talonite attack, and she knew in her logical mind that she should be feeling better by now, but it just didn’t matter. No matter the affirmations she spoke, the reassurances she received, or how she argued with herself, her mind refused to focus on anything but the memory of that night: the helplessness that jolted through her like fire as she watched herself burn the man she loved beyond anything in this world, the person who had given her everything, meant more than everything to her. Her Rolan. 

She could have killed him. 

On that night, after the Flaming Fist had finally intervened and the Talonites were dragged from the Vaults, she was immediately stricken with grief; the revelation of just how close she had come to destroying all chances at happiness hitting her worse than any spell ever could. Even as she’d held Rolan in her shaking arms, even as he’d smiled at her with such adoration and love, all she could think was… How? How could he look at her like that after what she’d done? How could he see her as anything but a threat to him, to his family, to the home he’d spent his whole life building? He’d held her and his siblings close, so utterly overjoyed, but she could only sob into his shoulder, clutching him with trembling fingers as the weight of what had just happened collapsed over her like a blanket of shadows.

Afterward, he’d helped her to her feet, comforted her as he always did. He’d prestidigitated her clean, knowing she was too tired to wash, and tucked her into bed. He’d climbed in beside her, planting sleepy kisses on her head as he drifted off, and she wondered how he could fall asleep at all – especially next to her. She’d stayed awake that whole night, tears staining her cheeks as she stared at her mind’s image of him in the darkness, eyes wide with fear as she fired flames at him; as she’d hurt him, she’d hurt him, she’d hurt him, she’d hurt him. 

He’d been scared of her, and he’d had every right to be. It was only because of him that she’d even been able to break free of the spell at all.

In the morning, she was still awake as Rolan got up from their bed and threw on his robes, scribbling a note while she feigned sleep, not wanting to worry him. After he left, she read it immediately, her heart lurching with dread. A small part of her feared it might be a letter of eviction, or that he was leaving to give them both some space—he was far too kind to simply kick her out. But it wasn’t that. It was just a note to let her know he’d gone to approach the Guild, recruiting members to protect the Tower while he mended its defences.

That was when the pang of guilt truly hit her for the first time. Their home was defenceless, and it was all because of her.

She’d cried into her pillow that morning until sleep finally took her. It held her for the whole day. Then the next. And the one after that. 

Every time she woke, she felt like she was living in a fog. Shadows pressed down on her with such force it made her ill, leaving the comfort of her covers only to offload her guts in the ensuite. Rolan doted on her all the while, caring for her with characteristically perfect precision, even as she could sense the slight disgust he felt every time he held her hair back or kissed her clammy skin. She knew he was worried—of course he was. She could tell by the way he fussed over every little detail: the scent of the essences that filled the room, the tightness of her blankets. But he remained sensible, repeatedly explaining that he was certain her sickness was just a normal fallout from the poison and the spell. His words were meant to reassure her, but she knew they were just as much for his own comfort. For his sake, she pretended to agree with him. 

Secretly, however, she knew what truly caused it—the very same thing that had made her bed a prison for the half-year before she’d reunited with Rolan. That same darkness, embedded so deep within her, that it had caused her to become frail and pathetic, just as it was doing now. It was a selfish darkness; one so all-encompassing that it blocked out all light. Even his.

Would she ever escape it?

[pinkiepiebones]

Hearth

written for the prompt "domesticity"

Count Dracula, Prince of Wallachia, Last of His Name, had a familiar. Most vampires did, one would suppose. Familiars are creatures that usually begin life as humans but become something, well, more than human (but still far, far less than a vampire, to be clear). Familiars are devoted to the vampire and do anything the vampire demands. They are somewhat like upright guard dogs, albeit with more refined housekeeping skills.

Count Dracula's familiar- Renfield, if it must have a name besides "Servant"- had been at his side for some forty years now. Or was it fifty? Neither of them really kept track; calendars are a tool of the mortals trying to make sense of their meager existences. But it had been a while to be sure. Count Dracula had time to make his expectations known to Renfield, and Renfield, to his credit, was doing a well enough job that the Count kept him around, even bringing him back to life a time or two (although, it could be assumed that the Count simply thought it less time consuming to raise Renfield from the clutches of death than go about finding a new familiar).

Oh, Renfield is dead right now.

Dracula had risen early, just after sunset, to the lovely aroma of fresh blood. He opened his coffin and stood, expecting his dog to be at his side, anxiously and excitedly awaiting commands. Instead he found bodies, which was alright, but not as good as having the blood pre-drained into a nice decanter and the bodies tidied away. He called for Renfield inside their mental link.

