#and you will forever be haunted by a ghost of everything you've ever touched in return

[im-tempted]

As much as I love a house that is haunted I much much more love a house (as loose as I use that word) that haunts you

I love a house that you have to walk past and stare in the windows of hoping the new people who live there are treating it well

I love a building that you grew and bled in too much in equal parts to ever go in again

I love a city that you can never visit or a highway that's poisoned or a library you have one too many memories in THAT part of to ever go in again

I love nothing more than a place that has become too much of you for you to ever be able to interact with it in any way that's not as a living ghost as a dead thing as a corpse that won't stop rotting no matter how many graves you've dug it

[biowhore]

Alurlssrin

Astarion x drow!Tav, gn!Tav

Tags/Content: Soft, angst, allusions to past trauma, SFW, no sex, one-shot, short

Context: Spoilers for Act 2 Astarion confession. I dreamed about softly touching Astarion’s face and it snowballed into a ton of drow background, not much BG3-specific context outside of Astarion’s story.

Word count: 2k

Your fingers lead his eyelids closed, trailing softly down his cheeks, tracing his laugh lines, and skirting by his lips. Oh, those lips and that toothy smile that has you grinning at everything he says.

Fic List AO3

This one is for all you drow Tav enjoyers.

On a rare calm evening, you and Astarion are up with the ever-present darkness in the shadowlands, set up in his tent together. He watches as you work on patching a hole beginning in your armor from a close call with a fire bolt spell.

“Need a midnight snack?” you quip, not looking up from your task.

“Cheeky. I don’t need it, but if you're offering...” he says with a lilt.

A thoughtful hum is your response as you finish buffing your repair and place your armor aside. Finally looking up at him, your eyes roam his face, settled in a newly uncharacteristic calm and openness. He lounges on his side in his bedroll, head propped up in his hand, a book on the floor before him. You've given him time and space since your conversation, orbiting him like a moon and offering safe, chaste touches. ‘Practice’, you call it. Neither of you meditate much here in the shadowlands, so the nights give ample time to be in each other’s company. And you do just that – be. Sitting together in silence, bantering through the night, and yes, the usual bloodletting. With that open expression tonight, he might be up for more practice. And when he looks at you like that, with the hint of challenge in those red eyes, it raises your dark blood.

“Want to practice?”

His eyes search your face, that open expression holding steady. He sits up and sets his book aside, his mouth slanting up into a tiny grin, “What do you have in mind?”

Another pause follows, and you begin to shuffle toward him on your knees. Tilting your chin toward his lap, you ask the silent question. He picks up your meaning and gives a subtle nod, opening his legs to allow you to kneel between them. You sit quietly, mapping his face with your eyes, letting the closeness settle between you.

You reach up slowly, giving him time to pull away, but his eyes are locked on yours, still with that open, slightly challenging, curiosity. Your fingers retrace the steps your eyes took, ghosting over his brows, and you catch his pupils dilating ever so slightly. Sweeping up to his hairline, you trace the lines down to the hinge of his jaw and slowly follow the muscles to his chin. A furrow forms between his brows and you reach up to smooth it away.

“Ok?” you murmur.

“It’s… different. Familiar and yet altogether new,” he mutters.

“Yeah,” you whisper, entirely enraptured by the feel of him, “Can I…?”

“Hm,” he replies softly, with a barely perceptible lowering of his chin.

You properly take his face between your hands now, marveling at how his eyes flutter and become half-lidded and how his downy skin feels against your palms. Your awe is reflected at you through his red eyes, and a warmth is spreading through your chest. His thick tresses thread through the tips of your fingers. You hold him there, brushing your thumbs across his cheeks, watching his minute reactions and pondering on that warmth you feel.

Once, back when you first set foot on the surface, a young human couple inexplicably allowed you to stay the night in their barn despite your dark skin and red eyes. When the sky reshaped itself into that blanket of stars that mesmerizes you to this day, the couple stood out on their porch and embraced in this way before retiring for the night. The man held his wife's face in his hands, and the look between them has forever haunted your memory. You could not identify it then, as this was your first witnessing of open affection, and as you absconded early that morning with their only horse, your thoughts constantly wandered back to the strange look in their eyes. Your experiences on the surface have been multitude since then, yet you never forgot the small moment you witnessed and never spoke of. Never have you felt safe enough to touch a partner in this way. The others were simply a means to an end, scratching an itch. Astarion was as well, at first. The game you both played offered familiar ground in unfamiliar territory. But now… this moment, this tenderness that is wholly removed from those games... You aren’t quite sure what to make of it.

It seems that neither of you can speak. His eyes flicker between yours as you are momentarily lost in your memory. Is it instinct that has you retracing his features as if to memorize them? As your finger follows down the bridge of his nose, his eyes slowly close. He leans into your touch slightly, and that warmth in your chest begins to bloom and burn, stealing your breath. Your hands start to tremble, and his eyes flit open again, searching your face.

“What is it?” he asks quietly, taking your hands.

Your gaze lowers to his neck, to the two small scars there. You borrow his own words, “’Familiar yet altogether new.’” Adding under your breath, “And terrifying.”

“It is, isn’t it? But also exhilarating.” He lifts your chin gently, redirecting your eyes back to his. “What happened to that confidence from earlier?”

Sighing through your nose, you duck your head. “I’ve been on the surface a long while now. But I still hear the ringing of swords, the clinking of chains, and the chanting of priestesses in the back of my mind. I am still learning that what is weakness there can be something else here…” you give a humorless chuckle, “Sometimes I need the practice.”

“I hadn’t realized how similar we are. How regrettably, terribly, similar. The whole lot of us are, I suppose. Clawing tooth and nail out of one hell and falling into another.”

You raise your head, looking into his downturned crimson eyes, “But I’d much rather wallow in this hell with you than the one I escaped.”

You aren’t sure where the courage has come from – is it courage? – but you let that warmth in your chest guide you now. Your fingers lead his eyelids closed, trailing softly down his cheeks, tracing his laugh lines, and skirting by his lips. Oh, those lips and that toothy smile that has you grinning at everything he says. It’s a sin ever to see him frown.

“Can I kiss you?” you breathe. A humorous huff is his initial response, a smile spreading across those lips and you catch them with yours as he parts starts to actually answer you. Whatever he was about to say dies with this kiss, and indeed, what a kiss it is. It is so slow, tender, his lips petal soft. It starts with that first catching, brush of skin, then delicate slow sips. He tastes like a luscious red vintage with a bitter note, all decadence. It sets your head spinning. That warm thing inside your chest burns again, but rather than smother it, you decide to kindle it with this kiss. You are sure that it is full of things you don’t have words for yet, things that you could only say now with your lips on his. Maybe, one day, you both could say those things out loud. But for now, you wade out into these unknown waters together.

As you pull away, you murmur onto his lips, “I have an idea.”

“Quite inspired this evening, are we?”

You grin, “I have an ethereal muse. Will you indulge me yet again?” 

“How can I say no when you say things like that, darling?”

With that, you jump – as much as one can in one’s lover’s lap – into action and pull him down into his bedroll with you. Quickly pulling his blankets over you both, you nudge him onto his side and curl up behind him, around his head.

“If you wanted a cuddle, you could have asked,” he chuckled.

You pause, and as a lead weight drops into your stomach, you remember that this has been a lot of contact all at once, far more than usual. You sit up suddenly, “Light, is this too much? I should’ve asked-”

He silences you with a hasty reply, “This is fine, I’m fine. I think. As I said, it’s different... but not unwelcome. I could get used to this.” He trails off for a moment, and then quietly adds, “But perhaps we go no further than this tonight.” He runs a hand down your arm in reassurance.

You smile softly in response, curling back up beside him, “Of course. Toss me out anytime if I tire you.”

“As if I could toss you out of anywhere,” he scoffs. “You have a way of ferreting yourself back in, anyway.”

“Me!? Ferreting!? That is most unbecoming; I slither, thank you!”

Now you have him in a proper laugh, and you admire the way his whole face changes. The creases at the corners of his eyes, the crinkle in his nose, and the glint of his teeth. Most of all, the sound of it. You adore his real laugh; time seems to stand still every time you hear it.

“’Light’, eh?" He posits, turning onto his side, "I don’t think you’ve ever cursed like that before.”

“I don’t think I’ve said it in several decades,” you muse, Light upon you! being a very common curse. You've since adopted surface phrases to avoid standing out so much. “How did you know it was a curse?”

“I have my sources,” he quips, glancing over at a few of his books.

With a private grin you hum acknowledgement, letting the conversation lapse into comfortable silence. You both lie still next to each other, not touching but very close, content to be together in the time before your companions rise.

In the quiet of the early morning, with only the sigh of your breaths between you, your finger coiling a lock of his hair over and over, you recall a word once whispered in a safehouse from your past. You took refuge there, tucked away in the Mantle on the outskirts of Menzoberranzan. It was depths better than the constant vigilance you were accustomed to in the streets of the slum, fighting off goblins and runaway slaves for any scrap of food. Those days before your trek through the Dark Dominion were the lowest of your shadowy life, but that small, impossible band of drow, goblins, and even a human brought a little light with them when they offered you shelter. You learned their music, accepted their alms, and heard the teachings of Lolth’s wayward daughter. You had little choice but to do so, your other options all leading back to the Stenchstreets, and you were constantly vigilant of the day they would turn on you, kill you, sell you to a pleasure house, use you for some gain. But that day never came. It flummoxed you; and on the eve of the day the group sent you off with a contact through the tunnels to the surface you backed one of them in a corner and demanded to know, to understand.

“Why do you do this?”

“Out of love for our people, and a desire to see them flourish among our brethren above,” was their simple answer. They offered no more, and stood stoic against your blade.

With a ghost of breath, you test the word around your lips, your tongue now unfamiliar with its mother language, and this word too. It is not known in deep drow – only those who dance under the Dark Maiden truly knew it.

“Alurlssrin...”

It is sweet and so unfamiliar but sends a thrill through you. You are sure Astarion hears it, as he is not in trance, but he does not react, does not say anything. He’ll not know what it means anyway, and frankly neither do you, not yet. But with time – with time and this warmth between you, maybe you’ll find out. Maybe you’ll teach him what it means one day.

Love.

---

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: in the house we remain

Aziraphale buys a quiet cottage in the middle of the English countryside. It is perfect in every way: old-style, quaint, surrounded by wilderness, with a small water feature in the back and a price to rival that of any other property he's seen. He is in love from the moment he sees it. But when a mysterious set of books, all written by unknown author A.J. Crowley, appears on his book shelf, Aziraphale begins to wonder if there is perhaps more to this house than he'd originally believed. The truth can be buried, but it cannot stay hidden forever.

Length: 48,334 words

AO3 Rating: Mature / Spice Level 🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, At Home, Angst, Human AU

Triggers: Major Character Death

Read it here, fic by commodorecliche

*Minor Spoilers* This story of Aziraphale falling in love with a ghost is one of the most gripping and beautiful stories I've ever read. It is such a powerful piece of fiction. Seamlessly blending romance with mystery and horror. Get your tissues, settle in, this one will haunt you.

Aziraphale has just moved to a cozy cottage in the countryside. If he's hearing things, feeling weird drafts, and noticing things out of place, well, that's just him settling in. Soon, there will be no denying the strange events, and it starts with a set of unpublished books written by an AJ Crowley. The previous, deceased, owner of the house.

This is heartbreaking. It's grief pools over everything. As Aziraphale learns more about the entity who haunts his cottage you will start to grieve as well. The way they begin to communicate was so thrilling and the softest romance. On one hand, we know they're soulmates and belong together despite any obstacle. On the other, it's a tragedy and horrifying. It's gorgeous and grotesque.

It's mostly safe in public, but an at home read for me. If you were destroyed by All of Us Strangers, I think you'll want to check this out. But mind the tags and warnings, there is graphic descriptions of death and major character death. Technically a happy ending? But that's a grey area in itself. I'd love to know how you guys feel about this ending actually

Read it here, fic by commodorecliche

P.S Spoilers under the cut because I want to scream about this story so come back once you've read this

I literally started crying when Aziraphale discovers what was tucked into the attic, the way Crowley was never appreciated as an author was so painful!! Crowley's death destroyed me!! The scene of the water splashing and Aziraphale trying to save him??? Only to come inside and see him?? THE ART???? This one has got me UNWELL.

But also what a horror! Aziraphale never experiencing a full life with Crowley, never knowing the physical touch of a person for what was it 40 years?? That's both romantic and devastating.

UGH I will never get over the scene of Aziraphale watching Adam discover his body. It made my blood run cold. And how Crowley had to watch over his decaying body as well. FUCK this one is so insanely good and how can I explain that to a normie? Hm? Yeah this human au of my blorbos falling in love even though one of them is a ghost literally had me crying screaming and throwing up and this is a normal thing for me

My views on the ending? I think I lean on the horror end of the scale. Yes they are together, but stuck watching over every new owner of the house, still never getting to experience a real life together. What a powerful concept! And I love the different interpretations available.

[knoxise]

the way shades linger -- a indie/folk playlist for hades game patroclus + achilles (patrochilles)

tracklist and matching lyrics under the cut (playlist icon by wolfythewitch); will be perpetually updated and adjusted

Memory - Aristos the Musical (I wish I had a secret; I wish I had a thousand; just so I could tell him every single one)

You Woke, I Waited - PigPen Theatre Co. (When we are older, we'll hear our bodies say; Oh; We'd find the mountain, survive)

A Long Way Past the Past - Fleet Foxes (I'll know that it's true; that rebirth won't work like it used to be; and oh, man, was it that much better then?)

Ghost's Fingers - Lambs & Wolves (We'll meet where this body ends; Have you ever met a ghost hiding his hands?)

Another Involved - Cold Weather Company (There's another involved, there's a pain in these walls)

Wait It Out - Imogen Heap (Everybody says that time heals everything; But what of the wretched hollow? The endless in between?)

Can You Stay - The Family Crest (Can you stay; Cause you have my heart; Cause you've been mine for all of time)

Open Water Reckless Fishes - Squalloscope (Left all the good ones behind; Not because I wanted to, but because it was time)

Will Tomorrow Ever Come - Cold Weather Company (If time is our debt, what do we owe? Will I see you soon?)

