#and now I’m going to return it late and it will be a miracle if it’s any good

[why-the-heck-not]

makes a to do list. gets too stressed to start on it before it’s waaaaay to late (ohno!!)

[nyrasvoid]

The Cost of Duty

Gwayne Hightower x Fem!Reader

Summary: Gwayne Hightower, is summoned in Kingslanding during his wife’s first pregnancy. After giving birth to their son without him, she struggles to forgive Gwayne upon his return.

Warnings: lots of angst because our girl is alone but a good ending i guess ?

A/N: no use of Y/N and also included Daeron in the fanfic, he’s 7 yrs old and raised by Gwayne and his wife

- Word count: ≈2.9k

Your hand rests on your growing belly, feeling the subtle movements of your child. The babe is still small, just five moons along, but every tiny kick, is a reminder of the life growing inside you, a life you created with Gwayne. Yet, as the days pass, it feels like you are experiencing this miracle alone.

The door creaks open, and Gwayne steps inside, his expression tired as he pulls off his gloves. His face is lined with the exhaustion of someone who has been carrying the weight of Oldtown on his shoulders.

You watch him as he moves around the room, setting his things aside without a word. A part of you wants to let it go, to simply accept that he is busy, that he is doing his duty. But another part aches for his attention, for the warmth and closeness you once shared.

"Gwayne," you say, your voice soft.

He looks up, his eyes briefly meeting yours before he looks away again. "Yes, my love?"

You hesitate, trying to find the right words. "You've been so distant lately," you begin, trying to keep a calm tone. "I understand that your duties are important, but... I miss you. I miss us."

He sighs, rubbing his temple as he moves closer to you. "I know, my love. I know it has been difficult. But there is so much that needs my attention. With Father in King’s Landing, everything falls to me."

"But what about me?" you ask, your voice rising slightly. "What about our child? I need you, Gwayne. We need you."

He looks at you, with guilt in his eyes. "I am here now, am I not? I’m doing the best I can. But Oldtown... it doesn’t run itself."

You stand, unable to keep your frustration to yourself. "And what about me? Do I run myself too? I sit here every single day, waiting for you, hoping for just a moment of your time. But when you finally come, it’s like you’re not really here.”

You pause.

“You do not even look at me unless I speak to you first."

Gwayne steps back, as if putting distance between you would solve your problems. "I do not have the privilege of simply putting things aside, my dear. You knew this when we married."

"I didn’t know it would mean being ignored!" you snap, your hands trembling as you grip the skirts of your dress tightly.

He takes a deep breath. "I’m doing this for us, for our future. The child’s future. Can you not see that?"

Tears threaten to fall out your eyes, but you refuse to cry. "I just want my husband back," you whisper.

Gwayne’s face softens, and he reaches out to touch your arm, but you pull away before he can touch you. “My love-"

"Don’t," you say, "Just... don’t."

He watches you for a moment, but he says nothing more, only turning and leaving the room, the sound of the door closing behind him, leaving you alone again.

Days pass, and the tension between you two only grows. Gwayne is present, but his mind is always on his duties. You feel as if you’re growing further and further away from him.

One evening, after a long day, Gwayne finally sits down beside you as you take your evening meal. You’ve been silent for most of the day, and now the sight of him so close yet so distant is almost unbearable.

He clears his throat, breaking the silence. "I have received a raven from King’s Landing today," he begins.

"And?" You replied unphased, not even looking at him.

"Father has summoned me," he says, "He needs my presence to sort out some political matters."

You place your spoon down. "King’s Landing?" you repeat, disbelief in your words. "That’s so far... and I’m already five moons along, Gwayne."

"I know," he says, his voice low. "But I will be returning as soon as I can. I won’t let anything keep me from being here for the birth."

You shake your head, unable to believe what you’re hearing. "You don’t know that. What if something happens? What if you don’t make it back in time?"

"I will," he insists, reaching for your hand, but you pull it back.

"You’re not listening to me!" you raise your voice at him, your frustration taking over. "You’re choosing to leave. You’re choosing your father over me. Over us."

He frowns. "It’s not a choice, my dearest. It is a duty. My father needs me."

"And I need you," you sob, your voice breaking. "I can’t do this alone, Gwayne. I shouldn’t have to. You are my husband before anything else."

He reaches out again, but this time you stand, moving away from him. "Please," he begins, but you shake your head.

"Don’t ask me to understand," you say, "Because I don’t."

After a long moment of silence, you hear him rise from his seat. "I’m leaving in three days time," he says quietly, his voice filled with regret. "Please, try to rest.”

You say nothing, you hear the door close behind him, and you break down crying, once again, you are left alone.

The night before he’s supposed to leave, Gwayne comes to your shared chambers, his expression softer than it’s been in weeks. He moves to sit beside you on the bed, his hand resting on your knee.

"I know you’re angry with me," he begins, his voice gentle. "But I don’t want to leave on bad terms. I love you. You must know that."

You turn to face him, your emotions a mix of anger, sadness, and love. "If you loved me, you wouldn’t be leaving."

He looks surprised, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, his hand sliding up your nightgown. "Let me show you," he murmurs as he presses tender kisses down your collarbone.

But the anger and hurt are still too fresh. You place a hand on his chest, pushing him back firmly. "Not tonight, Gwayne."

He pulls back, surprise and hurt showing in his eyes. "My love..."

"I can’t," you say, "I’m still angry. I need...time."

He nods understandingly. "I am sorry," he whispers, pulling you into his arms despite your anger. "I am truly, so sorry."

You let him hold you, sobbing into his arms without saying a word.

Gwayne leaves at dawn, you watch from the window, your hand resting over your belly as he rides away. He turns once, looking back, but you don’t move. You don’t wave.

As the days turn into weeks, the loneliness only grows. Gwayne’s absence is a constant reminder of the growing distance between you. You try to busy yourself with tasks; embroidering blankets for the babe, reading, even taking long walks through the gardens. But nothing can fill the void he has left behind.

You spend time with Daeron, Gwayne’s youngest nephew, who has been staying in Oldtown under your and your husband’s care since he was born, and he had now seven years of age.

One afternoon, as the two of you sit beneath the shade of a large tree, Daeron looks up at you sadly.

You reach out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “What’s on your mind, sweetling?”

Daeron glances up at you, his blue eyes filled with a sadness. “Auntie… will you and Uncle Gwayne forget about me when the babe is born?”

The question catches you off guard. You shift closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into a gentle embrace. “Forget about you? Never, Daeron. Why would you think such a thing?”

He shrugs, trying to appear indifferent, but his voice trembles as he speaks. “Because the babe is your child. He’ll be important, and I’m just… I’m just your nephew.”

You tighten your hold on him, your heart breaking at the thought that he feels so insecure. “Daeron, listen to me,” you say softly. “You are not just our nephew. You’re as much a part of this family as the babe will be. Gwayne and I love you dearly, and nothing will ever change that.”

His eyes fill with tears. “But… he’ll be your real son. Won’t you love him more?”

You shake your head. “Of course not, sweetling. I will love both of you equally, just as if you were both my sons. I promise you that. You and the babe will grow up together, and I will raise you both as brothers. Nothing will change how much I care for you.”

Daeron’s lip trembles, and he finally allows himself to lean into your hug, resting his head against your shoulder. “You mean it? You won’t forget about me?”

You press a kiss to the top of his head. “I mean it, Daeron. You are very dear to me. The babe will be your little brother, and he will look up to you, just like you look up to Gwayne. I’m sure you’ll be the best big brother anyone could ask for.”

He sniffles but nods. “I will teach him all the things I know. How to ride a horse, and how to climb trees…”

“And how to be kind and brave, just like you,” you add with a smile.

Daeron smiles a little. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”

You hug him tighter. “I know you will, Daeron. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

He pulls back slightly, looking up at you with determination. “I’ll be the best big brother ever.”

You smile, ruffling his hair affectionately. “I’m sure you will be, my love. And the babe will be so lucky to have you as his brother.”

The boy’s expression softens as he looks at your belly. “Do you think he’ll be just like uncle Gwayne? Brave and strong?”

You hesitate for a moment, the thought of Gwayne filling your mind with sadness. “Perhaps,” you say gently.

Daeron nods, then his face brightens again as he looks up at you. “Can I help you pick out a name for him?”

Your smile widens at the offer. “Of course. Do you have any ideas?”

He thinks for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration. “What about Maelor? It’s a strong name, isn’t it?”

You tilt your head, considering the name. “Maelor…” you say slowly. “Yes, it is a strong name.”

Daeron smiles, clearly proud of himself. “I can’t wait to meet him, auntie. We’re going to have so much fun together.”

As the months drag on, you begin to feel your belly grow heavier each day. Letters from Gwayne arrive frequently, filled with words of love and concern, but you don’t care to answer them.

You feel alone, as the weeks turn into months and the baby gets more active. Every kick is a reminder that the time is running out and you can only hope that Gwayne comes back in time.

But as your belly grows, so too does your anxiety.

One evening, you feel a sharp pain. You clutch at your belly. It’s too soon, you think. Gwayne isn’t here. He promised he would be here.

The pain intensifies, and you know without a doubt that the babe is coming. Your maids rush to your side, their faces filled with worry as they help you to your bed. The midwives and the maester are summoned.

You grip the sheets, your knuckles turning white. “It’s too soon,” you gasp, tears streaming down your face. “Gwayne isn’t here… he isn’t here…”

The midwife shushes you gently, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Breathe, my lady. Focus on the baby. He’s eager to meet you.”

The labor is long, painful, and each moment is filled with fear.

At one point, you feel that you can’t go on, the pain too much to bear. “I can’t,” you cry out, “I can’t do this…”

“You can, my lady,” the midwife insists. “You’re strong. Your baby needs you.”

The room is full of faces, of whispers and encouragements, of hands holding yours as you push with all your strength.

Hours pass, and just when you think you have nothing left to give, you hear it. A loud cry that fills the room. The midwives wrap the tiny babe in soft blankets before placing him in your arms.

Tears stream down your face as you look down at your son cry. He’s perfect, you think.

“Maelor,” you whisper, “my sweet Maelor.”

Days pass, and the babe grows stronger, his cries filling the empty chambers that once were filled with silence. Daeron is overjoyed to meet his new brother.

“Can I hold him?” Daeron asks one afternoon, his eyes wide with excitement.

You smile, carefully placing Maelor in his small arms. “Support his head,” you instruct gently, watching as Daeron cradles the baby with surprising care.

“He’s so small,” Daeron whispers. “Will he be strong like uncle Gwayne?”

You nod, your heart filled with pride. “He will. But he’ll also have your kindness, Daeron. He’ll need you to show him how to be a good man.”

Daeron’s face lights up, and he nods eagerly. “I will. I promise.”

You watch as Daeron gently rocks Maleor, your heart warming at the sight. For a moment, the loneliness fades, replaced by the joy of watching your sons together.

But as the days turn into weeks, Geayne sends letters, each one more desperate than the last, asking about Lucerys, about you, about your health. But you can’t bring yourself to respond, the anger still too fresh.

Maelor grows, his tiny fists curling around your fingers, tugging at your hair, his eyes beginning to focus on your face. He’s beautiful, perfect in every single way, and yet every time you look at him, you’re reminded of Gwayne’s absence.

Two months pass before Gwayne finally returns. Word reaches you that he is only an hour away, but you remain in the nursery, rocking your son in your arms as you sit by the window.

Despite knowing Gwayne is coming home, you make no move to greet him at the gates.

Footsteps approach, and a moment later the door to the nursery swings open. Gwayne stands there, his eyes searching for you immediately. He takes a step inside, his gaze falling on you and the child in your arms. “My love…”

You do not look up, focusing instead on Maelor. Gwayne approaches you, dropping to his knees beside you. “Please, look at me. I am so sorry…”

You remain silent, unwilling to let your emotions show. Gwayne reaches out, placing his hand on top of yours. “I know I’ve hurt you. I never meant to be away for so long. I didn’t think it would be so… difficult.”

You glance up then, your eyes meeting his.

“I needed you,” you say quietly. “I went through the hardest moments of my life without you, Gwayne. And now… now you come back and expect everything to be as it was?”

“I do not expect that,” he says, “I know I’ve done wrong. And I can’t change what’s happened… but please, give me a chance to make it right. I want to be here for you, for our son.”

You look down at your son, your heart aching. “Maelor is already two months old,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “You’ve missed so much, Gwayne. His first smile, the way he grabs my finger when he’s hungry… you weren’t here.”

Gwayne’s breath hitches, and he finally touches Maelor’s tiny hand, his fingers trembling as they brush against the babe’s soft skin. “I know,” he whispers. “I am truly so sorry, my love. I’ve never regretted anything more in my life. Please… let me be here now. Let me be the father he deserves, the husband you deserve.”

“We’ll see,” you say quietly. “For now, all that matters is that Maelor is healthy and safe.” You pause and take a deep breath, “But… I want us to be a family, Gwayne. For Maelor and Daeron.”

Gwayne nods. “Thank you,” he whispers, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your son’s forehead. “Thank you for giving me a healthy son, my dear. I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life making this right.”

You watch as he cradles the babe in his arms, the sight filling you with joy.

PS: I know I have to start writing for other characters, I just love this man so much 😔 So just a reminder that my requests are open 🥰🥰

[its-avalon-08]

Hello, my favourite Lando Norris writer. Can I request something with Lando where Reader has a son from a previous toxic relationship and Lando thinks she's like hiding something from, like cheating but she confess everything and Lando becomes the dad that stepped up. 🫶

miracle family (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - neglected child, tears, comfort

Lando sat at his dining table, staring at his phone. It had been a few days since he last saw Y/N, and though they’d spoken, something felt… off. She’d been distant, always rushing through their calls, making excuses to cut their time short. He told himself he was imagining it, that she was just busy, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind wouldn't let it go.

He thought back to their last date. They had planned to spend the entire evening together, but halfway through dinner, Y/N had gotten a call. She stepped outside to take it, her expression unreadable, but when she returned, her mood had shifted. Her usual brightness had dulled, and she seemed distracted for the rest of the night.

"Sorry, Lando, just some work stuff," she had said with a quick smile when he asked about the call. He didn’t press further, not wanting to seem pushy, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Then there were the texts. Every time they were together, Y/N seemed to be checking her phone, typing quickly before locking the screen and setting it aside. She never let him see who she was messaging, and when he casually asked if everything was okay, she’d brush it off.