Nothing.

Dracula sighed and ate breakfast, then sought out his disappeared familiar via scent. Renfield typically smelled the same even after all this time: anxiety, shame, greed, freshly turned earth, chitin, and stale blood. Occasionally there were hints of lavender.

The Count found the crumpled body of his familiar in the study of their latest castle hideaway. Based on the blood on the walls and floor, and the stakes sticking in Renfield's chest, it seemed to Dracula as though a ragtag group of vampire hunters had mistaken Renfield for a vampire and died in their attempts to subdue him. The bodies nearer to my room, Dracula reckoned, those must have been the second unit tasked with destroying the coffin.

It was all amusing, really.

Dracula knelt and pulled the stakes from his familiar's cold and lifeless body. He scooped the familiar up in his arms; rigor had not yet set in so the body sagged like bag of anesthetised snakes. He took the body to the closest part of the castle with a fireplace. When they had first met, Renfield had commented on the fireplace. Called it 'cheerful' or something insipid like that.

Dracula dropped the corpse in front of the fireplace and got a fire going, then gathered some rugs and blankets and dropped them around Renfield's body. Dracula was being far, far too kind, he knew, but Renfield had done a downright decent job of keeping the hunters at bay, and he deserved to come back to life in the smallest bit of comfort.

Dracula readied himself to open his forearm and bleed his healing blood on the body on the floor when a thought crossed his mind.

.

The process of coming back to life sucks. It fucking sucks. There is no eloquent, flowery, verbose way to write this: being dead, and then not being dead, sucks shit.

Renfield's body shudders and snaps and jolts as whatever intangible bullshit that animates all living things worms itself back into the mesh of nerves and veins and meat that make, uniquely, Renfield. He blinks, blind for a bit as his eyes had experienced some slight decay in this latest momentary death. He gropes at his chest, fingers clumsily poking into the as of yet still mending holes left by the stakes. The first coherent thought that slithers across the expanse of reinvigorating neurons in his half-decayed brain is

"Fuck, I really liked this shirt."

As feeling and synapses mend, Renfield attempts to stand, but a firm set of claws on his shoulders weigh him down.

"Sit. You'll take a while to be back to your ...familiar self," Dracula says, chuckling at his sparkling wordplay. He drops a blanket on Renfield and Renfield struggled out of it like a newborn kitten, all limbs and no sense of equilibrium. Renfield sniffles, half to clear the blood from his rejuvenating sinuses and half to test if his sense of smell is back. He blinks again, now able to discern shapes and a few colours out of one eye.

"Did ... did you cook, Master?"

Dracula is damn near giddy as he sets a tray between Renfield and the hearth. "It's been so long since I've cooked food," he sighs happily, "and I no longer have a sense of taste for the stuff, as you know, but-" He smiles just out of Renfield's view. "You did a good job, Renfield. So I wanted to do something."

He halts before 'for you' can slip put and fuck up their master/servant dynamic.

Renfield's bloody fingers grope at his throat to make sure, yes, my esophagus is intact, and he digs in to the meal as quickly as a halfway repaired familiar can. He makes a little noise that confuses the count.

"Oh, Master, this is splendid! I can't taste so good right now, but I can feel the warmth of it! Master, you are far too kind to a wretch like me."

Dracula beams just beyond Renfield's scope of vision. "It is a dish called paprika hendl, servant. An old favourite. I ate well tonight, and now you must, too. To speed up the healing process."

Count Dracula considers his options.

He sits down beside his familiar and basks in the sun-like warmth of the fire with him.

[countrymusiclover]

100 - Not Little Girls Anymore

Part 101

Gemini Runaway

@icefrye19 @secretdreamlandmentality

Stomping around in the woods I clutched my hands into fists at my sides feeling anger boiling in my body. The wind blew my hair in my face before I just lost it. Throwing my hands out in front of me breaking the bark off trees into tiny pieces that were almost too small to see. “Universa ruina I tenebras ra damis infinitum..dissulta.”

Raising my hands up again the trees smashed again and the wind began picking up. Gripping my hair tightly in my fingers I heard someone coming up to me where I spun on my feet showing my fangs at whoever it was. “Get the hell out of here unless you’re looking for a fight!”

“Raelyn, Woah hey don’t bite my head off. It’s just me.” The figure stepped out from behind one of the trees that I had destroyed where I saw Cami with her hands raised in the air.

