#an angsty twist

[andie-chr]

Well. I said I was going to write a fanfic. I lied. Sorry. But instead, you all get this excerpt that I have pieced together for you.

warnings: breaking & entering, cursing, talk of drugs, weapons, guns, and basically all the angsty shit you can possibly think of. if you’re weakhearted (or just weak in general/lh) do yourself a favor and don’t click on this. you have been warned.

—

Bucky Barnes didn’t know what woke him. Maybe it was the sharp creak of the floorboard, or maybe it was the subtle hum of danger that had been drilled into him years ago, back when survival meant vigilance. Either way, the second he heard it, he was awake, sitting upright in the dark, reaching for the handgun under his pillow.

His cabin was supposed to be safe. Remote. Untouchable.

He rose silently, his movements fluid and deliberate. His feet muffled by socks didn’t make a sound as he stepped onto the cold, wooden floor. The house was silent, but the air felt wrong, thick with tension. Bucky's instincts prickled as he made his way to the kitchen, his grip on the gun firm.

A sound came from the living room—barely there, but enough.

He moved quickly, the gun raised as he rounded the corner.

Nothing.

The room was empty, the furniture untouched. His eyes swept over everything, but there was no sign of an intruder. Still, his chest tightened with unease. He backed up, every muscle tense, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

He turned to head back toward his bedroom—

“Hello there, music boyfriend.”

The voice and nickname was soft, familiar, but laced with venom.

The taser arrow hit his shoulder, sending volts of electricity tearing through his body. His knees hit the floor with a sickening thud, his vision blurring as pain wracked him. He managed to glimpse the shadowed figure stalking toward him before another arrow came. Right into the floorboards, missing his head by an inch.

“Get up,” came the snarl, raw and shaking. The voice was unmistakable. That tone was unmistakable.

“Clint?” he rasped, his voice rough, his mind scrambling to catch up.

Clint Barton stood over him, a bow in one hand, a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes tugging at his lips. He looked different—disheveled, wild, and raw in a way Bucky had never seen before. He was drunk, definitely. His eyes were bloodshot, he had been crying. He gripped the bow so hard he could see the tendons. He was angry. As well as armed and extremely dangerous.

That smirked dropped, and Clint surged forward — landing a brutal kick on Bucky’s rips. Usually Bucky would’ve been able to spring into action by now. But he was half asleep, had been knocked off his game and the idea of fighting back or running away from Clint seemed insane.

In seconds, Clint was on top of him, fist raining down sporadically. “Do you know what you took from me? Was it worth it?” His voice cracked and softened when he raised it, a reminder of what Bucky did. The metal arm around his throat, as he wheezed and tried to kick and eventually passed out. “HUH?! WAS IT WORTH IT?!”

“Clint—“

“You LIED to me!” The blond roared, punctuating his words with another punch to the face. He did. He told Clint the hallucinogenic drugs were just ibuprofen. He told his love to sleep in, and that he was probably fine and it was just a cold when he experienced the side effects.

“I did.” Bucky’s voice strained but nodded nonetheless. The words weren’t questions, they were accusations. And Bucky had to own up to them.

“YOU DRUGGED ME.”

The darker-haired male flinched, trying to open his mouth but Clint him again and again and again. But Clint’s words weren’t questions, just mere statements. “I did,” Bucky said, nodding. He did lie to Clint and told him that he was fine. He did drug Clint, within an inch of his rational thinking. He played along with the delusions, he made a dire choice. He guided him to his bedroom, choked him with his metal hand, partially permanently damaged his vocal cords.

“YOU TOLD ME YOU LOVED ME!” Clint’s voice cracked, as if he couldn’t fathom the betrayal and already expected it at the same time.

“I DO!” Bucky yelled, the words ripping out of him before he could stop them.

Clint froze, just for a second, before he shoving the other man back down and scrambled to his feet, grabbing another arrow from his quiver.

“Clint, listen to me,” Bucky said, his voice softer now, pleading. He tried to sit up, but Clint shoved him back down with a foot to his chest.

“Shut up!” Clint yelled, his voice cracking. Quickly he wound the bow, and this arrow wasn’t a taser—it was sharp, deadly, and soon it was aimed squarely at Bucky’s face.

“Nobody would know,” Clint said, his voice trembling with rage and something else—something broken. “Nobody would care. I should kill you right here. After what you did to me, you deserve it.”

He was right. Bucky didn’t even hate to admit it. Clint was right. Bucky took away something that was very valuable and Clint feels betrayed. He’s looking for someone to blame to cope, and Bucky just happens to be in the closest circumstances to do it. It’s easy to paint him as the villain, it’s even easier to kill him because of it.

The guitarist stayed on the floor, his hands raised in surrender, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. “Do it then,” Bucky said quietly, his voice steady. “If that’s what you think I deserve.” I don’t mind dying if it’s by your hands. But Bucky didn’t say it. Not verbally.

