#borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with with to sorrow it.
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i just finished the road by cormac mccarthy for english class last night and oh my god. i need to sit down and bawl uncontrollably
#i will not send you into the darkness alone i will not send you into the darkness alone i will not send you into the darkness alone i will n#i still dont know entirely what to make of the ending but i simply adored literally everything else about the book#i hope im loved as much as that boy#this is my child he said. i wash a dead mans brains out of his hair. that is my job.#borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with with to sorrow it.#if he is not the word of God God never spoke.#each the other's world entire#he thought each memory recalled must do some violence to its origins.#freeze this frame. now call down your dark and your cold and be damned.#could you crush that beloved skull with a rock?#there is no other dream nor other waking world and there is no other tale to tell.
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— promise you’ll forget me
featured: liyue men x fem!reader
cw: generally gn but uses she/her (an itty bit), pet names, angst, hurt/comfort, a sliver of fluff, mention of character death, a little wholesome if you’re delusional enough (me)
synopsis: “When I die, promise me you’ll forget me. Erase me from your memories, bury me in the past, and live.”
a/n: my 3 babygirls + if I caused anyone any distress from this soft angst then let me know !! so I can continue wrecking havoc :)
── ꨄ︎ Xiao
Xiao stared at you, frozen in place and eyes widening as those words fell from your lips. He was in shock, completely baffled at how casually you uttered those words. As if they meant nothing… he grimly thought, As if you could ever mean nothing. His hands trembled, balling them into fists and digging his nails into the back of his palm. Had his silent affection, loving kisses, acts of devotion, and fierce protection not been testament enough to the impact you had on him? Had you not realized that you wielded the same amount of power over him as his previous master had with his true name? The Yaksha was almost amazed at your ignorance. “How dare you speak so carelessly…” he growled. Xiao was already fully aware of the reality of your inevitable death; it’s a truth that even the Conquerer of Demons, himself, adamantly refuses to revisit. He was bitterly aware that your time in Teyvat — your days together — was on borrowed time compared to his. That’s just the fate of a human's life in comparison to an Adeptus. He knew that the day will come when he would be forced to confront the tragic cycle of life and death once again, and if only for the sake of his Archon, he’ll grit his teeth and face it when the time comes. But to ask him to forget you, to erase you from his memories? You, who he cherishes most of all. You, who stealthily slithered into his heart and made a home in the remnants of his damned soul. You, who he foolishly fell in love with. There was no force in this wretched world that could ever submit him to abandon the little joy he was given in his life. And to ask that of him was to condemn him to a far crueler fate than that of the karmic debt he harbors on his shoulders.
Glowering at the wooden floorboards of the Wangshu Inn, Xiaos piercing eyes flickered up at you. “Do not make such absurd requests of me again.” He sneered. Flinching in surprise, you questioningly glanced at your lover. Shifting your gaze down, you noticed the deathly grip he held on the patio's railing and the cracking lines spreading beneath his fingertips. “Xiao… wait, I didn’t mean to—“ but your words were cut short by the solemn glint in his yellow stare. “There are many things I struggle to comprehend about you mortals, so tell me,” attentively, your ears perked up and your breathing paused as he spoke, “could you forget me so easily if I asked you to? Is your affection for me simply…” biting the inside of his cheek, his expression shifted to one of sorrowful hesitation, “temporary?” Your entire body tensed. Xiao had made a bad habit of hiding his less ‘acceptable’ emotions in an attempt to not burden you — no matter how many times you reassured him — so to glimpse at that fragile vulnerability and find the newly seed of doubt you had planted, it made your heart wrench in your chest. You blinked a few times as each flutter of your lashes only gathered more and more wet droplets onto them. “No! Xiao! I would ne-.. ver….” and that’s when you realized the weight of what you had asked him. Rejected.. I made him feel rejected, You internally groaned. Sighing you carefully took a few steps towards him, “Listen to me,” you softly spoke, “I don’t want you to live in mourning after I pass. You don’t deserve that, Xiao,” and his eyes widened, “I want you to be happy,” softening your gaze, you continued, “I want you to continue enjoying the gifts life brings, no matter how big or small they might be!” Standing in front of him, you reached a hand out to gently caress his cheek and dotingly smiled when he instinctively leaned into your touch. “I want you to keep spending time with humans, and one day you may even find new companions who’ll add to your happiness.” Nonsense, he thought. The Adeptus revers you almost as highly as his Archon and you think some feeble companions could ever compare? Xiao placed his hand atop yours and gingerly kissed your palm. His eyes reflected a tender intensity as he peered down at you, “Our connection is too strong, y/n.” his arms wrapped protectively around you, holding you tightly as if he wasn’t careful enough you’d disappear and be gone forever. Xiao hovered his lips above yours as he rested his forehead on you, and closed his eyes, “No matter what challenges time brings, or what you, yourself, try to do to sever our bond,” pressing his lips on yours, he kissed you as he quietly whispered, “I will love you, always.”
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
417 years have gone by since Xiao last held you in his embrace. And although he was pleased he was able to offer you a long, happy and loving life, Xiao would be blatantly lying if he said he’d moved on from your death. And if not for your last — somewhat reasonable — request, he likely wouldn’t have intervened with the lives of mortals, or reluctantly accepted their friendship. If that was what you truly would’ve wanted for him then he’ll hold his complaints and trust your judgement. It was bittersweet, really. If you were still alive, he knew in his heart you’d be fascinated by these mortals' new technology and inventions; he wonders what you’d say of this new era. And he can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips as he thinks of how you’d fawn over these silly contraptions, There’s no doubt you’d be foolishly fascinated by such simple trinkets, he thinks, but archons what he wouldn’t do to see your eyes sparkle with wonder again. And although Teyvat has undergone infinite changes, there is but one acre of land that the Yaksha has ensured remains untouched by humans, Adeptus or demons alike. It was a sort of sanctuary for him. A place of refuge, meditation, reflection, and heartache; but above all, it was where Xiao would religiously visit to honor the love he had, and continues to have, for you — his one and only. The area was radiant, nothing less than one of Liyues hidden gems. The ground was vibrant with lush grass, lively wildlife, and blanketed with all your favorite flowers; flowers Xiao had helped you plant and nurture. What once started as your personal garden ended up flourishing with vines, plants and new ecosystems. It could honestly be described as a mini forest, and the Adeptus wonders if it’s prosperity is because of you. Either way, you would’ve loved it, and that thought alone was enough. Thinking back, Xiao couldn’t believe he was so ignorant. Initially, he thought the whole custom was silly when Morax first casually mentioned it one day. ‘Marriage, is a unity humans practice as well here in Teyvat. It is a unity between lovers — a ceremonial alliance, if you will.’ To him, the idea seemed pointless, but the thought never left his head since. He’s already submitted himself to you in every way, but if his Archon had advised marriage was also a custom between mortals then perhaps you would like to marry as well. So this sacred area is where you both wed. The beaming smile and buzzing excitement you showed that day was forever engraved in his memories. Xiao still keeps the silver ring you slid on his finger with him. Though as of recent centuries he hasn’t worn it as much in order to preserve its integrity, but sometimes, when he’s laying amidst the swaying grass and reminiscing of times gone past, he’ll slip it on and think of you. On rare occasions the Yaksha would even stage a performance, the way he used to when he danced beneath the moonlight as you watched in awe. Whether sunlight warms his skin, rain splashes on his hair and wets his clothes, or strong currents of the wind whistles loudly through the air, he’ll dance to the natural rhythm of Teyvat. A performance reserved only for you. Other times he’ll rest on a bed of soft moss as his honey eyes gaze at the starry sky till morning illuminates the world once more. Simply remembering the sound of your voice, your touch, your laugh, and he’ll wonder, wherever you are in this vast universe, if you think of him too.