The veins underneath my eyes slowly went away when I slumped my shoulders calming down at the sight of her. “Cami, what are you doing out here?” She had moved back here about two years ago so she could work at one of the bars here like she did when she was human.

“Freya called me and told me that you’re brother, Hayley and Andrea are missing. If you want me to help track them I can. But I am also here and I can provide some booze and an ear for listening.” She claps her hands together with a weak smile.

Blinking through some tears I pushed my hands inside the pocket of my jacket. “I’d say booze after I get to rip whoever took my brother from me!…..but right now I…I need a hug. Jacob and I have never been apart like this since he came back from the dead.”

“Come here, Rae.” Cami opens her arms for me where I collapsed against her, beginning to sob in terror that someone might hurt them. “Hey ever since I have met you and your brother even when he was just a siphon witch there is nothing that stopped him from fighting back.”

Holding tightly onto her shirt in my fingers I croaked through some more tears. “I just don’t want to lose him, Cami. He’s…he’s still my brother…my twin brother.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me ever. I would give anything to have my own twin brother back in my life. All you should know is that I am here for you always.” She broke the hug holding my forearms seeing that some tears were falling down my face.

Sucking in a breath I felt my phone go off when I read a text from Freya that said people were gathering at the compound asking about Henry the newly turned hybrid. “Thanks Cami…oh Freya says there’s trouble at the compound. Someone wants Henry out of town.” She grasped my hand in mine and we vamped into the main entrance of the compound where I saw Vincent where I immediately got angry again.

“Raelyn Mikaelson, I thought we had an understanding about you and your children staying in this city. And now I have to deal with one of them making a hybrid. I’ll throw you out of-“

Raising my hand I shut him up with a silent spell stomping up to the witch who thought he could do anything to me. “Silencio, at first I thought you were helping us but you’re not. The truth is now that I look at you, you really just wanted them gone. You wanted my family torn apart!”

“Of course I did. This city was in danger and now it isn’t because I put the Hollow into the Mikaelson’s. You asked for my help to save your daughters and your niece so that is what I have done.” He somehow undid the spell I had used throwing me against the wall where I growled about to charge at him.

Cami vamped in between Vincent and I before I could hurt him. “Wait, wait, wait. Just stop for a second here. Okay Raelyn just wants her family back together. Can’t we find a way to bring them back and not destroy the city?”

“Cami, you can’t be serious now. When you were human Klaus compelled you without a thought, you nearly died multiple times. And then you became a vampire after Klaus’s ex forced Raelyn to turn you. So I don’t understand what makes you still be friends with this family. They only care about the ones who they share blood with!” Vincent raised his hands up in the air rolling his eyes at the former human.

Pushing around Cami I grabbed his shoulders about to throw him until I saw Jackson and a wolf from Hayley’s pack coming into the compound. “Now isn’t a good time Jackson!”

“I’m not here for my mother’s request. The wolves have been saying they want the Mikaelson’s back in this city. Lisina, tell her.” Jackson put a hand on the black woman.

She stepped forward giving me a half smile. “Hayley convinced us all that you were a good person before you gave us your blood to become hybrids. And we have been told about this wedding between your daughter and Jackson. So we will fight to make that happen. Because you made our suffering stop every full moon.”

“Thank you, Lisina. I appreciate the support.” Taking her hands in mine I smiled back until I saw some rain outside turning red like blood which couldn’t be good. “Uh, there’s something I have to take care of first. So you all should go home before the storm comes in.”

“You told him to come back, didn't you? Oh there’s gonna be trouble people.” Vincent began running out of the compound in a panic.

Vamping upstairs into the alcohol parlor I covered my mouth with my hands instantly crying happy tears by who was standing in front of me. “Oh my gosh, Nik!” He smiled in my direction with his hands in the pockets of his jacket leaning against the wall.

“Hello Raelyn.” He smirked through some tears of his own before he vamped forward and I did the same until we met in the middle. Jumping up I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

He wrapped his arms around my back where his blue eyes focused on mine and didn’t break away ever. “Please tell me I’m not dreaming right now. That you really are here after all this time.” I shuttered almost not believing that I could physically feel him underneath my fingers.

“You’re not dreaming, Rae. I’m here….I’m right here and I am not going anywhere until we reunite our family.” He rested his forehead against mine where our breathing picked up. I gripped his jacket in my nails leaning forward finally kissing him after five years.