Clint’s hands shook, his grip on the bow unsteady. He looked at Bucky, really looked at him, and his breath hitched. He couldn’t do it. They both knew he couldn’t.

With a guttural cry, He threw the bow across the room with a clatter and stumbled back, sliding down the wall until he sat, legs sprawled out in front of him and his face in his hands. Soon, he raises his head up, looking at Bucky as if the other man broke his entire world. And yeah, he did.

“You were right,” Is all he says after moments of silence, his eyes dazing in the weird way they do. When Clint has to say something distressing or admit something, or have a tough conversation — he always just goes blank. Removes the Clint from the conversation and just leaves the Barton. The annoying, stuck up, golden boy singer and actor who mostly agrees with everything. No matter how absurd it is. “You were right, Bucky. They made me announce my retirement. They just put me in one of my old buildings with Lucky and…left me there. You told me they would, you told me—“

He pauses, heaving but he still manages to get the words out. “You told me, in the hotel — that you were trying to save me. That you had to. I didn’t believe you, Bucky. It took this,” The blonde points to his throat. “To make me see that they didn’t love me.”

“Not like I did.” Bucky says, voice soft.

“Not like Nat did. Not like Kate does.”

The names hang in the air, and the long-haired man says and picks himself up from the floor to lean against the wall. Clint’s crying even more, knees pressed against his chest as he just says “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you so fucking much.” over and over again.

“I know you do.” Bucky tells him, and the blond perks up. “I knew you’d hate me. You’re probably going to hate me for a very long time. You won’t wanna speak to me, you’ll wanna hurt me, hell — you’ll want me dead.”

Clint laughs, a quiet bitter laugh that sounds more like a scoff. “If you knew I’d hate you, then why do it?”

“I’d rather you’d hate me and be alive than you be dead and still love me.” Bucky admitted, lowly. “I didn’t have that chance with Natalia, but I have that chance with you. I’ll be damned if you end up just like her.”

Natalia Alianovna Romanova, but to her fans, she was known as Natasha Romanoff. Casted in movies when she was as little as 13, worked her way up to being in her early thirties and still being casted and still being asked to sing and still being considered one of the most beautiful women in the industry. She had died recently, or so everyone was told. Including Bucky. She taught me what it was like to be human, to feel human again. They had an on-and-off relationship, but before her death, they had decided maybe it was better being friends.

They had used each other like a bandaid, the only “sexual tension” was just loneliness and wanting to forget. Same with Clint, at first. But it blossomed, and it grew and grew and turned into this. There’s a very thin line between love and hate, and they’re strangling each other with it.

“I’m not here to cry about it.” Clint says, eyes sharpened. It was said like a mantra. “I need your help. Natasha’s alive.”

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“I know where she is.” Clint’s voice was steady now, determined. “She faked her death, did you know?”

Bucky’s chest tightened, memories of Natalia flashing in his mind. Her laugh, her sharp wit, her quiet strength. He thought she was gone forever. He was sure of it. He shook his head.

“Took her voice away so they couldn’t use her anymore. Just disappeared. But I found her. And I’m going to bring her back because we need her.” Clint said, his eyes locking with Bucky’s. “We need to take them down, all of them. Every single one of those bastards. I want them in a fucking morgue. But I can’t do it alone.”

Bucky looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the cracks in the man who had once been so vibrant, so full of life. He saw the desperation, the plea beneath the anger.

This was the man he would fight in wars for, topple mountains for, worth everything in the world and more. He was worth Bucky’s very life.

“Are you going to—“

“Anything.” Bucky said, almost instantly. For a moment, Clint just looked at him before a slight giggle came out. The blond would never admit it but it was most definitely a giggle. Which seemed so out of place, since he was just threatening Bucky’s life 20 minutes ago.

Clint’s shoulders sagged with relief, but his eyes were still stormy, filled with a mixture of hope and pain.

“Good,” The archer said softly, his voice tinged with desperation. “Because if we don’t end this, I don’t think I’ll survive much longer.” Who could? Despite everyone’s belief, Clint very much believed in the idea of revenge or justice. It would break him, knowing the people who tortured him got away. Of course, Bucky wanted them dead too — but a large portion of him accepted that maybe that couldn’t happen.

Well, until Clint showed up knocking on the front door of his life. Walked in like he owned the place, with no intention of leaving.

“I wanna burn that place to the goddamn ground,” The singer says, his voice low and rough.

“Then let’s get you the matches to do it.” Bucky responds.

—

WHEW! it took me way too long to post this, but surprise no surprise, i did! you can expect a lot more winterhawk content, mainly because i have realized how much of a gem this ship is and how i can play with it. if you want more content like this, you can reblog or comment telling me all you thoughts! see ya!

— andy.