"Yeah, all good. Just a friend going through something," she had said once, her eyes darting away as if she couldn’t meet his gaze.

But the real moment that had started gnawing at him happened the previous weekend. Lando had invited Y/N to one of his races, excited to have her there with him. She’d always been supportive, her energy infectious, but this time, she’d been oddly quiet. When he asked if everything was alright, she just smiled tightly and said she was tired. But after the race, instead of joining him for drinks with the team, she had left abruptly.

"I’ve got to go, Lando. Something’s come up. I’ll explain later, okay?" Her voice had been apologetic, but her eyes… something about them seemed conflicted, like there was something she wasn’t telling him.

He didn’t know why, but in that moment, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was someone else. Was she hiding something from him? Maybe she was seeing someone behind his back, someone she wasn’t ready to tell him about. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her directly.

Instead, Lando had chosen to observe, watching her carefully over the next few weeks. The phone calls, the quick glances at her screen, the random moments of detachment—it all added up. But every time he was about to say something, the words got stuck in his throat. What if he was wrong? What if she wasn’t cheating, and he was just overthinking everything?

Yet the doubts remained. He found himself scrolling through their old texts late at night, trying to pinpoint when the change had started. He remembered how things used to be—how open and carefree Y/N had been with him. But lately, it felt like there was a wall between them, one she wasn’t letting him break through.

And then, there was that one time she came over to his apartment, looking tired and worn out. She had barely spoken, her eyes heavy with something she wouldn’t share. He had asked her if she wanted to talk, but she had only shaken her head.

"I’m fine, Lando. Just a lot going on."

"Is it work?" he had asked, gently pushing, hoping to understand what was weighing her down.

"It’s… complicated," she had murmured, avoiding his gaze.

Lando hadn’t said anything more that night, but the silence between them had been louder than any words could have been. He had held her close, but even then, she had felt far away.

Now, as he sat alone in his apartment, his mind spinning with unanswered questions, Lando couldn’t help but wonder: was Y/N hiding something from him? Or was it something bigger—something she was afraid to tell him?

Either way, he knew he couldn’t keep pretending everything was normal. Not when it felt like he was losing her, piece by piece.

time skip

Lando strolled through the supermarket aisles, humming softly to himself as he checked items off his shopping list. It was a rare day off, and he decided to take care of some errands. He rounded the corner into the cereal aisle when a small, energetic blur collided with his legs.

"Oh, sorry!" Lando exclaimed, looking down to see a young boy, probably around five years old, grinning up at him.

"It's okay, mister!" the boy chirped. "I was just trying to find the cereal with the marshmallows. Do you know where it is?"

Lando chuckled, kneeling down to the boy's level. "I think it’s a couple of shelves down. What's your name, buddy?"

"I'm Ethan!" the boy said proudly. "What's yours?"

"Lando. Nice to meet you, Ethan," Lando replied, ruffling the boy's hair.

Ethan's eyes widened with excitement. "Like the race car driver?"

Lando laughed. "Exactly like the race car driver."

Ethan's eyes sparkled with wonder. "Wow! My mummy loves race cars! She watches them all the time."

Lando smiled, charmed by the boy's enthusiasm. "Your mum has good taste. Speaking of which, where is she? Shouldn't she be keeping an eye on you?"

Ethan pointed towards the end of the aisle. "She's over there! Mummy! Mummy!"

Lando turned his head in the direction Ethan was pointing, his heart skipping a beat as he saw Y/N standing at the end of the aisle, a look of shock and surprise on her face. She quickly made her way over, her eyes wide with a mixture of emotions.

"Lan?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Y/N, uh baby," Lando replied, equally stunned. "I didn't know… I mean, Ethan is your…?"

Y/N nodded, kneeling down to scoop Ethan into her arms. "Yeah, ummm this is my son, Ethan."

Ethan beamed, oblivious to the tension in the air. "Mummy, this is Lando! He's the race car driver!"

Y/N managed a weak smile. "I know, sweetheart. Why don't you go pick out the cereal you wanted?"

Ethan nodded eagerly and ran off, leaving Lando and Y/N standing there, an awkward silence hanging between them.

"Why didn't you tell me, Y/N?" Lando asked softly, his eyes searching hers.

Lando stood frozen, Y/N’s words echoing in his mind.

“I have a son.”

The bustling supermarket seemed to fade into the background, the soft hum of conversations and the clinking of shopping carts drowned out by the weight of her confession. Y/N stood before him, her hands trembling slightly as she held onto the shopping basket, her eyes wide and filled with fear, as though she was bracing herself for his reaction.

Lando blinked, trying to process the information. “You… you have a son?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with disbelief.

Y/N nodded, biting her lip, and that was when her composure began to crack. Her eyes welled up, her breath hitching in her chest as the emotions she had tried so hard to suppress finally surfaced. "Lando, I didn’t know how to tell you. I was so scared you’d leave if you knew. I’ve been hiding it, and I’m so sorry. I—"

Her words choked off as tears streamed down her face. She dropped the basket, her hands covering her face as she sobbed, right there in the middle of the cereal aisle.

“I didn’t want you to think I was hiding it because I don’t trust you, it’s just… Ethan is my whole life. His father was—he was awful, and I didn’t know how to protect us. I’m so sorry, Lando, I should’ve told you sooner—”

But before she could finish, Lando was there, dropping everything as he closed the space between them. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her into his chest as her body shook with sobs.

“Hey, hey,” Lando whispered, his voice soft and soothing. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Y/N.”

Y/N clung to him, burying her face in his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt. "I'm so sorry," she cried, her words muffled against him. "I didn’t want to lose you. I was so scared."

Lando tightened his embrace, his hand gently stroking the back of her head. "You’re not losing me. You could never lose me."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at her tear-streaked face. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “I wish you’d told me earlier, but I get it. I get why you were scared. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. You and Ethan—you’re part of my life now. I want to be here for both of you.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide with disbelief and hope. "You really mean that?"

Lando nodded, his voice steady and full of conviction. "I do. I love you, and if Ethan’s a part of your life, then he’s a part of mine too."

Fresh tears filled her eyes, but this time they weren’t from fear or sadness. They were from relief, from the overwhelming realization that she wasn’t alone anymore. "Lando… I don’t even know what to say."

“You don’t have to say anything. Just… trust me, okay? We’ll figure this out together.” He pulled her back into his arms, holding her tightly as her breathing slowly steadied, her sobs turning into soft sniffles.

In that moment, surrounded by the quiet chaos of the supermarket, Lando knew that nothing else mattered. Not the people passing by, not the curious glances from other shoppers. All that mattered was Y/N and the promise he had made—to be there for her, to be there for Ethan, no matter what.

And as he held her, he realized that this was what love was about. Not just the good moments, but the hard ones too—the moments where you drop everything to be there for the person you love, no questions asked.

At that moment, Ethan came running back with a box of cereal, his face glowing with excitement. "I found it, Mummy! Look!"

Y/N and Lando both laughed, the tension dissipating as they turned their attention to the enthusiastic boy.

"Great choice, Ethan," Lando said, giving him a high-five. "How about we go check out and then grab some ice cream?"

Ethan's eyes lit up. "Yes, please!"

As they made their way to the checkout, Lando glanced at Y/N, his heart swelling with love and commitment. He knew that their journey together wouldn't always be easy, but he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. For Y/N, for Ethan, and for the family they were about to become.

--- extra scene p.s.a - abusive partner ----

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the park, Ethan ran ahead to the playground, his laughter filling the air. Lando and Y/N watched him for a moment, their hands intertwined as they sat on a nearby bench.

"He's really something," Lando said softly, a smile playing on his lips.

Y/N nodded, her eyes fixed on Ethan. "He is. He's my whole world."

Lando glanced at her, squeezing her hand gently. "Y/N, can we take a walk? There's something I want to talk to you about."

Y/N looked at him, a hint of worry in her eyes, but she nodded. "Sure, Lando."

They stood up and began to walk along the path that circled the playground, the sounds of children playing fading into the background.

"Y/N," Lando began hesitantly, "I want to understand more about Ethan's father. About what you went through. But only if you're ready to talk about it."

Y/N took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around Lando's. "It's… it's not easy to talk about. But you deserve to know."

She paused, collecting her thoughts as they walked. "Ethan's father, Mark, was… he was charming at first. But it didn't take long for his true colors to show. He was controlling, manipulative, and it only got worse over time."

Lando's grip on her hand tightened in silent support as she continued. "He would get angry over the smallest things, and his anger… it was terrifying. He hurt me, Lando. Physically, emotionally. I stayed because I thought I could change him, that things would get better. But they never did."

Y/N's voice broke, and she wiped away a tear that had escaped. "When I found out I was pregnant with Ethan, I knew I had to leave. I couldn't let him grow up in that environment. I was scared, but I knew it was the right thing to do."

Lando stopped walking, turning to face her. "Y/N, I can't even begin to imagine how hard that must have been for you. You're so strong."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face now. "I don't feel strong, Lando. I felt broken and alone. But I had to protect Ethan. I had to give him a chance at a better life."

Lando pulled her into a tight embrace, his own eyes glistening with tears. "You did the right thing. And you're not alone anymore. You have me, and I'll be here for both of you. Always."

Y/N sobbed against his chest, the weight of her past finally lifting as she felt the warmth of his love and support. "Thank you, Lando. Thank you for being here, for understanding."

He kissed the top of her head, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you, Y/N. And I love Ethan. We'll make this work, I promise."

They stood there for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the world around them fading away. When they finally pulled back, Lando gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Let's go back to Ethan," he said softly. "He's probably wondering where we went."

Y/N nodded, a small but genuine smile forming on her lips. "Yeah, let's go."

As they walked back to the playground, hand in hand, Y/N felt a sense of hope and peace that she hadn't felt in a long time. She knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but with Lando by her side, she was ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

[veala2]

“ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ꜱʜᴇɴᴀɴɪɢᴀɴꜱ.”

☀︎ luffy, zoro, sanji, ace, sabo. ☀︎

SYNOPSIS - Some mornings are the same, some change for the better or the worse. But being with your boyfriend will always be something different. And definitely something stupid. ft. Izou in Ace’s!

CW - nothing but silliness and fluff, as per usual. gn! reader, mentions of throwing up (as a joke), some perverted- ness (sanji), and that’s it.

A/N - when I tell you this idea was so random. My aunt gave me this idea after telling me about how she almost died on her own acid reflux when she woke up. Anyways, enjoy!

Holy SHIT when I tell you how messy this man’s morning routine is, it.. well, it won’t shock you ‘cause it’s Luffy.

The moment you open your eyes, you're hit with Luffy snoring, drooling, and hot breath right up in your face.

Not to mention he’s practically turned himself into a pretzel cuddling you. You have to detangle your stretchy boyfriend every morning.

He wakes up, confused on how he managed to get on the floor.

A series of giggles followed in pursuit of Luffy gargling mouthwash in his mouth, proceeding to then shoot it out like a spray bottle into the sink. Whether day or night, your goofy boyfriend always did manage to make you laugh.

“Luffy! You got mouthwash all over the sink!” You said, trying to stay serious, a smile on your face despite your efforts to scold him. He shot you back a toothy grin. A shiny grin, you threw in, from all the cleaning you forced him to endure.

“Wasn’t my fault. My tongue felt like it was on fire!” He retorted, sticking his tongue as if to show legitimate fire, hot and blazing.

The night before, your boy feasted himself on the meat of an extremely large animal he caught. He gobbled the thing down, and it was too little too late before you realized how rank his breath was from it.

He passed out, leaving you exasperated and annoyed.

“Well, captain, next time brush your teeth before you head to bed. Your breath reeked, it’s a miracle I’m still alive right now.” You retorted, pinching his round cheeks. Luffy let you stretch his face out and play around with his features, causing you to giggle. Letting go, you place a chaste kiss on his lips, before going back to brushing your own teeth.

“But… you can get away with it this time ‘cause your cute.”

Zoro is a late sleeper and an early riser on most days. But, when Nami say’s the skies are clear and there isn’t a single marine in sight, he will take this slim opportunity to sleep in for hours.

When you wake, you're not greeted with his face. Rather, his sculpted back and a strong arm around your torso that he kept for the entire night.

He snoozes into his pillow, face first. As if he’s completely dead to the world.

Well… there have been times you thought so.

Literally.

Rays of the morning sun hit your face as you wake up from a night of well deserved rest. Being a pirate is a tiring and thankless lifestyle, so a night’s rest feels like heaven. You think this, silently laughing to yourself as you slept next to the ‘king of hell’, ironically enough.

Zoro’s out cold. His effortless back on prominent display, embraced by the sun’s glow.

You smile to yourself, admiring his features that aren’t so obviously impressive to some. Surprisingly, you couldn’t hear any snoring from the swordsman. Almost as if he was actually dead…

“Zoro… honey, wake up.” You whisper, hands grabbing both of his shoulders to wake him. He give’s no response in return, causing you some worry. “Zoro, c’mon, it’s time to get up.”

Yet again, nothing. The worry was starting to take over, so you leaned down to check for any signs of him breathing. In the blink of an eye, your swordsman boyfriend lifts his upper body up, knocking you in the nose.

“Yawn, ‘morning. Babe, what are you doing holding your nose like tha-“ Before he could finish the question, he was greeted by you with a loving pillow to his face.

At the start of your relationship, the idea of being near you all the time already made him all heart- eyed and cheerful. So, when you suggested sleeping in the same bed, this man was over the moon and beyond!

He’d stay as still as a plank, not wanting to move or disturb you in your realm of slumber.

Sanji would be so happy, he’d make you bed in breakfast when you woke up!

Now that the two of you have been together for a while, he’s gotten used to cuddling you and being the big spoon.

But, that doesn’t stop him from surprising you now and then.

“Sanji, you really don’t need to keep doing this.”

You say to him, as if it would stop him from setting the lovingly decorated tray in front of you with a giddy smile.

“Nonsense! I insist on taking care of my precious partner. A man can show his love in many ways, and I’m no ordinary, greasy and gross man. Mine is just a fraction of what I can do for you, my love!”