My heart races even though it no longer has to beat to keep me alive. My hands go around his neck as he pulls my face closer to his, his lips inches from mine. "I tried to forget the desires but I can't Nik. I can’t live my immortal life without you. You are my life, Klaus always and forever." I brush my hand through his hair before he vamped my back against the wall trapping me there.

I part my lips nodding my head slowly before his lips gently leave kisses on my neck. I gripped his hair in my hands moaning when he hit my sweet spot. And he moved his hands upward cupping my face in his hands kissing me deeply. “You are my life too, Raelyn. I have spent a thousand years on this earth but these five years without you has been the worst torture of my existence.”

“Vincent ruined us…he ruined our family that we had. And I….I want to make him pay. I -“ I cut myself short sniffling through tears until I moved my hands over his shoulders removing his jacket and tossing it across the room.

My arms moved to the hair on the back of his neck shuttering out a shaky breath feeling so much desire built up inside me wanting to come out. Nik moved his hands and started to remove my jacket, crashing his lips to mine like kissing me was what kept him alive. Once my jacket is gone he starts kissing me harder again, my hands gripping his locks seconds before we heard footsteps coming up the stairs causing us to separate partly from one another.

“Dad!” Missy hollered with Hope and Alina coming in seconds after in utter shock.

Klaus slowly moved away from me stomping up to our daughters. “Do you have any idea what you've done?”

“What are you talking about?” I raised a brow at him, shifting my gaze to our girls seeing that the anti magic bracelet I had put on them had been removed somehow even though I was confident that they couldn’t remove them. “What did you all do to get the bracelets off?”

Alina stepped forward clutching her hands into fists at her sides. “We found someone who could touch the bracelet and snap them. Jackson did it without a second thought because he actually cares about me mom.”

“I’m going to kill Jackson!” Klaus threatened under his breath until I sent him a glare knowing that he wanted to but then Mary would want war against our family.

Hope finally spoke up sitting down on the couch hitting her hands on her knees. “We knew it would take something big to bring you home.”

“So you had your little hybrid friend attack your cousin and her parents?” He scolded his first born daughter.

Hope rolled her eyes thinking that their plan was perfectly fine. “Henry just did the heavy lifting. And "attack" is a really strong word. They’re fine. In a really nice coffin, sleeping. Mom cloaked her in a sleeping spell for five years until I wrote a better one myself.”

Her father threw his head back grumbling. “Oh, well, in that case, I've never been prouder. Where are they!”

“You're just gonna go disappear again if we tell you ... .and then mom will cut our communication with you all together like she did for almost two years until we did something about it.” Alina snarled, crossing her arms over her chest glaring at me.

Nik ran a hand over his face seeing some flowers by the window that had bloomed were now dead. “Alina, you are in danger when we're in proximity. I know you feel that. The dark magic inside us manifests itself in ugly ways. We could be putting others in danger, too. The whole city.”

“I don't care! You’re our father and we deserve to have you in our lives no matter what it takes.” Alina stomps up to him glaring up at him with her head tilting upright slightly.

He flashed his werewolf eyes at his second daughter. “This is not a debate, Alina!”

“Dad, we missed you. And while you have been gone all mom has done is keep secrets from us. Alina is supposed to marry Jackson and leave….she wants to split us up!” Missy starts crying, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

Shaking my head at them I spun on my feet gripping my locks in my fingers. “I had a hard enough time grounding you all before. And if your were anyone else who kidnapped my brother I would tear you in half. But I can’t do that because you're my kids ... .our children and yet I need to spill blood!” The vampire veins and fangs appeared when I whipped my head around towards our daughters.

“You are making it harder for me to not trap you in our room for the next few days and make love to you over and over again.” Klaus smirked at me with a small crooked smile, slumping his shoulders and running a hand through his hair. “The little girls I knew would never have dreamed up a scheme like this.”

Hope got to her feet, throwing her hands upwards. “Well, sorry to disappoint you. But that little girl hadn't read your memoirs. You compelled Cami O'Connell to write your story. About a guy who used to put his family members in coffins and use them as leverage.”

“So you've studied my old tricks. Did you learn this one?” He bent his head down slightly smirking before he was standing in front of Hope and he grabbed her head seeing the three coffins inside the attic of the old church. “She's at St. Anne's.”

Hope shoved him away from her sniffing through angry tears. “Get out of my head!”