You, Anything For - The Soil & The Sun (You could be the one who I would bleed for; Salt in my wound and seethe for)

Meet You At The Gate - Jayne Trimble (I will meet you at the gate; I don't mind if I've to wait; Cause, oh, it takes a little time to taste the fruit of the vine; show me the way to your heart)

Fair - The Amazing Devil (And clinging to the moment, "Where have you been?" She'll whisper, "I've waited, oh, so long for you to come")

Two Shadows - Benjamin Verdoes (You wanted to unravel, you wanted to escape; Here's the last place we kissed; But we're not trying to speak)

O Icarus - Aristos the Musical (This moment seems like memory; I'm grieving breathing, and the grief is air)

I Design Disasters - Robert Hallow and The Holy Men (And when I am alone; I trace your shape in the air beside me; Give it time love, I know you're wanting more)

Ribcage - Ash the Ghost (There's a ghost of who we were living in my spine; Maybe if we run away we can bring it back to life; Let it sink into our lines and edges)

Calling It Love - Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (Am I another home you lost in the flood; and are you the only living thing that I will ever touch?)

A Better Time to Meet - Adrianne Lenker & Buck Meek (I never feel more found than when I'm wandering; But to hear that quiet voice, I'd give up everything; To follow the soft sighing of the sea)

Always Gold - Radical Face (Yeah, everything goes away; But I am gonna be here until forever, so just call when you're around)

Everybody Here Is A Cloud - Cloud Cult (There's so much more to see in our darkest places; Have you found where your place is?)

The Moon/Awake - The Dear Hunter (How'd we lose our place? Who decided out fate? I'd bare you my heart if I knew that it was still there; I'm too nervous to look)

Rule #33 - Pyre - Fish in a Birdcage (When I looked in your eyes, I said I know you'll be fine; Trust yourself and live it your way)

You and I - Domimi Foster (You and I always were waiting; For the inevitable fall; Can we have one hour longer than this?)

My Love Goes To The Grave - Jayne Trimble (I can't go back, I've done you wrong; This is where I belong, where I'm going you cannot come)

Empty Hall Sing Along - Woodpigeon (Since you came, I don’t know what way is up and where I stand; or where I can; words take on a different plan)

True Love - Emily Brown (True love, tell me what's in your soul; Right when you're most at peace, that's when you lose control)

Shadow Boy - Little Moon (I whisper out your name, knowing you can hear; And you are here; I am here)

The Night We Met - Lord Huron (I don't know what I'm supposed to do; Haunted by the ghost of you)

You Are - Mother Falcon (What is dear to me? You are what is dear to me)

Let's Go Home - Cold Weather Company (Though you know I'll always turn back to you; And wonder what a little more time could prove; I just can't keep being like this)

Resurrection Fern - Iron & Wine (In our days we will live, like our ghosts will live; like stubborn boys with big green eyes, we'll see everything)

Sleeping World - Vancouver Sleep Clinic (I'm a wandering soul, lost in a city of homes; I don't see anything else, cause I'm just learning to hold you above a sleeping world)

Death with Dignity - Sufjan Stevens (Spirit of my silence, I can hear you; but I'm afraid to be near you, and I don't know where to begin)

You Are the Moon - The Hush Sound (Darkness, darkness, everywhere, do you feel all alone?; You don't see what you possess, a beauty calm and clear)

[myeuphoricmindset]

Haunted by you - Eddie Munson

↳ chapter four

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

Read on ao3

Summary | Eddie Munson's ghost is haunting the house recently occupied by Daisy Morgan. Having been deceased for years, Eddie becomes visible only to her. As she adjusts to sharing her living space with an otherworldly presence, their relationship develops into a compelling yet forbidden romance between the living and the dead. But, how could that ever truly work?

Updated warnings/tags | verbal and attempted physical assault (abusive relationship) and mentions of diet/eating habits. Full tags here.

Word count | 6.1k

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Eddie exclaimed in disbelief before bursting out laughing.

"I'm not lying! It was a huge hit when it came out a few years ago. It's so good, and I think you could relate..." Daisy dangled the movie in front of Eddie with a big smile.

"Ghost? Couldn't they come up with something more original?"

"It is original. And look, it has Patrick Swayze," Daisy's brows wiggled.

Eddie dropped his chin slightly. "Is that supposed to be enticing?" Daisy pouted, and Eddie folded immediately. "Fine."

"Don't act so smug. I'm bringing you joy in your lonesome afterlife."

"Are you?"

"Well, when was the last time you watched a movie?" Daisy said with crossed arms. He stared at her."Exactly. Instead of fiddling your fingers, I'm offering entertainment here."

"I mean, you've kept me pretty entertained so far." Eddie says with a smile.

"Count me off duty then."

Daisy pushed the movie into the VCS player and walked over to turn off one of the lamps. It was dim, the perfect movie lighting. When Daisy turned to face Eddie on the couch, she instantly noticed his glow.

He looked at her puzzled. "What?"

The sound of the movie previews began, and Daisy shook her head as if it were no big deal before turning off the other lamp. The only light came from the TV screen and Eddie. She wouldn't admit it, but she loved the subtle light radiating from him. It was almost comforting.

The couch was big, but once Daisy sat down, she noticed that it felt smaller with two people. He sat comfortably, with his legs spread, one arm on the back of the couch, and the other tapping lightly on his thigh. He always seemed to be moving or fidgeting. Normally she would be bothered by it, but she wasn't.

Eddie mused, rubbing his chin as he fixed his gaze on the screen. It was more of a statement than a question, and he appeared lost in thought. Daisy could see a hint of sadness in his eyes, a reminder of his inability to fully experience the world. It seemed like a form of torment, always within reach but forever out of grasp.

Daisy turned away when Eddie caught her staring, shifting slightly to grab the remote. She pressed play, and the movie began, capturing Eddie's genuine interest. He made occasional remarks and asked questions, and Daisy shushed him, urging him to wait and see. Eddie groaned but complied. Everything was going smoothly until the love scene unfolded, casting an awkward air over the room, like watching an intimate moment with one's parents. At least, that's what Daisy was feeling.

Daisy cleared her throat, breaking the silence. "How about a milkshake?"

Eddie regarded her with a playful smirk. "Oh, are you uncomfortable?"

Daisy, slightly flustered, shot back, "What? No."

His smirk widened, and he leaned in closer, unable to hide his amusement. "Why are you acting like that then?"

"Like what?"

Eddie studied her intently. "Like a virgin."

Daisy scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I'm not."

"Look at you, cheeks flushed and eager to leave the room."

Daisy couldn't help herself; she touched her cheeks to check if they felt hot. But when she saw Eddie brushing his finger over his lips, trying to conceal his smile, she let out a groan. "I'm getting milkshakes. Stay there and watch," she declared as she turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "Am I a dog?"

Daisy popped her head back in with a mischievous grin. "Well..."

In response, Eddie playfully tossed a pillow in her direction, softly hitting her legs. Daisy gasped and stood there, staring at the pillow by her feet, while Eddie sighed and settled back into the couch to continue watching the movie. The fact that he had thrown a pillow at her was oddly surreal.

Sometimes, Daisy had these moments when she looked at her peculiar situation from an outsider's perspective, realizing how bizarre it all was. She wandered around her house, conversing with a ghost. It was utterly insane, yet she found herself relishing it. Her time with Eddie seemed to alleviate the pain she had been grappling with. It might have been a distraction, but it was a welcome one. No one needed to know she was seeking solace in the company of the deceased to numb her pain.

Eddie had become engrossed in the movie, particularly now that the main character had died. Daisy found it endearing how much he was enjoying it. After staring at the same walls for years, a movie must have felt like a thrilling escape for him. It was refreshing for her to focus on someone other than herself and the overwhelming dread that had been a constant companion.

"Are you teasing me?" Eddie's unexpected question caught Daisy off guard as she set down the milkshakes on the wooden table in front of the couch.

"What?" she stammered, her confusion evident.

Eddie pointed to the milkshakes and gave her a teasing look. It took a moment, but then it dawned on her that he couldn't drink them. Her embarrassment flared up, and she covered her face.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I... I didn't even... I swear I didn't even think ab—"

Eddie cut her off with a reassuring chuckle. "Daisy, it's fine." He leaned forward, twirling the straw around lightly. "It looks delicious. Thanks for thinking of me."

It had only been a week since they'd met, but Daisy was already beginning to grow accustomed to having him around. The lines between worlds blurred, and it was increasingly challenging to remember that he was not among the living. Something in her chest tightened at that thought, but she pushed it aside and settled onto the couch, content to listen to Eddie's musings about the movie and the unrealistic portrayal of life after death. As she sipped on her milkshake, she cherished the moments when she could escape her own thoughts.

Almost two hours in, they had laughed, gasped, and talked through most of the movie. Daisy pretended to watch it for the first time, and Eddie pretended to be less interested than he truly was.

His melted milkshake trembled slightly in the cup as he flopped his legs onto the table in front of him and pointed to the TV. "Bullshit!"

"What?" Daisy exclaimed, her eyes widening.

"The bright light," Eddie muttered with a heavy sigh. "That's bullshit. He's only been dead for... what? A few days or weeks, and he's already moving on."

Daisy nodded thoughtfully. "Well, yeah. He had unfinished business or whatever."

Their eyes met, and suddenly, it clicked for both of them. Eddie must have unfinished business, and that's why he couldn't move on. A peculiar feeling gnawed at Daisy's stomach. She should be happy that they had just figured out how to help Eddie, but the excitement never came. She reached for his hand, resting on the back of the couch, as if to convey her understanding and support. However, her touch was met with a shiver, and his fingers passed through her hand like a hologram.

Their moment was abruptly interrupted by a loud knock echoing through the house.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie muttered before vanishing through the walls and outside.

Confused about who could be at the door, Daisy walked over to it. Eddie appeared before her, his head tilted in curiosity.

"It's a guy in a suit. Never seen him before," Eddie informed her.

Daisy swallowed hard. "Tall with blonde hair?"

Eddie nodded, his face reflecting his confusion. Daisy's heart sank. It had been a week since Sloan had warned her that Nick might come to her. An entire week had passed, and Daisy had assumed he had let her go. But she knew why he had waited so long. Work always took precedence for him. Their failing relationship hadn't been enough to change his priorities. It was always on his terms and his schedule. So here he was, standing at her door when it was convenient for him.

Daisy tugged at her shirt and pushed back her hair from her face. Eddie seemed to understand the situation, giving her a look that conveyed sympathy and support.

"You look great, Dais," Eddie said softly.

Daisy's stomach fluttered at the new nickname. Eddie looked at her with those big eyes, and something inside her eased. Eddie's eyes resembled brown buttons that might hold her world together, so she clung to that feeling as she took a step forward and opened the door.

Before her stood Nick, just as Eddie had described: dressed in a suit, with perfectly combed hair, and that infuriating smile on his face. As if there were anything to smile about. Daisy gripped the door handle, torn between closing it and holding back.

"Daisy," Nick said with open arms, stepping forward to embrace her.

She didn't hug him back. The ease she had felt before opening the door evaporated, replaced by a queasy feeling. Stepping away from him, Daisy created an opportunity for Nick to step inside the house.

"Jesus," Eddie muttered behind Daisy, groaning, "come on in, why don't you."

Daisy chose to ignore Eddie's comment as she confronted Nick. "What are you doing here?"

Nick glanced around and retorted, "I could ask you the same thing."

Daisy scoffed, ready to unleash her sarcasm, but before she could respond, Nick's tone changed. "Oh, are you not alone?"

Her heart plummeted, and she glanced at Eddie. Wait, could Nick see him? Eddie stepped forward, his eyes narrowed and just as bewildered. Nick reached for the full, melted milkshake on the table and gave Daisy a curious look.

"Am I interrupting something?" Nick scanned the room, clearly unable to see Eddie, who was standing right beside him.

"Actually, you are," Eddie replied, his voice dripping with irony.

Nick remained oblivious to Eddie's presence, but Daisy did her best to act as if everything were normal. "No, I was just watching a movie."

Nick raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from Daisy to the two milkshakes on the table. "Two milkshakes?"

Daisy crossed her arms defensively. "Yes."

"I knew you'd struggle without me, but throwing your whole diet out the window? Come on, Daisy,"

"What the fuck did he say?" Eddie's voice had an edge to it.

Daisy hurried over and snatched the cup from Nick's hands, setting it down firmly. "I'm not struggling."

"Are you sure?" Nick said as he roamed around the room, inspecting the art on the walls and the various knickknacks.

"Even if you were, you can have a fucking milkshake. Shit, have three," Eddie interjected, his annoyance apparent.

Daisy shot a stern look at Eddie. "Stop."

Both Eddie and Nick turned their attention to her. Daisy froze, resisting the urge to glance at Eddie in the corner of the room. The last thing she needed was for Nick to think she was losing her mind.

"Nick, what are you doing here?" Daisy asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

He sighed and looked at her from across the living room. "Come home."

"No," Daisy and Eddie simultaneously declared.

Daisy exchanged a quick glance with Eddie before focusing her attention on Nick.

"Baby, we're getting married soon. Come home with me," Nick said as he approached Daisy but tripped over something on the floor.

As he regains his balance, Nick looks down and notices books scattered across the floor. Daisy immediately looked over at Eddie, who was leaning against the wall with a mischievous smirk.

"Dammit, this place is a mess. You shouldn't be here," Nick complained.

Daisy glanced around and didn't see a mess at all. She saw a house that was lived in, with evidence of the joy she had experienced this past week. It was proof that she could move on and find happiness beyond the pain. The house wasn't meant to be permanent, but it was the only place that offered her a sense of comfort and safety while her world was still upside down. Daisy was trying her best to avoid thinking about what it meant that she had been enjoying her time in a house she had initially wanted nothing to do with. Is her mom laughing at her from above?

"I'm not leaving, especially not with you," Daisy stated firmly.

"Don't be stupid," Nick said, reaching for her hand.

Eddie stepped forward, his voice firm. "You're not stupid, don't let him talk to you like that."

Daisy ignored Eddie's eyes as she focused on Nick. "This is over, Nick. There is no going back after what you did."

"It was a mistake. A one-time mistake, I promise. I just had too much to drink and got carried away," Nick pleaded.

Daisy rolled her eyes. "Got carried away? You brought her back to our house. In our bed. Where I shower."

Nick sighed heavily, struggling to find his words, while Eddie muttered, bastard under his breath.

"You didn't even care enough to come after me the night it all happened," Daisy continued.

Nick threw his hands up in frustration. "I've been busy, I can't just run away when I have a job."

She nodded, absorbing his words. "That's right. Sometimes I forget how important your job is," her words dripped with sarcasm.