── ꨄ︎ Zhongli
The sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the mountaintop of Mt. Aocang. The traditional, delicately crafted teacup Zhongli held was now shattered into pieces in the palm of his hand, and the tea previously filling it was now spilled all over the god's lap. Unaware that his sudden vise-like grip was to blame for its broken state. He saw your lips move and your body apprehensively patting his clothes dry with a cloth, but he couldn’t hear a thing. Zhongli simply stayed in place as his golden eyes stared at you. Yes, it’s true that the former Geo Archon has encountered countless tragic fates and lost several friends and close relationships to the erosion of time. And it’s only been recent, with the reawakening of Azhdaha, that he had to reluctantly reevaluate and reaccept his cursed fate of eternity until the last remnants of his body eroded back into the stones of old. Azhdaha reminded him his future was pitiful. Doomed to solidarity as punishment for being a God. It was for that exact reason that Zhongli heavily contemplated the idea of entering a relationship with a human for a very long time before officially committing to you. However, it was also through that slow-burn romance that an unexpected love blossomed. Its tender passion awoke a primal instinct that had long laid dormant in the depths of Morax’s innate desires — it caught the Archon, himself, off guard. The love of a God cannot be easily earned or discarded. It entails complete submission, adoration, and devotion. Then again, it might be the reason Zhongli wasn’t avoidant of the inevitable outcome of this relationship. He fully accepted the consequences of his decision if it meant enjoying just a moment of tranquility in your embrace. He’d be willing to endure a thousand years of heartache if it meant hearing your voice just once, and he’d suffer through thousands more if even to kiss the fabric that clung to your body.
Zhongli, blinked from his trance and looked down to see you patting his clothes dry with red fingertips and scathed palms from the burning hot tea. Swiftly, he took hold of your hands and took the cloth away from you. He felt a pang of guilt as he carefully cascaded his thumb across the searing flush of your warmed skin. “I do apologize, my love.” shifting his gaze up to you, he continued, “It seems that your request has taken me aback.” Tightening your hold on his hands, you knitted your brows in worry, “Oh.. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” you pouted. Zhongli removed his gloves, and your attention trailed to the geo marks decorating his golden skin. So pretty, you thought. “There is no need to fret, darling.” His voice was deep and affectionate. An obvious difference compared to the usual somber and nonchalant tone he speaks with, and it made your heart flutter knowing it was only ever exposed to you. But then suddenly, his expression turned serious. “However, that request would be a breach of contract, and I simply, will not break it.” Your eyes widened for a moment before quirking an eyebrow up in question. You momentarily tilted your head in curiosity, and the Archon couldn’t help but feel his gaze soften, just a little, in response to your small habit. Fluttering your eyes on him, you asked, “What contract?” What contract? He silently mused, as if the answer itself was blatantly obvious — which to him, it was. Lowly chucking, he wrapped his large hand around your wrist and slipped his fingertips up to caress your palm. Raising your hand up to his lips, he languidly met your gaze with his adoring one. “If you do not recall, then allow me to remind you.” Closing his eyes, he placed a kiss on your fingertip, “I have sworn myself each time I touch your skin.” He placed a kiss on another, “Each time my mind had been desperately surrendered by thoughts of you.” Then another, fluttering his long lashes, he peered at you with half-lidded eyes as his pupils dilated to slits “In every moment our bodies intimately intertwine together amidst the heat of our love.” Gasping at his sudden confession, your heart sped up in a fervent fluster. He leaned in close, “I am bound to you, my love, for all eternity.” Zhongli kissed you once, and then twice. He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you in, almost urging you to sit on his lap. Deepening the kiss the Geo Archon could only pray his kisses could hope to portray even a sliver of the love he has for you.
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
And so a millennium has passed, he hums. 1,231 years to be exact. Since your passing, Zhongli counted each year that came and went. Placing an incense down on the shrine he built in your memory, the Archon kneeled before your golden statue and prayed — he’s not quite sure to who, and he’s not sure if there’s anyone listening, but if there is, he hopes it’s you. Today had been an unusual day given that he doesn’t normally visit your shrine so late in the evening, but no matter what he did it seemed like unforeseen circumstances kept getting in the way of his preplanned visit. And after several attempts of trying to untangle himself from piling responsibilities, he sighed and decided it was best to just visit you by the end of today no matter what or who dared get in his way. Which brings us to now. However, shortly after he started his peaceful meditation, he was disturbed by someone’s quiet shuffles behind him. Fluttering his eyes open, his sharp gaze glared in the direction the noise was coming from. Even though it’s location wasn’t necessarily private, this shrine was his personal alter of worship, a private haven, who the hell was foolish enough to intrude on its sacred premises? Snapping his head around, his menacing gaze immediately widened into one of pure shock. It surely.. can’t be..? He muttered in disbelief. “Oh! I’m sorry I-um- I didn’t realize someone was here!” The voice awkwardly spoke, and as they turned to leave, his lips moved before he could realize he was talking, “What’s your name?” Blinking in surprise, the woman sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck, “Ah. I’m h/n, heh.” Walking closer she carefully inspected the handsome man as he stared at her like she was some sort of ghost. “Is this your shrine?” Looking up at the statue she softly smiled, “I’ve been coming here for weeks.” she confessed, and Zhongli slowly stood from his position. It’s her. The depths of the dragons innate need for his mate had violently awoken from its slumber, and he felt the bond he mourned for centuries, suddenly call out to each and every one of his senses. It’s her. Your reincarnation. Lighting her own stick of incense and bowing, the woman — you — glanced back at him, “I found this place by accident, and I bring my own incense to pay my respects as well. But honestly, I don’t know why I come here.” You chuckled. “Maybe it’s because her statue looks similar to me, or maybe … it’s because I can’t help but feel like this place calls to me.” Shaking your head, you bashfully looked away, “Sounds crazy, right?” “No.. no, not at all….” Softening his gaze, he offered a smile. There’s no mistaking it. I can sense her soul, years of longing and heartache clutched his heart, I could recognize it anywhere. And so the both of you spent the evening chatting away over tea the man you came to know as ‘Zhongli’ had prepared, and when nighttime shadowed the streets you both politely took your leaves. Zhongli deeply considered whether or not he should look for you again, but he soon realized he couldn’t bring himself to disrupt the new life you had built — even if it didn’t include him. He told himself he was happy, satisfied knowing your soul had returned even if every cell in his body painfully yearned to be with his lover again. Being given the opportunity to drink tea with you should be privilege enough. It wasn’t until you visited the shrine early one morning that you finally found him. After a brief catch-up, he noticed you nervously shifting, “Is something the matter?” He worriedly asked. With a deep breathe you confessed what’d been on your mind since your last encounter. “Have we met before?” You began, and his entire body froze, “I know this might seem strange but…” and unconsciously his body leaned in closer as his primal instincts begged him to caress your skin once more, but he forced himself rooted. Until you uttered a single sentence and momentarily tilted your head in curiosity that he felt his heart struck, and daresay, even gave the god hope. “I can’t help but feel like…. I’ve met you before, a long time ago.”