His proclamation of love made your cheeks turn red, a dreamy sigh escaping your lips. It didn’t take you long after your relationship with Sanji started that you realised you were in for the long haul. Through thick and thin, young and old, the strawhat chef is honestly and inexplicably in love with you.

He sat beside you, placing his head on your shoulder and sighing lovingly. You brought a spoon up to your mouth and took the first bite, eyes lighting up.

“Wow,” you gasped, “you remembered my favourite breakfast!” You happily munched down on the hot meal, cheeks stuffed and nose hit with the delicious aroma. “You tend to remember all my favourite things, huh?”

“Of course! I know your favourite meals, favourite smells, music, clothes… under garments. Like your favourite underwear you’re wearing right now-“

“SANJI!”

It’s a 50/50 chance with your hot boyfriend if your morning is gonna be filled with passionate kisses, cuddling, maybe some extra time in bed…

Or having him come back from an early morning mission, stinky and sweaty (like his brother), and absolutely, positively, drool all over you.

Unfortunately, you let it slide. ‘Cause he’s a hottie with an even hotter body.

Nevertheless, there are some days when you just want to kick him out and get a couple hours of sleep without the need of throwing up yesterday’s dinner. Thatch would be pissed!

“I’m telling you, Izou, he just keeps doing it! Next time it happens, and I smell it-” You stop yourself, before bringing a free hand up to make a slashing motion near your neck. The sniper got a quick chuckle out of that.

“Precisely the reason pirates should avoid intimate relationships.” He stated, taking a sip of his morning tea. You scoffed.

“Well, that’s boring. And besides, it’s no use on me, his puppy- dog eyes always bring me back to why I love him.” You sigh. As if on cue, your goofy boyfriend comes bursting through the door. Scratches on his face and body, in one hand he carries a large bag of jingling gold, and the other hides behind his back.

“Baby! I’m back from my mission, hope I didn’t keep you waiting! Oh, ‘morning, Izou.” He greets you and his friend. You pout, looking at his muddy and dirty outfit.

“Hope you don’t expect to come back to bed with me like that.” You mumbled, taking a sip of your drink. Planting a kiss on your head, he gets down on one knee and looks you in the eye.

“I know you don’t like it when I come home dirty, and I promise I’ll try my best to clean up for you. On my way back, I passed by a hill and thought you might like this.”

Ace pulls out a bunch of pretty flowers, making you gasp. You couldn’t help but feel cheery, smelling the flowers and giving him a big ‘ol smooch. Izou tsk’s and walks out of the kitchen.

“Kids these days.”

You wouldn’t guess it by looking at him, but Sabo takes pretty good care of himself.

His seamless, flawless skin is not entirely genetic. The countless skincare products scattered among his bathroom sink is the answer to that question.

Didn’t take long for you to start using it as well, leaving him to catch you in the act. He’d come busting through the door like SWAT when you put on his moisturiser.

They were just sitting there, ready to be used! Was this really your fault, though? Sabo definitely thinks so.

Like thunder, the mahogany door slammed open, leaving you to scream and jump. You turn your head, eyes wide and freightened. Not at the thought of who it might be. Oh, no. Rather, who you already know and what he might do.

“I knew it! Love, you gotta stop using my products, I’m running out twice as quickly and it’s a bitch to get more.” He sighs, eyebrows furrowed, already grabbing a towel to wipe down your wet face.

He gently ran the fluffy material all over your face. Making sure to not poke your eyes. Even when your boyfriend is mad at you, he can’t help but take care of you. Kind of weird considering he was trying to be mad at you, getting a chuckle out of you.

“I’m sorry, hon. I just felt really gross when I woke up, and thought how nice everything you have looked.”

He huffed, puffing his cheeks out and placing his hands on his hips. You couldn’t help but laugh again, grabbing his face and placing a long kiss on his cheek.

“‘Tell you what, I’ll go out today and get you more stuff. And, I’ll keep buying you this stuff if you let me use it. We got a deal, sweet thing, mr. love-of-my-life?”

Sabo sighed, grabbing you by the waist and giving you a proper kiss.

“Sure, baby, sure.”

[honeydippedwaffles]

Smallest Drop

Summary: Tav overhears Astarion complaining about their situation and decides to do what she can to make it a little better for him and she ends up surprising him in the process.

Tav isn't referred to by name. There might be a part 2 if this is well-received.

Content Warnings: She/Her Tav

Word Count: 1.8k words

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

It started when she overheard a passing comment from behind her, grumbled in response to something Lae’zel said.

From the earliest parts of the day, they’d been making their way through difficult terrain; surrounded by thousands of bugs and mud up to their ankles. She’d tried not to complain about it though Astarion never shared her focus on quiet suffering and he had a fair point.

Though they’d managed to set up a fairly comfortable camp outside the grove – not wanting to impose nor deal with the druids for too long – they hadn’t really found any chance to properly bathe since their abduction.

The late afternoon glinted into her eyes as an idea presented itself.

She slipped away from the group almost excitedly to find the abandoned house where she’d spied it not long ago. After making sure it contained no nasty surprises, she’d left. It didn’t really have a roof and the majority of it had been burned down by some form of magical fire but most importantly, it had a tub.

One night together shouldn’t have made her so weak for the elf but despite all his sweetened words and falsities, he captivated her attention. She knew he meant little by it but sometimes those words made her days brighter regardless.

And she wanted to return the favour given how the muddy path came from her badly thought-out route.

The river running close by provided her with clean and cool water, not the easiest to move in large amounts but still able to fill the tub. It didn’t leak (a minor miracle) and she managed to use a little more of her already-exhausted magic to get a few charms warming the water up.

She smiled at her work proudly and left the charms to do her work while she made her way back to the grove to get some soaps.

Her shoulders shook a little as she eyed her small surprise. Proud and excited, she now faced the greatest of tasks.

Encouraging Astarion to actually step away from camp.

“No, thank you,” he said, dismissed her with the casual wave of a hand. “I’ve had quite enough traipsing through the forest for one day. If you want to continue finding every possible swamp insect to attack you, you’re welcome to be my guest.”

She sighed. “But I have something to show you. It’s a surprise.”

He smiled, strained. “My, aren’t you a desperate little thing. Maybe I’ll join you a little later in the night but for now, I’m afraid I don’t have the energy or the interest.”

“No, it’s not…” she groaned. “It’s just a bath, alright? I overheard you complaining about being dirty earlier so I found one for you.”

“Did you now?”

“Yes. Come along. Those runes aren’t going to last forever and I know you’re going to fuss about the water temperature.”

Astarion chuckled and she immediately knew he didn’t believe her. “I appreciate the creativity, darling. Really, I do, but you’ll find direct offers are far more effective on me.” He leaned closer and she became suddenly aware of how many eyes watched them from around the camp. “But if you’re really going to such lengths, I’m not going to deny you forever.”

Flushed, she stepped away and ducked her head. “Fine. I’ll use it myself but you better not complain once more about it.”

She ignored the slightly concerned expressions of her friends as she stormed back into the tree line by herself. Why she even thought he’d appreciate it… she shouldn’t have even bothered offering it to him. She really needed to be more selfish if she wanted to not get turned down by the vampire spawn again.

It stung more than she expected it to, even if she wasn’t offering anything more than an actual bath.

She brushed her fingers over the surface of the still-warm water when she got there and sighed. It still felt like a waste, even if she used it. Amazing how homesick she’d grown for her house when stuck out in the wild with nothing more of comfort than a single bedroll.

Maybe she should have stolen one of those beds from the goblin den they cleared.

The floor creaked and her hand flew to her weapon, spun around only to find a very arrogant elf who appeared annoyingly surprised.

“My, so it wasn’t even a ploy alone,” he said. “You genuinely managed to find a bath. I respect your dedication if nothing else. There are certainly easier ways of seeing me undressed.”

She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the water. “I was trying to do something nice for you but as you’re not interested, feel free to return back to camp.”

He stepped close enough to brush his fingers against her cheek. “Whoever said I wasn’t interested?”

“You did. In very direct words.”

“Well, things change. I’ve decided you’re quite right. It’s been far too long since I got to wash and you’ve been so sweet, setting it all up for me. I couldn’t be rude and turn you down right now, could I?”

Cursing the elf beneath her breath for his indecisiveness, she moved to walk past him. “Enjoy.”

Once again, she surprised him and Astarion took a second to respond, calling to her as she reached the edge of the charred flooring.

“You’re not joining me?”

She looked back at him. “Am I meant to be?”

“Why, yes. I can hardly be expected to do things like washing my hair all by myself. What if I get lonely or attacked?”

She frowned at him but he kept smiling at her in the same insistent way he did when he wanted something. The corner of his lips pulled up as though he knew a joke and didn’t want to share it. She couldn’t help herself but relent under his burning gaze; he’d done the same thing when she’d agreed to let him drink blood from her throat. Perhaps she should be concerned with where her willpower went when it came to this man.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll help with your hair if you really need.”

“How fun.”

He insisted on being as distracting as possible when he got undressed. His constant glances at her met nothing in return but she couldn’t help glancing at the scars as he lowered himself into the tub.

Their ridges made her uncomfortable. Not knowing what it said frightened her for Astarion’s safety rather than her own.

Nothing good ever came from runes carved into flesh.

“There’s no need to act so shy, beautiful. You’ve seen me in far more compromising situations than this.”

She wouldn’t call their night together compromising but she ignored the comment regardless. His soft sigh of relaxation as he settled into the water worked wonders for clearing up her irritation.

How he managed to be so magnetic astounded her. She found a spot to sit behind him and slowly, gingerly, began to help him with his hair. Despite being ridiculously soft considering how long they adventured in the wilderness, it needed some careful care and attention.

She took care to stay gentle when she found where tangles turned into knots and worked them free without pulling. He gave a small hum when she had to give a soft tug and she took it as an okay to use a little more force.

“We don’t have much to work with but I did manage to get some things from the grove,” she said. “It won’t be up to your standards but I don’t think anything really is.”

Cagey about his past, all she knew surrounded the small snippets he gave her when upset or ranting. She doubted he’d ever had much time to fuss over which hair products he used, too busy watching over his shoulder for a constant threat. He still did so now when he thought nobody could see. His meditation never held him deeply as sleep took her.

“Regardless of whether or not it’s professional, I won’t complain about your skills with this.”

“Skills at detangling your hair?”

“At winning my favour.”

She frowned a little and focused on the white locks where they curled between her fingers. “I’m not only doing this because I want to impress you.”

“I’m sure you have other motivations,” he hummed, teasing. “But you know you’re more than welcome to join me whenever you’re ready. You chose a good-sized tub for both of us.”

She ignored him again, instead focusing on working out a tight knot. Once done, she encouraged him to lean back a little so she could massage the soap gently into his hair, rubbing soft circles against his scalp until his eyes fluttered closed and the smallest hint of relaxation showed in his expression.

Good. He carried far too much tension and she stopped herself from continuing the slight massage down to where she could see the stress in his neck and shoulders. How uncomfortable it must be but she didn’t want to encourage whatever strange idea he had about this situation.

Still, even if she hadn’t planned anything, she couldn’t deny her attraction.

She wanted to press her lips to the pale skin of his neck and trace the path of the water droplets as they pooled against his collar bone. She wanted to trail her hands over his sides and pull him close.

She coughed to stop her thoughts before they ran too far.

If the parasite in her skull didn’t kill her soon, she may just die from the way this elf made her heart pulse unnaturally fast.

“Everything alright?”

He sounded… well, still as flirtatious as ever but more concerned than she thought he would. She snapped her attention back to him and almost lost herself in those stunning eyes.

If she wanted to, she could so easily fall prey to his sweetened words and he really wouldn’t mind. He would encourage it even.

She finished washing the last of the soap from his hair and stood up somewhat uneasily. Pride still shone in her chest as he sat up properly, appearing far cuter than she anticipated with his hair falling flat against his skin.

She saw the invite on his lips before he even said it. Watched him flick whatever switch he had to draw her in and she hurried to leave.

“I’ll see you back in camp, alright?”

His confused expression followed her as she stepped away from the building but he didn’t call her back. She found her way back to camp with a slight heave to her chest and a desperate need for a distraction.

Though she really should have thought it through before she asked Lae-zel to spar with her. The bruise kept her up for the entire night – long enough to realise he didn’t come past for a taste of her blood in the evening.

[you-have-a-metal-arm]

'Til The End of The Line pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of hospitals

Summary: You get injured in a mission, and Bucky cannot bear to see you in such state.

Author's Note: Please do not copy or translate my work. English is not my first language, so please understand grammar or spelling mistakes.

Thank you for those who enjoyed the first part, and thank you again for waiting.

Part 2 is now yours.

The world around Bucky seemed to blur as he followed the medical team through the corridor. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears like a drum. The sight of you lying so still, bloodied and broken, was something he never thought he’d see—not like this, not when he hadn’t even told you how much he loved you that morning.

As Dr. Cho and her team wheeled you into the surgical room, Bucky’s steps faltered. He felt like he was wading through quicksand, every movement heavy and slow. He wanted to be with you, to hold your hand, to tell you that everything would be okay. But he was kept out of the room, forced to watch through the glass as the doors closed behind you.

Tony, standing beside him, placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “She’s strong, Bucky. She’ll pull through.”

But Tony’s words felt hollow to Bucky. He had seen too much death, too much loss. The fear of losing you was like a knife twisting in his gut. He couldn’t lose you—not when you were his reason to keep fighting, his anchor in the storm.

His mind raced back to the last few months—the mornings spent in quiet domesticity, the late-night talks about the future, the way you laughed at his terrible jokes. How could it all be ripped away in a single moment?

Bucky pressed his hand against the glass, his breath fogging up the cold surface. His other hand clenched into a fist, the tension coiled tight in his chest. The image of you, fragile and bleeding, burned into his mind.

Minutes passed, or maybe it was hours—he couldn’t tell. Time had no meaning as he stood there, waiting, praying, hoping for a miracle.

Tony stayed by his side, silent. Steve joined them, his face drawn and pale. The guilt weighed heavily on Steve’s shoulders, and Bucky could see it. But Bucky had no room for blame—only a desperate need for you to come back to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dr. Cho emerged from the operating room. Her face was tired, but there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “She’s stable, but it was touch and go for a while.”