Nick chose to ignore her comment and pressed on, "Don't just throw away what we have because of a stupid mistake..."

"You threw it away, not me."

"Daisy, I've given you an amazing life. Some women would kill to have what you have," Nick said, attempting to convince her.

Daisy stared at him, noticing Eddie pacing in the background. "What would they kill for? You?"

Nick brushed his hand over her cheek, and she instinctively pulled back, looking down. "I've given you the world. You have a home, no need to work, and endless wealth to spend however you want. Isn't that something worth holding onto? Marry me, and you won't have to worry about anything again. We can make this work."

Daisy met Nick's gaze, contemplating his words.

Sure, many people might want the life she had, but at what price? It wasn't true love, and she knew his mistake wouldn't be his last.

Eddie approached from behind Nick and locked eyes with Daisy over Nick's shoulder. "Dais, this guy is an asshole. Don't listen to him. He's going to hurt you again."

Daisy turned to Eddie, questioning him. "How do you know?"

Nick, as if she were speaking to him, replied, "Because I'll be different. I promise."

Eddie kept his gaze fixed on Daisy as he shook his head. "Because if he truly appreciated the woman he had, he wouldn't have done anything in the first place to fuck it up. He doesn't care about you like he should."

Daisy looked away, swallowing hard as she turned around to pace while deep in thought.

Eddie walked over to her and spoke softly, "Don't settle. Your life is so much more than what he's offering."

"Maybe it's not," she mumbled under her breath.

"What?" Nick asked as he watched her pace.

"Nothing," she replied harshly, feeling overwhelmed. "Give me a minute to think."

Nick checked his watch and sighed audibly. Daisy felt like she might lose her composure if he sighed one more time.

"Look at this idiot, checking his watch as if you're wasting his time. Daisy, this guy does not deserve you," Eddie chimed in.

Daisy looked at Eddie, absorbing his words. He appeared stressed as if her decision held the key to his fate. Without saying a word, she walked down the hall and into the bathroom, shutting the door even after hearing Nick call after her.

"Give me a minute!" she shouted, leaning against the door and sliding down onto the bathroom tile.

Was she really considering this? Perhaps it was because her future was so uncertain, and that scared her. But it wasn't easy for her to say no. She was weighing her options, and it made her feel disgusted.

Eddie appeared before her, squatting down to meet her eyes. "Don't do this."

"You don't even know what's going on here," she whispered.

"Yes, I do. That's why I'm telling you to kick this loser out of our house."

Our house. His words resonated within her, and she glanced down at her feet. "What? You're listening to my conversations?"

It was the only way he knew about Nick and her relationship. He must have been listening to Sloan and her conversation last week. She wasn't surprised, but right now, she felt like picking a bone.

"Not intentionally. But I do hear everything in the house, whether I like it or not."

"This isn't your business," Daisy said, looking at him through her lashes.

"No, it's not. But I care about you, and that has to mean something."

She would be lying if she said it didn't mean something to her. Because it did.

For her whole life, she had been trying to find a home, a place where she belonged, where she was wanted. Security and safety. For a while, she believed it was with Nick. He was the first man to offer her everything she wanted, and she was over the moon about it, unable to believe that it was true and that it was her life.

But it wasn't until now that she realized what she truly wanted was to be loved. Loved enough to not be discarded or put in second place.

"Can I ask you something?" Daisy said quietly.

"Anything," Eddie replied, his curls falling onto his face.

"If you were him, which I know you're not, but if you were, would you have cheated on me? Is that what men do? I mean, maybe I didn't give him enough. I could have been lacking in the..." Daisy struggled to find the right word, almost embarrassed, before blurting it out, "Sex department." Then she looked away from Eddie.

There was silence for a moment, and she thought he might have disappeared. But when she looked up, Eddie was gazing down at her.

"Look at you. Are you kidding? You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Anyone willing to risk losing you is an idiot."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked them away quickly. Eddie lifted his hand, his cold touch brushing over the tear that fell from her eye.

"Don't cry, little flower. It's going to be okay. I promise you."

A knock on the bathroom door interrupted the moment as Eddie disappeared, leaving Daisy sitting alone on the bathroom floor.

"Come on, Daisy. We need to get back on the road. I have work tomorrow," Nick urged.

Her eyes rolled, and she stood to her feet, brushing away her tears. She knew Nick wasn't worth her tears, and that should have been her first clue that it was time to let him go.

Daisy pulled the door open and pushed past Nick, making her way to the front door. "I'm staying, and you're going."

"The hell you are," Nick said, growing frustrated.

She widened the door, letting the cool airflow inside.

"It's over, Nick. I don't care how amazing you think my life will be with you because it's not the life I want. So, go find someone who does. Maybe Mia would. I'm sure you could ask her next time you two fuck in the shower while using my pink body wash." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

Nick stared at her, his eyes ablaze with anger. "I'm not leaving without you. So, stop playing around and get your shit in a bag so we can go."

"I said no."

Nick walked up to her, towering over her. "And I said, get your fucking bags. You and I have a date set, and I've invested in this relationship, so move." He pointed toward the stairs and shouted the last word.

Her heart raced, and she struggled to find her words. She'd never seen him this angry before. He had his moments of being an asshole, but this was another level.

"Nick, please. Just go. I don't want to cause issues."

"What will cause issues is when I'm standing at the end of the altar, and you're not walking down to me. Don't embarrass me, Daisy. You made a promise to marry me, and now you need to see it through."

"But you made a promise to be faithful, and you di—"

Nick slammed his hand hard against the wall behind Daisy's head. She stumbled back against the wall, and he pinned her there with his body. "Do you ever listen? I said, Go. Get. Your. Bag."

Daisy was shaking now, stumbling over her words, unable to meet Nick's eyes. A loud crash sounded nearby, catching her attention, and she shielded her head, unsure of what was happening. Air rushed by her, and she held her breath, waiting for the blow. Nick had never hit her, but she wouldn't be surprised if this was his breaking point.

"What the fuck!" Nick shouted.

Daisy's eyes flew open, and she saw Nick clutching his bloody face and kneeling on the ground. He was bleeding from his head. She gasped as she noticed vinyl records and the record player strewn across the floor in disarray. The wooden table that had held the record player was on the ground, broken.

"Sorry, Dais. We might need to buy you a new record player, I know how much you liked that one." Eddie said as he stood a few feet away from Nick, his hands shaking.

Daisy was still staring at Eddie in disbelief. He had thrown the whole table at Nick, causing the record player to hit him in the head, and judging by the table on the ground, it likely hit his side as well.

Without fully processing what had just happened,

Daisy stood tall and shouted at Nick, "Get out of my house!"

Eddie smiled from across the room and straightened his leather jacket as he watched Daisy stand her ground.

Nick stumbled back, unsure of what to make of what had just happened and the sudden change in Daisy. It freaked him out enough to make him walk out the door, mumbling obscenities under his breath.

Before she could close the door, Nick looked back over his shoulder, digging for his keys in his ruffled jacket, and said, "Go to Hell, Daisy!"

Daisy slammed the door shut and looked at Eddie. He smiled at her proudly, and it brought life back into her frightened body. Nick's words echoed in her head, and for the first time in her life, she thought that maybe Hell wouldn't be so bad.

Eddie apologized to Daisy as she cleaned up his mess, but she wasn't mad at all. She was hiding her smile as she picked up the broken pieces from the record player. No one had ever defended her like that. Sure, Sloan had stood up for her in times of need, but nothing like this. This was beyond anything she had ever experienced, and it excited her to have someone on her side, not just anyone, but someone otherworldly. It made her feel almost invincible.

★

After cleaning up the mess, their night continued like usual. They had fallen into a comfortable routine. Dinner for Daisy, with Eddie offering his company. Strolls around the property, with Eddie showing her secret spots and sharing memories he'd made within the woods. Their conversations never seemed to dull. They didn't talk about what happened earlier that night; instead, they focused on their hobbies and things they enjoyed. It felt nice. Nice to pretend things were completely normal, even if they weren't. In these moments, it felt like they were in their own world, just the two of them.

So, they continued pretending. Eddie kept her company until bedtime, and she called him when it was time for her to sleep. She didn't know that he waited, pacing downstairs until he heard her call his name, but he did. Did she even know that she was all he had? His world was within this property, and there was nothing more for him, so these moments meant something.

Eddie kept his distance, always sitting near the end of the bed as she stared out the window, occasionally catching glimpses of him through the vanity mirror. They didn't talk or question this thing they had going on, the unspoken agreement where he talked to her or told her stories so she could fall asleep. She never asked where he went when she woke up alone. But it had become their thing.

"So, what's your unfinished business?" Daisy asked as she laid her head on the pillow, her hair draping over it.

Eddie shifted at the edge of the bed. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No, I don't know much about the time near my death."

Daisy turned on her side to face Eddie, no longer watching him through the mirror. "Okay, let's start with your death. How did you die?"

Eddie shrugged and looked away from her.

Daisy sat up on her elbows and looked at him. "I thought you knew. I remember you saying it was something I didn't need to know before bed or something."

"Well, I was trying to come up with something interesting and cool," Eddie joked, but the laughter didn't sit right.

Daisy watched him and could see how much it bothered him. He twisted his rings and avoided eye contact.

"I'm sorry," she said, and Eddie looked over at her. "That must be hard and confusing for you. I can't imagine."

"It's fine," Eddie said, dismissing it.

"No, it's not. You've been alone here for years, not sure how you ended up here and why. You must have gone crazy trying to figure it out."

Eddie chuckled, looking out the window. "I was already a little crazy before all this, so it's not much different. Just... lonely. That's all."

Daisy's heart constricted. "I'm so sorry. And here I am crying over my stupid ex, and you're dealing with being dead. Completely alone."

Eddie looked at her and gave her a soft smile. "Not anymore."

Daisy's stomach fluttered, and she hid her smile by pulling the covers up, pretending to get comfortable. He watched her, and she realized he had no problem with eye contact, at least for the most part. He didn't find it uncomfortable or unsettling. It was something Daisy had struggled with, but she just couldn't seem to break eye contact with him.

"Let me help you," Daisy says.

"With what?"

"Your unfinished business, duh."

Eddie gave her a skeptical look before scoffing, "Oh, come on."

"I'm serious!"

"Don't do that," Eddie said as he stood up, looking down at her.

"What?"

"Those fucking puppy eyes and..." His gaze dropped to her mouth, and Daisy swore she almost saw him bite his lip, but he turned on his heel to walk toward the window. "Saying my name like that."

"Eddie, please." Daisy jumped out of bed to meet him at the window. A cool breeze from the window brushed against her bare legs.

Eddie turned to face her. His eyes briefly dropped to her legs; her shirt was only long enough to reach the top of her thighs. His eyes flicked back up to hers, and she could feel her cheeks burning again.

"You have my attention," he said in a low tone.

Subtly, she pulled down on her shirt as she backed up to the bed and plopped down, pulling the covers over herself. "Focus."

"You have my full attention, Dais." He smirked.

Daisy threw a pillow at him. The pillow flew right through him and onto the wood floor with a sad little flop.

Eddie laughed and walked over to the edge of the bed, opposite her. "Let's stick to your bedtime stories, sweetheart."

"Why are you refusing my help?"

"I'm not. I just think you've had a long day and should get some sleep."

Daisy glared at him. "Don't do that. I know you were excited when we figured it out earlier. You've been dying to get out of here, so let's do it."

Eddie laughed. "Dying?"

She rolled her eyes. "Stop, I'm serious."

"I am too, and I don't want to figure this out right now." Eddie tossed the blanket over her. "It's been a long day."

Daisy could see it in his face and hear it in his voice that it was time to drop it. So, she did. He had done enough for her today, and giving him grace on this was the least she could do. She couldn't help but wonder why he was avoiding it when it was clear that he didn't want to be stuck in this house forever. She was offering him help, and he wasn't jumping on it. Confusion filled her thoughts as Eddie talked with her until she fell asleep.

★

Weeks passed, and the seasons began their slow transformation. Eddie and Daisy continued their daily routine, now tallying up over thirty different movies watched together. Daisy would occasionally leave the house to visit the bookstore, the family video store, and the grocery store. Each time she returned, Eddie was there to greet her. Still, they hadn't broached the topic of Eddie's unresolved situation. He kept avoiding it, and so they kept themselves occupied with various activities around the house—playing games, redecorating to better suit Daisy's style, experimenting with new recipes, and strolling through the property.

Sloan called her, promising to visit soon, but Daisy understood that her friend was swamped with her own responsibilities.

Despite her contentment with the way things were progressing, Daisy couldn't help but feel like her life was at a standstill. She'd been too apprehensive to make future plans, like finding a job or settling her living situation. She'd been fortunate enough to have some financial cushion to rely on, but now it was time to reenter the world. The approaching wedding date was a looming shadow in her mind. Nick had called it off and informed the guests, so there was no actual wedding to worry about, but the thought of how her life could have been so different weighed heavily on her.

And so, Daisy focused on keeping busy and building the life she truly desired. Her first step was to resurrect her photography business. Nick had persuaded her to give up her passion when they were engaged, convincing her that it was unnecessary and that he needed her at home. Photography wasn't just a job; it was her true calling, and letting it go had been a painful sacrifice. But today was different—today, she was excited to jump back into her career and move forward.

Inside the small room, filled with gym equipment and trophies lining the walls, Daisy anxiously waited. It had been a while since she'd put on her professional demeanor, and it felt a little awkward. But her anxiety began to ease when he walked in—a striking figure, as beautiful as he'd always been.

Steve Harrington had clearly aged like fine wine. No one would be surprised by this fact.

"Gez, how long has it been?" Steve said with a warm smile, his charm as dazzling as ever.

"Summer of '85, I think," Daisy replied with a smile.

Steve shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes before he brushed it back. "I hope your shirt survived my chaos. Sorry about that."

Daisy chuckled. "It didn't, but no need to worry. I haven't been able to fit into my teenage clothes in years."

That summer of '85 was when Daisy first met Robin at a party. Her interaction with Steve had been brief and memorable only because he accidentally spilled his drink on her. Robin, however, had been upset with Steve's drunken antics over a girl who didn't care about him, and she had pulled Daisy away from the party to help clean her up while venting about Steve's situation. They were practically strangers, but Daisy felt incredibly welcomed by Robin, who had taken care of her just like Sloan would. Like a friend.