── ꨄ︎ Childe
Strumming his fingertips, Childe hummed in contemplation. He’s well aware of the repercussions that come with being 11th of the Fatui Harbingers, and he’s hyper-aware of the vile leverage his enemies would try to obtain when discovering the infamous Harbinger has taken a lover. However, the thing about Childe is that he actually openly welcomes his enemies to try to even get remotely near you. Honestly, your request is just straight-up hilarious to him. But he supposes he can’t blame you. After all, you haven’t a clue of the extent your lover has and, even as you ask, is taking to ensure your safety. It’s stressful, really, but the man loves challenges — “Let them come, let them ALL come!” He manically laughs, before lowering his head, “I’ll kill them all where they stand.” he snarls. Every loud and flamboyant confession, every playful kiss, every subtle caress of your skin, and each lingering touch holds an ulterior motive aside from just affection. It’s a warning. But you never noticed, have you? While you’re pushing him away in a flustered daze, you don’t notice how his cheeky smile and crescent eyes fall the second you turn in a huff and his gaze narrows to a sinister glare — directly locking eyes with the spies creeping atop rooftops. How he never directly answers your questions when he disappears for a few minutes only to return scathed and sometimes even bleeding. Brushing away your worry with a tender smile as he pinches your cheek, “Heh, don’t worry so much!” He’ll coo. Your request isn’t even an option. Childe would die for you, kill for you, live for you. He’ll do whatever it takes to stand above a pile of bloody corpses if only to force them to bow before you. You, the promised ruler of the world he’ll craft. And should you fall, he would build his empire on the blood of millions just to keep his promise.
Childes eyes glimmered in amusement as he threw his head back and laughed. “Hahah—!! You really do have an active imagination babe!” Playfully ruffling your hair, he chuckled, “C’mon now, don’t say such nonsense.” His lips curled into a beaming smile, but you could tell by the edge laced in his words that he meant what he said. Huffing, you smacked his hand away, “I’m not joking, Ajax!” Sighing, you turned away in embarrassment, “I’m being…. I’m being serious, alright?” Pausing, Childe furrowed his brows, “You’re serious?” Rolling your eyes, you marched away feeling flustered and annoyed by your lover's reaction, “Yes! I’m being serious!” Normally, the incredulous stare Childe gave you would’ve made you tease him in any other situation, but as of now it only added to the searing burn on your cheeks. Following behind you, he grabbed your arm to stop you and delicately tugged you to look at him. “Hey, what are you saying?” Turning around, you were met with narrowed blue eyes and a frown, “Are you calling me weak?” And as much as you wanted to stay mad at him, you couldn’t help but crack a smile at his accusatory tone and pouty lips. Intertwining your fingers with his you stepped toward him until your face was only inches away from his pretty glaring eyes. Running your fingertips against his jaw, you lightly traced them across his freckled skin until you reached his messy, orange hair, “The only thing I think you are is dumb.” You lovingly purred. Scoffing he averted his gaze from yours. “Listen, Ajax,” you started, “I know you worry about me, and yes, even though you’re the strongest man I know—“ “Ever will know.” He corrected. Giggling you flicked his forehead, “Ever will know~” you repeated, before you cleared your throat and steeled your gaze, “If I do pass… promise me you’ll live for yourself, okay? Take care of yourself, and no matter what, don’t let my memory hold you back.” Hold me back? He chuckled. Gently placing both hands on your cheeks, he guided your head to fully face him, “Your life makes me feel alive, y/n, and if the day comes — which it won’t,” he sternly emphasized, “your memory will only serve as the reason I fight to survive.” Pulling you into his protective embrace he buried his face in your soft locks, “I’ll keep you safe.”
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
720 days. That’s 720 archon-forsaken days, and sleepless nights. It was clear to all, that a part of Childe never quite recovered the day he found your lifeless body lying alongside the jagged edges of stone slabs resting beneath a mountain cliff side. The image of your body lying still as a pool of your blood gushed from your mutilated wounds onto the unforgiving surface of the rocks became a memory deeply embedded in the Harbingers mind. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t something inside him that had shattered, but instead completely disappeared. Even now, he still feels likes he’s quietly being haunted by the agonizing screams he cried and tears that he endlessly shed as he held your bloody corpse in his possessive and shaky embrace. However, all of that paled in comparison to the unsettling numbness that nestled within his bones and tainted his heart when he caught sight of the item that dropped from your hand as he cradled you. It was mocking. Taunting, even. “The pendant…” he spoke, barely above a whisper. She protected.. the pendant I gave her? His azure stare darkened as the very last of his compassion died right there and then. Now they only harbored hatred and desolation. Reaching to pick up the pendant, Childe carefully brushed the blood staining it with his gloved thumb. This was the gold entwined, jade pendant he had gifted you during the firework showcase of your first Lantern Rite with him. It was intended as a good luck token — a marker of sorts. He promised you that so long as you held this pendant, he would always come to protect you; your lover vowed this. His breath trembled, and his jaw clenched as he glared at it with blurry eyes. He couldn’t help but wonder, Was she waiting for me, choking out a sob his fingers combed through your hair as he rested his forehead on yours and salty tears dripped down your cheek, to protect her? And that thought alone was enough to sever the remaining domestic threads of his heart. For the next two years, Childe spent every waking moment tracking your killer. His obsession only further manifested as time went by. Even his work as a Fatui Harbinger strained, yet none were brave enough to tell him otherwise. Either because of fear, or because the Tsaritsa ordered it so. During that time there were those who argued that Childe had gone on a blind rampage, and others argued the Harbinger became the vengeful embodiment of a man of focus, commitment, and sheer will. To be honest? Neither were completely right or wrong. He never hurt bystanders, yet he never hesitated slaughtering anyone who got in his way. As for those foolish enough to mislead him or hold information? Well, they suffered a fate worse than death. It wasn’t until he found himself deep within the shadowy crevices of the chasm that he finally met your murderer. It was a wretched demon that had ripped you away from him, a crime even death was too good for. The accumulated rage of a fallen God was nothing compared to the murderous hatred he harbored. In the end, Childe came victorious — albeit at the cost of his own life. Sliding against weathered stone, he sat down and aimlessly stared at the curvatures of the chasm. “Seems I couldn’t keep my promise, huh?” He chuckled, “Don’t be too mad at me.” Wincing in pain, he slipped out the pendent he gifted you from his Foul Legacy’s armor as he felt his eyelids grow heavy. Kissing it’s cold exterior, he took a breathy sigh, “Please, wait for me,” fluttering his eyes shut, a line of blood dribbled from his lips as he smiled, “just a little…. longer..”
side note!: new format ! let’s goooooooooo
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#jay writes ! ⋆⁺₊⋆ ♡̷̷̷ ⋆⁺₊⋆#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#xiao x reader#zhongli x reader#childe x reader#genshin headcanons#genshin fluff#genshin angst#genshin impact#xiao fluff#xiao angst#Childe fluff#Childe angst#zhongli fluff#Zhongli angst#childe x you#xiao x you#zhongli x you#genshin imagines
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reader missing exbf!jj maybank
warnings: angst,,, some fluff? i think? with a happy(ish) ending? might write a happier part two if peeps are interested! this is totally twilight new moon vibes (me every break-up)
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩
There was nothing in the world that didn't remind you of him. From the way your fucked-up ceiling fan occasionally squeaked, bringing to mind the times he slept next to you, unaware of the small little noises he let out in his sleep. The walls of your bedroom that he helped you paint because you couldn't reach high enough. The way his smell still faintly stuck to your bedsheets, despite it having been a month since he last laid in them, his naked body sprawled on your bed as he slept, his blonde hair around his face, one of his arms strewn around your waist. Your bed, all the times he laid in it like it was his own, all the times he fucked you into your mattress, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, his fingers intertwining with yours as he pressed kisses down your neck.
He was the only one who knew you, every nook and cranny of your mind and your body. Even though it had been weeks since your break up, you couldn't bring yourself to delete any of the pictures of him on your phone or throw away anything he gave you, or anything belonging to him. And as you lay in bed at night, crawled up in his hoodie, tears stung your eyes when you were starting to realize that his scent was starting to fade away from it.