Bucky’s knees almost buckled with relief, but he held himself upright by sheer will. “Can I see her?”

Dr. Cho nodded. “She’s still unconscious, but you can sit with her. It’s important she has someone she loves nearby when she wakes up.”

Bucky didn’t wait for further permission. He pushed past the others and entered the room where you lay. The sight of you hooked up to monitors, IVs, and machines tore at his heart, but at least you were alive. Your chest rose and fell steadily, and the color was slowly returning to your cheeks.

He pulled up a chair beside your bed, taking your hand in his. The warmth of your skin, even faint, was enough to give him hope. He brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his thumb tracing the lines of your face as if memorizing every detail.

“I’m here, doll,” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. “I’m right here. Please, come back to me.”

The room was quiet, save for the beeping of the machines that tracked your vital signs. Bucky stayed by your side, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. He didn’t sleep, didn’t eat—he just watched you, waiting for any sign that you were waking up.

Hours passed, and the rest of the team came and went, offering support, but Bucky barely registered them. His world had narrowed down to just you, lying so still in that hospital bed.

At some point, he must have dozed off because he was startled awake by a faint pressure on his hand. His eyes flew open, and he looked down to see your fingers twitching slightly in his grasp.

“Y/N?” His voice was barely a whisper as he leaned closer, his heart pounding in his chest.

You stirred, your eyelids fluttering weakly. It took you a moment to orient yourself, but when your eyes finally opened, they were full of confusion and pain. “B-Buck?” Your voice was hoarse, barely audible.

“I’m here, doll, I’m right here.” Bucky’s relief was palpable as he squeezed your hand gently, his eyes misting over. “You’re okay. You made it.”

A weak smile tugged at your lips, though the effort seemed to exhaust you. “I… I thought… I wasn’t going to make it.”

“You did, though,” Bucky whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re safe now. We’re together.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, your hand trembling slightly in his grasp. “I… I heard you… on the comms. I was so scared… that I’d never see you again.”

“It’s quite a miracle that she woke up. But we still must keep an eye out for any damage to her brain,” the doctor said.

“I’ll call Dr. Cho for further checkups. My job’s done for now.” The doctor left, and Bucky’s gaze returned to you.

Bucky sat back down beside you, his eyes brimming with unshed tears as he clutched your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. He couldn't believe you were awake, breathing, speaking to him. The terror of almost losing you hadn’t yet faded from his mind.

You looked at him, your voice barely a whisper but full of the love you had for him. “Hey, I told you I’m not going anywhere, didn’t I?”

Bucky let out a shaky laugh, a mix of relief and disbelief. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours, feeling the warmth of your skin that he thought he’d never feel again. “You scared the hell out of me, doll. I thought—”

His voice cracked, and he couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I know, I know,” you whispered, your free hand weakly brushing the tears from his cheeks. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, Buck.”

He pulled back to look at you, his blue eyes swimming with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he admitted, his voice barely holding together.

“I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

“You won’t,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand with as much strength as you could muster. “We’re going to get through this. Together.”

For a long moment, Bucky just stared at you, memorizing every line of your face as if afraid it might vanish if he looked away. The weight of everything he had almost lost hung heavily in the air between you, but so did the promise of the future you still had together.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the intensity of the words.

“More than anything in this world.”

“I love you too, Buck,” you replied softly, your eyes shining with the same intensity. “And I’m sorry for putting you through this. For making you worry so much.”

“Don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault. You’re the strongest person I know, and you’re going to get better. We’re going to get through this, and then we’ll live that life we talked about.”

A small, hopeful smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, with the house, the backyard, and maybe… maybe even those babies.”

Bucky’s heart swelled with emotion at the thought. The future seemed so far away, but with you here, with your hand in his, it felt possible again. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice choked with emotion. “We’ll have that. I promise you, we’ll have that.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, exhaustion weighing heavily on you, but you fought to stay awake, to stay with him. “I’m going to hold you to that, Barnes.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You better. I’m not going anywhere either, doll. You’re stuck with me.”

“Good,” you whispered, finally allowing yourself to drift off to sleep, knowing that Bucky would be right there when you woke up again.

As you slept, Bucky stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours tightly. He didn’t move, didn’t even blink, afraid that if he did, this fragile moment of peace would shatter. But as he watched the steady rise and fall of your chest, he let himself believe that everything was going to be okay. That the darkness had passed, and the light of a new day would bring the life you both deserved.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky allowed himself to hope.

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

Tag list @baw1066 @hzdhrtss @mrsnikstan

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Thank you for reading and enjoy your weekend :)

[cozage]

Hey hey hey! It's me again XD I'm here to send you another angst request and you can write it with any OP charaters that you like! The request is how they would react to their s/o dying unexpectedly from an illness but when they kissed them goodbye on the lips, their s/o came back to life and said 'your love is my cure' or other cheesy phrases cuz Idk what to write lol ?

A/N: RAINBOWSTAR HI IVE MISSED YOU I HOPE YOU ARE WELL

Characters: reader x Law, Luffy, Zoro

Cw: reader death, angst

Total word count: 800

True Love's Kiss

Law

He can’t figure out why your heart rate is dropping so fast. He’s done everything he could to try and help you, but nothing is working. 

Your heart stops, and he’s in a full panic now. Immediately starting CPR. Praying to anything and anyone to let you live somehow.

When he presses his lips to yours, he’s desperately hoping for a miracle.

He hesitates just a moment before breathing air into your lungs, and he’s startled to see your eyes fly open.

A gasp escapes your mouth, and he looks at you, unbelieving that you’re really still alive. 

He buries his face in your chest, taking a few uneasy breaths and trying not to cry from the relief of you being okay. 

You comb your fingers through his hair and steady yourself, trying to recall what happened or why he’s reacting this way, until he finally speaks. 

“You died,” he says. His voice is thick with tears, which you try your best to ignore. If Law is crying, then it must’ve been serious. 

“You saved me,” you reply. You don’t feel like you have just died. Just like you woke up from a really long nap. 

“No, I couldn’t. I couldn’t do any-“

“I’m alive now aren’t I?” You ask. “I guess your lips really can heal anything”.

He’s so thankful that you’re alive, he doesn’t even respond to your stupid joke 

Luffy

He’s shaking you, begging you to come back to him. He’s screaming and sobbing and impossible to console.

Zoro tries to pull him away so Chopper can treat you, but Luffy knows. He’s been here before. 

Chopper knows too. Everyone knows. So they just sit and watch their captain fall apart. 

He’s clutching you to his chest, he doesn’t want anyone else near you or touching you. He’s still sobbing, but it’s growing softer into whimpers.

He gives you soft kisses across your face, silent pleas for you to wake up. His lips finally meet yours, a final goodbye to you.

A soft gasp escapes your lips, and the entire crew takes back a step in shock. 

“Luffy?” You groan, still pressed against him so tightly it hurts. “You’re crushing me.”

He just holds you tighter, returning to hard sobbing again. “Stay with me,” he chokes out. “Please don’t die.”

“That’s impossible,” Chopper whispers. “Y/N was dead.”

You take a second to process. “I guess a true love's kiss brought me back.”

“If I give you more, you better live forever,” Luffy says, covering you in even more kisses. 

Zoro

He carries your limp body to Chopper, begging him to fix you. But he knows it’s too late. He doesn’t know what you were hit by, but he knew when he pressed his head against your chest, your heart was still. 

He lays you on the ground for Chopper to run an examination. Chopper confirms his worst fear. It was too late.

He holds you, running his hands through your hair, whispering words of apologies to you. He blames himself, of course. He wasn’t strong enough to keep you safe. 

He presses his lips into your forehead first, taking a deep inhale to try and remember your smell. He’s having trouble accepting the fact he’ll never smell your shampoo again, never see your smile. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

He moves his lips down to yours, giving you one last kiss as a goodbye. He pulls away to find your eyes staring at him, scared to see him so sad.

He drops you in shock, his face contorting into a weird mix of confusion and joy. He doesn’t know how to feel or what’s going on, and you're just as confused. 

“What the hell?” he yelled, prompting Chopper to look up and see you alive and well. The reindeer screams while you look at your boyfriend in confusion. 

“What?” you ask, irritated that was his reaction to kissing you.

Zoro just stares at you, mouth agape. You can see his eyes are still watery, and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds until Chopper screams. “You were dead, Y/N! Really dead!”

“No I wasn’t,” you shoot back, trying to hide your panic. 

“You were,” Zoro whispered. He lunged at you, his lips pressing against yours for a long time. 

You finally push him off of you, gasping for air. “Damn, Zoro! Don’t kill me again!” you said, feigning a coughing fit. “Although, I guess you could, as long as you bring me back with another kiss, mmkay?”

Before he has the chance to say something snarky back, you lean in for another kiss, and he happily accepts it. 

[gothicxreylover]

Can you do a Yandere male hashiras coming home and meeting their s/o distraught and crying cause they thought they were dead. Maybe they were gone for 4 or 7 months.

╭──────༺♡༻──────╮

Hope you enjoy this! Thank you for your request! As you can tell I’m running out of gifs for these characters lol. I didn’t do Muichiro as I didn’t know what to write for him. And no headcanons for Obanai I only had motivation to do a small story.

╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

જ⁀➴ Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi storms into your home just before nightfall, his haori tattered, his arms and legs covered in bandages. His survival is a miracle, but he doesn’t consider how his prolonged absence has affected you. He barely has time to set down his sword before he hears your choked sobs. Following the sound, he freezes when he sees you sitting on the floor, your face buried in your hands.

When you lift your head, your red, swollen eyes meet his. “Sanemi… is it really you?” you whisper, your voice trembling with disbelief. He doesn’t answer at first. He’s too overwhelmed by the sight of you like this—frail, broken, crying because of him.

“You’re such a damn idiot,” he growls, though the anger in his voice is directed at himself. He strides forward and pulls you to your feet, his grip firm but not unkind. “What the hell made you think I’d leave you like that? You think I’d let myself die knowing you’re waiting here for me?”

Your tears don’t stop, and neither does his frantic need to reassure you. Sanemi holds you close, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re mine, and nothing in this world can take me away from you.” His voice shakes, his usual harshness softened by a vulnerability he rarely shows.

Headcanons:

• Sanemi becomes obsessive about keeping you informed when he’s on missions. If he’s going to be late returning, he’ll send messages through crow, no matter how inconvenient it is.

• He becomes hyper-vigilant about your safety, rarely letting you leave the house without him.

• His possessiveness worsens after this, and he gets irritated when others try to console you. Only he can comfort you properly.

જ⁀➴ Giyuu Tomioka

Giyuu enters silently, as is his nature, his footsteps almost imperceptible. When he sees you trembling on the floor, clutching one of his old haoris like a lifeline, his chest tightens painfully. “You’re back,” you gasp when you notice him, stumbling to your feet and throwing yourself into his arms.

Giyuu stiffens at first, not out of reluctance but because of how deeply your pain affects him. “I thought you were gone,” you sob against his chest. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

His arms wrap around you slowly, his hold growing firmer with each passing second. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make you think that.” His guilt is overwhelming. He didn’t realize how much his absence would hurt you, but now that he sees the aftermath, he swears he’ll never put you through it again.

“I’ll never leave you,” he says, his tone as unyielding as steel. He cradles your face in his hands, his eyes filled with an intensity that borders on obsession. “You’re all I have, and I won’t let anything take me from you.”

Headcanons:

• Giyuu starts writing you letters during long missions, even if he doesn’t know how to express his feelings well.

• He insists on you staying close to home, where he knows you’re safe. If you have to leave, he’ll silently follow you from the shadows.

• He becomes clingier in subtle ways, often lingering around you without saying much but refusing to leave your side.

જ⁀➴ Kyojuro Rengoku

The sound of your crying reaches Kyojuro before he even steps inside. His heart, usually blazing with confidence, falters for a moment. When he enters the room and sees you kneeling by the hearth, your face buried in your hands, he rushes to your side without hesitation.

“My love, what’s wrong?” he asks, though the answer becomes clear when you lift your tear-streaked face. “I thought I lost you, Kyojuro. Seven months… no word… I thought you were dead!”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he’s silent. Then, he pulls you into a fierce embrace, his strong arms enveloping you entirely. “I am so sorry,” he whispers, his usually booming voice trembling. “I didn’t realize how much my absence would hurt you.”

Kyojuro tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, his fiery eyes burning with a mix of guilt and determination. “I am alive, and I will always come back to you. You are the flame that keeps me going.” His voice is full of conviction, a promise etched in every word.

Headcanons:

• Kyojuro starts planning shorter missions or taking you along to nearby towns when possible.

• He showers you with small tokens of affection, from flowers to handmade charms, to remind you of him when he’s away.

• His protective streak intensifies, and he begins training you in basic self-defense, even if you protest.

જ⁀➴ Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei hears your quiet sobs as soon as he steps onto the porch. His sensitive hearing and heightened senses pick up every tremble in your voice, and it stops him in his tracks. “(Y/N)?” he calls softly, his deep voice filled with concern.

You look up from where you’ve been kneeling, clutching a prayer bead bracelet he once gave you. When you see his towering figure in the doorway, your breath catches, and fresh tears spill down your cheeks. “You’re alive…”

Gyomei kneels before you, his large hands cupping your face with the utmost gentleness. “Why are you crying, my love?” he asks, though the answer dawns on him as he feels your trembling hands grasp his.

“I thought you were gone,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”

His own eyes glisten with unshed tears as he pulls you into his arms, holding you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. “I am here,” he says, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I am alive, and I will always return to you. You are my reason to fight, to survive.”

Headcanons:

• Gyomei begins praying with you every morning and night, offering thanks for your safety and his ability to return to you.

• He becomes even more attentive, often carrying you to bed when you fall asleep in his arms, whispering reassurances.

• He starts wearing charms or tokens you give him, seeing them as symbols of your bond and a source of strength.

જ⁀➴ Tengen Uzui

Tengen bursts through the door, expecting you to greet him with relief and joy, but the sight of you sitting on the floor, tear-streaked and shaking, halts him. “What’s this?” he asks, dropping his flashy façade immediately as he kneels beside you.

“Tengen…” You look at him as though you’re seeing a ghost. “I thought you were dead. Seven months… I thought you weren’t coming back.”