Daisy stayed in touch with Robin even though she lived in Hawkins while Daisy resided in Indianapolis. It was a stroke of luck that they happened to be at the same party that fateful summer night. Their connection eventually led to Robin introducing Sloan and Daisy, and the rest, as they say, was history.

It had been a while since Daisy last saw Steve. Robin mentioned him in conversations, but they hadn't all hung out together since that party. Steve's lack of time to leave Hawkins was now apparent to Daisy.

She followed Steve as he led her to the location of the photoshoot. He was dressed in a white button-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves and a green tie, which he seemed somewhat uncomfortable in—probably for the photos.

"Hey, fix your hair. You look like you just woke up. Have some decency," Steve chided one of the students on his team before turning back to Daisy with a sigh. "They aren't the most well-behaved kids, especially since they're just getting used to each other at the beginning of the year. Sorry for any trouble they might give you."

Daisy waved off his concern. "I've dealt with worse than a group of high school basketball players."

"Good. Are you ready?"

Daisy retrieved her camera from her bag and nodded. "Yup, all set."

"Thanks for doing this. I know it was last minute with our other photographer falling through, but we really need these photos. The principal has been on my ass about it."

"I'm just happy that Robin reached out. I'm excited to be here," Daisy replied with a smile.

Steve glanced at Daisy and smiled back before turning his attention to a student.

The auditorium was filled with a cacophony of overdramatic conversations and laughter among the boys, who passed around the basketball while waiting for the photoshoot to begin. Steve clapped loudly and shouted for their attention, and they immediately fell in line, acknowledging Daisy and starting to form for the group photo.

The boys turned out to be more well-behaved than Steve had implied, and it didn't take long for Daisy to capture several different group shots. She informed Steve that she was finished, and he told the kids to stay put and behave as he escorted Daisy out.

"It shouldn't take long for me to develop the photos," Daisy reassured him.

Steve loosened his tie and nodded. "Great, thank you."

"Hey, I know this is kind of random, but Sloan is throwing me this stupid party next week, and I know Robin will be coming with her. I thought I'd invite you, if you want to come," Daisy casually offered.

"Oh, a party? For Halloween?"

"Well, my birthday. But it's Halloween-themed."

Daisy thought it was silly, but Sloan insisted on throwing her a party—either as a distraction from the upcoming event or out of concern that Daisy would be alone on her birthday. Either way, Daisy had reluctantly agreed.

"Your birthday is on Halloween?" Steve asked amusement in his eyes.

"Unfortunately."

"I'd love to come, but I don't do the whole dressing up thing," Steve admitted.

Daisy laughed softly and nodded. "Don't worry; it's not a requirement. But don't be surprised if Sloan scolds you."

Steve waved her off. "I can handle her."

As they walked through the halls of Hawkins, Steve muttered under his breath and patted his pockets. "Shit, I forgot your money in my office. Do you mind waiting here for a second?"

"Sure, no problem,"

As she waited, Daisy noticed a large glass case displaying trophies and photos from various student clubs. She had never been part of a club in high school, but she had always thought that joining the student newspaper, like the Weekly Streak, would have been fun. A group photo of students from that club was displayed in the case, and she admired it. However, her attention was drawn to a photo behind it.

She gasped when she realized the club's name: "Hellfire Club." Daisy couldn't control her laughter, initially thinking that Eddie's shirt was some kind of joke or that there was an actual club in Hell. It somehow made sense in her mind.

She searched for Eddie's face in the photo but realized it was from the Class of 1992.

Steve returned, handing her a manila envelope. "Here you go."

Daisy took it and thanked him. "What's the deal with the Hellfire Club?"

Steve looked into the glass case, shaking his head. "Some nerdy group that formed when I was in school. I think it had something to do with Dungeons and Dragons or whatever."

"What year was that?"

Steve thought for a moment before responding, "1986. But I'm not sure if that's when it was formed. I had a few kids I knew were part of it."

Before Daisy could press for more information, the school bell rang, and the halls filled with students. Steve's attention was immediately diverted by approaching students.

"I'll see you next week," Steve shouted over the growing chatter before disappearing into the crowded hall.

Daisy lingered by the glass case, her gaze fixed on the photo. Though she couldn't recognize any of the faces, a sense of determination washed over her. She had stumbled upon new information about Eddie, and while he was reluctant to accept her help for reasons unknown, she couldn't resist the urge to delve deeper into his mystery. As she drove out of the school parking lot, she found herself heading to the local library in pursuit of the 1986 yearbook.

★ chapter five coming soon ★

Taglist: @eddiemunson4life420@boxofsmittens@sweet-villain@all-time-otaku@steveoswhore@randomreader1999@erinekc@ficwrld @randomreader1999@deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth@ficswrld @tlclick73@citychick86

Comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

[presidentlokis-hornyhelmet]

idk if your requests are open but your laufey pavitr fic literally made me shed tears -- can i please request a pavitr fic based off of "My Love Mine All Mine" by Mitski? thank u ❤

My Love, All Mine

🕷MASTERLIST💔

Pairing: Pavitr Prabhakar x reader

Tags: One-Sided Attraction, Grief/Mourning, Unrequited Love

Summary: How many times can a heart be broken? As long as it trusts, or as long as it loves?

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay pls forgive me y'all 🙏 ;_;

Also read on AO3

The bustling city around you is lost to the souls who enjoy it. The morning is cold, the breeze chilling your bones but you don't care. You let the bright rays hit your skin, the tears falling down your cheek as you watch the graveyard in grim silence.

Nothing cuts deep like a love untold. And each time, somehow, it hurts more. 

The wind blows brown leaves away, twisting and turning as they land on the dull tombstone. You brush off the dust with your hand, sitting down, unable to stop the tears flowing. The dent of engraved letters feel rough and icy against your fingertips. It feels wrong.

He shouldn't be here!

It wasn't supposed to happen, not to him!

One year ago today, he.. he died. And took with him your very life.

You want to cry so hard, you want to scream and shout but you're worn out. Throat gone sore, eyes tired and dried up but the sorrow never left. Heavy bags have formed under your eyes tainting any happiness left.

To the world he may be Spider-Man: a hero demised, to his family he may be Pavitr Prabhakar -a son lost- but to you, he was a friend, a savior and much, much more.

You loved him more than words could say, more than feelings could express; you loved him with all your heart, alone.

After his death, you used to come here with Gayatri, Pav's girlfriend, and grieve together. But as months passed she had moved out of town for the sake of her mental health, wanting to move on. Perhaps she got her closure; maybe you didn't, and that's why you could never forget. Or maybe, because this was all you ever had and you wouldn't let go.

Even if it was gone.

My baby here on earth Showed me what my heart was worth

The little touches that meant nothing to him, the inside jokes, the longing eye contacts that always meant something more to you.. the ghosts of memories past haunts in shattered pieces. How many times can a heart be broken? As long as it trusts, or as long as it loves?

So, when it comes to be my turn Could you shine it down here for him?

He was the first one to like you for being Yourself. Pavitr brought a new perspective to your life. He showed you love when no one would, he gave you a hand when no one else did, he let you know you were valid, he showed what you were worth, he pulled you up from the dumps.

Pavitr gave hope to a withered, trampled rose; he made you come alive.

Except he had Gayatri to reciprocate it. You had to reserve yourself to just enjoying the unfortunate fate of being his friend, swallowing your feelings, however intense they were. What he doesn't know, won't hurt him -even if it hurt you.

You used to sit there, third-wheeling them and just being a spectator of everything you've ever wanted: Him. So near yet so, so far away.

Why you hurt yourself that way and still got addicted to it, you never knew. Maybe you loved the pain, maybe it was the kind of  drug that keeps you alive. It had you going, looking forward to enjoying the littlest things in life, the most insubstantial interactions and most trivial of feelings. It made life brighter in general, it gave a weird rush in your veins. The possibility of it growing into something more toying cruelly with your gullible heart.

The pain, it was indescribable; like a crown of thorns squeezing your bleeding heart to the last drop. It hurt, and it felt so good.

But this was a different kind of pain. It's permanent and it's... forever. This wasn't the drug type of pain, this just came in and ripped the life from your hands, leaving you soulless; empty.

This is kind of pain that tears you apart limb from limb; a pain that leaves you broken forever.

The moonlight shines bright upon the edge of the cliff, illuminating the red and blue colored mask in your hand. you run your fingers over it again and again, feeling the material. The eye-lens are so wide and bright, expressive just like him. You let the stray tear slip down, tasting the salt on your lips.

The moon is full, but you feel empty.

He's here, he's here with me. He's gone nowhere. He's here, he's here!

You won't move on; you can't move on. You're stuck and you can't help it. You embrace yourself around the knees and shudder, crying.

Moon, tell me if I could Send up my heart to you?

You lean back and lie down on the grass, never taking your eyes off the moon, the beauty radiant. Perhaps one day you would go there too? Become a star in the sky and shine down on people like you, yearning for the tiniest bit of love. Is love that expensive?

Perhaps that had been too much to ask. Or maybe some simply must not ask.

Clutching his torn mask to your chest, your eyes droop as you slowly drift off to sleep, the radiant face and shining hair of Pavitr Prabhakar bleeding into your thoughts. He's here, he's here.

So, when I die, which I must do Could it shine down here with you

There is a price we all must pay and yours cost yourself. But you're not left with nothing.

Your love you own; only your love, all yours. And thus it remains forever.

'Cause my love is mine, all mine I love, my, my, mine Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love, mine, all mine, all mine 

_________

Hope you liked it! Thank you for reading ♡

A/N: I am working on all the others, thank you so much for requesting and waiting! (hopefully i'll post them soon too!🤞)

[unloneliest]

hiiiii rj! 🪄 for the lyrics ask game!!

hi adam!!!!!! ty for the ask! lately i have been SO FUCKING CONSUMED by an original story i've been working on since. 2009. so today's lyrics i cannot be normal about: basically the entirity of the young thousands.

i'd heard a handful of tmg songs before i clicked with them but just didn't connect until one of my dearest friends played me genesis 3:23 and the young thousands early in the summer of 2016 and an entire vivid cinematic reel of my characters and my story just instantly played in my mind for both of those songs. and i have been insane about the mountain goats ever since. i can't even begin to speak on what genesis 3:23 did to me which is why i'm doing young thousands.

and like. i used to be able to vividly picture things in my mind but that Went Away due to my chronic health stuff & i can't anymore. i'm trying to relearn it since i'm being treated right now but i don't know if i can. BUT. i can still see the entire story playing in my mind with young thousands (& many other goats songs).

THE REASON it's so. the most song. for my story? is like. it's a story about two generations, my first main characters & the kids they raise. and the first generation can't escape the narrative but they break the cycle for their children. and the driving tempo in this song the inescapable vividness of the imagery the tension between the haunting ghosts and the things that are coming. that's the exact heartbreaking pull between dead friends whose memory haunts my characters and their kids who rewrite the world.

the specific lyric of the summer for me:

"The things that you've got coming will do things that you're afraid to / There is someone waiting out there with a mouthful of surprises"

brought to you by. in fourteen years of working on this story i have spent the entire time unable to change a few facts about it. i have tried. i have failed. this summer. my kid ocs reached a point of developed enough that they started making their own calls. and they said no. they changed what i couldn't. they changed the biggest plot point i've been unable to touch for fourteen fucking years. and in that moment the indescribable emotion i felt the first time i heard the young thousands finally made sense.

under the cut for like. a shorthand of what happens in my brain with my story when i listen to the song

WHITE SAILS ON A SAILING SHIP IN THE SUN APPROACHING A DOCK AT THE END OF A COBBLESTONE CITY STREET. THE SUN IS SO BRIGHT THAT THE SHADOWS ARE DARK AND IT'S YMALIS SEEING THE ARRIVAL. THIS IS THE LAST MOMENTS BEFORE HER WORLD CHANGES FOREVER. THE CITY IS BIG AND IT'S FILLED WITH SECRETS THAT CAN KILL.

JAY IN THE DOMES IN THE DESERT THE LIVING HOME HE BUILT WITH SILAS BUT HE'S ALONE HERE THE SOLE MOURNER OF A FUTURE THAT ALMOST CAME TO FRUITION. OUTSIDE YOU CAN SEE THE FRUIT TREES THEY PLANTED TOGETHER AND INSIDE FILTERED AFTERNOON SUN AS THE MEMORIES OF THEIR SHORT YEARS TOGETHER PLAY OVER THE PRESENT.

SOMEDAY SOON CHILDREN WILL WALK INTO THEIR LIVES WEARING FACES FROM THE PAST

SOLITARY FLIGHT ON HORSEBACK. TIED TO THE SADDLE TO KEEP FROM FALLING TO THE GROUND. UNCLEAR IF THE CHANCE OF IT IS FROM EXHAUSTION OR INJURY. FLIGHT THROUGH AN ORCHARD AT THE EDGE OF FARMLAND BEFORE THE REGION BLEEDS INTO THE EDGES OF MUCH WILDER PLACES. THE HORSE AND RIDER ARE HEADED EAST.

IT SCARES THE SHIT OUT OF THEM WATCHING THE KIDS GET ANYWHERE NEAR THIS / WHEN THE KIDS DO, EVERYTHING CHANGES

SILAS + SZADEH // THE KIDS // MOST DESPERATE TRAPPED MOMENTS // SWINGING OF A SILVER BLADE // BURN OF MAGIC SO BRIGHT IT CAN'T BE LOOKED AT

OVERHEAD PAN OF SCENERY

[pandorasaquariumm]

Playlist Meme

Thank you @civilization-illstayrighthere for the tag here! I really liked your songs and how you fit them with your V, and with Night City overall. I'll do the same as you did and look at the the two different versions of V I write. I always attach songs to my fic anyway and make 1000 playlists for every fic and character, I guess that's old fashioned?? But I've alwayyys done that.

Tryin' to be a hero, winding up a zero, Can scar a man forever right down to your soul.

My streetkid V is a worst-case-scenario everything's probably going to go to shit, plan for the worst don't hope for the best kind of guy. He sees the bad in NC, sees how the search for glory ruined Jackie, but, like Kerry, is rooted down to the ground and won't ever leave. I haven't actually seen this season that the song is from, but it fits V's disillusion. The things he's done, the mistakes he's made, he doesn't have time to figure out how to make up for it all when here is his own mortality, coming faster and faster.