“You could die. Just by standing here, I could be destroying you. I'll ask your mother to take it easy on you. Okay? Good-bye, girls.” Klaus threw his hands out in front of him. He glanced from me and back to his daughters with some tears.

“We know some tricks too, daddy.” Missy raised her hand shutting the door in his face before he could vamp away. Grabbing my husband's hand I dragged him out of the room and into ours, locking the door behind us knowing we needed to talk things through. Because a Mikaelson reunion was never easy.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[its-queen-panda-bear]

loneliness

Fandoms: Resident Evil

Ship: Chreon (Leon/Chris)

Word count: 1,837

Warnings: Major character death

Summary: After a mission goes wrong, Leon dies and yet is forced to watch as the man he loves the most destroy himself

A/N: This probably has so many Grammer mistakes because I wrote the majority of it while grocery shopping and edited it at 4am while watching my friend stream RE8. So if you see any mistakes, kindly turn a blind eye and pretend it does not exist

You can also find this on Ao3!!!

Leon could see the way that Chris's armor was cracking.

He saw it in the way that Chris picked smoking back up after having quit nearly seven years ago. He saw it in the way that Chris started throwing himself into his work again, purposely piling on paperwork after paperwork so that he could keep himself busy. He saw it in the way Chris had stopped eating, except for a few bites whenever his hunger became impossible to ignore. He saw it in the way that Chris would reach out for him early in the morning when he first woke up. He saw it in the way that he would avoid looking at the side of the living room where Leon sat.

Chris was breaking and no one could see it. No one except Leon, who felt helpless watching it happen.

Chris had always been so strong. He had been the reason Leon had been able to go on for so long. Each time everything started to become too much and Leon felt like giving up, Chris had always been there to lift him up and give him encouragement to keep moving on and not let go.

It was because he couldn't let go that he was stuck here now, watching the man that he loved destroy himself.

He still remembered that cold February morning. Remembered the way snowflakes caught on his eyelashes as he watched Chris rip his jacket off and press it down over the giant wound on Leon's stomach. He remembered the way his blood tasted in his mouth, bitter and metallic. Chris had pressed so hard on his stomach, but Leon hadn't even felt it because his lower half already started to get numb by that point.

"Stay with me!" Chris shouted at him and Leon saw the tears threatening to spill down his face. Leon always hated seeing Chris cry. "Stay with me, goddammit!"

"C-Chris," Leon muttered out, his voice sounding so pathetic even to his own ears.

"Shh, it's okay. It's okay. I'll get you out of here. You hear me? Just hang on."

His voice sounded so panicked, so scared. Leon hated it. He'd never seen Chris so scared before. His arms felt too weak to move, but he managed to pick one of his hands up and curled his fingers over Chris's hand. "S' okay," he murmered with a horrible wet cough. "Go. You need to– to go."

Chris shook his head viscously, a few tears escaping and running down his cheek. "No. You're going to be fine. I'll–" he cut himself off to scream again into the comms, demanding for the rest of the team to come with a medkit.

"I love you. You're going to be alright. You'll be alright,"

He watched Chris swallow a thick lump down his throat as more and more tears came streaming down his face. "Don't. Don't talk like that. Don't you fucking dare give up on me, Leon!" Chris heaved in short breaths, trying to keep himself from sobbing so that he could stay focused. "I need you, Leon. Please... please hold on a little longer. For me."

Leon wanted to. God, did Leon want to hold on and stay with him, but he couldn't. He knew that and Chris knew it too. He reached a hand up to cup Chris's cheek, accidentally smearing his blood on him in the process. "Take care of yourself for me, Redfield."

Then he was gone with a last gasp of air leaving his lips, his eyes going blank and the hand on Chris's cheek slipping.

Chris clutched at his hand, screaming out in anguish, begging– pleading with him to don't do this, stay with me, don't leave! Please, please don't leave. Chris's heart was breaking, no, shattering into millions and billions of tiny pieces.

There was nothing to be done. Leon was well and truly gone.

Until he wasn't. Well...he was and wasn't. Caught in-between being and not being.

He never imagined that he would witness his own funeral.

He watched as Claire held a sobbing Sherry in her arms, rocking her back and forth while the blonde cried into her shoulder. He watched as Hunnigan went around shaking hands and thanking every person for coming and offered a hug to those who needed it. He watched as Chris politely refused one.

Nearly everyone Leon had known had showed up, except for a small few like Ada. Then again, he didn't expect her to. It had been a few years since they last spoken and her and Chris weren't on the best of terms since, well, forever.