For the first few weeks after the break-up, you would barely leave your bed, while you thought just what your former boyfriend of three years would be getting up to at the moment. Maybe he was drowning his sorrows in booze and weed, or maybe he was doing just fine. It was his idea to break up, after all, explaining something about what a mess he was, how you deserved someone better than him. But what he didn't seem to be able to get through his beautiful, thick head was that you didn't want anyone else but him. If only that was enough.
The smell of burnt grilled cheese brought you to memories of sitting up on the counter of your cramped kitchen, the beautiful boy perched between your legs as he looked up at you teasingly while you bit into the sandwich, before letting him have a bite. Every morning when you woke up, you'd reach out for him, only to have his side of the bed cold and empty.
Each rainy day reminded you both of that day you'd spent cooped up inside until he let out a loud sigh, announcing how bored he was, ending up with you two playing with water guns you had borrowed from some of the kids in your neighborhood, a victorious grin on his face whenever he hit you, despite both of you already being soaked from the rain. That day becoming the day when you two finally became more than friends pining after one another, and you could still remember the way his warm hand felt on your cold cheek, the way your hand immediately went up to his hair as he pulled you into a dizzying kiss, afterward muttering to you about how long he'd been wanting to do that.
From that day on, you had been inseparable. Where he went, you went. Who you disliked, he disliked. He basically lived with you, and from the moment your parents saw the way he looked at you, they loved him like family. A third of the things in your bedroom belonged to him, and every part of you was so sure it'd never end, that the two of you would simply stay that way forever, curled up under your blanket, nuzzling into his chest as you watched some crappy reality tv-show on your beat-up laptop while he pretended to not be interested.
But when he was gone, you laid alone in your bed, with his hoodie on, it felt as if all warmth from your room, from your life, had been taken away. Your friends tried to cheer you up, and to get you to talk to them, but when they came by, you wouldn't even move from your spot, not even move your lips. But during the nights just like the ones you used to spend with JJ just quietly talking to each other about the future you'd want to spend together, you now spent pacing around the bedroom, talking to yourself.
When you finally started to heal, when a scab finally formed on the deep cut his absence had left on you, you started actually leaving your house. But as a few weeks had gone by, and you were genuinely laughing for the first time in weeks at something your friend said as the two of you lay on the beach of course fate would want to play tricks on you.
That's when you saw him, emerging from the ocean, his hair wet and his board in his arm, his bare chest glistening from the way the sun was sitting the drops of water on his skin, talking to Pope as they were making their way back to the rest of their friend group. You wanted to hide, desperately wishing he wouldn't be able to see you. But you were frozen to the spot, too fazed to do anything. And of course, that's when JJ's eyes flickered to where you were, his eyes widening slightly before turning back to his friend.
And that's how you ended up in one of his hoodies once again, laying in your bed in a fetal position as you listened to the patter of rain outside of your window, the entire house dark. When there was a knock on the door, you considered just ignoring it, since your parents weren't there to open it; maybe you could just pretend you weren't there.
But when the knocking got more and more incessant, you sighed, peeling your body away from the comforter you had thrown over you as you slumped over to the door, feeling as if a truck had hit you. You pulled open the door with an empty expression on your face about to tell them to leave, but your expression soon changed once you saw a familiar face standing there, his blonde hair soaked by the rain, his breathing unsteady as your eyes widened.
But before your mind could even register the fact that JJ was behind your door, he had already pulled you into a heated, mind-numbing kiss.
#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank angst#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks#the pogues#obx fanfiction#obx fic#obx#jj x reader#jj x you#jj x y/n#jj maybank smut
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Six (lying) Song Soundtrack - Soledad (ssssss)
Rules: If you're tagged, make a new post with links to music and/or lyrics describing the following...
An event that defines your character’s past: Rotten Apple - Alice in Chains
Innocence is over Ignorance is spoken Confidence is broken Sustenance is stolen Arrogance is potent I repent tomorrow I suspend my sorrow A romance is fallen Recommend you borrow What I see is unreal I've written my own part Eat of the apple, so young I'm crawling back to start
How your character sees themselves: Dissolved Girl - Massive Attack & Spill The Milk - Eartheater
Say, say my name I need a little love to ease the pain Need a little love to ease the pain It's easy to remember, when it came 'Cause it feels like I've been, I've been here before You are not my savior, but I still don't go Feels like something that I've done before ... Edging on a cup This cup runneth over I can't even drink enough water To keep up with my physical response No promises You don't have to budget your affection Nothing sticks to something this wet
How others view them: Mascara - Deftones & Mary Magdalene - FKA Twigs
Cause there's still blood In your hair Got the bruise Of the year But it's something about her Long shady eyes I'm all about her Shade tonight I hate your tattoos You have weak wrists But I'll keep you ... Creature of desire Come just a little bit closer to me Step just a little bit closer to me I can lift you higher
Their closest relationship (platonic or romantic): Dusk - Chelsea Wolfe
Watch this empire as it burns and dissipates Haunted, on fire, on the wings that we create Angels (angels), vampires (vampires) One breathes life unto the other Branded (branded), baptized (baptized) By your love and by your hunger And I would give you my life One sin leads to another And I would go through fire to get to you
A major fight scene: Leathers - Deftones
Extend your tongue, speak out, go on Shedding your skin, showing your texture Time to let everything Inside show You're cutting all ties, now and forever time to let Everything outside you Shed your casing and show your lines and shapes Wear your insides on the outside Show your enemy what you look like What you look like What you look like from the inside From the inside
End Credits: When Is The Future - VNV Nation
It's a beautiful dream It's a beautiful life It's just a reflection A world I must survive We're children of the past Who look beyond today Designing the present So when is the future We live in a dream Keeping visions alive It's just a reflection A world that never dies The image we create Now image we designed It's a beautiful life So when is the future
in summary:
tagged by @informaltorching and @mortifying-macaroni my beloveds <333 thank you
trying so hard to think who would enjoy doing this arrghghghg tagging @auspex @eurodyning @silkenred @baelavelaryon
@gauntlings @vanmarkham @devilbrakers @ruvviks but literally no pressure and if you wanna do this and havent been tagged just tag me FOR REAL^^
gorgeous dividers by the gift that keeps on giving @diableriedoll ♥️
#oc: soledad#sorry for cheating……. i could have put a mini playlist for every single one of these im really that insane.#also honorable mention punish - ethel cain...whatevers wrong with me ill take to bed i give in so easy.... literally sol#vtm#world of darkness#everytime i draw that damn dress she has a stink face. perpetually pissed v v
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9.13.23
“Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.”
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A Certain Fae's Melancholy
Jack Daniels (Fae) x GN reader
My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.
Summary: You were lulled into a world you never asked for and the reason that Jack Daniels wanders.
Warnings: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Shifting perspectives, Drinking, Alcohol. References to Depression, Scheming, Stalking, Lonely souls, Mild Sexual Content, Aging, Sorrow, Character Death
Word Count: less than 3k
Notes: This is for the Monster (S)mash challenge hosted by @quinnnfabrgay-writes and @hauntedhowlett-writes. This wasn't this fic I intended to write, but it's the fic that I wrote. I certainly smashed something with this, just not what I expected.
Not Beta-read, back on my "shoot it out there and hope for the best" mantra. This is the first thing I've written in a few weeks so...could be why maybe? 😅
Main Masterlist/ Jack Daniels-Agent Whiskey Masterlist/ Challenges Masterlist/ AO3 Link
The low rumble of laughter rouses you from your slumber. You don’t remember falling asleep. Only that you’d come to these woods while it was daylight. The sun is setting, it must have been at least a few hours but you suspect longer. Looking down at your arm, your wristwatch is gone. No use trying to tell time now.