Hey. So like, winterhawk, right? Winterhawk. But; they’re both in the fame industry. Both, not by choice — at least, not anymore. Bucky is an actor and a musician, Clint is an actor and a singer. Their managers force them to do a show together. They do not like each other. While Clint is singing, Bucky starts playing the electric guitar loudly. It turns into a battle of who can be the loudest while the audience is going crazy. People post it on social media, shipping them. Their managers form a contract and force them to start fake dating each other. They share hotel rooms and are in each other’s presence on a day to day basic. We get “who did this to you?” when one of their managers doesn’t treat them kindly. We get “That’s MY boyfriend.” when a fan flirts with one of them after a show. We get them trying to make the best of their situation. We get them calling each other by their last names but the night they’re honest; they call each other by their first names. Winterhawk, but fame fake dating.

Hear. Me. The. Fuck. Out.

[daily-trey]

why do i even bother....

Ko-fi | Shop

[tawnysoup]

I finally started posting my short original comic, Home in the Woods!

You can read it on [ Comicfury ] as it updates daily... Or buy a PDF of the whole thing on [ itch.io ] if you can't wait!

I'm planning to post the whole comic to tumblr once it finally finishes updating on comicfury, so don't worry about missing out <3 But I hope you check out the itchio and CF pages anyway as I worked hard to make them pretty! In the meantime, have a couple page previews to wet the (starving, starving, starving) appetite.

Home in the Woods is a short comic, just breaking double digits, but it's important to me as it helped me to process some recent rough life experiences. If you decide to read (and thank you so much if you do!), be warned that the comic contains the following CWs: Guns, blood, mild body horror, and violence against children.

[egophiliac]

innocently logging in to look at the Twst schedule for May like

[papicup]

I'll wait for your love

.

.

.

( come sit in my crying circle i'm already there)

[luxthestrange]

TWST Incorrect quotes#699 Adoption

Adopted!Yuu Being Crowley's assistant for NRC...

Adopted!Yuu*Not looking up from your phone, texting your adeuce duo* Hello, NRC

Crowley*on phone, panicked* Sweety, I got stabbed! Call ambulence-

Yuu suddenly hangs up, disinterested in the conversation. Next scene,You're is in Crowley's office as he presents you with a gift

Crowley: Happy Adoption Anniversary, Yuuyuu! I got you a little somethin'~

Adopted!Yuu: Is it a cure for Clinical Depression?

Crowley: I... Oh...

Adopted!Yuu*snatched the present and angrily slammed it on the floor*THEN, I DON'T WANT IT!

A large swarm of spiders suddenly emerges from the present box and swarm you up to your neck

Adopted!Yuu: UGHHH!

Crowley*suddenly hiding outside of the office window* I'm sorry! It was spiders!

Adopted!Yuu*annoyed, deadpan* Goddammit

Who should Adopted!Yuu...be crushing on and who is crushing on adopted yuu?...

[jovieinramshackle]

"Worthless."

tag list: @ramshacklerumble @thehollowwriter @summerspook @scint1llat3 @skriblee-ksk

@cyanide-latte @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @oya-oya-okay @viperbunnies @gimmeurmoneyagh @lallopsyou (lmk/dm if you wanna be added)

[oddberryshortcake]

Sebek’s signature spell being incredibly strong but incredibly painful as it literally hurts him after he uses it 👀

[etheries1015]

Falling deeply in love with Lilia, despite its one sided nature. It was in the way he stared longingly at old photos and spoke with hearts in his eyes as he talked about Meleanor, your chest tightening the longer he spoke in the ramshackle dorm of his past.

Then, at a moment of silence and when the mood seemed right, you foolishly tried to kiss him. Taken aback, Lilia pulled away and tilted his head with pitty furrowing his eyebrows.

"I..."he started, "I am sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I simply...cannot fall in love again."

Again.

Those words stuck in your side like a knife, and after he took his leave the tears that poured down your cheek stung like no other. As much as you could try and convince yourself perhaps if you had met sooner, he would have looked at you the same way he did as he spoke of the fae he loved. You still felt strongly of the fae, wondering if only with time...

Who were you kidding? You could never compare to a being such as Meleanor, and to believe that your love could ever be returned...

Utterly delusional.

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo getting hit with a truth curse but instead of forcing him to admit to super sad or worrying things it’s things like “it was me who broke the remote” “I saw Mikey prank Donnie and helped hide it because it’s way funnier if he didn’t know who it was” “I rip my clothes to look more like Raph’s because he’s really cool” “my stripes aren’t even red they’re pink!”

[mellosdrawings]

Content warning, please mind the tags.

"I would've given them to you if I only knew."

"I can't tell what I want anymore."

"Your wings don't fit on my back."

"Their weight is dragging me down."

"I've given you my pain yet I feel no joy."

"I've stolen your joy yet I feel only pain."

"What do I have to do to make it ll stop?"

"I can't tell what I want anymore."