His jaw tightens, and his normally flamboyant expression turns serious. “Do you really think something as unflashy as death could stop me from coming back to you?” he says, his voice lower than usual. He pulls you into his lap, his hands resting on your back as he lets you cry against his chest.

“You mean everything to me,” he says, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “I’ll never let you feel this way again. I’ll find a way to stay connected to you, no matter what it takes.”

Headcanons:

• Tengen insists on keeping you in the loop about his missions, even if it means bending Demon Slayer Corps protocols.

• He becomes more physically affectionate, constantly touching your hand, shoulder, or face as if to reassure himself you’re still there.

• His yandere tendencies manifest in controlling who you interact with, believing only he can truly protect and care for you.

This detailed portrayal highlights each Hashira’s unique reaction to their s/o’s emotional breakdown, showcasing their yandere tendencies in ways that fit their personalities. Each is overwhelmed by guilt but uses that guilt to fuel their determination to never let you feel that kind of despair again.

જ⁀➴ Obanai Iguro

Obanai stepped into the house just as the sun dipped below the horizon, the faint golden glow of dusk casting long shadows across the walls. His footsteps were light and deliberate, but the heaviness in his chest made every step feel like a mountain to climb. Months of hunting down demons, with barely enough time to sleep or recover, had left him drained. Yet, none of that prepared him for what awaited him inside.

The sound of muffled sobbing pierced his senses like a blade. His body went rigid, Kaburamaru tightening slightly around his shoulders as his mismatched eyes flicked toward the sound. He followed it, his pulse quickening with each step.

When he reached the main room, he stopped dead in his tracks. You were kneeling on the floor, clutching one of his discarded haoris to your chest. Your body shook with silent sobs, your face hidden behind trembling hands.

For a moment, Obanai couldn’t move. Seeing you so vulnerable, so broken, stirred something deep within him. Guilt? Pain? Anger? He didn’t know what it was, but the sight of your tears ignited a fierce need to claim you, to ensure no one else would ever make you feel this way—not even the world itself.

“(Y/N),” he finally said, his voice low but steady.

Your sobs stopped abruptly, and you froze, your hands lowering slightly to reveal your tear-streaked face. When your eyes met his, disbelief flooded your expression. “Obanai?” you whispered, your voice cracking. “You’re… you’re alive?”

He tilted his head slightly, Kaburamaru shifting in response to his unease. “Why wouldn’t I be?” His tone was calm, but the undercurrent of possessiveness was unmistakable.

The dam broke, and you stumbled to your feet, throwing yourself into his arms. “I thought… I thought you were dead! Seven months… no word… I thought I lost you!”

Obanai stiffened for a moment before his arms came up to wrap around you. His grip was firm, almost desperate, as if he feared you might vanish if he let go. “I’m here,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “I would never leave you like that. Never.”

Your hands clung to his uniform, your body trembling against his. “You don’t understand,” you sobbed. “I waited every day, praying you’d come back. When the weeks turned into months, I thought… I thought I’d never see you again.”

His jaw tightened, the words cutting deeper than any wound. The thought of you suffering, believing he was gone, stirred a dark possessiveness within him. He cupped your face, forcing you to look at him, his mismatched eyes blazing with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and unyielding. “Nothing—no demon, no mission, no god—can take me from you. Do you understand?”

Your tears didn’t stop, but you nodded, overwhelmed by the raw emotion in his gaze. He pressed his forehead to yours, his grip on you tightening. “I’ll never let you feel this way again. Never. I swear it.”

The promise wasn’t just for you—it was for him, a vow that no force in the world would ever separate you again.

[anim-ttrpgs]

is there a book series or other piece of fiction you’d recommend for someone who really enjoys the way Eureka specifically does its vampires (and werewolves and other monsters)? both when it comes to themes and when it comes to specific powers/mechanics

I’ll tell ya, pickings are going to be really really slim on that front. You’re likely to find stories that have one of those elements, but not all of them. That’s one of the reasons I write what I do, because it’s what I want to see and I gotta do it myself.

The original Dracula is my favorite novel, and it features vampires that have about a 90% overlap in the way that Eureka's folkloric vampires work. It’s also just a really good novel. I recommend reading it in chronological order through Daily Dracula, they have a novel version for that if you don’t want to follow the emails for like 6 months.

If I was good at being a consistent writer on the side, maybe you’d have the novel which inspired Eureka’s lore, but right now that just sits in a rough outline form.

You can, however, read some short stories from this same canon by subscribing to our patreon. All together, they’re about 130 pages cumulatively. I’ll warn you though, they haven’t been copy-edited, so they’re a bit rough, but I think they’re really good regardless.

I can provide a condensed summary of the outline of the larger novel here under the cut.

The story takes place in the late 1800s and is told from the perspective of two vampires, Annie Mayfield and Yvette Preux, switching between their PoVs each chapter, though after starting to write out this summary, I’m questioning if that PoV-switching actually adds anything to the story, so I may scrap that. I didn’t incorporate the PoV switching in this outline.

>Comtesse Yvette Preux, who has been a vampire since her original death in Brittany in the 1200s, resides in New Orleans.

>Becoming a vampire wasn’t a conscious decision on her part, and no other vampire was involved(she hasn’t even ever met another vampire), it just sort of happened after her slow gradual death from wasting sickness. She considers the possibility that a return to the life she so desperately wanted to live may be a miracle from God.

>She comes from a prestigious noble family that she has been a regular part of for centuries, but they’re gone now. None of them were vampires, just her descendants from the children she had when she was alive.

>She has always tried to minimize her harm on the living, mostly taking blood by needle from paid subjects. Her money, however, is running out after decades spent in the Louisiana Territory. She was in a state of dormancy for decades and learned of the French Revolution decades after it happened, and since has spend most of her time paying people to travel to France and make any possible contact with her family. There has been no word.

>With no income from her family, her fortune gradually dwindles until she is essentially homeless, and has to lower herself to attempting to take a job. She is hired as a governess(caretaker of the children, not a political position), by a rich plantation family.

>She is beloved by the family and vice versa, raising and tutoring their children diligently. She is essentially part of the family, accompanying them everywhere and living in a smaller house on their grounds. They teach her to shoot, which she really takes a liking to. She loves loud noises, complex machinery, and learning difficult skills, but older guns were always a bit too much for her sensitive nose and eyes. Smokeless power has since been invented, fixing that issue.

>She spends most of her free time practicing shooting.

>The plantation family is not aware she is a vampire, and she is careful about hiding this fact, even though vampires are not really a common knowledge thing, just like in the Eureka setting. She sneaks out at night to take blood by needle from whoever she can pay.

>Living on a plantation, this rich family were formerly slave owners, and are now scalawags and run their plantation as a sharecrop. Even having grown up a feudal noblewoman, Yvette has a personal and religious opposition to slavery, as was the zeitgeist of her time. (They considered serfdom to be completely different, obviously.) Residing on this plantation, Yvette slowly comes to see that the lives of former slaves under the sharecropping system are not much better than under slavery. In some cases, the conditions can be even worse. She keeps her objections about this to herself, not wanting to rock the boat or seem ungrateful for the generosity the family has given her. She’s never had the social skills to broach complaints without angering those around her, and really never had much in the way of social skills of friends at all, never having more than a small handful of people truly close to her in any given lifetime.

>Eventually, some of the family meet over something important, they have a shocking secret to reveal. They tell her that vampires are real, and for generations this family has made it their duty to identify and eliminate them. They are so rare of course that they find one only about once in a generation, but they are certain that there is one active in the region. Someone has been paying for blood from the poor and desperate. They tell her to be extraordinarily careful, and present her with a gift: a small two-barrel derringer, and two silver bullets.

>I’m skipping ahead a bit because exactly how the family find out she is a vampire is something I haven’t figured out yet, but of course they find out she’s the vampire. The fact that she doesn’t seem to have aged at all in ten years probably helps.

>Because she has been a friend of the family for so long, and demonstrated the capacity to care for human life, they decide she does not necessarily need to be killed. She’s one of the good ones. Conditionally.

>She has to stop buying blood from the poor and desperate, further minimize her blood consumption to only a small drawing from one of the family members every month or so, never leave the family’s sight, never touch a weapon again, and she is to have no contact with the children she raised for the family.

>Even as one of the good ones, she is still a selfish monster, unnatural and anathema to the will of God, whose existence is prolonged only by the suffering of the living, and the family’s mercy.

>Under the family’s constant scrutiny, and wasting away into depression and delirium from a bare minimum intake of blood, she loses her ability to argue, and gradually comes to understand this herself.

>She stares into an empty mirror, desperate to see herself in it, trying to be normal instead of a selfish parasite. All she can get the mirror to reflect of herself is her sense of self worth and what she contributes to the world. That is, nothing.

>In the prose, the absence of a reflection is always written as a failure by Yvette to be reflected in the mirror.

>Her undeath can’t be a miracle, God would not allow something like her into the world for her own sake. The only logical conclusion is that it is a punishment from God for refusing to be satisfied with the short life He did give her or accept its natural conclusion, that she would have to take that life from the rest of the world that she loves and never reunite with her closest friend, her husband, who has been dead for centuries. Each century that passes brings her farther from the life she had with him and so selfishly coveted, and now, after the French Revolution, there are not even descendants of him in her life. Her selfish insatiable desire for experience, relationships, and the world is an anchor weighing her soul to the earth, and it’s everyone’s problem.

>She can hardly bear to take even what little blood the family offers her from themselves. They housed her, and she continues to just take and take and take.

>They’re afraid of her, even. No matter how nonthreatening she tries to make herself, she can’t be allowed out of their sight. No matter how good she is, it’ll never be good enough for them, and it’s callous of her to expect otherwise, considering their situation, mortality, and how they’ve suffered at the hands of vampires like her.

>One evening in the sitting room, Yvette is present while the family discusses their finances, and their plan to legally back out of paying the sharecrop workers their promised yearly payment. That is too cruel for Yvette, and she stands up, raising her voice and interrupting, only for those closest to flinch back and several to draw pistols from their pockets. Stuttering an apology, she retires to her room, and sits in front of the empty mirror. How can she, being what she is, take issue with them?

>She considers setting things right by ending her own existence, but she isn’t sure how, and a part of her is still too afraid to find out. She couldn’t accept death before, and she still can’t now. She’s still just as wretched as she was then, even after over six-hundred years. She’s really unworthy of God’s light, a spot of black mold eating through the canvas of His Creation, because even knowing this, she can’t help herself.

>Ironically, her name, Preux, means “courage.” It isn’t something she’s ever really thought much about before, but now that it comes time to overcome her fear and do what has to be done for the greater good, she doesn’t feel like she lives up to the name. Even the name “Yvette”, after the long-lived yew tree, feels like a hole in her chest. For some time now, whenever anyone has said Yvette, it has only been with disgust, rightfully, at her undeservedly long life. She renounces the name Yvette Preux.

>There’s no good way to really portray this in a summarized outline format, but this whole time, a fringe religious movement has been slowly taking the stage in the background. It doesn’t have any kind of mass following, but what few there are are devoted. The family is suspicious of them, and concludes that they are worshipers of demons. (If I get fully into it here then this post will become a whole different thing but “biblically accurate” demons are a whole different thing from pop culture demons like from Doom and stuff. The most “biblically accurate” pop culture portrayal is probably The Exorcist(1973), and maybe the game Faith: The Unholy Trinity, where the point isn’t really to go rawr rawr rawr and kill everyone, the point is to make humans suffer, despair, and abandon the belief that God could possibly love us. You can't really shoot them with a shotgun, the only way to repel them is to have faith that things can get better.)

>This group argues that the world is an evil place, and that humans are its evil denizens which can only suffer and beget more suffering, as is evidenced all around them. They advocate for the end of humanity, and are suspected of several violent crimes, as well as election interference.

>The family disrupts one of their gatherings by shooting up the place. They don’t spare anyone, because dangerous people ought to be killed before they can do any more harm.

>Some time later, late at night, the family’s plantation house comes under attack by a gang of armed men, and it’s a slaughter. Yvette goes to hide in the back with the other women.

>A stick of dynamite crashes through the window.

>Yvette opens her eyes an indeterminate amount of time later, in the smoldering remains of the plantation house, still strewn in the remains of everyone else who was in the room. There’s no one left alive.

>Her family is gone again, but she doesn’t really feel anything. It’s obvious what she has to do now, now that the family is gone, she has to set things right by discontinuing her own existence. There’s no one else to keep her in check, and she’ll just cause more suffering to more innocent people if she stays alive.

>There’s just one thing she wants to do first, and that is avenge the deaths of her new family. If she can do anything for them now, it’s that, and then to properly die as is natural.

>When she can walk, she rounds up the hired gunmen formerly employed by the family, and sets out to hunt down every last man responsible for the attack. Few of them are willing to trust a vampire, but they go along with her. (Her actual relationship to these men, why they decide to go along with her, and what this adds to the story is another thing I haven’t really fully worked out yet. It may make for a better story for her to just do it alone, though her reaction to some of their deaths later on does serve to highlight a few things about her that may be a hint as to why she is the type of person to come back as a vampire in the first place.)

>She deliberately doesn’t answer to Yvette anymore, instead randomly coming up with the name Annie Mayfield when asked her name soon after. It doesn’t mean anything to her, she doesn’t really think about it, it just needs to be a placeholder until she can finish this and then end her life.

>(So yeah the twist is that all the stuff you’re about to read beyond this point from the PoV of Annie Mayfield would be interspersed throughout the Yvette Preux chapters until it turns out they’re the same person.)

>The remainder of the story is a blur of violence and shame as the shock wears off and she starts to feel things again. Obviously, the men who attacked the plantation house are from the cult, and after tracking down and killing the first one she instantly regrets trying to go through with this, and laments that it represents her still not having learned her lesson, and going on to extend her life through the suffering of others even though she had resolved to end it. One of her own is also killed in the shootout, and tangled up in the regret is the desire to have known the man longer.

>After grounding herself, she resolves to not let the family down, and continues the manhunt.