Taking a deep breath, someone is watching you, likely the same person whose laughter woke you. He’s tall wearing a tan stenson, tipping it toward you like a greeting with a grin as he steps toward you from underneath the shadow of one of the towering trees. It’s then that you realize two things: the first is that the trees look different from the gray-brown wood that are near your home; the second is that you know this man. Your conversations have been increasing in number and you found yourself coming to appreciate his appearances at your local bar. They weren’t too often, meaning he wasn’t there every time you went, but enough that he seemed to be a regular.
“Now that’s sweet of you sugar. You got that little rabbit’s foot I let you borrow for your interview. How did that go?” The observation and question don’t match the situation. You find that despite the unease you feel, you take his large hand as he guides you to your feet and steadies you. The grin softens into a smile and he pats your head, pushing questions that your should be asking him aside, you utter two words that bind you closer to him without realizing:
“Thank you.” His hand glides from your lower back to the nape of your neck, his thumb stroking your exposed skin and it is warm at the friction, but cool to the touch. “Your hands are cold Jack. That old saying might be true, ‘cold hands make for a warm heart’ and all that.” It’s your turn to join him in making birds vacate the trees at the boom of your combined glee.
Looking up into Jack’s eyes and they flash a bright shade of green and it catches your attention, to both the color and the direction that you both are heading. You don’t remember walking with him or him stating a direction. He takes one of your hands in his and interlocks your fingers. “Now, now, gorgeous. Don’t be scared. You’ve already given me so much, a little bit more won’t hurt.” Slowly making your way up the steps of an all white house. It appears almost brand new, everything is painted, the door is a crimson red with emerald ivy having overgrown and covers up part of the front of the porch. It’s a stark contrast, given that the shutters are a sienna brown as is the roof. Jack says your name and points down, your name appears after his on the doormat welcoming any would-be visitors to what you presume to be your shared home now. Once inside, Jack eases you down on the couch and pats your thigh. “Now. I’ll give you time to adjust, I see the wheels turning in the noggin of yours.” His rough palm cups your cheek and you place your hand on his, to remove you had thought but then you remember some of the conversations you’ve had with Jack at the bar.
The first time you met Jack, you made a cowboy joke. He expected it given the form he decided to take on. He finds that many men and women are attached to the allure of a rugged cowboy and possibly being the one to tame them. Daniels had gotten this same sense and considered just having some fun romps in your bed and not thinking twice about it. Unlike many of the humans he’d encountered, he found you funny. Jack normally laughed when he’d perceived that it was socially acceptable to do so. Thankfully, being alive for five or six centuries, he’d gotten the hang of figuring out when to do so. The years blend together and so do the various humans, you stuck out to him. He genuinely laughed while the two of you drank that night. He was able to have the first two pieces of getting his next fix of companionship: deciding on you as his partner and your name.
The second time Jack saw you at the bar, he was upfront and told you what he was, a fae. A creature that has seen empires and civilizations come and go, explored a myriad of cultures and experienced maybe that many lovers. Not many companions though. Powerful beings are typically lonely after all. You followed that up stating that you had Scottie beam you down and were going to give the humans in area fifty-one to talk about. You could make some of those probes happen with a tentacle or two and would ask to borrow some of Daniels’ fairy dust to sprinkle on a few of your friends to give them some good luck. Also to get a few of them laid, they whined about that a bit. While Jack did get a kick of what your plan was if you were an alien, he assured you that indeed he was a fae and not a fairy. “That’s some Disney horse shit sugar.”
Subsequent nights were spent with you sharing different details of your life with Jack and him telling you different stories of his adventures. He knew you weren’t taking him seriously, likely believing him to be full of tall tales and bluster, but it was the night that you told him of your interview for a higher position at your job that his eyebrows raised. He’d been trying to think of something to give you that wouldn’t seem too out of the blue, something that you would accept with limited questions. He just needs it to be something of his, that way he can draw you further into his world. Most people would have blown off someone seemingly talking out of the side of the neck or giving so many false (to you) accounts of different events, but Jack knew that glint in your eye. He’d gotten you excited to hear what outrageous tale he would tell you next. “Next time I see ya, I’ll have a little somethin’.” You’d mentioned that your interview was next month, so Jack would take a week, maybe a week and half off. Distance creates longing and it would be less suspicious when he saw you the next time.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t still see you of course, you just wouldn’t know. That was how he discovered you’d spoken to someone about him. Actually that same friend group you wanted to use his so-called ‘fairy dust’ on. Daniels does appreciate that you speak of him in a positive light, it’s nice to hear, but the fact that you mentioned him at all is the third piece of his plan. One he hadn’t been counting on and he considers a happy accident. Encounters with fae are not to be spoken of, not that you wouldn’t have known. It’s part of the game and Jack is more than half of the way there.
Feeling you embrace him in a side hug with a hand clasped on his shoulder, Jack Daniels can be honest with himself that he’s begun to care about you and that it may not be just a companion he wants - he may want a relationship. One of those give and take sorts that he hasn’t experienced since the Industrial Revolution, after a shot or three of whiskey is when he gives you a good luck charm - the rabbit’s foot. The very same that you hold in your hand as you sit on the couch. He’d wished you good luck on your interview then.
Jack has taken to the kitchen and is making black tea with honey. Normally it would have milk, but as he mentions when he gives you your cup, he despises the taste of milk. “Only good in cereal, baked or cooked in something. Don’t want none unless it’s one of those three.”
“So, am I just going to be here now, with you? I also didn’t get the job. Guess the charm didn’t work.” You look down at the tea, unable to meet his eyes. Your anger at the situation is starting to seep in at how you’ve been lulled into coming to a secluded house with this man and he’s clearly targeted you, but he’s being polite about it. “All of this is disconcerting Jack.” Your lips nearly touch the mug before he speaks.
“I was upfront with everything darlin’ and told you I’m a fae. We ain’t like them fairies in the story books or movies. We like entertainment and mischief. Think like that twiggy guy who’s always fightin’ with his brother but less daddy issues and no delusions of grandour.” Slurping his tea, he runs his tongue along his upper lip and smirks as you watch. “You can act like you don’t wanna be here, but I didn’t ask you to keep talking to me, give me your name, or to even come to these woods. You were trying to get promoted because your job is always putting the cart way before the horse and making you deal with it for less pay. You’re lonely just like I am and tired of it. Now if you wanna stay, you drink that tea and I can stay by your side until the end of your days. I’m a man of my word.”
“Is something in this tea?” You stare at it and it smells and looks ordinary. His words sting, you’d told him too much about how you feel about your life right now. His ochre brown eyes are fixed on you, matching them you see it. The emptiness that looks back at you when you ready yourself in the morning and when prepping for bed at night. “The void. It truly is the same for you isn’t it? But won’t be painful for you when I’m gone? My life has got to be a few blips in your lifetime. Wouldn’t I be getting more out of this?”
“One might see it that way, but I’m different from most fae. They’re fine being on their own for the most part, but allows those in who I feel I may be able to build a life with, even if it isn’t that long. If there’s one enviable thing about you humans, you match one another in time where I also seem to have too much of it.” Jack removes his stenson and lays it on the coffee table, sipping more of his tea with his eyes still on you. “Tea’s getting cold sugar. What’s it gonna be?”
Maybe you were swayed by his words, maybe it was your own feelings of someone who understood what it feels to know the pangs of heartache were, maybe it was the chance to escape everything and start anew on a curious journey that very few have had the privilege of. Gulping down the tea gave you your first view of a surprised Jack Daniels. His mug clattered on the table next to his hat and he grabs you by the shoulders. “Hot damn baby! Looks like you’re ridin’ with me for the long haul!”