[PREV] - [NEXT] - [MASTERLIST]

[sodapopper]

I enjoy a good Vietnam!Soda fic as much as the next angst-loving soul, and I will gobble up as many PTSD fics as you can throw at me. But with that in mind, I think they’re all wrong. 😂

I think Soda went to Vietnam fearless, bright and shining as the day he was born. None of this terror, or angst, shaking hands and teary eyes—I don’t think it ever really occurred to him that he might die. Soda, who never quite understood the seriousness of the world. Soda, who’d lost more loved ones in 16 years than some people do in a lifetime, but never lost his laughter. I think he read the draft notice and saw it as just another adventure—just another rumble, a thrill and a dance, a fight to one-up all his other buddies’ fights.

The day he left, he hugged his brothers tight. Slapped Darry on the shoulder, ruffled Pony’s hair, yelled “see ya soon!” before racing off across the airport tarmac. Duffel bag flung over his shoulder. Hair wild in the wind. Bright, beautiful, immortal.

He never fought in a single battle.

He died the day he landed, in the vehicle driving him to base, caught in a landmine the metal detectors should have found. He died with a joke on his lips. He died in seconds. That greaser boy from the East Side, who flunked in everything but mechanics and gym—doomed by the narrative, he never stood a chance.

But it’s alright. Because the real tragedy would have been if he lived.

Soda wasn’t meant to grow old, the way roses aren’t meant to live past summer. And he wasn’t meant to come home from a war that would have twisted him into something unrecognizable. Broken, a shell of his former glory, ruined beyond repair. A version of Soda that would never, ever be Soda again.

Death came before the war destroyed him. He never trembled in the trenches or slogged through jungle mud, never watched a buddy bleed out or saw his own bullet tear the soul from a body. He died before he knew what fear truly meant. He died young, still laughing, thinking about his brothers, believing in goodness, believing he would live forever.

Sodapop Curtis died golden.

[brownblob]

It's Only You

Sebek Zigvolt x GN!Reader

Synopsis: You'd never thought how difficult it could be to love someone without receiving affection back. The daunting realization of your unrequited love led you to leaving him. You never meant much anyways- you were always just there and he was sure you'd return. Time flew by as he waited for your return.

TW: Angst, mentions of death, depression, mentions of unhealthy relationships.

The pitter and patter of rain filled the silence enveloping the room. It was unusual for Sebek to be so silent for he was usually so boisterous, if not impulsive. Whether he was enraged, content, or glum, he was always loud- reckless. It was odd- this thick, suffocating silence that pierced through your skin. A shiver traveled down your spine, your lips forming a thin, straight line.

"Sebek, I said something."

You spoke up, as if offended by his lack of reaction. Never once was he so apathetic. You expected more, much more by an individual who was usually so reckless, so volatile. If not verbally than through expressions, you wanted a reaction- it was a given, you confusion, considering this side was something you'd never seen, no one had ever seen. Yet, there was no response merely a wide-eyed gaze he sent your way.

"If you won't respond then I guess the feeling's mutual."

You spoke up once more, irritation present in your words. A sigh left your lips, his olive gaze still fixed on you. It wasn't as if he didn't speak to spite you- no, it was quite the opposite. He was speechless. Everything was fine, nothing was out of place- both of you were alright, perfectly content together. Then why had you just said you wanted to end it? Was your relationship that meaningless? Did he mean nothing? Was your bond that fickle?

The rain continued to pour down as you packed, taking your things one by one. You presence vanished little by little leaving him alone- in solitude. He stood in the same spot as you removed yourself from his life- his home. His eyes were glassy, not that you noticed.

"Goodbye Sebek."

That was the last thing you said before leaving, suitcase in hand.

He came back to his senses, his voice returning to him as the door shut with a loud 'thud'. He called out your name several times, shouting at the top of his lungs. As if to mock him, the rain pattered against the windows even harder, silencing him. Without a thought he ran outside, his usually neat hair now wet and tousled. His eyes searched for you, his heart drumming inside his chest- his throat was raw from screaming, his vision blurry. His body was soaked, his tears camouflaging- becoming one with the drops of rain. His body shook, a shiver running down his back; it was now he realized that you had left. It wasn't a nightmare, nor a delusion, and it definitely wasn't a joke. This was reality.

Even if he found you, begged you to stay- your answer would remain the same. You were tired. You were sick of being a second option- no, a last resort. Someone or something always came before you. Whether it was his loyalty for Malleus or his affection for knighthood. You were never number one. Frankly, you had been alright with that, knowing your relationship with Sebek was fairly one-sided; you'd begged for his love, had you not? In his eyes you had. Not that he didn't care at all, but just not to the level you did. You were useful to him, always there when he needed you to be. Never once did you think of your own needs- neither did he. That was until you did. There was only so much you could ignore before you felt lonely- alone.

No matter how selfish it sounded, you wanted to bask in his affection. He was your spouse, wasn't he? He made vows to you, didn't he? He was your soulmate, was he not?