>A lot of these scenes are portrayed primarily through dialogue between Annie and the cult members she is confronting, either before, during, or after some kind of shootout. The cult members argue that the material world only exists for humanity to suffer and harm each other in, as is human nature, as is self-evident from the state of the mid-late-1800s world. Also, there’s a vampire. Would a loving God actually allow a vampire to exist? The only way to end this suffering is the extinction of humanity itself. And Annie arguing back from her perspective all the kind people she’s met, beautiful things she’s seen, and enjoyable things she’s done in centuries of consciousness. And once she’s gone, there will be one less source of suffering in the world. (she really always has to have the last word, it’s a really abrasive thing about her.) Both parties are well versed in Abrahamic scripture and use it to support their arguments.

>Annie is an incredible shot after around a decade of practicing every day, but she isn’t exactly a great gunfighter, and it’s only due to the fact that she’s literally immortal that she survives most of these early confrontations. She’s getting holes blown in her a lot, and expending a lot of energy to keep going and regenerating. It’s too much for a vampire that has been limiting her blood consumption since her original death, and recently surviving on a bare minimum amount of blood. She comes to realize she can’t keep up this pace, and it’ll all be for nothing, if she doesn’t drink some blood. She doesn’t have any money, she has to take it at gunpoint, and it takes a lot of it to keep her going at this pace. She drinks a lot of it.

>The shame, falling back on what a depraved, selfish wretch she is, it’s a knot in her throat. But she’s recovering from gunshots faster, moving faster, her vision is clearer. She’s not sure if she’s ever felt this good before. After centuries minimizing how much she takes, she wasn’t really aware one could feel this good.

>All of the gunmen she brought with her have either died or abandoned the cause at this point(if they were there in the first place, like I said I haven’t figured that out), the law is after her, and she’s killed more people than the cult can ignore. They figure out who she is and her relationship to the family, and retaliate both physically and intellectually.

>Their arguments get more personal. The family, the societal forces that put them in power over so many suffering destitute laborers, and how they treated her, are the perfect example. They’re not worth her avenging, if she wants to actually accomplish something, she could join their cause.

>This cause involves attaining political power through intimidation, blackmail, and just plain electorialism, following a precise set of instructions passed down by the demons they consort with to worsen condition of daily life and the world overall. (The exact details of this I won’t get into, this post is already so long.)

>Not only will this just overall reduce the population, but the plan is to advocate for suicide as an answer to this despair, and use worsening conditions as evidence for their message that it would be better for humanity to end.

>The shootouts are becoming more disproportionate, with her targets hiding out together, always armed, hiring bodyguards, assembling militias. Annie is getting better at this, though. She’s moving in ways she didn’t know she could, and doing things she felt she might be able to do but felt it would be shameful and unnatural to try. Vampire things. There would be no other way she could overcome 5:1, 10:1, 20:1 odds. She’s learning to cycle a lever-action with one hand so she can keep shooting in the relatively frequent event that one of her arms gets shot off.

>Annie has come to agree, largely through her own scriptural arguments, that the suspicion, scrutiny, judgement, and deprivation she experienced from the family was unjustifiable both morally and spiritually. She had a right to exist, no matter what that means.

>She has fangs now. She doesn’t know when they came in, because it isn’t like mirrors can reflect her. (Roughly from this point on, when reflections are brought up in prose, it is written that the surface fails to reflect her, not that she fails to be reflected in the surface.)

>The family didn’t love her like she loved them, and she, like the other monsters they hunted, was just another vessel for them to justify themselves and their own harmful lifestyle by comparison, and embolden their own egos, rather than any genuine desire to protect anyone. She doesn’t owe them this violence, but she’s doing it anyway, not for revenge, not because they’re “evil,” but because she’s set her mind to it, and she’s having fun.

>Really embracing her vampirism and what it can allow her to do is a whole new world to her, one she wants to keep exploring and experiencing, even if it’s at cost to other people, and they’re not going to ruin that for her.

>You can see where this is going. The movement is crippled beyond recovery, if any of them survive at all. The world is saved because someone selfishly wanted to go on living even if at the expense of others, and that that life is richer for it.

>Epilogue.

>Despite embracing her vampirism and finally drinking a healthy amount of blood, Annie has really over-exerted herself, and fades away into another dormant period. A little less than one-hundred years later, she comes back to consciousness. It’s the year 1992, and the first thing she sees is something like this.

[picture of cellphone towers against the night sky with glowing red lights]

>She can barely comprehend what she’s seeing, it’s terrifying and amazing. She doesn’t know what they are, but the radio towers, enormous glowing steel monoliths to human connection and communication, being the first thing she sees represent that she really is in a new world, one that is going to love her back this time.

>How she actually manages to integrate into this new world is its own whole story, one that is a lot funnier and more light-hearted. She doesn’t even speak English.

>She isn’t ready to go back to the name Yvette Preux, when she eventually has to give a name, she picks it out deliberately this time. Alys Cessna. Though comtesse_yvette does become her screen name on Quake 1 deathmatch by 1998.

>picture of Yvette Preux circa 2024 by team artist @chaospyromancy

[Yvette Preux, a petite white woman with long orange hair, dressed in kind of a 90s skater style. She has a skateboard with a picture of bats silhouetted against the moon on the underside, mirrored sunglasses on her forehead, and a handgun in a front hip holster. She is smiling and has very prominent fangs.]

And there it is. I left out a few subplots and other themes but this was already long as fuck.

Support A.N.I.M. and maybe in the future I’ll be financially stable enough to work on this novel even though it won’t make a lot of money.

Also in case it didn’t come across fully in the summary, the suicide cult and Yvette are the same, and through fighting them, intellectually and literally, she also ends up fighting her own overwhelming guilt and shame she feels for existing as a harmful person, and makes an argument of all the reasons she wants to keep living. She’s saving herself.

[beebopboom]

“It’s always too Late”

An odd but extremely heavy line for the end of episode 3

Not just in the way it is said but also in the way it is shot - it’s alarm bells for This Is Important.

The same energy if not more so from when Aziraphale said “I may have just started a War,” that could just be me though.

but Why is it important?

I’ll be honest and say this is just something I threw in the “To be explained further in s3” pile and left it at that. Not that I’m saying it won’t be but I think there is actually enough to at least explain the basics with this season.

In episode 3 we have The Resurrectionist minisode that gives us this line from Crowley,

“Too late…..It’s a bit different when it’s someone you know, isn’t it?”

He says this in response to Aziraphale dithering about saving Wee Morag with what we can assume a Lazari level miracle that he would more than likely be reprimanded about. End the end they are too late to do anything and Aziraphale is shocked by the quick turn around from Elspeth.

These two quotes from Crowley obviously have a connection but what exactly is going through Crowley’s head when he says it in the bookshop with Jim?

In 1827 he is there to be a voice of reason, the devils advocate so to say. It’s just him and Aziraphale having their moral conversations they tend to have.

but in present day at bookshop with the only one around to hear him is Jim, who is not going to understand, there is no reason. He is saying it for himself.

This is his point of no return.

or, more accurately, realizing that point was two episodes ago.

I mean let’s just look at some parallels and what they did differently between the moment in the crypt and hiding miracle for Gabriel

Both times Aziraphale wants to do something about their situation they are in and the solution is a big ol miracle tipping the Lazari scale.

In 1827 though he never ends up performing this miracle due to being too late and Crowley’s interference, and ultimately Crowley is only one who did something that got him in trouble with Hell.

Present day the miracle is performed split between the two of them. It’s a very quick decision (once they actually start talking about it) meant to just give them time to figure out what is going on.

but this “Too Late” two episodes later is him realizing they never actually had that time.

The miracle they performed was too late and they just didn’t know it yet,

and now they were both in the line of fire instead of just him, like all those years ago in 1827.

death is on the table for them now.

It really is a bit different when it’s someone you know.

(also I’m convinced he knew Aziraphale was heading to Edinburgh to do something irreversible and there truly was no going back for them - somebody check the crypt quick!!)

[siempre-bucky]

Sweet Dreams

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: After soothing Jake after a nightmare, Jake comforts his son after one of his own

wc: 1.1k

warnings: talks of nightmares

A/n: It's been a HOT minute since I've written anything. Please enjoy some domestic hurt/comfort :')

“Was the mission successful, Lieutenant?” 

“Rooster and Mav… I-I wasn’t fast enough?” 

Jake jolted awake; cotton-mouthed, and forehead ridden with beads of sweat. He almost forgot he was shaking until he felt the soothing touch of your hand slide down his bare bicep. The fire in his lungs started to subside as you turned him around, the cold from the fabric of your nightgown soothing his chest once he was pressed against you. “What happened?” you whispered into his ear.  

“Same shit as every year, darlin’,” he whispered back, lips dancing along the crook of your neck. You let him stay silent after that, his hands roaming the body he knew almost better than his own. His bloodshot eyes closed, nose pressing deeper into your neck as if it would help him memorize the new perfume you had bought. 

You sighed and held him close, fingertips scratching the nape of his neck for his comfort. It was like this every October since the mission the Navy deemed a miracle. Jake would mark off the days on his calendar with a red pen and the nightmares came back when night fell. “My love?” you spoke after a while, making sure he was still with you. 

“It was the one with Mav and Rooster,” he managed, pulling back to lie down on his pillow. 

You followed him, wrapping your arms and legs around him with your head on his chest. “You could always call Rooster,” you mostly joked, “check in on him.”

“No way in hell am I gonna call Slow Ride,” he pouted. Even though he did once, on the one-year anniversary of the mission when the nightmares were at their peak. The blond rolled his eyes at your knowing giggles, he playfully shoved you away and got up from the bed. “I’m going downstairs for water, you want anythin’?” 

You shook your head and got back under the blanket, turning away from him. Jake smiled kindly in return and made his way out of the room, fingers gliding along the wall to ground him. He was in this house, he was part of a team because he succeeded, Rooster’s a part of that team. It became his mantra as he descended the stairs, eyes glued to the floor. 

The kitchen light was already on, it took Hangman a few seconds to register it. His brows furrowed at the freezer door that was still cracked open from the last user. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he shut both doors and turned towards the island. “Jesus,” he cursed in shock, seeing his son silently sitting there, wrist deep in the tub of ice cream. “What are you doin’ up, son?” he breathed, masking the panic. 

Luke looked up from his phone, matching bloodshot green eyes meeting his. “Late-night snack,” the thirteen-year-old responded. Jake could see beyond his answer, he knew the way his shoulders were hunched and the slight tremor in his hands—he knew it all too well. Plus he wore the faded Navy hoodie that used to be his father's, he wore it whenever you or Jake went on a mission.

“Luke,” Jake said, turning on the dad voice he perfected. He rounded the island and took a seat on the bar tool beside him, stealing his son's spoon. 

“It’s nothing, dad,” Luke grumbled. 

“Bullshit,” Jake smirked, raising his brows. “You know what your ma would say.” 

 Luke rolled his eyes and threw his head back in defeat. “I had a bad dream, but it’s alright! I’m not a baby, we don’t need to talk,” I’m a man now, men don’t talk about bad dreams. 

As if he could hear his thoughts, Jake took his pointer finger and poked the side of his head. He earned a weak smile in return “We don’t talk like that in this house, son, you know that.” Sucking it up was never an option in the Seresin household, not in this Seresin household. 

“I dreamt that you and mom didn’t make it back— no one made it back—grandma and grandpa didn’t want us,” Luke began to say, his grip tightening around his phone. Jake draped an arm around his son's shoulders and pulled him closer. “We had nowhere to go, we were alone.” 

“I’m right here, your mom's right upstairs, and your uncle Javy is a phone call away,” Jake reminded him calmly. Luke’s frame relaxed, his head finally leaning on Jake’s shoulder. “You know there’s a plan if something happens, we’d never leave you alone, kiddo.” 

The two Seresin men sat in silence for a while, the ice cream on the counter beginning to melt in front of them. “I’m afraid to go back to sleep,” Luke admitted after a while. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“D-did you have a nightmare too?” 

Jake’s lips thinned, his initial reaction was to deny it, suck it up, and move on as his dad beat into him growing up. But even in his darkest time, he was still an example to his children, “Yeah, but it was just a dream,” he nodded along with his words, then he nudged him, “but there’s someone who always makes it better.” 

You felt restless after Jake left the bed, tossing and turning, turning the lamp off and on until it remained permanently on while you waited for your husband. When the door started to creak open, you sat up, the blanket pooling around you. Of course, you expected a six-foot aviator to walk through the door, but you didn’t expect the lanky boy by his side “Hi honey,” you greeted Luke, your eyes fixed on Jake cautiously. 

“Got room for another tonight? told him you’re the best sandman around,” Jake questioned, sending you a look. Taking the hint, you smiled and opened your arms. Your son grinned and crawled into the bed, hugging you tighter than normal. It all made sense. 

Jake climbed in beside you, pressing a kiss to your temple before getting comfortable. 

“Want to talk about it?” you asked, pushing back his hair. 

Luke shook his head, pulling out his dog tags and running his fingers along your name and call sign. “No,” he muttered, “Dad and I already did…I’m feeling better. Just sleepy.”  He pulled the blanket to his nose, slipping off you and finding his place in the middle. You playfully covered his eyes, making him laugh which resulted in Jake turning around to face the action. You and Jake locked eyes, your hand left Luke’s face to brush along your husband's face. 

Jake wrapped his hand around your hand, pulling it closer to kiss your palm. “Goodnight boys, sweet dreams.”

[malum-forev]

Non Exclusive

Bucky warmed the single beer he’d been nursing for hours by holding it with both hands. He blew air into the top of the bottle, making the glass whistle as he shifted on both legs. He glanced your way twice, not wanting to make it obvious he was staring. 

Sam pulled up next to the brunet, switching up his flat beer for a newer, colder one. 

“How much longer are you going to be lurking in the shadows?” Sam asked. “People have already started asking me who the peeping tom is.”

“I’m not staring.” Was all Bucky said. 

“Staring, wanting to burst Garrett’s head with your mind, tomato, tomato.” Sam sipped his beer, leaning back on the wall to join his friend. “You look pretty jealous Buck. I thought you said you and (Y/N) had agreed on just sex.” 

“It is just sex.” Bucky rolled his eyes. 

Bucky let his blue eyes roam your body, he had made it his personal mission to memorize the curves on your body. It was like he had X-Ray vision and he could accurately pinpoint where each and every one of your moles and scars were.  

Sam hummed. “If you two aren’t exclusive, then tell me who you’ve fucked other than her lately.”