His funeral seemed kind of boring, if you asked him. Claire had hired a priest for the funeral since his family had been Catholic. He rolled his eyes at that, and didn't miss the way Chris did too. Neither of them had been religious, but he supposed it helped gave more comfort to those in the crowd that was. Gave them the hope that he was in a better place. If only they knew he was right there beside them.

Chris stayed strong throughout the entire service. Leon couldn't decide if he was happy about that or not. He hated the thought of having to see Chris breakdown, but he hated the thought of Chris feeling like he couldn't breakdown even more. At least if he did, no one there would've blamed him. He would have his sister and all their friends there to hold him. But instead he stood solid like a statue, the only evidence of his grief being the slight quiver of his lips and tightening his fists when Claire went up to read his eulogy.

Then slowly, everyone started to leave one by one until it was just the Redfield siblings left. Claire stood by her brother's side, holding his hand in silence as they both stood in front of the urn that held Leon's ashes. Neither of them spoke and Leon felt his heart break in two watching them. It was Chris that eventually broke that silence as he picked up the urn and held it close to his chest, before turning around towards Claire. "Let's go home."

Leon had a feeling that he wasn't talking to Claire.

He followed them out into Claire's car and easily slid into the backseat while the siblings took the front, unaware of their extra passenger. Once again, the ride was silent. Claire paid attention to the road, while Chris stared absently out his window, his hands clutching tight onto the urn sitting in his lap. When they finally pulled up to the house, it was Claire, this time, that broke the silence. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” Chris answered, his voice sounding distant.

“I could stay with you for a few days.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know that, but–”

“Caire,” Chris cut her off, finally turning to look at her. There was a moment where they didn’t say anything, but then Chris reached out for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be fine. I just… I need to be alone right now.”

“You don’t have to be.” Claire said so softly to him, and Leon could see it in her eyes that her heart was aching for her brother.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

Then Chris got out of the car and Leon hugged Claire one last time before following him.

Chris placed him on the shelf above the fireplace in the living room. He didn’t cry then.

He then went over and set down a picture frame containing Leon’s favorite picture of them. It was on the day they got married in the courthouse. A wedding photographer was already there and had snapped a few pictures of them, free of charge. One of the pictures was Chris looking at Leon with hearts in his eyes while Leon wasn’t looking. Leon always loved the picture and immediately had it framed. That was the picture he had set beside his ashes.

Still, Chris didn’t cry.

He didn’t cry when he placed the flowers taken from the funeral bouquets into a vase and put it on the other side of Leon’s ashes. He didn’t cry when he placed Leon’s DSO dog tags over the urn, allowing them to hang off of it. He didn’t even cry when he set a glass down of Leon’s favorite brand of whiskey. No, he didn’t cry. He stood strong and brave as ever.

Until he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small golden ring with their wedding date engraved on the inside of the band. It was Leon’s.

Leon watched the way Chris looked down at the wedding band, a symbol of their love for each other. And that was the moment the strongest man he ever knew broke down crying. He watched helplessly as Chris fell to his knees on the floor, clutching desperately onto the ring in his hand as sobs wrecked out from his body. His tears seemed neverending as his whole body trembled and shook with grief. Leon felt his own tears wet his eyes and joined his husband on the floor and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, wishing– praying that he could take away all of his pain.

It was the first time Leon had ever seen Chris cry that hard before, but it wouldn’t be the last.

Claire would visit every couple of days. During her visits, she would clean around the house, force Chris to eat whatever she cooked for him, and try to get him to open up to her. He never would, yet she always still tried nevertheless. Though, with time, she started visiting less and less as work and life got in the way.

Over the next few months, Chris hid behind his armor, trying to remain strong and pretend that everything was alright. He would go through the motions of the day, but at night, when the rest of the world was asleep, all Chris could do was cry and all Leon could do was watch. Chris eventually would tire himself out to the point of exhaustion and fall into a restless sleep. Some nights he would sleep through the entire night, other times Leon would watch as Chris jolted away from a nightmare, covered in a thick layer of sweat with his eyes wide and panicked.

Leon hated this. Hated having to watch and not be able to do nothing about it. He couldn’t take away his husband’s pain, couldn’t be there to dry his tears and tell him that everything would be alright. He watched as Chris woke up every morning reaching for him only to be met with cold empty sheets; and Leon would watch as Chris’s hand phased through him each and every time.

They were two lonely souls, yearning for the other's touch. Yearning for something they could never have again.