Then why were you ditched for his loyalty to Malleus? Then why had he made it clear that you could be replaced, Malleus couldn't? Then why were you never never first- not once?

Why didn't you mean anything to him, who meant everything to you?

Your love was unrequited, to an extent at least. You knew you had agreed to something of this sort upon falling for him- yet this daunting realization hurt more than you wanted it to. You wished for everything to go back to how it was- you wanted to be blind once more. You wanted to unsee this new vision, to go back to your old perception of reality.

You wanted to mend this broken relationship. As if you were a child who had just noticed that life was not, in fact, perfect you tried convincing yourself that it was. You were better off believing in the false perfection of the world- of your relationship. You didn't want to believe that he didn't care. You were not being neglected. You couldn't be.

You just had to communicate, that would fix everything.

You spoke up, he didn't listen. You spoke up once more, he had better things to do. You spoke up again and as expected, he couldn't care less.

It poured down as you spoke up for the last time, this time adding that you were simply leaving. His opinion didn't matter anymore- too many chances had been missed. You weren't a doormat, not any more.

You waited far too long for someone who wouldn't come around. That realization daunted upon him- he was guilty of a crime he wished he hadn't committed.

His body coiled up, quivering as his garments clung to his skin. He sat on the wet road, the sky darkening as the rain roared down. His eyes were fixed on the ground, shameless tears trickling down his face. If Malleus saw him like this- no, if anyone saw him in such a state, he wouldn't mind. He was confused to have such thoughts- he should mind, should he not? You were gone. It shouldn't affect him so much, not at all. What were you? A spouse, but only in name. Then why did his heart pang so loudly? Why was your sweet voice playing in his mind? Why was it now that he saw your pain? Why now, when it was far too late?

His life was different from there on. You had an affect on his life and took on such an important role, yet never realized - if you had, maybe you wouldn't have left. He wished both of you had remained blind, playing house forever- no matter how suffocating it got. Maybe then he wouldn't be so melancholic.

Days passed by.

His halls were empty, signifying his solitude. The little knick knacks you used to keep were gone, those stupid little hand-drawn doodles he used to find on random pieces of paper were all in the past. The times you cooked for him, no matter whether he he liked it or not- he missed it. The scent of your shampoo never lingered around the house anymore, neither did the sound of your sweet voice.

He would stand at the door everyday yet no one came to greet him once he returned home, neither did he have anyone to greet. No one played music that hurt his ears anymore- he never thought he'd miss that. He still made portions for two everyday, leave it on a plate only for the food to go stale. He still clung onto the last bit of hope that you would return- that he wouldn't have to be alone. Yet, everyday you proved him wrong.

Weeks passed by.

Was this how you felt? Was this how your heart ached? He wished he had listened to your rambles, that he'd paid attention to whatever stupid show you used to watch. Maybe if he had then he could watch those shows to remind himself of you- yet he didn't remember. He never thought he could cry so freely, never once had he been someone so sensitive. What else could he even do? There was no one to scold, to scorn at to scream at- he was rendered silent within these walls, isolation along with silence were his only resorts. He had lost his old self, grief took over his previously exuberant self. "He deserved it", he thought.

Your separation from him was his separation from himself. His memory of your was the only thing keeping him going. Every little thing you used to do reminding him of his mistakes, of what could have been. He'd underestimated your worth- he'd underestimated how irreplaceable you were.

Months passed by.

His previous priorities became second while you became number one. The only difference was that you weren't there to witness that. Wherever you were, away from him- you were happier. At least he hoped you were. His door was always open for you though, his heart too. Maybe if he'd cherished you, he wouldn't have lost you.

Despite all his lingering thoughts, he'd realized it was just "if's" now. There was no mending what he'd broken and there was no apologizing for what he did, not when you had clearly severed ties with him.

Was it illicit to hope you'd crawl back to him? That you'd beg him to take you back? It was wrong and he knew it but he couldn't help but delude in such thoughts despite knowing the only one who who'd beg for the other would be him, as of now. Though, he didn't mind begging if it meant you'd return. He knew he was being delusional- you'd never return. He knew that was the best for you, for if you did return- he wouldn't be able to let go no matter how difficult it got for you. He might've gone mad.

A decade passed by.

Years later he saw you, clinging onto another man as you pranced around at a store- one you used to speak of quite often as if urging him to take you. He never did.

As you and the unknown man walked inside the store he couldn't help but follow, silent as ever as he simply observed. He broke the moment he saw you picking a suit for the man beside you. You weren't his and maybe you never were.

He walked out of the store, his eyes stinging as he returned home. You weren't there waiting for him and no one ever would- he wouldn't replace you, not that he could. That would be another insult to your name.

He stood near the same window, on the exact spot where he watched you leave. Just like that day, it was pouring and the room was silent. He called out your name a few times, hoping you'd appear. Was he mad? Surely. Maybe he should drink again- doing so could help him hallucinate of you and if not, at least it would numb the pain.