Bucky realized it would have been too embarrassing for him to say he’d turned down more than a couple of offers. To be honest, once he got used to this new world, Bucky was- what’s the correct word?- he was liberated. 

When Dr. Raynor told him he was free and he’d asked her “Free to do what?” 

He didn’t think fucking every single woman within a five-mile radius would be her answer- but that’s what he did. And it was amazing. He wasn’t used to women being so open about how he made them feel, Bucky had even asked for pointers to make the experience more pleasurable for them. There wasn’t a clause in his contract that forbid him from fraternizing with other agents and boy did he make some of his higher ups wish they did. 

The Winter Soldier had gotten quite the reputation for being an expert in the one and done category. Making women all around the compound want him even more, wishing they would be the ones to return the soldier back to his 40’s ways. None of them had been successful. 

But something changed when he met you. You’d been on the team for some time now but you had never expressed any interest in him. Until that night. For Bucky, his life would be separated into two categories: Before You and After You. 

It was a late night and you came into his office with your tactical suit zipped down to your waist with a tight cropped shirt underneath that begged to be taken off, your hair that was usually up in a ponytail had been let free a long time ago.

Bucky gulped as you leaned over the table to reach for something, your breasts taunting him.

Before he knew it, your lips were on his. You were running your hands through his short hair, trying to grip anything. Your ragged breaths only pushed your breasts closer to him, making him go feral. 

“I’m not looking for anything serious.” He panted.

Your devious smile only made him harder. “Neither am I.” 

Ever since that day, he’d been entranced. Of course he enjoyed sex with other women but with you, Bucky felt a deep connection. Like you were made for him, you introduced Bucky to a pleasure high he didn’t think was even possible or existed for that matter. 

It started when he called you after a mission, wanting to get rid of pent-up aggression. Bucky was extra happy when you’d told him you were more than happy to let him use your body, that day he’d introduced you to the stars. Fucking you into oblivion. 

Then, it was once a week at least. 

“Training has been-“ Bucky said between thrusts but you shushed him. 

You craned your neck from your position on all fours, locking with his darkened and lustful eyes. “Concentrate on me, on us.”

Bucky thought it was a miracle he didn’t come then and there, just from your words. 

You laid in bed with him after the two of you had finished. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back on his almost flat pillows before focusing all your energy- whatever he hadn’t drained- into lifting your body. 

“A-are you leaving already?” Bucky’s voice was just above a whisper. 

“I didn’t think you wanted me to stay longer.” You chuckled. 

Bucky’s eyes furrowed. “What makes you think that?”

“I thought you used those as a quick fuck quick exit tactic.” You pointed at the uncomfortable pillows. “You know, to make your guest understand they shouldn’t overstay their welcome.”

When you came over a week later, a couple of things had changed in his room. On the nightstand opposite his were a couple of boxes of tampons, one candle, a toothbrush and an oversized vintage t-shirt of his. You fought back a smile as you saw a brand-new fluffy pillow rest next to his flat one on the bed with the tags still attached. 

“Did you take some pointers from romantic comedies?” You bit your bottom lip. 

Bucky smiled, kneeling between your legs perched at the edge of the bed. “Concentrate on me.” 

You threw your head back with a moan as he lowered his head in between your thighs. 

“I’ll take your lack of an answer as a no.” Sam laughed. “The fuckboy became the simp.”

“What of course I’ve been seeing other people.” Bucky scoffed. “Yes, I’ve been doing a lot of that. Recently. Constantly.”

Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Then I assume you won’t care if I told you Thor is coming to the compound next week.”

The sound of his name made the blood coursing through Bucky’s veins become hot. He clamped down on his molars. 

“I thought he wasn’t returning, at least not soon.” Bucky tried to sound relaxed, like he totally didn’t care that the man you have the biggest crush on would be training with the team. 

Sam shrugged. “Something about having intel.”

“What kind of intel could he have that we couldn’t easily get.” Bucky rolled his eyes and sipped the beer. 

“You’re seriously considering you have more information than the literal God of Thunder?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “It’s not like I care anyways.”

“You don’t?” Sam pushed.

“I. don’t. care.” Bucky enunciated each word, following your hands as you placed them on Garrett’s chest. 

“When’s the whole Mr. Casual act going to stop?” Sam asked. 

“You know me-“ Bucky let out a strained smile. “Monogamy bores me. Being with only one woman, for the rest of my life, the whole get married and spend eternity wishing I would die at the same time as her so I don’t need to spend another minute of my time on Earth without her- yeah that doesn’t sound like me.” 

Sam judged his friend silently. 

“She can go home with Garrett and I wouldn’t care-“ Bucky laughed into his beer. “Plus he’s like a full four inches shorter than me so- yeah I don’t care.”

Just as Sam was about to say something, his friends eyes lit up and for the first time in hours he saw Bucky look not miserable- dare he even say happy?

You strutted towards the soldier, your happy glow transferring onto him. 

“How about you take me back to your place, Sarge?” You whispered into his ear. 

Bucky’s face lit up and he took your hand, quickly waving back at Sam. “If you have an emergency, don't call!”

I'm the worst at writing even mild spice so pls don't kill me if this is cringeeee. I triedddd and I'm a sucker for slutty Buck.

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour@hallecarey1

[eirakairos]

Rendezvous Chapter 1

A/N: This idea needed a bit of thinking and did a lot of voice recordings to a friend since I was rambling lol I was busy the past weeks so this took a while.

I pushed this writing after conversing with a fellow writer after reading her L&DS works.

Words: 2,691

Chapter 2

Tags: Hurt/comfort, minor violence, and injury, character death implied!, implied sex and pregnancy, don't worry this is angst but with happy ending

“Do you think we would keep this up forever?” You asked while lying down on Sylus’ chest. They are resting from another amazing lovemaking. You two are doing it as much as you can as both of you must return to your roles in your worlds, you in Linkon and Sylus in N109 Zone. “Well, we can if it's your desire. But if you go with me…” Sylus said, his fingers playing with your hair. “You have to decide if to leave everything behind,”

“What do you mean?” You asked. Sylus sighed. “For… Your safety, if you want to get to the next chapter,”

“What about you?” Sylus hummed. “I told you… I can easily adapt to a place, as long as you’re in it,” You hummed and thinking. Despite the illegal activities, Sylus worked hard to become the leader of Onychinus. You were flushed in thinking the man would give up anything, such fantasies. You quickly went to reality, he won’t do that drastic.

“We don’t have to rush things,” Sylus reassured. “We are currently enjoying it, aren’t we?” he asked, looking at you. You nod as he hugs you closer. “I just thought… We can’t keep this arrangement in the longer term,”

“Well, that I agree with,” he said. You are thinking of the implications: It's either you live with him or he leaves everything behind. Bringing him to Linkon permanently while he is active in his current position would be difficult. You shifted, looking at Sylus who was resting. You are thinking of being with him forever, even settling down.

The thought of settling down crosses your mind often, especially since your relationship with him is long enough. You smile, thinking of being in a dress, being a Mrs, or even having a white-haired little one around.

“Sweetie, what are you thinking?” Sylus looked at her calmly. “I…” You blushed. “Nothing, just… I’m happy with us now,” you answered. Sylus kissed your head. “Sylus, have you thought of… Having a family in the future?” you asked. He blinked and looked at you, a bit surprised.

“It does cross my mind often,” he answered. “I envisioned ruling the world with you,” he smirked. “Well, in what we are doing now… It can be a reality,” he hummed and his hands snaked on your body again. “It is a miracle after our ministrations, nothing happens…” 

“What if something did happen?” You asked.

“If something happened, then something happened. It would be a wonderful spectacle,” He answered. His answer did quell your anxieties. You blush more when he suddenly goes on top of you.

“Maybe I need to work harder if you want it,” he glared and smirked.

“Sylus!” you squeaked. “We are being careful still!”

“I was going easy on you, sweetie,” he said. This ticked off your competitiveness, especially with him. Before you can react, his face is going nearer to yours…

“Hey… Hey!” Tara said, waving her hand in front of your face. It made you snap back to the reality, of you reviewing files in the Association. “Y-Yes?!” you quickly said. “What are you thinking about? I was asking you if you want to join us for a karaoke night,” she asked. “Ah sorry, I have plans tonight,” you said. “Oh, alright… You’ve been staring for minutes, are you sure you’re alright?” Tara asked. “Yes, yes… Sorry about that,”

“Maybe you need to take a few days off, you’ve been working nonstop lately,” she said worriedly. It is true, you’ve been grinding missions left and right the past weeks. There is a group that is rising in the ranks lately, smuggling altered protocores. Surprisingly, this group has been under Sylus’ radar as well, as it imposes a risk against Onychinus. This is the case that was wracking her brain and energy the past weeks especially since it elevates to violence and kidnapping recently.

You need to finish work since Sylus is planning something for the weekend as well. “I’m alright, Tara. Maybe I just need to rest a bit for a few minutes,” you smiled. “You just had a checkup, right?” she followed. “Yes, I will be getting the results soon. I think I’m fine, really,” you reassured. You were feeling unwell the past days but is manageable. You are relieved that Mephisto is not picking that up yet since Sylus and you were having pleasant, bantering conversations.

You sighed in relief when you dodged your colleagues’ questions again. You want to keep your personal, especially love life, in pure private, especially since Sylus is in the picture every time. You think they have gotten a clue already to be hands-off in that, since Sylus and you have been in a relationship for years now. You were surprised you two managed to keep these opposite ends yet are together for a long time. In due time, you did think of either transferring to a more desk job in the Association or completely retiring to being a Hunter.

You thought of the memory again and your face had gone red again. That… was the wildest one you two did. He was really serious when he said he was going easy after all this time! You shook your head, putting that memory to rest as you needed to focus on closing the shift for the day finally. Glancing at the clock, you need to get ready to go home and have enough time before Sylus picks you up.

Sylus is packing his things and getting ready for the planned getaway with you in his base. He was busy the past few days making sure that everything was set when he was away. His hand went to a small box on a table, then slowly opened it. He stared at the contents, for the first time feeling a bit nervous, before closing it again. He believed it was time, his mind was already on set for a long time, but he needed to make sure that you were also on board with it. He remembered the conversation he had with you after your anniversary, especially after that lovemaking. He shook his head despite he smiled to himself, to focus and placed the box in his pocket.

His thoughts break when Mephisto is cawing nonstop, reporting something is suspicious. At the same time, the twins are shouting and busting the door open.

“Boss! The Hunter’s Association office exploded!”

Sylus runs as fast as he can, his coat discarded and wearing as normal as he can to avoid being stand out so he can investigate further. Luke and Kieran provided him with his disguise and access, scrambling from the mansion to the car and rushing towards the office.

The beautiful building is now in shambles, and police and medical rescues are rushing in and providing aid. Mephisto is above, looking nonstop for any traces of you. He has less care in such decorum or leaving an impression, he has to find you. On the side, he saw Tara being tended to, she was injured but still conscious.

“Skye?” Tara called, surprised as Sylus ran towards her to ask. “She… I was waiting for her outside a-and-” she said stuttering. “Please find her, Skye! I-” Tara said as the medic looked at her to calm her down. Sylus looked at the rubble, you were supposed to go with Tara for a pamper day before meeting him. This was supposed to be that day.

He looked nonstop at the same destroyed area over and over, panic and anger were setting in. The twins returned to report that they were unsuccessful in their search and went to help him find, just any trace of you. He knew you were a survivor, a fighter just a nick of time before having aid. Sylus saw a glint and he went closer, it was your identification card attached to a lace with a grumpy crow keychain. He was alerted that you might be nearby.

He took the matter into his own hands and quickly ordered a search, as much as he knew you were in the Hunter’s Association and trusted them more, he didn’t as he was on the other side of the fence. The crew searched many times, for hours, for days, but there were no traces of you.

Your body was not found even after weeks of thorough search. The leader of Onychinus was inconsolable. He was busy but for a different reason this time. He was back in the base afterward; everything felt empty and desolate. He was never seen again in public, especially in Linkon; he was working in the shadows completely once again.

“Boss…” Luke and Kieran knocked at the door as they approached. Even though they start to become more afraid of him after that day, they know the grave consequences of that tragedy. His head turned, allowing them to speak.

“It is confirmed, they are responsible for the attack,” Kieran said as he reported on the table. “Those traitors… They want to pin Onychinus as the one responsible,” he followed. Sylus didn’t respond but his eyes showed so much anger.

“And…” Luke and Kieran looked at each other and then back at their boss. “We… It is better if you look at the report further, Boss,” They said as they left to give Sylus privacy. Sylus wondered why the twins decided not to tell the information themselves. He looked at the folder and opened it, showing photos of transactions of the traitors in his faction, bringing in altered explosions that Onychinus made. His fist clenched, those bastards. He should’ve been more thorough in cleaning up the mess. He flipped through the pages, saw a medical file with your photo, and saw a peculiar picture attached to it.

A sonogram.

It was a stormy night.

Sylus looks down with no emotions on men pleading and begging for mercy. “We are not the ones who installed it! Please!” they said. Black and red mist swirls around their neck, slowly cutting off their breathing. “T-They escaped from N109 Zone after the attack!” the man said barely, as he had little air left. Sylus stopped and let him speak. “They wanted her to get the Aether Core and place it as leverage against you!” Still showing no emotions, he continued his power, ending the man’s life as he suffocated to death. His eye glows red as screams increase, hearing wisps of wind inside as the storm rages as if mimicking Sylus’ anger and sorrow.

Nothing matters to Sylus anymore. He walked away as the twins automatically went in to clean up the mess. All of their pathetic lives in exchange for one… Two precious lives.

“How do we tell…” Luke said. They are going back to the base, holding the report from their investigation that they gave to Sylus.

“I… I don’t know either,” his brother replied. It would’ve been a joyous celebration. They knew it would be a very special occasion because of the orders he had given them. They had been assisting him to make sure the organization went smoothly while he was gone to be with you, to officially bond with you for life. They were surprised by the discovery as well, when they got your latest medical file, a few days before the tragic event.

“Her being… I can’t, I don’t have the guts to tell Boss,” Luke said. Kieran was silent but he did agree. They felt devastated by what happened, much more in learning this information.