No lights on the horizon, no sign of what's ahead If it wasn't for your kindness lately I'd never get out of bed

His feelings for Kerry are confused, really tangled up with how Johnny, inside V's head, feels for him. Here, Johnny and Kerry were never a real thing, but Kerry had feelings that were never addressed. What my V and Kerry find in each other is kindness that works both ways, despite all their personal flaws and past struggles. So there is hope, even with all the uncertainty in the future.

All of my old friends aren't so friendly And all of my old haunts are now haunting me

My fem V grew up nomad, and is trying to come to terms with returning to the nomad life after being in Night City for so long. For her, NC is poisonous, she can hardly even go back to visit, can hardly even talk to her old friends there. She gets from Judy the view that the only way to move on is to escape. She struggles to let go of the past and at the same time aggressively distances herself from it.

Can you distract me from all the disaster? Can you touch on me and not call me after? Can you hate on me and mask it with laughter? Can you lead me to the ark what's the password?

I feel like the core of her is the need for connection, her loneliness but difficulty in taking that step across and being really vulnerable. She relies on herself and defaults to self-protection. That's what she has to overcome to resolve things with Judy.

A few tags if anyone wants to do this with anything, whatever fandom, OCs, WIPs, your HCs of characters, whatever you like no pressure, sorry if this is something you've already done! <3 @moderndaycirce @miniature-space-hamster @timaeusterrored @morganlefaye79 @jaymber + anyone else who wants to do it and sees this tag me I'd love to see your music!

[redemptioninterlude]

​          ❛  have you found your favourite part yet?  ❜ it makes him feel like a fraud to ask, a question from one apparently more experienced to a girl who has just had her first experience against the unrelenting lense of the camera; makes him wonder if they'd do best to express it the opposite way round, maybe. a suggestion, rather than an expectation above all over expectations, but its the thought he imposes on her selfishly instead. querying with something of a withered smile where he's certain ample curiosity should lay, chin resting on the edge of his knee in a way he's certain his manager will no doubt kick off about while she looks up next to him, nothing given away in the beauty of her eyes. it makes him feel comfortable / it makes him feel restless, something unfamiliar in the hollowness of his bones, the cracks of a mask he supposes should be best recognised as him; the contrast of a boy shining like the star before the camera, the ghost who haunts his mind like an afterthought, the city they inhabit like two unspoken twins that no doubt shine more vividly now that she has stood by his side in a familiar reminder that not all monsters start at home / not all monsters are so easy to get away with. ❛  i think mine is the camera, when it comes down to it.  ❜ after all, there's nothing that makes him as pretty as those cruel words once tried to soothe him / nothing as forever as the danger of getting officially caught. / from kouu!! <3

random scenes in the inbox ( always accepting ) + @dangaer // kou

Images flicker on the screen ; Alice is nothing but a CONSUMER IN THIS, a tourist within the world that he finds himself so comfortably situated long before she comes along. The boy who played out his eternal curse now as a blessing to be made for others, when, he doesn't feel that shit at all within his chest, does he? He's faking it, the way the rest of them are when they stand on stage, and he only asks her to come along because he's trying to bother the others and steal her time and make a point of it, and she doesn't really mind, does she? It's an inch closer to the way she'll all too eagerly take a dip within those dreams of his, how much he exposes without realizing it, though, she knows too, that he'll play it all like a game, if only to save himself. That's always been his awful truth, his best defence.

They crowd into the shape of this editing booth, and Alice wonders if there's anything golden to be plucked from this. She's only ever been good at being impossible, and she thinks, maybe, it's not a good thing to for something like her to be captured on film, you never know what might round out at the other end in another life where someone might CATCH HOLD of something that wasn't hers and belonged to another Alice. That she'll hold no memory of this, and even seeing herself will spark... nothing. What a disappointment to swallow! But look at him now, Kou curled into himself and asking, asking ; what do you like? "Does it matter what I like?" her words dream-dragged and a laugh to come. "You said this was like a product. I'm here to sell a feeling. I'm just trying to tell..."

Fingers reaching out to touch the screen, ghosting the edges. "If I did it right. You do, of course. But you've loads of experience doing that, don't you?" it's a question just for him, despite the company in the room. How her head turns to smile at him just so, TONGUE SLIPPING BETWEEN A MANIACAL SMILE, her everything softening for a moment. "Sounds like you're just~ crediting the camera for your work. It's a tool. You're the product, right?" turning words back onto him, that this was all he saw it as when, she knows that feeling drives deeper than that for him. That even if he's exhausted of the superficiality of it all, that he's poured part of himself into this too. His hopeless existence made a little more special, as if it were all evidence to the fact that he existed at some point, and that he was loved. She wonders what she could keep him on that high, and if he thinks he's mattered even a little bit.

So in a move that seems almost arbitrary, she pointed to a moment, a frame ; him looking at her, and her on the run. Just like he'd asked for it all to be SET UP. "This one. This is my favourite. But why do I have a feeling it's the part you don't like the most? Maybe because it's sad. Then again, you always liked that kind of thing! Realistic kind of person that you are. But. Hey~ It certainly makes you feel something, doesn't it?"

[exilegend]

chest tightening, throat closing, ears ringing as words-like-honey meet his ears and a touch-like-feathers meets his chest. shrinking away, wanting to flee like so many times before, (with the city. with ikora. with saint. with himself,) but finding his feet unwilling to follow. his mind cries out and his body refuses. time and again how it refuses, this mortal coil. but a corpse once. a corpse once more, inevitably, inexorably.

(HE CRAVES LIFE, FOR HE HAS KNOWN DEATH.)

his words trap themselves in his throat before he can say anything. before he can rebuke her and her promises and such an alien perspective he can hardly even grasp it with his feeble human mind. a mind unhinged by the sheer cosmic weight of death unto death forever and the vastness of time reaching out ever on until at last it begins in the ashes of the heat death of the universe. yet in spite of all this he can barely comprehend her.

(hand clenches. nails dig into the soft skin of his flesh. blood draws.)

HE SEES:

drowning. darkness subsuming both mind and soul, crying out in despair. CAN'T THEY SEE? knowing and angry and hurting and bitter all at once the simple fact they know him not. seeing clearly for the first time how little they think of his convictions. faces he doesn't know looking at him for comfort and instead receiving a lashing. faces he knows looking at him to comfort and instead receiving coldness.

he sees:

falling. how could they think he would allow this? how could they think he would do this? bringing weapons of the enemy into the city. conspiring a coup. stoking the flames of aggression and division. do they think so little of him to allow this? how could they not see?

" she used my shape like a puppet. claimed my voice for division. i did not want this. i did not want this. "

he has never wanted for himself, this pariah, this outcast. but even now he sees he has always fought for a city that does not love him back. " did you see? always distrustful. hidden stalking your every step? too worried about pushing you away? thinking you suicidal? "

osiris isn't an idiot. he knows that's what they worried over. that's what all of them worry over still. that with sagira's... that with him alone that means he's willing to jump headlong into conflict and throw away his only life as though that might bring her back. (it won't bring her back, this he knows, but he can't sit on his hands. he can't. he won't.)

" she knew crow. i do not. they loved her. they smother me. " and he hears the whispers, of course he does. he's no stranger to the populace speaking ill of him. " there are even those who liked her-as-i rather than me-as-myself. "

osiris knows, by this point, he's just rambling. fears and agonies gnawing at his mind for far too long he cannot put into words in case he is right. and oh, he knows how often he's right. he knows how often he hates it. this curse of knowledge. he aches and he aches and he bites whenever he can like a cornered beast. so afraid, this man built upon grief.

" this will haunt me for the rest of my days knowing that when the time came for it they could not see such an obvious fraud. they could not see that i wasn't me. it gave me the simple truth that they didn't know me as well as i thought i knew them. do you not understand? you claim they trusted me. trust goes both ways, and now it is broken and i have no idea how i am to repair my trust in them just as much as they do not know how to trust me. "

osiris's voice shakes as he speaks, something that so rarely occurs for him. he is but a visage of who he was. a ghost in his own skin. " can you not understand what that does to someone? how thoroughly you've undone everything i painstakingly rebuilt? "

(hand unclenches. blood drips from fingertips. a sting reminding him of how he still breathes.)

" there is always another way. another path. our actions are a sea of stars, we need only plot it correctly. have you not understood that about paracausality yet? it is what unbinds us from fate, not tethers us to it, permanent and infallible. "

"that is truly the question, isn't it, osiris?" painted nails continue to tap the four-note beat of her song. her mind follows where it leads, through echoes and whispers of memories that are not truly hers. "who is to say if the ends justify the means? i am sure the families of those slain by the vex would argue with my methods, just as i know my sister raged against mine. different reasons, of course, but arguments to be made nonetheless.

"of course—"

the rhythm stops suddenly, though the silence echoes those four notes again and again in the back of her mind. once heard, it can not be unheard. actions, once made, cannot be undone. lives, once taken, cannot...

"—one cannot argue with results."

her words are soft; a gentle, peaceful sound that touches the soul like silk across a callous. it catches on rough skin, tears at buried wounds. were she anything akin to human, it would be both a promise for and a prayer of healing. she is not, and it is little more than a bandage upon a bullet wound.

"nothing i can say will heal what has been hurt. i cannot rip open your ribcage and replace the heart i have broken. i cannot carve the years we spent intertwined from the soft flesh of your chest."

quick as a warlock's Blink, her hand is off the metal table and pressed to your chest. nails cling to linen, bone across spider silk, tugging, playing with the web that will forever bind you together. your heart beats beneath her fingertips, hidden and protected behind layers of clothes and osseous matter. it beats and beats and beats, and her fingers pulse to its secret, terrified song.

can you feel it, osiris? the silk that swaddled you to her chest, the song that lulled you to sleep, the rot that buried you for so, so long? do you see the reflection of your captor in the eyes of the guardian that stares back? can you find even a hint of humanity in the face of a monster that has stolen so much from you?

"look at me," says the witch queen, and breathes her words of honey and woven string.

do not look away. do not tear your gaze from that shifting face, that frightful visage. three eyes— a gentle blue, not that putrid green— blinking in succession. fingertips pressing against your chest; bone to bone, beating pulse to beating pulse. the hive queen of cunning staring back at you from behind a human's soft face.

"had she-who-was approached as she was, what would have happened? if the goddess of cunning and lies and trickery appeared with hands outstretched before your vanguard, what would they have done? how much, truly, would they have believed? i think you know, my love. had i presented you with open claws and the promise of aid, we both know it would have been seen as a declaration of war. of deception. we would be no better off then than now.

"as for saint, the vanguard, ikora—"

dark skin ripples; the chitin it hides shivers and threatens to break through. and yet, in that moment of twisting flesh and faltering disguises, there is something so painfully human beneath it all. something that claws and scratches and screams— something so desperate to escape. something that should not exist in this chitinous monster.

"did you see it?" whispers the queen of lies. it is a breeze against your jaw, an unknown ballad against your ears; soft a low. pleading, as if such a beast could be capable of it. "how your vanguard treated us? how the crow trusted. how the young wolf loved and followed. how delicate they handled. how easily they ignored my discrepancies out of love for you—

"she could not conceive, even knowing what was to be, of what was between you and them. in her millions of years, she-who-was could not fathom the weight of the chains that bound you to the city. she could not understand how it would drown her, too."

you are responsible for her Light, can't you see? it can see you. you and those who loved you. she may have torn your ribcage open and carved the bloody, beating, desperate heart from your chest— but so, too, did the crow and saint and ikora do the same to her. so much so that even the worm withered, thin and sick, from it all.

her hand falls, limp, from your chest. claws soften to nails.

"no matter the scars it left behind, it had to be," whispers savathun, and the third eye fades behind her human skin. "there was no other way."

aiat.

"no other way, for you or i."

aiat.

[sailorshadzter]

Taylor Swift Lyrics That Convince Me She's a Jonsa

feel free to send as writing prompts <3

The rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming color

We were built to fall apart, then fall back together

When the sun came up, you were lookin' at me

Long night, with your hands up in my hair, echoes of your footsteps on the stairs

And you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room

I feel like I might sink and drown and die

My love had been frozen, deep blue, but you painted me golden

You said there was nothing in the world that could stop it

I loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us

He built a fire just to keep me warm

Trust him like a brother, yeah, you know I did one thing right

Starry eyes sparking up my darkest night

Slowly I said, "You don't need to save me, but would you run away with me?"

I'm always waiting for you to be waiting below

Said, "I'm fine," but it wasn't true, I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you

And I snuck in through the garden gate, every night that summer just to seal my fate

Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Help me hold on to you

I search for your dark side

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost

It's you and me, there's nothing like this

And I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends

I see you everywhere

Tryna find a part of me that you didn't touch

Quiet my fears with the touch of your hand

I know heaven's a thing, I go there when you touch me, honey

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I've been sleeping so long in a twenty-year dark night

I wounded the good and I trusted the wicked

Maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down

I once believed love would be (black and white), but it's golden (golden)

You drew stars around my scars, but now I'm bleeding

Marked me like a bloodstain, I knew you

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss

I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

And I knew you'd come back to me

I think I've seen this film before and I didn't like the ending

Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

Those eyes add insult to injury

There is no amount of cryin' I can do for you

All this time, we always walked a very thin line

And if I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes, too

And I can go anywhere I want, anywhere I want, just not home

And I still talk to you when I'm screaming at the sky

I know they said the end is near

I'm still a believer but I don't know why

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me

Whispers of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before"

With you, I fall down

But you dream of some epiphany, just one single glimpse of relief to make some sense of what you've seen

But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm

I am ash from your fire

You knew it still hurts underneath my scars

Wherever you stray, I follow

Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneaking in

Show me the places where the others gave you scars

Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

Your opal eyes are all I wish to see

My house of stone, your ivy grows and now I'm covered in you

It's a goddamn blaze in the dark and you started it

It's the goddamn fight of my life and you started it

I see you every day now

I feel you, no matter what

And I wake with your memory over me

And time can't stop me quite like you did

My hand was the one you reached for

And maybe it's the past that's talking

[dreaminpetals]

COMMISSION: norton & naib watch their s/o bleed out on the rocket chair, then comfort each other after 🧲 🔪

norton campbell ;;

Your heart dropped to your feet when you heard the chime that indicated a survivor had been knocked down. You prayed as you decoded ー Please don't be Nor, please don't be Nor ...

Hearing a laboured "Focus on decoding!" confirmed your fears. It was muffled, distant, but distinct. Norton had been chaired.