He sighed as he sat down.

You were incomplete when with him while he was incomplete when without. You meant more than he had previously thought, so much so that it was only you he wanted to live for and with. If that was impossible, why live at all?

Note: If you enjoyed this, please interact with this post, my blog, and reblog! Any kind gestures are greatly appreciated! Thank you!

Note 2: I hope Sebek wasn't too fanon/off, I just really wanted to explore a different side.

Note 3: Any unhealthy behavior depicted in this fic is not condoned nor encouraged by me. If you are facing any mental/physical abuse, please seek help immediately!

[egophiliac]

OMG EGO HAVE YOU SEEN THE BOOK 7 CATER CARD YET

80s britpunk Cater is such an incredible direction to take. his Sid Vicious jacket! his little british police cap! I wouldn't have anticipated that going full-on Sex Pistols would be his alternate self but it is SO fitting actually. 😭

(also th-the crown symbol?! the gavel?! is housewarden Cater real because I will TRANSCEND --)

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Prompt 7 with Malleus? And the reader as the ghost? 😳

Visions of the Past; Malleus Draconia

Content; Gender-neutral reader, hurt/comfort, pining left unresolved

Content Warning; Reader death (not heavily described)

Word Count; 700+

Please do not put my work into AI. If you would like to see more of my work check out my masterlist!

Time heals all wounds. But Malleus knew that wasn’t true. Yes, time may heal physical wounds, although not always perfectly, but it no longer weeps or festers. Whereas emotional wounds, such as trauma, grief, and anger do not fade or heal in the same manner as a cut would.

Malleus was standing outside the entrance of Ramshackle, once his nightly walking grounds turned to the home of the first person that befriended him for him. The first person who didn’t know or care, even after finding out about his identity, that he was the Malleus Draconia. A magicless human who treated him as they did with others, but with a tad bit more ease, humour, and kindness since they were friends.

Were friends.

His heart knew though that you weren’t just friends. He had felt this emotion before to some extent with his passion for gargoyles, but they paled in comparison to you.

Your brightness. Your laugh. Your little mannerisms that most wouldn’t pay attention to, but he did. 

“Do you think we’ll still be friends when we’re older,” you mused while on one of your nightly walks with Malleus. Malleus furrowed his brow and looked at you quizzically, “Why wouldn’t we be? I have no intention of not being in your life.” You had stopped moving forward and Malleus came to a stop beside you. “Well, I don’t know. You’re a prince, future king, and you might get swapped in royal business and duties…” You pursed your lips, an unpleasant taste in your mouth. “And isn’t that more important?”  “Do you not like spending time with me?” Malleus’ voice was more sharp, on edge. “NO!” You shouted, the word echoing a bit in the quiet night. “I like spending time with you. I love it!” Malleus looked at you with confusion, and if he were looking at anyone else the way he had been in the past minute, they would have been grovelling, asking for forgiveness. But not you.  “Then why did you bring it up in the first place? Should there not be time, I will simply make it,” he said quietly. A small smile and chuckle replaced the irritated look of moments prior, “I will even make it ‘royal business’ as you put it.” You cough-laughed at his statement, but you only laughed harder when you looked at him to see a baffled expression.  Malleus chuckled lightly, joining your amusement, even though he didn’t understand what was so funny that had you tearing up. You let out a long sigh, recollecting yourself. “Well, I’ll be there then, promise.”

And you had held that promise. Despite both of your hectic lives, you both met at least twice a month. If neither of you had the time? Well, Malleus would just show up outside your place, like old times, and you would both go about the property. Sometimes talking away, and other times in silence, just happy to be next to each other again.

Malleus knew he liked you, loved you even — the way he felt more like himself when he was around you, and a tinge of jealousy made that distinction clear — and he was planning on asking you if you felt the same.

But he didn’t have the chance.

He would never have the chance.

He knew that he wouldn’t have many years with you, but he had planned that it was old age that took you away from him.

Ramshackle had not changed, but Malleus could still smell the scent of soot, even after all of these years. The foyer stopped, and Malleus looked into the gloom of the burnt ruins.

“ … do you remember our promise?”

He had been coming here, once a fortnight, asking the same question and hoping for an answer. Every time all he ever received was the sound of rotting wood and the scampering of mice.

He took in a breath and was ready to leave, to go back to his duties, but he stopped.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He couldn’t see you, but you were here. And that was all that mattered to Malleus. That although you may not physically be here anymore, he had not lost you.

Time may heal all wounds, but Malleus didn’t want this wound to heal. He didn’t want to lose you, not again.

. . .

. . .