Slowly, food you had been used to eating lost its taste. Jack explained that because you were now eating food he prepared, you were becoming more acclimated to the fae world. About a month in, Jack showed you where he gathered the food he prepared. It turns out, it’s actually odd little berries that he uses magic to make them appear and taste like foods you’re more familiar with. Picking the fruits is a fun outing and leads to the two of you getting caught in the rain, where you had your first kiss with Jack. The only reason it took this long is because he was indeed a fae true to his word and wasn’t going to force you to do anything you weren’t ready for. He also explained after you kiss, that he may have had to initiate soon because his kiss or other intimate contact would protect you from the Fae Queen. It sounded like one of his many jokes, but by this point, all of them as they relate to fae have proven not to be jokes.
Things progressed quickly after that, it seems having less of an appetite for substance led to other needs strengthening. At first you thought it was just Jack’s libido that was high as he normally sought you out around the house, but when you pushed him on his back flat on the dining room table and you riding him like one of the bucking broncos he normally joked about, it was clear that sex had replaced food for you too.
Over the next few decades, Jack took you across the seas, continents, deserts, plains and more. In the span of ten years, you’d nearly crossed off all the places on a bucket list you’d compiled. You aged slower due to your consumption of the fae fruit, but time still marched on and Jack looked the same as the day you’d met him. Mustache still dark and bushy, all his hair atop his head and a beautiful shade of umber. His excitement and joy at watching you marvel at what he could show you kept him going. Jack knew he could do it as long as he had you with him, holding his hand and laughing like in that forest all those years ago.
Daniels had also taken you to explore the fae world, it was on a different plane than the human one, almost overlapping at different points but also had fixed pockets of space. He told a few of the fae about your old joke about fairy dust and they did give you some. It was disappointing though, only made your hands itchy. The fae would come visit you both at your home as they found you quite interesting. Apparently, you’re the longest lasting human Jack has been with, usually they’re dead by now according to them. Jack hushes them but you wonder how many have been before you, it can’t have been that many but it does cross your mind sometimes, even when Jack it rutting into you or if you’re looking up at him as you help relax with your throat after spending another afternoon watching the sun set again in Aruba.
With your advancing age, you and Jack travel less and he’s more careful with you. Almost like you’re made of glass which you assure him you’re not. Neither of your parents were glassmakers. Still with that humor that Daniels loves. He’s thankful that you’ve made it to your twilight years, well past your eightieth year. Daniels still sees that funny soul that keeps his heart feeling light with every touch and verbal exchange. A rather odd couple that draws many an eye when you’re out and about, such an older partner for this hearty cowboy, if only they knew the truth. It is not for them to know.
Just as it is not for anyone to know what Jack Daniels sounds like when he assumes you were asleep when he arrived home from gathering more fruit for the two of you. Your body, always so pleasantly heated when he’d rest his head in your lap or on your shoulder. Even the touch of your hand was a tepid treat against his cool skin, but today it matches his. Jack wants to toss the idea away and just carry you inside to warm you up by the fire but he knows it will do nothing. Your skin will remain cold as that humorous soul he loved is no longer there.
Jack Daniels finds that your death is the hardest he’s experienced thus far. He was able to have you with him for decades. His home is now barren and the fruit he has gathered doesn’t matter. The solitude he had eliminated with your presence has returned with such an abrupt embrace. Daniels fights it as he picks your body up and carries it to the backyard, though he did not stop there.
No one, fae or human has seen Jack Daniels since. It could be he has assumed a new form and identity, but most believe that he’s still wandering somewhere with the remains of the one he loved the most in both worlds: You.
A few people who may be interested in the sads 😭: @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @readingiskeepingmegoing @604to647 @lady-bess
@morallyinept @trulybetty @maggiemayhemnj @tinytinymenace @angelofsmalldeath-codeine
@guelyury @yorksgirl @fhatbhabiee
#monstersmash24#pedro pascal characters#jack daniels#Jack Daniels x you#gn reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#fanfiction#pedro pascal#fae#Fae Jack Daniels#nerdieforpedro
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Day 6: Halcyon no warnings. spoilers for endwalker a bit. word count 905
“Do you believe one can still dream if they no longer need sleep, Watcher?”
The Watcher with his faded white robed form looks up from his latest crystal of recordings. “I don’t think I understand, Shepherd?”
Anthea runs a hand through their near colorless hair, its length near the middle of their back, something that it hadn’t been since trying to fit in at secondary school in Amaurot, frowning at the last remaining dark teal on the ends that would vanish should they give in to comfort and cut it short once more. “I fear that having no physical form anymore will mean I no longer dream, only the physical body needs sleep after all.”
“You have many of your memories recorded though. It will be no trouble to recall any of your halcyon days.”
It is true they have many of their memories recorded, many of Elidibus’, and the musical memories of Emet-Selch, there should be no need to worry and yet….
It would be so much easier if they did not still have vivid dreams of their beloved. Dreams where they can feel his skin once more, hear his laughter, and see his violet eyes sparkle when he smiles. Dreams that made their chest ache when they awoke to this constant night and no longer themselves. In their dreams they could once again be Anthea, their beloved could be Hythlodaeus once more, Emet-Selch would be Hades, and they would know where Deimos is. Their family would be whole and happy….
“You are right, forgive me for disturbing you.”
The Watcher looks back down at their work with falling shoulders, the only indication he feels sympathy and wants to help with his lack of facial features, before walking to the shelf of trinkets Anthea’s made over the years. He pulls down the radio, shuffling to hand it to them, “Here. Listening to it among the stars always seems to lighten your mood, Shepherd.” They can hear the change in pitch he’s developed to say he’s giving some kind of smile, If only I had known you more before all this Watcher, you wouldn’t have to indicate a smile, I would just know.
Anthea knows it won’t help this time, still they take the radio with a simple thanks and small smile, opting to walk among the fields of white. A ghost among the living dead, they find their favorite cliff to sit and look down at the remaining world of old and the new world that they will never know in this lifetime. Fresh footprints help in pretending that one of their old friends sits with them as they contemplate if it is worth it to finally give up this form.
This body hadn’t been Anthea since Emet-Selch asked them to take up the seat of Halmarut, hundreds of lifetimes ago. They’ve only grown out their hair this long thinking that so long as the teal remained they could still be that person they were, but there was no going back.
Time only moved forward
Their grey hair was proof of that.
The loss of Themis’ memories was proof of that.
Their old friend’s sagging shoulders proof of that.
Changes among stasis, forever proof that time only ever moved forward.
So maybe it was time to move forward. To acknowledge that the past will be staying in the past. To accept that they were no longer Anthea, the former Creationist of Elpis who tended a garden and never once thought about golden days ending.
They hold the image of scissors and bring them forth out of thin air. Sharp and gleaming in the borrowed sunlight.
They would never again be Anthea
They collect their long hair in one hand, taking a deep breath as they position the scissors.
they would move forward and embrace the new title. They will find peace among the sorrow
Three closures of the scissors against their hair and for a moment they are weightless.
and help those that were still stuck in stasis find the strength to move onward.
They let the scissors vanish and bring their chopped off hair in front of them, letting a few tears fall. Tears of mourning and tears of revelation. “Is this who you were hoping I would find beloved? Were you always able to see the person I am now?” They feel the start of a small breeze that begins to loosen their grip. “This person that no longer fears moving outside of what they once knew, even if it will still take some time to fully relinquish dreams of escapism. To let them turn into memories that will bring joys and reminders on the days I give in to the stasis.” Their hand opens fully, letting the breeze take the strands of hair and scatter them among the moon. “But I promise you I will get there. And in the meantime I will help others learn how to move onward in life, like you once did for me.” They look up at the stars, bringing their knees to their chest, listening to the wind, “Believe and walk in faith. Let the light of your soul shine for all to see. Let it guide others as you have guided me.”, his final wish for them.
“I am the Shepherd of lost and wandering souls, and I hope that when the time is right, beloved, you will see the person you helped create.”