The frantic hammering of your heart in your ears overtook your senses as you sprinted towards the chair, shouting to Helena that you were going to rescue him. Your heart overpowers your brain whenever Norton is in even the slightest ounce of danger. This was one of those instances. You should have thought twice before hurrying to his aid.

You exhaled a sigh of relief when you approached his chair and noticed there was no hunter to be seen. Norton however had the opposite reaction. His expression contorted into one of pure terror when he saw you were the one rescuing him.

"Leave me! Get away from me!" His words fell to deaf ears as you dashed towards him, arms open and ready to free him from his confines.

Everything was going smoothly until you heard the words that would stay with you forever.

"Jack is behind you!"

It was a trap.

In a heartbeat, your back was slashed open and you collapsed to your hands and knees.

"Lovebirds," Jack hummed, stomping on your wounded back, earning a scream from Norton. "Now, where's that decoder..." he turned on his heel and vanished to hunt down Helena with an unmistakable bloodlust.

You weren't panicking yet. You could simply heal yourself, andー

You were out of self heals.

"The hunter is near me!" Helena wailed from across the map, sending ice straight down the spines of you and your boyfriend. The fourth survivor had been eliminated already. There was no saving you.

Norton's entire body was wracked by sobs as you lay curled in a ball on the ground, writhing around in utter agony. If it wasn't for the bar squeezing him down into the rocket chair, he would bandage you up and press endless kisses onto your bloodied skin, his own safety be damned.

He had never seen anybody bleed out before. The Prospector has always managed to heal his teammates, his only punishments being faced on rocket chairs. In Norton's eyes, you were going to die.

"It's okay," you choked out, "I'll be... be..."

"You're going to die," Norton whimpered in the highest tone you've ever heard from him. He sounded like a child with the way his raspy voice cracked.

Your eyes widened at his words. Did he think bleeding out was fatal? Oh no.

You ached to explain to him that the worst consequences were comas that lasted no longer than a week, but you were losing strength. Fast. As your throat closed up, speech became more and more difficult. It felt as if glass was piercing your windpipe, concealing the truth from your guilt stricken lover.

"'Sall my fault... fuck, I love you, okay?" He hiccuped through strained wheezes for air.

'Don't say that... I'll be okay...' you yearned to respond, but each second the invisible weight on your back grew, crushing you further.

Although your vision was spotting and blurring, you could see Norton tremble where he sat. His fingers gripped the bar holding him hostage until they bled. He was using all of his strength to attempt to free you somehow.

With one final, ragged breath, you closed your eyes and succumbed to your injuries. Norton didn't scream like you thought he would. He watched you sink into the ground in utter silence, sniffing back tears and coughing sporadically.

Despite the agony you endured mere minutes ago, you weren't rendered unconscious like previous, less fortunate survivors. You could walk, albeit with jittery legs and a weight on your back forcing you down. Having regained some strength, you noted that you could speak as well. Every bone in your body was aching for you to find Norton and save him from his unnecessary grief.

You immediately captured Helena's undivided attention when you hobbled into the manor, leaving a steady red trail behind you. She wrapped your wounds up with the first aid kit she kept on her, the smell of blood that lingered in the air faded with every careful swipe of your skin. Since you were in the room for injured survivors, Norton didn't see you when he stormed back into the manor. His physical wounds were nothing compared to his emotional ones. If only Helena finished patching you up just a minute earlier, he could have seen that you survived far earlier.

"Norton is in your room, by the way," Helena began, patting you on the back to signal that her work was done, "in the one you share. I asked where he was going."

"Our room," you repeated to yourself under your breath. You thanked Helena and promptly headed to your room, legs carrying you as fast as they could take you.

You were out of breath once you reached your shared room. A series of knocks on the door were greeted with silence. You noticed that the static sobbing from the room paused for a moment, then resumed.

Twisting your key into the door and unlocking it, you saw Norton swiftly hide your shirt underneath your pillow. Was he trying to get the last of your scent before it faded away forever?

"So. You've come to haunt me too." He spat, burning holes into your face with his unwelcoming glare. "Just like everyone else from the mines. Fuck off."

"Norton, it's me,"

"You're only pretending to be them. Second I acknowledge you're not real you'll go away."

His words shattered your heart.

Approaching him with caution, you kneeled onto the bed beside him and placed your palm on his cheek. He leaned into your touch despite his harsh words, his tear streaked face dampening your hand. "If I wasn't real, would I be this warm?" You whispered as soft as your voice could manage to be. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared into your eyes, searching for any signs of life. Your eyes were too warm and full of adoration to be a hallucination, a ghost, a memory.

"How did you...?" he began, teetering on the verge of tears again.

"I'm hurt, but... I'd never die on you, Nor. It's okay. I'm here." You pressed a nurturing kiss to his nose and felt his face heat up underneath yours. Pressing your forehead against his, he felt no malicious intent from you, unlike all the other visions he saw of his deported loved ones. He felt nothing but love and kindness from you, the same way he's always remembered you.

"It's really you," he uttered your name like a prayer, voice flickering above a whisper, before enveloping you in his arms and pulling you snug close to him. He bawled into your shoulder, letting the warmth of your body comfort him after one of the most horrifying moments of his life. You could feel his snot and hot tears bubble on your shoulder but you didn't mind in the slightest. You were home, in Norton's arms.

You knew that for Norton to cry in front of you, he was wounded deep. It was rare to see tears fall from his eyes and to feel him cling to you, terrified of letting go. Between pants, you could hear him beg for you to stay and never die on him. His pleas were answered by soft hushes and gentle kisses.

Norton pulled away for a fleeting moment to turn you around and examine your wounded back. There was a rip through your top and underneath were bandages stained with dry blood. Helena did a decent job of patching you up, though she definitely missed a few spots. Norton pressed chaste kisses to the exposed skin, his silent way of reassuring you he loved you no matter what.

"I'll kill him for doing this to you," your boyfriend hissed, teeth ghosting along your flesh. "I'll make him pay." His mouth was still connected to your back, and he could feel you shiver in response to his words.

"Nor, you don't needー"

"I'll never let anyone hurt you again. If anyone... if anyone ever does this to you a second time, I'll..."

"Norton."

Your sudden sharp tone caused him to freeze. Had he gone too far? His demeanour immediately switched and he pulled away from you, offering you a toothy grin to show he sincerely meant no harm.

You pulled your shirt back down and turned around so your calm eyes could meet his wide ones. "I'll be okay. I'm more worried about you, if anything. Come here." You patted your lap and the back of Norton's fluffy hair soon met your thighs. He laid down and began to rub the tears from his eyes, before you pushed his hands away and rubbed them into nothingness yourself.

He loved laying in your lap. Whether he was having flashbacks of past events, or if he was hurt from a match, laying his head on your soft thighs and gazing up at you with love never failed to calm him down. He felt so safe and warm.

"Have a little rest, Nor. I'll be here when you wake up." You rubbed calming circles into his hair as he nodded. His eyes closed, then opened again to ensure that you really were there and you truly were alive. You shushed him, both hands massaging his scalp until he drifted off into a comfortable sleep. He would do anything for you.

naib subedar ;;

"Naib's been containing the hunter for so long, you think we should help out?" Luca asked you as the two of you drummed away at a cipher machine together. You nodded your head in agreement, pulling yourself away from the noisy machine and overturning your empty pockets.

"I don't have any self heals, though. I'll shout if I need anything." This time it was Luca's turn to nod as he smacked the machine, steadily making progress towards your escape.

You roamed the abandoned factory for a few moments before hearing a distant yelp and the sound of someone falling to the ground. You followed the source of the sound to the factory, and the metallic clunks of Guard 26 carrying your lover to the basement made your skin crawl. This rescue was going to be tremendously difficult.

"Don't rescue me!" Naib managed to rasp as the hunter slammed him into the rocket chair. You could hear the pain in his voice even though he tried to mask it. It was always like Naib to hide his true feelings behind a cold front.

You knew Guard 26 chairing your only rescuer in the basement was a recipe for disaster, but you wanted to at least attempt to save him.

Hopping down the stairs, you were met face to face with the hunter. Their cogs whirred as they advanced towards you, and you stunned them momentarily.

"Oh, you're so stupid [Name]," Naib sighed as your fingers danced across the bar holding him captive. "Go back to where it's safe!" You ignored his cries and slid to the side, dodging one of Guard 26's strikes. The floor began to light up in an array of colours under you which you miraculously dodged, earning a gasp from your chaired lover.

Unfortunately, you weren't able to pull off the rescue of your dreams this time. You attempted to psyche out the hunter and trick them into hitting the chair, but their spiked bat met your side before you could pull away. Despite arriving without even a scratch, the impact of being hit as you rescued caused you to fall to your knees.


Blood pooled underneath you and you gritted your teeth as you waited to be chaired, the pain overriding your senses and bringing tears to your eyes.

That relief never came.

The haunting dings of Guard 26 slowly dissipated as they hopped up the stairs to find Luca. There were several other chairs in the basement, why didn't they chair you? It must be in their wiring to save as much time as possible.

You clutched at your stomach, wincing as crimson bloomed on your shirt. Panic hadn't filled your veins yet. You applied pressure to your wound, using the same healing tactics Naib had taught you before. Your plan was to do all you could while you were downed, then call Luca for help at the last minute.

Until Luca was terrorshocked.

Your eyes snapped up to meet Naib's the second you both heard him collapse against the cipher machine. Anxiety began to set in, your movements growing more sloppy. You nicked yourself more often, and Naib noticed it too.

"Easy there... Deep breaths, all right?" He cooed, wriggling to free himself from the grip of the rocket chair. His struggles were unsuccessful, though. No matter how hard he tried to escape for you, the chair wasn't merciful whatsoever.

You felt your body grow numb as you lost more blood. You could no longer feel the cold tiles of the basement. To you, everything was cold. You scooched closer to the chair Naib was trapped in and extended a hand. "Naib, I... I can't feel my legs," although his movements were limited, he was able to wrap his hand around yours and squeeze it tight.

"You're gonna be fine." He was lying through his teeth. Naib could see the glassy look in your eyes, hell, as your hand quivered in his, he could feel the life draining from it. Your voice wasn't a comfort to him anymore, every word you spoke was full of agony and he wished you would stay quiet as to not worry him more.

Naib has seen this before. He's been pinned under debris, forced to watch a comrade succumb to their injuries. It's why he's the man he is today. Always self-sacrificing, never leaving anyone behind. Yet he couldn't extend the same behaviour to you... his lover was bleeding out in front of him and there was absolutely nothing he could do. He tried so desperately to hide the fear from his face, but a single tear slid down his cheek and his expression sunk when he felt you begin to fade away. As you melted into the ground, Naib cried out your name until there was nothing left of you to hold. Then he followed.

You were awoken by the sound someone scurrying towards you. Rubbing your eyes, you saw a flash of colour before an excited hand met your shoulder. "You're finally up. Can you walk?" It took a few moments to process Naib's words. As you scanned the room around you, you spotted bouquets of flowers and numerous get well soon cards.

"What... what happened to me?" You groggily asked as you gazed at your hands. They had been bandaged up with care.

Naib swallowed hard as he replied, "you've been out for around a day. I've been looking after you... hope you don't mind." As your vision adjusted to the bright lights of your room, you noticed his shirt had been discarded and his chest was wrapped tightly in bandages. Both of you were left bruised and battered from that hellish match, it seems.

Your heart soared as you thought about how much Naib must adore you to watch over you like that. Though he acted coolly as if his actions were no big deal, you could sense that he was still worried about you. He touched you as if you were made of glass and his usual scratchy voice was replaced by a soft, considerate one ー an attempt to ease your anxieties and make you more comfortable.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up," his hand connected to yours and eased your weight onto the floor below you. You stumbled over your feet, but quickly met Naib's chest as his arms wrapped around your back. "Easy there, I've got you." He let you lean on him for support and helped you peel off your bloodied shirt before drawing a bath for you.

Naib kneeled beside the bubblebath you rested in, scrubbing your hair with his calloused fingers. It tickled ever so slightly, you couldn't remember the last time somebody had handled you with such care. His hands maneuvered around your body with precision and care as he washed away all of the dirt and dust that marred your skin.

A comfortable silence hung in the air until you decided to speak up, "what about you? Do you want me to wash you as well?"

Naib's expression softened when he heard your voice. "Iー uh, I'm good." His blunt response didn't match his gaze in the slightest.

"I can see you wince every time you lift your arms. And you smell."

"...Fine." He huffed in defeat, beckoning you to scootch forward to make room for him in the tub. You felt the water splash as he took a seat behind you and pulled you into his arms. "Hey. What you did yesterday... don't do it again, okay? I don't want you getting hurt ever again."

You turned over your shoulder to face him and he offered you a faint smile. It wasn't like his usual smug grins, it was more tender, something he couldn't get rid of upon seeing you awake again.

You could keep your head in Naib's warm chest forever, his steady heartbeat and the occasional ripples of water filling your ears. You were on the verge of falling asleep when you remembered that Naib needed to be scrubbed too.

Lifting his arms up above your head, you escaped his gentle grasp and turned around to face him. His expression was one of grumpiness after you slithered free from his arms, but the second you grabbed a loofah and massaged his skin his gaze molded into a loving one. His cuts had faded and closed up but they were definitely visible, and they looked like they hurt. A lot.

"I'm sorry for being so reckless, I just wanted you to get out safe." You whispered between fond swipes of his chest, really getting the soap in there.

He rested his arms on the edges of the tub, huffing in response. "When I tell you not to rescue, don't rescue, okay? Your safety's more important than mine." You attempted to object to his brash statement, but he shut you up with a kiss and stole the breath from your lips. Your lips remained connected for a few lingering seconds, and Naib deepened the kiss right as you expected him to pull away.

"...I thought I was going to lose you," he muttered against your skin, pulling away and pressing another, sweeter kiss to the corner of your lips. "Water's getting cold... let's get out," he drained the tub and scooped you up into his arms, bringing you to your bed and wrapping you up in a bathrobe. You were perfectly capable of dressing yourself, but Naib's must-take-care-of-lover instincts refused to let you do that.

He snuggled up to you from behind, nose breathing in the fresh scent of your hair. "Goodnight, love." And you dozed off in his arms, ever protective of you.

[marvellovegalore]

Hurting you

Chris Evans

Part Une - Loving You

Synopsis: You encounter your lost love Christopher and you talk about how you've done something awful.

Word Count: 1,954

Author note: This part is the follow-up to my latest write up, which I realise didn't garner much attention, but a second part was requested. Strongly advised to read part one.