A/N; Hope you enjoyed what I came up with for this combination! And *hands you an emotional dragon fae that misses you*

~~~~

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @bloomstruck @eynnwwyjth @keii-starz @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @syrenkitsune @the-v-lociraptor @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[stargirlo]

𝓜EET THE FUSHIGURO'S — ( 𝕿 ) OJI FUSHIGURO │ "dear babygirl, i'm sorry that your father is not active inside your world." (angst)

not everyone has such a perfect life, but not everyone has such a complex life. things aren't meant to go in a straight line, but things also aren't meant to be in a bumpy ride. everything felt like a maze, trying to find a way to escape this hell hole without any blocks or bumps coming into life — your life, toji's life. everyone has goals, everyone has dreams, everyone can achieve some of their goals and dreams, but some of them don't. and it's fucking hard to overcome that.

being in a relationship with toji fushiguro, ah, toji fushiguro. you aren't married to him but somehow you managed to birth out two beautiful children, first being a beautiful baby boy, megumi fushiguro. he's identical to toji, same hair, same facial features, everything looked alike between the two. in the next few years, a beautiful baby girl now came into the world, tsumiki fushiguro. personality wise, she's just like you, a kind-hearted soul, a sweet girl who should be held with care. you know those stickers that are added to packages when you buy something that can break easily; "fragile. handle with care." yeah, that's tsumiki, and you.

even if the family of four didn't have all the luxury, they say that it's the littlest things that can balm your shell.

remember how you used to be so fragile, so kind, and so, so sweet. well that wasn't permanent, and it was only temporary as soon as toji was on and off with family. you know he's working, but you don't know what or who he's working for or who he's even working with. even a man can have his own struggles; but what kind? gambling problems? drinking problems? pill-popping and spending problems? bad with money? only toji knows.

"mama when is daddy coming back?" "is daddy gonna come to my ninth birthday?" "are we gonna watch frozen with daddy?" "is daddy gonna help us with our timetables?"

those questions tire you because you don't know, you really don't. you wish you could explain where he's at, but with so little information and so little contact, you don't know where the fuck that man is.

until this one night where you left yourself and toji into shambles.

carefully leaving your bed in which tsumiki and megumi are currently sleeping in, you set yourself off to leave and relax on the living room. it took some time for the kids to sleep, it took more time for you to even sleep despite having to wake up early for work tomorrow.

not until the jangling keys were hear through the front door, and the loud creak audibly heard across the hallway and onto the living room. he's here. you looked across the room just to make sure it was him, even though you know it is him because he's the only one that has a spare apartment key to his own place. or rather your place now.

"the fucking nerve," you grumble under your breath, a vein almost popping out of your skin. getting up from the couch you came up to him, the reeking scent of alcohol lingered just two feet away from you. the musky scent of sweat and dirt combined with such a foul smell that made your whole face twist and scrunch. eye bags were visible, hair disheveled and greasy, lips chapped, breath probably smelling horrible, and clothes needing to be washed asap. he's a fucking mess.

"mm- what? 'm home..." he spoke lowly, scratching his head as he always kept up his nonchalant nature. one of his hands held a medium sized plastic bag, hanging lazily between his fingers. "yeah no shit." you said sternly, arms crossing in disbelief as your eyes followed all over him like he was some sort of homeless person. "what's up with you? why're mad, babe..?" he cocked a brow, energy low and definitely not in the mood to hear your constant babbling.

you scoffed. what is up with you anyway? is he fucking with you? "what's up with me is that you didn't come home in almost about a month. you look like a fucking mess and you smell like absolute shit." now the jet black haired man knew that shit was getting serious, the way you're just talking to him like that, and the way you're saying that he smells like shit. he needs to tighten up because your points are right about him. "what a nice way to welcome me back, thought i was expecting a kiss or sumn'–"

"are you kidding me, toji? showing up at midnight and acting all nonchalant and shit. you don't understand how fucking worried i was for you? even the kids were asking me about you, keeping them on their toes everyday without any news from you and praying that you'll be okay. do you understand what you are fucking putting me through just now? work was the only thing being up my ass and now there are multiple other things that i have in my hands and in my care." you rasped, eyebrows pinching together as frustration slowly seeped into your nerves, holding back the urge to lash at him. "instead of you, the man of the house, having all the courage to take care of its family, you fucking destroy it. fucking us all up." your hands ball into fists, the whole scene turning into a tense argument.

"you should've been teaching megumi his timetables, or maybe watching frozen with tsumiki. you missed out on my baby girl's birthday, she just turned nine and i could tell that her birthday wish was for you to come back." slowly, your voice started to crack, salty tears welling up your dropping eyes. "and what have you been doing during those times where i've worked my ass off overtime at a fucking convenient store? huh? i'm so tired, toji, and i bet you are too. but the way you're just unexpectedly showing up when you're the reason you've put me at my lowest is fucking unacceptable." you spat, a streak of tear running down your cheek. toji exhales deeply, knowing how you feel and it was actually his fault that you turned out this way. guilt and frustration washes through him, not having any other excuse about his absence.