#I have feelings about them and their time on the moon#ffxivwrite2024#ffxivwrite#anthea oc#moon watcher#x: as long as you exist#unsundered clique#endwalker spoilers#ish just in case#my writing
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This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper.
T.S. Eliot
He walked out in the gray light and stood and he saw for a brief moment the absolute truth of the world. The cold relentless circling of the intestate earth. Darkness implacable. The blind dogs of the sun in their running. The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like ground-foxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.
Cormac McCarthy - The Road
I like living in my head because in there, everyone is kind and innocent. Once you start integrating yourself into the world, you realize that people are nasty, mean creatures. They're worse than zombies. People try to crush your soul and destroy your happiness, but zombies just want to have a little nibble of your brain.
J. Cornell Michel - Jordan's Brains: A Zombie Evolution
#spacedogs#adam raki#Nigel#adam x nigel#hannibal lecter#will graham#will graham x hannibal lecter#hannibal x will#apocalypse#quotes#hugh dancy#mads mikkelsen#aesthetic#dark aesthetic#hannigram#hannibal
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Hello, greetings from CQ again! Thank you again for meeting the North Stars so positively, I can't express how ecstatic it made me to see how receptive one could be. This time around, I come bearing one of the aforementioned minor, (but still just as important), members! (Featuring a small sneak peak at the leader's Devil Fruit-) I hope you'll allow me to introduce.... …˚.⋆ ⋆₊⁺⋆☾⋆₊⁺⋆ ☾ ℕ𝕒𝕟𝕒 ℍ𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕊𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕟 ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆.˚…
"Silence speaks a thousand words."
For the deaf-born Nana Hanon, no words rang more true. But having been born a siren, his inability to vocalize left him as significant as a bubble in the waves that were his namesake. That special breed of merfolk blessed with the gift of spellbinding song, had been slaughtered to near extinction for the perceived threat they posed to sailors, and other merfolk didn't take kindly to their mere existence besmirching their already tainted reputation in the eyes of the World Nobles. Thus, to his vindictive family, spiteful towards the world for the hand they were dealt, a siren without a song was of no more worth than chum.
They were quick to cast away the Moon Jellyfish merman, and he had resigned himself to drifting through the seas. In his travels, he taught himself to navigate the world's vast waters, to communicate by means of the written, and to read the scripted words of others. He found solace in them—fantastical tales by imaginative authors birthing entire universes bound to a spine, scripts belonging to playwrights of the past bringing life to false identities, and profound lines from passionate poets who invited readers to enter their mind. He discovered a particular fondness for the last of which, and often he would find himself expressing his thoughts and feelings to only the paper that would lend its ear.
But even paper couldn't perceive the silent echoes of his desperate cries for help.
A merman was a merman, deaf or not, siren or otherwise, so when Hanon had the misfortune of drawing too close to Sabaody Archipelago and being spotted, it came as no surprise that someone would take advantage of valuable property that couldn't even protest being sold. And sold, he was, to the highest bidder. He couldn't even hear what his worth was to his buyer.
Carted out in a fish bowl far too small to comfortably contain his bell, he let his tears fade into the water he was submerged in. In his sorrow, however, he almost didn't notice the way his new owner's body seemed to move against its will. How his owner was outwardly resisting a dance they were being forced to partake in. How his owner was removing the lid on his bowl and freeing him from his chains before prancing off, defiant as ever. How now, in their place, stood a woman, returning to him his previously discarded notebook and pen and lending him an ear for his unspoken words to fall on.
Where song failed to allure, Hanon's heartfelt prose succeeded. The woman, entranced by every word he put to paper as he regaled her with his personal story and the overwhelming sentiment in every stanza he scribbled, offered to him a place beside her, in his own sea to call home—a sea of stars to swim in and shine along with.
So came to be the Silent Siren, assistant songwriter and navigator of the North Stars. Though he'd be taking a backseat to let the idols sparkle even brighter on their stage of midnight, he was content to glow with borrowed light and finally let his soundless voice be heard once and for all. Likewise, they were grateful to have a moon to guide their way.
After all, what are the stars without a moon to share the night sky with?
----- I know I didn't give much insight on his personality, but I was thinking he might get along with your character, at least from what I know of her, if that's not too presumptuous. ^^; I might be dropping in again with another member soon! Might be a little while so I won't be spamming or flooding your inbox too much, aha- Much love as always, dear! ♡♡♡
THE WAY I AM IN LOVE WITH NANA HANON. AAAAAAAAAAAAA.
Oh my gosh, a silent siren merman? AAAAAAAAAAAAA
Tobiuo would love to meet him. Her canon sister, Masami, is a mermaid based on an angler fish who calls sailors to their doom in the Deep Blue. She would also love to meet him. Does he sign? If so, he would be welcomed in their homesea with open arms.
Your poetry has had me enchanted by him, and I am just mourning on his behalf. He is so beautiful, I can see him in my head and I'm in love. I want to draw him 😭
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Crossroads II
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Trigger Warning: Mentions of death & alcohol Word Count: 1,590 Summary: Part 2 of Crossroads, the two years is up and the hellhounds have come to collect on the deal.
A/N: Thank you for reading, please like and comment your thoughts!
Masterlist
I never knew how quickly two years could pass. Tomorrow marks the last day I have on this earth, 729 days have passed since I made the deal to save Deans life. I wouldn’t change it, I wouldn’t take it back. These last two years have been the best years of my life. Dean and I have never been closer, we spent as much time together as we could. I could count on one hand how many times we had been apart during these two years.
The hunts we had been on together some of my fondest memories, the places we’d traveled. Every hunt, we took a day to ourselves to go explore the area we were in. It was special, peaceful and just a perfect time with him.
Today, surprisingly I’m at peace. I’ve embraced the fact that my time on this earth is coming to an end, but Dean will continue to live on and one day, we’ll meet again. I plan to fight like hell to get back to him. However if I can’t, it’ll be alright. He’ll be alright, Sammy’s got him. Dean had dozed off, his arms wrapped tightly around my middle. His head leaning against my own, our backs pressed to the couch. He had safeguarded the room, sprinkling goofer dust around every corner and entrance to the motel room we were in. I had insisted on leaving the bunker, not wanting to draw any evil there. I had tried to go alone, but Dean wasn’t having it.
I had accepted my fate, a long time ago. Dean, on the other hand, not so much. He begged, borrowed, bartered and still, we were at a loss. The deal I had made inescapable. I look at the clock, ten minutes to midnight. I had ten minutes left with the man that I love. I knew he still planned to fight, planned to try his hardest to keep me here. Yet I wasn’t going to let him, I pressed a kiss to his lips, soft enough I wasn’t going to wake him up.
“I love you De.” I slipped his arms from around me and stood. Tucking the note into his flannel that I had written earlier before turning and walking silently towards the door to the motel, I opened it and slipped outside.
The cool night air was refreshing, crisp and fresh. I inhaled it, smiling softly at the stars above. It’s as if I was seeing the world for the first time, through fresh eyes. I sat on a bench, outside the room. My eyes focused on the stars in the sky, the sounds of the crickets, silently reflecting on the two years before. The love that I experienced, the joy and the sorrow. Mingling together. I smiled, it was all worth it. It will always be worth it, to know that I kept my boys alive and together.
I pull out my phone, sending a text to Sammy.
11:58 PM. Keep him safe, Winchester. Remind him always that I loved him. I love you Sam, always keep fighting.
I know when midnight strikes, I hear the howling start, the barking of the hell hounds. I don’t move, I don’t run, I don’t feel fear. I just embrace the fact that my time here is up. I close my eyes and allow the darkness to over take me.
-
Dean
I wake up colder than I should be, my arms empty. I jump to my feet, eyes wide scanning the room for Y/N. But she isn’t here, I check my phone it’s well after midnight.