In the years they serve under Sylus, this is the only time they felt genuine fear even if they had his protection. Sylus is finishing off anyone responsible for the attack and often working to expand the N109 Zone, even Linkon City has started to direct its eyes on it but not taking any drastic actions, as they have no match against Sylus’ capacity. They learned stories and legends about him, imprisonment and escaping, then slowly controlling an empire. They are now witnessing the conqueror instead of the leader. 

It is a special day for Sylus as he took his leave today. He has his umbrella opened in one hand and a bouquet in another. It was drizzling a bit as he approached a big silver statue that was known as the Hunter’s Association headquarters four years ago. News blasted, investigations were searched, and then a memorial was proposed. A new Hunter’s Association was built in another location and the former one became a memorial. Everyone seemed to move on, and this angered Sylus even until now. He knew there would be a ceremony program in the morning, so he went around the afternoon. It was a quiet ceremony with few attendees, it felt like an ordinary forced program. He quietly placed a bouquet on the memorial, red roses, brighter and blossomed than others.

“Skye?” a voice called.

Sylus turned his head. A lady holding an umbrella was in front of him.

“It’s been a while,” she said. “I’m Tara, remember?” she followed. Skye turned a bit and nodded. “Yes, I remember you. It has been a while,” he spoke. “You’re here for her, right?” she asked. Sylus didn’t answer, Tara went forward to place a basket of flowers and stood beside him.

“Everything is happening so fast…” Tara said. “I was working here and now, I’m in the other city,” her hand gripped the handle of the umbrella. “I’m so sorry, Skye… I know how important you are to her,”

“What made you say that?” he asked.

“Well, during the drinking sessions we went to, I do ask her a lot of questions,” Tara answered. “She always looked flustered and tried to dodge the questions whenever I tried to bring you up,” she chuckled. “I had a feeling there is something between you two. The last time… She… She looked very excited. She said she was going to tell you something,” Sylus only looked at the memorial, he knew why. “I think I know the reason when I remember that day. The past weeks, she was getting sicker and going to the bathroom often,” she smiled. “Well, that was my speculation… It doesn’t matter now, it only gives a painful result of reality,” Tara looked up at the gray sky. “I’m still sorry for your loss, Skye,”

“Likewise to yours,” he replied. There was silence again, contemplating the common loss they had. “Sorry, I won’t be long as well, I only stopped by and had to return to work,” she apologized profusely. “It’s fine, I appreciate the company,” Sylus said. “Since then, the world seems to be falling into more chaos, especially the Onychinus is spreading wide greater than the N109 Zone,” Tara said. Sylus looked at her for a second before his eyes looked at the flowers.

Tara left after, but Sylus remained there for a while. Even years later, his love never faltered. He became busy, focusing only on world domination. The world will burn because he lost his beloved. He can’t even find your body which gave him false hope but it has been years and he only has more questions than answers. He can’t even fathom lying flowers in a place your body was not in. So many what-ifs in his head in those four years, but it doesn’t matter now. He was used to pain, but not like this.

Luke and Kieran did arrive as he ordered to pick him up.

“Boss, we have new intel,” Luke said as they went inside the car and started driving. Sylus didn’t respond but only looked at him.

“We saw top-secret information from the faction,” he said. “The spaceship they escaped from crashed in the grassland plains,” he reported. “No survivors were found. We have to put extreme measures to get this information from the only survivor left… Well… Not anymore,” Kieran said, grinning.

“And this information is important… How so?” he questioned, raising his eyebrow. The twins stopped smiling and switched to being serious. Kieran gave Sylus a small item, which he recognized upon holding it.

“This is what they found in the crash,” he said.

The crow brooch.

[unhinged-simp]

Outis!Reader X Kaito

I’ve been playing Limbus Company lately, and I thought it’d be fun to combine the two. This is just a fun thing. Sorry for my disappearance, I stopped because I was busy for a couple days, and I was hit with writers block. So I’m returning with this. If you like this, I’m more than happy to make more of this. I’m also working on requests.

Outis- Outis is a military veteran. She tends to scold her co-workers when they do something reckless. She seems to care more about those over her, especially the manager Dante. She doesn’t like cowardice, and responds negatively to it. She more than vocal about her opinions, but she’s often stopped by if Dante asks her to stop.

Terms - Ego is a term that refers to a big attack where the characters either attacks in their original form, or they turn into monsters

Something to note: Outis is, to my knowledge and hcs, much older than Kaito. In this fic and in all my stuff with them, Outis!Reader is closer to his age. Outis!Reader is also written slightly softer than she is in game.

Outis!Reader is written to be gender neutral. You/they are used for them.

(Unedited)

I keep thinking about Outis!Reader X Kaito.

At first you weren’t really a big fan of Kaito, finding him too much like how Sinclair was when you met him.

You would often scold him and Luca for doing dumb things. One time during a mission to Sinostra you saw Kaito gambling, and you gave him a quick lecture on the dangers of gambling(although he reminded you of your friend Rodya at points, which you found kinda nice)

After a while of having to deal with them, you grew to like Kaito. In your head he was a little bit like a wet kitten.

Of course, you don’t stop your scolding, but you definitely are a little bit more softer to him then you used to be.

You would occasionally talk about your Executive Manager, who Kaito would ask about one day. You would oblige him, telling him about Dante, though you hesitated talking about the promise with them that allowed you to be revived after death. Kaito would probably notice, but wouldn’t press you to tell him.

If you two ever managed to get together it’d be a miracle, with him being a nervous wreck over it and you being stubborn over the fact that you like him.

But once you two are, you’d be kind of protective over him. At this point, you might as well fistfight with Romeo since he never stops trying to stalk Kaito.

You probably would have hit him with an EGO by now, if Kaito hadn’t held you back from doing so.

You two have the dynamic of, ‘he asked for no pickles.’ And when you two first got together, your relationship was probably, me, my partner, and their Executive Manager, but you grew out of it slightly.

There are times where Kaito would gently kiss you while he sat pressed against you. While he’s sitting like this with you, he loves to kiss your fingers.

Days like these make you dread when you finally go home

[salmonskinrolltf]

this is soooo embarrassing. I can’t believe I’m even typing it out. But dude, I’ve been a gaymer for as long as I remember. I’m 30 pounds too heavy. I’m 27 and living. With too many roommates in the suburbs. And well. I’ve been watching Glee lately. And I just got to the season around college and I was hoping I could rent some tapes. See, I’ve got this major crush on Darren’s character Blaine and itd be awesome to always be singing and dancing and having fun. I was never a theatre kid myself. Any chance you can help?

Almost like a miracle, right when you considered ordering a tape from Be Kind Rewind, one of your roommates got a VCR. You suppose. You’re not sure which one of them actually got it, but it’s right there, plugged into the TV in your living room, so someone must have. The only thing is, you’ve had to wait until everyone was out to use it. You double check that the door is locked and everybody is out for the evening. You’re embarrassed to be seen watching the show, but you’re embarrassed for another reason tonight, too. Because renting this tape feels like a special occasion, you’ve decided to cosplay as Blaine a little bit. Your hair is neatly slicked back and you’ve donned a cardigan and bow tie to match his put-together preppy look.

When you’re certain the coast is clear, you open the (thankfully discretely marked) package and a die rolls out into your hand. Oh yeah. The die thing. Weird. You toss it onto the coffee table and it lands on 4.

When the VCR whirs to life, you hear those a cappella credit trills that indicate whatever episode that was playing has already ended, so you jab the rewind button, humming the music quietly to yourself. You scratch your stomach and realize the fabric of your cardigan is much looser than it should be. You lift it up and see that your stomach has shrunk, flattening against your torso, which seems firmer and more lithe in general.

Stunned, you gaze at yourself in the nearest mirror, noticing how the new outfit looks even more Blaine-like after your bizarre transformation. In fact, everything is looking more Blaine-like. Your eyebrows thicken and darken, your slicked-back hair darkening along with them. As your lips plump up and your skin tans slightly, you realize you look like a total Blaine doppelganger. Your dick hardens in the thrift store pants you bought to match the overall preppy look. You look just like your crush! You’re not even questioning it, you just figure you must be dreaming or something. But even if you’re only dreaming, why let the opportunity pass you by to admire yourself more… privately?

In a daze, you wander into the bathroom. Instead of the pigsty it normally is, living with so many roommates, it looks neat and tidy. Tubs of hair gel neatly line the sides of the sink, and the mirror is decorated with playbills, a photo of Blaine and Kurt, and a bumper sticker for a local Lima, Ohio radio station. Not only do you look exactly like Blaine, you’re now in what seems to be his bathroom! You admire yourself in the mirror.

A thrill of excitement thrums through you and you unzip your pants, rubbing yourself at the thought of looking just like your crush.

As you pleasure yourself, you think about the various Glee characters you have the biggest crushes on. Could you use this VHS service to become them all? The thought makes you even more aroused. However, when Blaine returns to your mind, your dick deflates. Suddenly it feels wrong to be thinking about him. You try to cycle back through the other characters in your mind, but suddenly only the female ones come to mind. Brittany, Quinn, even Rachel. Your dick springs back to full hardness and you panic at the sudden shift in your sex drive. You shove your erection back into your pants but not before cum explodes into the sink. You hurriedly wipe it up with some toilet paper.

What the hell is going on? As you scrub, you don’t notice that the gel is slowly easing out of your hair, which curls and falls over your face in a more lackadaisical, unkempt fashion. Stubble sprouts from your cheeks, chin, and upper lip, slowly growing into a short beard. Your clothes morph from your preppy ensemble into more of a rocker vibe, your shredded T-shirt dipping into a V-neck that exposes the dark, matted chest hair that has been busy unfurling across your newly taut torso. 

Right when you flush the balled-up wad of TP, a voice interrupts your panic.

“What the hell are you doing in my bathroom?”

You turn to the doorway and see Blaine Anderson standing there. Wait, that can’t be. Weren’t you just him? You turn to look at yourself in the mirror and see a much more rugged, sloppy individual than the person you were just a moment before. You look like Blaine, but… different. Older, somehow. And more unkempt, definitely.

This intruder, on the other hand, looks exactly like Blaine. He also looks annoyed. He taps his toe and runs a hand across his impeccably coiffed hair. “This is why I asked Mom for my own bathroom, so I wouldn’t have to wait for you all the time. How is it that I use 12 hair products a day and you still take longer than I do for everything?”

You’re too shocked to say anything. You’re unsure whether you’re more shocked by the words he’s saying or the fact that Blaine is standing just feet away and you feel nothing about it whatsoever. As your brain sputters, your body kicks into autopilot and you shrug.

“The gays haven’t cornered the market on looking good just yet, little bro,” you chuckle, punching his arm as you head back out into the hallway, which now looks like one that belongs in a pristine suburban home. 

As you head back into your room, you notice that it looks entirely different. No game consoles in sight, just laundry strewn everywhere and a mini basketball hoop on the back of the doorway. You absent-mindedly toss a NERF basketball toward the hoop and it hits the rim, flying back in your direction and smacking you in the face, knocking you back onto the unkempt mattress that’s on the floor without a bed frame.

You groggily open your eyes and look around. Where the hell are you? Who the hell are you? You rack your brains. Oh yeah. David Anderson. Eldest son of one of the lamest families on the planet, smack dab in the middle of Buttfuck, Ohio. You scratch your hairy chest underneath your T-shirt and check the time.

You remember you have plans to grab some brews with the boys this evening before seeing the latest movie starring that hot actress you like, so you’d better head out quick so you can hit up the gym beforehand. You throw on your gym clothes, grab your water bottle, and rush out the door.

As you pass by your little bro’s room, you see him singing along to a Mariah Carey tune and practicing his dance moves. You roll your eyes good-naturedly. Singing and dancing aren’t for you, but you appreciate how into it he is. You figure that, for him, singing and dancing brings him the same joy that going to the gym and playing ball with your bros does for you. You leap up to smack the top of the door frame as you head outside, barely giving Blaine another thought as you walk down the street, anticipating the awesome evening ahead of you.

[marcmarcmomarc]

(I wanted to post this in the form of a video with GamingMagic13’s style of editing, but I don’t have the energy for that.)*

People say Chloé’s redeeming qualities only started to show through during Seasons 2 and 3 because Thomas had no involvement in the production of those two seasons as if he wasn’t on the writing team on every episode for those two seasons.

The consensus shouldn’t be, “Thomas went away so the other writers started a redemption arc which Thomas ruined when he came back”. It should be, “Thomas and the other writers spent two seasons tricking people into feeling bad for Chloé by revealing that she was more than just a one-dimensional mean girl, and then yanked the rug out from under them just for the sake of yanking the rug out from under people”.

Thomas, your target audience is literal children. I don’t think subverting their expectations is that much of an achievement to brag about.

Also, does anyone else think that, if people weren’t so antagonistically vocal about Miracle Queen and didn’t harass Thomas over it and the “We thought she was redeemable” tweet, then Chloé wouldn’t have gotten worse and worse as Seasons 4 and 5 went on?

Considering the fact that, after Season 3 ended in Fall 2019, the show went on a hiatus that was forced to be even longer due to the COVID pandemic with only the New York special to keep us company in September before finally returning in Spring 2021, the crew had plenty of time to rework the scripts to worsen Chloé.

I would say this applies to Lila, too, but it’s not like feeling bad for her was ever a common fandom talking point and the only thing about her that could have qualified as a redeeming quality that could have gone somewhere (that she lies for attention that she can’t get at home because her mom is out working for most of the day, which only briefly comes back at the beginning of Oni-Chan) is now irrelevant (now that she has multiple moms and identities) because this show has proven how much it loves its retcons and has done nothing to convince me it’s not misogynistic, not even the half-a**ed attempts at redeeming Nathalie and Sabrina after four seasons of them making Bayonetta faces. I know I’m of the “better late than never” opinion, but that mindset can only go so far until “too little, too late” kicks in.

*When talking about the GM13’s editing style, I’m referring to the one he’s been using since the Top 20 Worst Movies video, as in, the topic he is currently talking about will contain clips from the franchise the current topic is discussing.

Talking about Toy Story? Clips from the Toy Story saga.

Talking about The Incredibles? Clips from the Incredibles duology.

Talking about Cars? Clips from the Cars trilogy.

Talking about The Owl House? Clips from The Owl House.

Practice with this.