"look, the point is that 'm here now. and i promise that i won't leave without letting you know, i promise i'll build a connection with our kids–" and then again, you interrupted his promises. "promise? hah– you? promising something that you'll do again? make up your fucking mind, toji. you broke our promises, you said that you'll marry me someday; that's a fucking lie. you said you'll get payed more and pay off our bills; that's also a fucking lie because you're using that shit to buy rum and gamble out the money that could save our life. look at you, fucking pathetic. you're embarrassing yourself at this point because i know what your true intentions are, toji. are you still popping pills to keep yourself at your feet? did you fuck whores at a brothel while you're at it?" those bitter and heartless words have left toji in shock, of course it has, you know him well and clear — like he was an open book to you.

"did you buy tsumiki the barbie doll that she asked for a few months ago? or did you gamble that money?" you asked, tilting your head slightly as your expression was evident that you were not buying this. "because i know for sure that i was counting pennies at the grocery store to buy that fucking toy for tsumiki–" you spat, holding back from having a psychotic episode before toji's gruff voice interrupted you now. "don't speak like that if you're going to mention our daughter." he gives off a warning, but you could only scoff at disbelief at it, why's he all of a sudden caring so much? "our daughter? no no no, you barely did shit for her and now you're trying to be on your goody-two-shoes to act like you care about our daughter? where were you when i gave birth to her, huh? where were you when i gave birth to megumi?" your voice echoed through the hallway, the argument getting louder that the kids would probably hear it.

"megumi, why's mommy yelling?" tsumiki asked in a hoarse voice, waking up to the ruckus happening outside of the bedroom. megumi softly hushed the little girl, placing his hands that are slightly bigger than hers to her ears, muffling your shouts and derogatory words. "it's gonna be okay, she's just talking to daddy..." he murmured reassuringly, hiding the fact that he's on the edge of tearing up after finding out the truth about the absence of his father.

"you're acting like you did most of the work when you haven't been on my shoes." toji stated, his stomach twisting at the fact that you bought up the way he wasn't with you during labor. "because i did most of the work you dickhead! you barely didn't show up for your own family, for your own lover who was giving birth to your fucking kids! how would you think i was feeling during that time toji?! squeezing the nurses hand instead of yours while i was popping my ass off to give you two beautiful kids into this shitty life!" you shouted, already having a mental breakdown as more tears bubbled within your lower lashline. "you never open about yourself, you never show any ounce of affection ever since we had kids, you never did the bare minimum to show that you still love us! you're a fucking disappointment toji! you don't know nothing about taking care of things. waking up the kids? know nothing about that. teaching them basic human decency? know nothing about that. telling them to pray? know nothing about that. taking them to school? you know nothing about that." and that was the breaking point. the plastic bad dropped down to the floor as his calloused hands quickly loomed over to you to grab you at your shoulders.

"call me a disappointment one more time 'n see what fucking happens." he shook you like you were mentally ill, thinking that some sense would come to your mind. but could you let him get this physical with you? fuck no. "don't touch me you freak!" you squealed, hands that are smaller than his large ones grab his wrists as an attempt to pull away from his embrace. "can you take a second to understand what i've been going through?! jesus... haven't had a single moment to express myself for just a fucking minute." he grunts, the grip on your shoulders loosening up as he wasn't daring himself to even hurt you. no way.

"and what do you have to say to this, huh?! stop trying to figure out a useless excuse so that i could come back to you like nothing happened." you sniffled through your nose, soft hiccups eliciting through your slightly swollen lips. "please just hear me out–" toji exclaims, showing an ounce of vulnerability that he wasn't planning on expressing. "no! take your fucking shit and leave this goddamn place," you quickly push him away from your personal bubble, grasping the plastic bag and slamming it at his chest. "you're nothing but a fucking deadbeat who doesn't even deserve to be called a 'father'." and with that, he's standing by the front doorway, mentality absolutely destroyed as his face uttuerly grew pale. this was it. this was over.

"if you weren't raised in such a fucked up clan, maybe you shouldn't have been such a shit dad."

-

the aftermath of the argument left toji having a hole to his stomach. it was like daggers were digging deeper and deeper into his gut. what you yelled and screamed at him for was probably right, maybe he is a shit father; maybe he was born in a fucked up family and turned out this way. the plastic bag swung between his thick fingers, walking like a kicked puppy in the rain as he was lost in his thoughts.

a nearby trash can was visible along his way, now carelessly throwing away the bag and discarding it with the rest of the trash and pests that were there. what was in that bag anyway? take-out? alcohol? meds? no. they were two gifts that megumi and tsumiki were asking for a few months ago. a pretty blonde barbie doll in her pink little dress, and a few stacks of digimon cards. all of that went to waste.

meet the fushiguro's.

note: phewww, that was a lot. updating my masterlist tmrw. have a good night everyoneeeeeeeeee.

⠀( OWNED BY ) STARGIRLO.

do not plagiarize any of my works , translate them , or repost them anywhere around any other social media platform . thank you .