Warning: Explicit Language, Mention of Drugs

Champagne showers your throat, its cool bubbles rippling inside you and all the way down your body. Your hips sway as you make your way through the tightly packed group of people. Laughter surrounds you as you re-join the dancing fray. A green-eyed model grabs you around the waist, his hands grabbing the thin material of your dress. The end of your dress dances over your high-heeled feet, you twist in the model’s arms and sway against him. Your back presses against him and he holds you tighter.

He whispers something in your ear, something or another about leaving with him to ‘fuck’ on the beach. You barely hear it over the music. Your eyes scanning over your friends that are sprawled around the room, all of them dressed in their finest threads. You would have taken him up on the offer, had it not been for the fact that you have been dating a particular Hollywood leading actor. You’d rather not have any outright fight at a party you’re enjoying because of ‘cheating’.

You move away from the model’s tight hold; you can almost hear his sigh. You dance over to a friend who beckons you to come with her to the bar. You gladly follow, reaching the bar takes a few minutes due to the crowd clambering over their drinks. You finally reach the bar; you lounge on the mirrored countertop. The barman approaches you, “Death in the Afternoon.” You wink at him, he smiles politely.

You turn and scan the room your eyes glazing the room, you catch sight of your date, hiding in a nook. He raises a glass to you, and you turn away from him. Drinking the sight of the partying people fills your stomach, many of them can’t help but stare at you, your presence like a diamond in the rough.

And there he is.

Your breath catches in your throat.

His arm draped across the shoulders of a tanned brunette; her eyes unmoving - glued to his. His lips ghost over hers, they way they used to do to your lips; giggles are whispered through her lips. Wearing a full suit with an undone bow tie strung around his neck - he looks like a drunken dream.

You want him.

He hasn’t noticed you. Or is pretending that he hasn’t.

It’s been six months since that night. You barely remember it; you were so intoxicated - on alcohol and Diazepam. An entirely irresponsible mixture, you try to pretend to yourself that you don’t know why you took what you did; but you know why. It was the only way that you had the courage to do what you did. Otherwise, you’d be with—

“One Death in the Afternoon.” The muscular barman places the crystal flute in front of you, you let a smirk grace your lips. If you weren’t in the same room as your date, you’d fuck him. But you’re trying to change.

You turn back in his direction, your friend also spots him, she promises that she’ll do everything to keep you guys apart. Your friends and family were informed of an amicable break-up with tears shed on both sides - by him. The media reported something similar - both PR teams sending well wishes to the other party and asking for privacy for those involved.

You weren’t aware of the amicable breakup until the email was forwarded to you by your PR head. You had blocked his number, but he had blocked you in every other way possible; you won’t pretend that it was unwarranted. Nor will you pretend that it didn’t hurt, but you couldn’t begin to imagine how much he was hurt.

You’ve done worse, but you don’t think you’ve ever done it to someone you actually loved.

You find yourself back in the folie of dancing, your dress billowing around your legs, its silky touch caressing your skin. You catch sight of the tanned brunette entering the dance floor; he’s following her, his hands toying with her waist.

They dance closely, his eyes roaming her body hungrily. You feel like vomiting. This isn’t fair. You close your eyes and knock your head back, willing the horrible sight away. The songs change twice before you open your eyes properly, your eyes immediately lower to where he is. Their lips are locked, their eyes shut off from the party, his hands dance on her arse.

You are most definitely going to throw up.

You rush away from the crowd, attracting concerned gazes, brushing off the offers of help, you finally manage to leave the house. You edge towards the pool and double over, you dry heave over the grass. You will the vomit up, but it is to no avail. You move away from the tennis style grass and make your way through the garden. Your walk leads you to the sea just beyond the expansive garden. The sky is a warm umber, the setting sun barely visible.

You don’t know how long you’ve been stood there, but you feel a presence behind you. You pray it’s not your date - demanding you keep him company.

You turn and feel your heart stop.

He looks beautiful. It’s the most undeniable beauty you’ve ever seen. He makes your heart throb.

Your heart swells, a feeling you’ve only ever felt once blanketing your heart.

Longing.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust someone so much ever again.” His voice is husky, his accent very noticeable. “I couldn’t figure out whether speaking to you would be a good idea, but I really wanted to understand,” he sighs deeply, his fingers whisking out a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket, “even a slither of your psyche.” He lights one cigarette and exhales.

You watch him intently but divert your gaze when he looks at you. “What do you mean?” You whisper. Your courage has left you, and your confidence has set itself on fire.

He nudges the cigarette towards you, “I know you’re more of a vogues girl, but you’re going to have to forgo that right now.” You take the offered cig and pop it in between your lips. It tastes of him somehow and you want to die. “I’ve been fucked up since I left Massachusetts, unbelievably so. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way.” He takes a tremulous breath.

You’re frozen. The cigarette needing to be ashed, he takes it from your fingers. He takes a swift inhalation. “I may have developed a mild dependency on alcohol… and on you. I can’t go to parties without thinking of you. I can’t get out of bed without thinking of you, I can’t breathe — without thinking of you.” His breathing is steady, his words stronger than the wind carried by the sea. You can’t breathe, his words taking the majority of your oxygen, he hands you back the cigarette.

“If I hadn’t done it then, you would have done it first.” You shiver with the cold breeze from the surf. If you could choose between kissing him or dissipating, you would choose to dissipate right into the sand.

His eyes flash across to you, his irises seething with anguish and droplets of anger. “It’s not a race, it never should be.” His hiss cuts across your chest, almost shattering your pearls. “I loved you, like I’ve never loved anyone.” His words make you look at him. The eyes that haunt your dreams are there, right there, less than a step away. The wind brushes his tendrils of golden hair across his face, he looks like a kaleidoscope manifested into flesh. “But I hate you now, in ways I have never hated someone.”

You feel like you’ve been stabbed in the neck.

You can feel a tear slip past your eyelashes, and you almost curse the skies. “That’s fine.” You choke quietly, your voice on the cusp of being drowned by the waves.

“I’ve moved on. I’m happy.” He sighs, he dashes the cigarette stub into the ocean, his hands going back into his pockets. His eyes don’t shift away from yours. “But you haunt me.” He looks away, towards the darkened horizon. “If I could choose between you dying or the Boston bomber - I would choose you.”

Your eyes widen with horror.

You’ve never been confronted with the pain you’ve caused. It’s never bothered you that men would desperately try to tarnish your image in salacious magazines. But this, this hurt you. Finally.

You can’t stop the tears now. You sink into the sand. The water washes against the borders of your legs. You choke a sob back.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is small and dejected.

“That’s alright.” He’s lit another cigarette. He sits down next to you, offering you a toke. You take it, peaking at him from under your eyelashes.

Looking up at him, you’re met with a longing gaze.

You’re going to wonder forever what’s possessed him, but his lips find yours. They’re the light at the end of the tunnel and following the path to it guarantees his survival.

The embrace is bittersweet, sprinkled with pleasant familiarity. The taste of smoke tendrils dances between your tongues. His fingers swim in your hair, greedily pulling you deeper into his kiss. You want to die in his arms, it would be indeed the heavenliest way to die. You grab his shirt and hold on for dear life, his wine-soaked tongue intoxicating you further. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids and you sink further into him.

He breaks away from the kiss. His eyes riddled with unspoken secrets.

He stands up, his hand extending towards you. Lifting you to your feet and taking your hand in his, he begins to sway with you to the muffled music coming from the house. His hand rests above your bum, comfortably leading you in this dance. You lean your head against his chest, inhaling the smell of cologne and Marlboro Reds. The smell that used to wake you up on holiday weekends. A tear slips from your eye, a manifestation of your longing and your need for him.

Why do hurt people, hurt people?

You recall the day your father left your mother for dead.

“Where’s mum going, daddy?” You look up at the towering figure of your father.

His stern gaze remains on the distressed woman being handcuffed to the gurney. He brushes off your question with a glare embalmed with stone. You gulp and return your stare to your screaming mother; you rush to her, but a paramedic stops you in your tracks. Your mothers begs your father to let her go, her cries echoing around the front garden. Her roses seemingly wilt in sympathy for their weeping creator. She screams and fights against the paramedics, your father doesn’t wait until the doors of the ambulance have been closed before he closes the front door.

You rush to the living room window, standing beyond the curtain with your face pressed against the glass, you watch your mother being driven away.

You’ll never see her again and never know where she took her last breaths; and you’ll be transferred to board at your school. You see your father annually and eventually he leaves you for retirement in South Africa, you’re alone and unloved.

So, you steal hearts so that your own can heal.

Chris breaks your dance, his hypnotising spell diluted by the distance imposed by his now hardened glare. He turns and leaves, his shadow furthering away from your own. You watch in astonishment as he leaves you, cigarette smoke billowing away from his receding figure.

You can’t help the stream that washes your cheekbones.

He’s done the impossible - broke you.

-

Part 3 -

[ogzieoggleton]

OH YEAAAH? WELL I ALREADY CLAIMED THE PANIC ATTACK IN WATER ONE A FEW MONTHS AGO SO WE ARE IN SYNC MY BROTHER LETS KEEOP GOING

What if I said that Garmadon had a panic attack when he woke up in complete darkness because for a second he had thought he was back in the Departed realm! What if he had a whole episode where he could feel everything feom the ressurection all over again coupled with more traumatic flashbacks to a sacrifice he couldn’t remember himself making with harumis words echoing in his ears to remind him that his son doesn't love or trust him and neither did his dad for keeping so much from his "pewvious little monster"

What if I tell you Garmadon had traumatic flashbacks to when he tore apart mytsakes dead body and consumed her corpse like a hunt- his memories bombarding him with the insatiable hunger he suddenly felt upib seeing what remained of her body until bot even bone was left (I'd like to add that in my au/hc mystake is alive so this would only happen if she had put lowly biker member in her place through hallucinations which yes means a random dog member was ragged to death by the hungry lord while harumi watched on knowing she could be next if he turned around too quickly-) but he doesn't know she is alive so he thinks he aye another oni and worse yet.. someone who was possibly his mother..

And what if I then said that upon eating food for the fiest time in forever, he was like some carnal beast - devouring the food like... well.. the Devourer.. such a revaltion caused him to have a depressive episode and nightmares of being the Devourer ending with him waking up screaming upon his "death" in the dreams and splitting headaches after.

And what if I said that he was so lonely that whenever he is touched gently or kindly by someone he trusts, he starts to cry softly in their embrace. Vinny held Garmadon's cheek in his warm hand, feeling the cold flesh of the oni against his palm like a hit of cool night breeze against a cosy stained window. That coolness was lost, however, when hot tears rolled down Garmadon's face, shocking the camera man to look up at the weeping lord who kept his eyes closed and mouth pressed together in a hopeless attempt to quell the sobs threading to escape his knotted throat.

What if I say that he can't drink tea without suddenly hearing his father's voice feom the past echo in his ears causing him to drop the cup and splutter on the tea before it turns to the worst hallucination ever; the tea started to burn his mouth and cook in his throat, his helpless spluttering doing nothing to cease the pain throbbing in his neck while the haunting scolding of his youth played in his ears like a broken instrument, taunting him for his wrong doings. Eventually, the sensation of liquid had left his throat but left his mouth warmer than a stove! Suddenly exhausted, Garmadon slumped in his place, his eyes pinched tight as sweat ran down his brow: a river of stress pouring off his neck like bullets. It took him a minute to calm - if he was calm at - all before he could straighten his poor posture to let in a gasp of a breath. Wu would tell him what to do.. if tea could not fix him, wu could. Wu was like tea in that regard; he would always be the ghost of their father..

Made what if I said that I have nothing more.. not now, at least. So, you've won, Green. You've won. <3

yeah? and what if i said garmadon has nerve damage and is partially deaf from where he was struck by lightning during his battle with wu?? what then???

[nxrthmizu]

last act. — kita shinsuke x reader

warnings | mentions of murder/dying as metaphor

paranoia, you think, might just be your greatest enemy. it lurks in the creases of your clothes and hides under your bed, waiting, waiting, waiting. it infects you with more what-ifs than you can afford to have, infesting your thoughts with doubt and insecurity— the two red flags that men avoid at all costs.

with no other choice, you bury it.

you bury all the what-ifs like the bodies of your homicides. you bury the corpses of your confidence, shoveling dirt with the guilt of a thousand criminals. you bury everything, everything, the evidence of a mountain of failed relationships, a mountain of what-ifs that fulfilled their destinies.

there is no perfect crime.

your evidence erupts from the dirt, it bursts and grows from six feet under, revealing all your secrets on the largest billboard sign it can find, displaying the reality of your actions like dirty laundry for the world to gawk at. it climbs into the sky, climbs and climbs like Jack's beanstalk, reaching for the clouds and after that, the stars.

it feels like a horror movie.

ominous music swoons at you, laughing and jeering, pointing and criticizing. red lips cackle widely, crowding over you, threatening to stamp you to death. a clawed, dirty hand wrestles its way out of the filthy dirt, pale and dead. out of the ground crawls your darkest nightmares, the zombies of your worst what-ifs coming back to haunt you. an army of ghosts demand vengeance, anger filling the red skies like the told night of the French Revolution.

run.

you run.

and when you can't run anymore, you hide.

hide.

hide, hide, hide.

"what are you doing?" he shouts, hair mussed up from the shower and face alight with a storm. your face is a painting of a million consciences as his phone clatters onto the bedsheets, the evidence of all your unburied crimes.

"i... i wasn't—"

fear trembles across your nerves, your boyfriend stomping across the room to snatch his phone from where it's discarded. the glare he sends you is condemning, accusing you of the crimes you were responsible for. "don't touch my phone! why can't you just respect my privacy!"

every man you've ever been with passwords their phone, guarding their privacy with a formidable wall that stretches longer than the one in china. they bare their teeth, snarling and protecting the little square metal, heavy with the weight of your relationship.

the process cycles, like the wheels on a bicycle coasting downhill. the gears are out of control— there are a million miles between you and the ground, and yet collision is a breath away. everything is spinning out of control, and the brakes on your bike are faulty. there is no way to stop, no way to turn back, no way to backpedal.

how can you, when gravity is accelerating you towards your demise?

it's one failed relationship after another, and another, and another. you feel like a thief on probation, granted temporary freedom for good behaviour only to be robbed another year by an itchy hand..

you've known the heavy reality of it all after the third failure. you're just doomed to a loveless life, a life of heartbreaks lining up outside the grocery store on christmas eve. forever is filled with the absence of trust— both on your part and his. an unmovable wall stands between you and your happily-ever-after, a writer's block stands between you and your desired ending. your story will be the one of the witch's— an unfulfilled arc, one that will never be completed, one that will never see end until the beheading.

and that's when you meet kita shinsuke.

the man is the definition of every grandma's dream grandson-in-law. his lips are laced with a kind smile, brows slick with hard work, skin tanned with ambition. kita shinsuke first meets you in the grocery store, three weeks after your last prince condemns you to the fate of the evil queen.

"need help?" he offered, gesturing to how you're openly struggling to haul a bag of rice onto your trolley.

the first thought that hits you— damn, he's perfect— the second— nope, i'm not going through this again. i've resigned to my fate of dying alone.

that doesn't mean you can't accept a kind stranger's help, though, so you let kita shinsuke effortlessly pick up your twenty-kilo bag of organic hyogo rice. the way you're eyeing his muscles isn't subtle at all, but hey! you said you weren't buying anything— that doesn’t mean you couldn't window shop.

he waves you goodbye with a last offer to help you bring your rice home— an offer that you decline, because kita shinsuke deserves better, and one day, there's going to be a delighted grandmother with the best grandson-in-law she could ask for. your own grandmother would've adored him, but what she doesn't know can’t hurt her.

that should've been the last of it, but you forgot one crucial detail— the world hates you.

like, hate hates you.

there's a saying— the more you are scared of something, the more likely it is to appear. the coffee shop. the bus stop. the grocery store. kita shinsuke is suddenly at every turn of your small town, towel wrung around his neck and brows slick with day's toil.

the nursery. the local hardware store. the mechanic.

before you met him, the traces of kita around down were non-existent, scarce at best. now that you've been so graciously blessed with his kind smile and offering arms, he's suddenly saturated everywhere, like a persistent advertisement cajoling you into buying something you don't need with money you don't have.

cajoling you into a relationship you can't afford to sustain.

call it sadism, desperation, stupidity—

when kita shinsuke finally asks you on a date, yes drops from your mouth like an overdue credit card bill.

you feel like the captain of a leaking ship.

hah. ironic.

you stare out the window, as if you're staring at the stern of a ship, keeping an active eye out for the killing blow of an iceberg. you stare out the window, waiting for the wanted posters to start flitting in the sky like smoke from an atomic bomb. you stare out of the window, waiting for the natural disaster that disfigures your life story into a never-ending tragedy.

the curtain will never drop.

act infinity will never end.

the applause will never come.

"don't wait for a storm that won't come," shinsuke advises wisely, making you jump from your dramatic perch on the balcony. surprise is etched onto your features, rough lines and edged curves of a ruined sculpture.

how did he know—?

"the weather forecast said it's going to be sunny all day." continues shinsuke with a soft smile, as if the actual weather was what he meant all along. "i was thinking about going for a walk in the evening. come with me?"

it's one prince charming after another. you dip your toes into one fairy tale then another, staying only long enough to play your role as the antagonist, as the villain, as the scapegoat of someone else's happily ever after. how long will it take for the story's rightful princess to show up?

… perhaps she's still locked away somewhere, in a small apartment, with only chirping sparrows and static electricity lines to keep her company. you close your eyes and imagine a garden of succulents before her, a clothes line above her, a happy ending ahead, waiting for her.

and maybe, somewhere in the apartment behind your imaginary princess is a grandmother, rocking back and forth in her rattan chair, grinning senile-ly at the thought of her future grandson-in-law.

even though he's someone else's prince charming, his hand feels perfect in yours, like a carefully carved dovetail joint. the corners of his eyes crinkle into an enchanting smile, making you question your identity as the witch for moment. hyogo's sunset is a paid photographer , shrouding your boyfriend with all the right light at the right angles— he could consider a career in the fashion industry. you're no scout, but with a smile like that? shinsuke would be a sensational model.

"something on your mind?" he asks gently, thumb tracing over the skin of your hand.he looks ethereal and god-like, bathed in golden light that swirls around his body like mini phoenixes.

how can you tell him?

how can you confess to premeditating a crime? how can you confess the insecurity, the doubt that plunges through the hull of your ship like an anchor? how can you confess to a million failed relationships, littering your past like a rain of dead bodies?

"it's nothing." you say, slipping a mask of a smile over your lips, playing the part you've been assigned to. you are the antagonist, the witch, the one without the happy ending. this is your fate.

"... alright." unsure as he looks, shinsuke lets it slide, and you are thankful for it. it wouldn't do to have the male lead question the script in the middle of opening night, would it?

regardless, you let yourself float in the moment, an insignificant leaf buoyant on the river surface, travelling through the forest, hand-in-hand with the current. hand-in-hand with a prince charming who isn't yours.

the whispers are there, prying their ways into your ears like little wispy demons circling your head, little devils assassinating an angel long gone, little ghosts of witches that want to drag you down into the dirt by your ankles.

run, run, run.

hide, hide, hide.

(i want to stay.)

the day of reckoning comes, much too quick for your liking. it was nice while it lasted, you remind yourself, be grateful for what you have.

"i need you to be honest with me." the softness about his voice is swaddling you in a soft comforter, keeping you tucked and wrapped and warm. shinsuke follows the script you know by heart, word for word, breath for breath.

it's wrong.

the scene descends a whole act before it's supposed to begin. the timeline jumbles up. the story rewinds.

"i haven't done anything!" it's like a knee-jerk reflex, defense falling from your lips quicker than you can process it. you're slipping, slipping, slipping away from the trail your script follows, falling off the edge of the stage, clinging onto the hem with the tip of your burning fingers.

you knew it was coming. you knew it would, eventually— but it feels like a scam. it feels as if you've been robbed of something that was never yours to begin with. you've held back so well this time, in hopes that you can continue this little dance of yours for a little longer— but the world hates you, and it swoops down on your little cottage, swoops down on your falsified happily-ever-after.

shinsuke regards you carefully, gently. "i didn't say that you did anything."

oh.

blind as an unsuspecting foal, you've pranced about, so hyper-alert that you straight out leapt into the trap the hunter's left out for you. except you can't quite associate the word hunter with shinsuke, because it just doesn't work.

"i want you to be honest with me," he repeats. "i want you to tell me what's wrong."

"there's nothing wrong!" you refute fiercely, snarling, flighty as a cornered rabbit.

"is it me?" he asks quietly. it's the first time a prince charming has ever questioned himself. the two of you are definitely off-script now— why is shinsuke improvising out of nowhere?

"n-no..." you're caught off guard, shoulders hunched, muscles tensed, limbs trembling. stutters drop from your lips like raindrops from a rooftop, splish, splash, splish, splash.

"then tell me," the kind expression doesn't leave him, and under the guise of panic and fear, your heart thrums with an illegal longing. "what's wrong?"

with no other choice in sight, you lay out your past crimes like the dead fish in a market, covered with a sheen of blood, sitting on a bed of jagged ice. shinsuke doesn't say a single word, doesn't give you a single clue on what he's thinking.

"so," he begins, at last. you breathe a sigh of relief— you would rather get your last act over with as soon as possible. no point in prolonging the pain, right? "this whole time... you were just scared? because you don't trust me?"

you wince visibly. "well, when you put it like that..."

he hums, looking thoughtful. lost in the moment, you nearly swoon, admiring the youthful glow he holds, the softness of his hair. "i suppose i didn't give you a reason to trust me, either."

eh?

you stare, jaw gaping, as shinsuke strides across the room in brief steps, returning with phone in hand. he pats the futon beside where he's seated, gesturing for you to join him on the floor. you watch, still lost and oh-so-confused as he journeys onto the settings of his phone, flicking into the password section.

"here," he says when he's done, eyes flicking to yours, carrying a smile as gentle as the spring breeze. "the password's your birthday backwards. now you can check it whenever you want, okay?"

he laughs softly at your stunned expression.

"just promise me," shinsuke says, looking earnest. "just promise me that you'll talk to me, alright? don't keep things to yourself. tell me if i'm doing something that makes you mad, or insecure. i promise that i'll listen."

as it turns out, shinsuke didn't just go off-script, he decided to spontaneously change the entire plot altogether.

it's been three years, and you're now happily married to (your) mr. prince charming. your grandma was so much more than delighted when she finally met him, eyes gleaming and already proclaiming the date of your wedding for the whole neighborhood to her. it was only thanks to shinsuke (a miracle worker, that one) that your grandma didn't invite the entire village. between your grandma and shinsuke's, there would've been about five hundred attendees, if they had it their way.

"i'm heading to a high school reunion," he tells you as you loop a scarf around his neck, checking that he has an umbrella in his bag. "there are going to be twenty-six males, fifteen women. thirteen of the guys are married, six are engaged, five are seeing someone, and two are still single. seven of the women are married, seven are engaged, and one's still dating."

"you don't have to tell me that anymore, you know." you say, unable to resist the warm feeling that bubbles up within you.

shinsuke furrows his eyebrows. "but i—"

"i trust you," you interrupt, tucking the ends of his scarf in neatly. "i do trust you, shinsuke, you don't have to tell me these things anymore."

something in his eyes soften. "thank you."

"no, thank you." you correct, "thank you for giving me a chance, and being patient with me."

he bids you farewell with a kiss on your forehead and promise to be home with dinner, and you wave him off. weren't you lucky to have met him in the grocery store that day, three years ago?

Thanks to @kitastowel for beta-ing! <3

haikyuu!! taglist: @ryuiki @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @definitely-yours @rirk-ke @cemeiia @animegirlweeb @mitzwinchester @fandomsgotmefucked @sexyandcringe @stargirl2898

[hxlyhoax]

Lyrics That Describe Your Relationship

Based off of your playlist

Rami:

Umbrella

“Told you I'll be here forever Said I'll always be your friend Took an oath I'mma stick it out 'till the end”

Sparks Fly

“Get me with those green eyes, baby, as the lights go down Give me something that'll haunt me when you're not around”

Long Way Home

“Take me back to the middle of nowhere Back to the place only you and I share Remember all the memories?”

Groove Is In The Heart

“The chills that you spill up my back keep me filled With satisfaction when we're done Satisfaction of what's to come”

Still Into You

“I should be over all the butterflies But I'm into you (I'm into you) And baby even on our worst nights I'm into you”

“Let 'em wonder how we got this far Cause I don't really need to wonder at all Yeah after all this time I'm still into you”

Ahkmenrah:

Say You Won’t Let Go

“I met you in the dark You lit me up You made me feel as though I was enough”

Somebody To Love

“Lord what you're doing to me I have spent all my years in believing you But I just can't get no relief, Lord”

Hold Your Breath

“Hold your breath, I'll give you time With the lights down low and the tension high”

Ghost

“I don't like them innocent, I don't want no face fresh Want them wearing leather, begging, let me be your taste test I like the sad eyes, bad guys, mouth full of white lies”

Wild Wild World

“Destroy and rebuild, it's kill or be killed But we can change, we can change everything A little love, never hurt anything We fight and we bleed, We live and we breathe But we can change, we can change everything We can change the world”

Kenny:

Youngblood

“Lately our conversations End like it's the last goodbye Then one of us gets too drunk And calls about a hundred times”

Make Belive

“Always talking, sort of flirting We make plans but you never come through You say you're busy, but you miss me I'll be here waiting around like a fool”

Loud

“Looking for the one tonight, but I can’t see you Cause I’m blinded by all the lights, oh And I can’t ever get it right, I need a breakthrough Why are you so hard to find? Oh”

Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride

“There’s no place I’d rather be Than on the seashore, dry, wet, free On golden sand is where I lay And if I only had my way I'd play 'til the sun sets beyond the horizon”

A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More “Touch Me”

“You can make all the moves, you can aim all the spotlights Get all the sighs and the moans just right”

Elliot:

In My Head

“I guess that I was wrong I'm the one to blame And that's a shame, you see Uhh-uh-uh, you're in my head And I keep on forgettin' Uhh-uh-uh, you're here instead And it seems never ending”

Tell Ya Daddy

“Tell your daddy call the deputy He just mad because you left with me”

Numb To The Feeling

“My tolerance is going up And I'm getting numb to the feeling, yeah And I've been abusing drugs I'm getting numb to the feeling, yeah I need you to show me love 'Cause I'm getting numb to the feeling, yeah I need you to ride me harder when we fuck”

Paper Love

“I believe, I believe in the things you do And I wanna believe you believe that too All the noise in my ear that I hear about you Pray it can't, pray it don't, pray it won't come true”

Without Me

“I said I'd catch you if you fall (Fall) And if they laugh, then fuck 'em all (All) And then I got you off your knees Put you right back on your feet Just so you could take advantage of me”

“Just running from the demons in your mind Then I took yours and made 'em mine (Mine) I didn't notice 'cause my love was blind”

“You don't have to say just what you did (What you did) I already know (I know) I had to go and find out from them (Oh-woah)

Finn:

Dead Girl Walking

“Come on! Tonight I'm yours I'm your dead girl walkin' Get on all fours Kiss this dead girl walkin' Let's go, you know the drill I'm hot and pissed and on the pill”

I’m In Love With My Car

“Got to feel for my automobile Get a grip on my boy racer roll bar Such a thrill when your radials squeal”

Begin Again

“I've been spending the last eight months Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end But on a Wednesday in a cafe, I watched it begin again”

Dirty Little Secret

“I go around a time or two Just to waste my time with you Tell me all that you've thrown away Find out games you don't wanna play You are the only one that needs to know”

Drew Barrymore

“You could be the renegade Bonnie to a Clyde Harrelson and Juliette”

“And all these other girls keep wonderin' what I fuck with you for”

Josh:

More

“If me and you are living in the same place Why do we feel alone? Feel alone A house that's full of everything we wanted But it's an empty home, empty home”

Take Cover

“We can die like the heroes before us Or live to be the wicked ones The wicked ones we're running from”

“Here comes the fall out The trouble and clutter The madness of millions”

“Surely there would be Some kind of redemption A trial by fire To pull us through”

Amazing

“Looks good in a dress Even better in my sweatshirt”

Anti-Everything

“Cause I'm anti-everything, but I love you I'm fucking miserable till you walk into the room, yeah”

Back To You

“You could break my heart in two But when it heals, it beats for you I know it's forward, but it's true” And what's the point in hidin'?”

“Everybody knows, we got unfinished business And I'll regret it if I didn't say This isn't what it could be”