“No, no, no!” I yell, crossing the small room quickly and throwing to door open. She’s gone. Everything that we’d been through together, just over. My phone rings, and I reach for it. Answering before it even registers.
“Dean,” it’s Sam, his voice thick with emotion. “Where are you?” He asks.
“Some motel, she’s gone Sammy. She left in the middle of the night and she’s just gone. I couldn’t save her.” I say, the anger that I felt turning to grief and sadness.
“Send me the address Dean, I’m coming.” I hang up the phone and send Sam a quick text with the address to the motel. I sit down on a bench and see her phone and sweatshirt resting precariously on the edge. I take them, tears welling in my eyes as I focus on the Lock Screen picture. It’s us, together. A picture I had resisted taking in the moment, but here and now I’m so eternally grateful for it.
I understood now, how she felt those two short years ago. The prospect of being left alone, without the one you love, its unbearable. I would do anything, in this moment to have her back. Anything. I notice now the sound of something crinkling in my flannel pocket, I reach in and pull out a note, her elegant handwriting adorning the page. I unfold it, steadying my breathing before I read it.
Dean,
Well my love, if you’re reading this, my time is up. I want to thank you for making the most of the time we had together, these last few years with you have been the best years of my life. I never once doubted your love for me, I never feared that you would leave me and that is something I never had before I met you.
You taught me how to love myself, how to protect myself from the evils of this world and the next. No amount of time would have been enough with you, even if we had 100 years together I would still want more time.
I know you’re angry with me, for making this deal. Saving you, over me. But Dean, it had to be this way. I couldn’t live with out you, I didn’t have anyone else. You do, you have Sam. You have to live for Sam and Bobby and all your other hunter friends. They need you Dean.
I want you to keep fighting, if not for yourself, then for me. Keep fighting for me baby. Remember that I love you, I will always love you. I will always be with you, wherever you go. Whatever monsters you might encounter, I will be with you. Please take care of yourself, take in the fresh air, dance in the rain, gaze at the moon and the stars.
I know you will be angry with me for not waking you, but I didn’t want you to watch. I couldn’t bear knowing you saw the way I died. It’s going to be okay, my love. I promise.
I’m going to fight my way through hell, and find my way back to you. Either in this life, or the next.
I love you baby, never forget just how much.
Your girl, forever & always,
Y/N
Hot tears are streaming down my face, the pain from losing her so fresh and yet the peace that washed over me from her letter is so intoxicating. I hold her sweatshirt up to my nose, inhaling her scent and a new wave of grief hits me.
Sammy shows up in the impala not long after, parking next to Y/N’s truck. He crosses the parking lot to join me on the bench, silence hanging between us so thick and heavy. Neither one of us has the words to express what we are feeling. We sit, watching the stars slowly cross the night sky, the moon sinking further down in the sky, eventually being replaced by the sun rising.
I can’t tell you how long we stayed there, or how we got back to the bunker. All I know is that I am broken.
-
A week passes, then two. I didn’t leave the bunker, I drank myself to sleep every night. Until we ran out of whiskey and beer and Sam refused to go buy me more. Bobby called me daily, Ellen every few days, all to check on me. But I haven’t answered. I don’t have the energy to lie to them, tell them I am alright, that everything will be okay.
Sam and I don’t talk much, he lets me know he is there, but doesn’t press me to talk. I spend most of my time in my room, sleeping on her side of the bed, spraying everything I own in her perfume. Trying to be as close to her as I physically can. The letter she wrote me framed, so I can read it, over and over without it getting ruined. I have been through all of the stages of grief, some days easier than others. Most days hard, and unyielding.
A month passes, I’ve stopped drinking. Sam finally got me to go on a hunt, we were gone for less than a day. I see her in my nightmares, my brain creating images of the hellhounds tearing her to pieces. I spend most nights awake and most days sleeping.
Two months pass, things have gone back to mostly normal. We’re hunting again, more frequently. Most days I am okay, it hurts when I think about it, but nothing will ever fully take that pain away. I ran out of her perfume, but I bought more. Unwilling to let go of that completely. I see her in my dreams, she’s happy and carefree. Her smile permanently burned into my brain. I’m grateful for the time I had with her. Things will be okay, I know that now. I will be okay.
---
part 3 here, Crossroads III
#deanwinchesterxreader#supernatural dean#dean winchester#deanwinchesterblurb#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fluff#deanwinchesterfluff#sam and dean#dean x you#dean x reader#spn#sam winchester#supernatural fic#supernatural#dean x yn#dean x reader fluff#dean winchester SPN#dean winchester imagine#dean x reader imagine#dean winchester x you#Dean Winchester x Female!Reader#fluff#fluffy#dean fluff#supernatural spn#wanderingwinchesters#dean winchester comfort#dean winchester angst#dean winchester x injured reader
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Hello, for October prompts, 10 with Riddle please
YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!
10: Reading Nook
Riddle has always been a fan of the autumn season since he was a mere child. The colors, the weather, the changing or the world around him, the chill up his back as the hot air of summer flows to the nippy gust of breeze welcoming him to the land of dead leaves and sweet scents of nutmeg. And things have changed since he arrived to Night Raven Collage, in fact it only grew his love for the season.
The trees were no longer that beautiful green of the spring time or summer heat and are now many shades of reds and orange, the wind was colder, the skies were slightly gray thanks to the morning dew fog and colder clouds against the blue backdrop, the walls of the school were perfectly warm and toasty as magic tries it's hardest to maintain that calmness as students move about in varies ways.
Riddle Rosehearts, however, had a mission to maintain.
The library was rather calm on this gentle chilly afternoon, the scent of book and leather was a nice smell for those who are lounging about, and a certain red haired dorm leader onto onto his toe tips grabbing hold of a brown hard cover book with his gloved hands. "Gotcha!" He whispered to himself as he smiles in victory. Carefully, he settles his feet flat to the floor and hugs the book close, silently inhaling the scent of the yellow aged pages in his grasp. With a spin of a heel he makes his way North of the library to a little awkward corner of two bookshelves, away from others but not enough to be forgotten when the large wooden doors lock. Thanks to his petite size, a thing he always have hated ever so slightly more than failure, he managed to squeeze between the wooden beams to the entry way of a quant little reading nook perched perfectly by one of the larger windows of the room, the view perfect of the autumn weather as it stares down at the courtyard of the school.
It was a mere accident when chasing Floyd during a interrupted study session that Riddle found this little slice of peace and comfort in the library he's so familiar with. And since it's discovery, the boy spent plenty of his free time seated in the soft larger cushions with a book or four and just relax there with the library's fireplace making a calm music with it's gentle pops and cracks of the burning logs and coals and sometimes the rain that drums against the window. This was his escape of any harsh moments in life. With a flip of a page he dives into worlds of dreams and openly welcomes the sweet embrace of peace around him.
Riddle snuggles his body against the window and slipped his shoes off, a taboo for him mostly but it's allowed just once to get more comfortable. As if one cue, the rain began to drizzle slightly, making the red head sigh in bliss. He tucks a piece of his hair behind his ears as he snuggles deeper and opened is first book of the brief escape. . . "Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. “ “'Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door— Only this, and nothing more.”." Deeper did he sink as his eyes fluttered half lidded as a smile comes to his lips the further he reads, almost hearing the voice that speaks through the pages, feeling the warm sting of emotions in his rib cage once more... "Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore— For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore— Nameless here for evermore..."
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Tunes for Laudna's bad days. Don't worry, she'll come out the other side.
01. Crazy - Bridge City Sinners Voices tell you what you want to hear / Give into the darkness my dear / No room for the light / When the darkness feels so right / Demons whisper in your ear / Cold sweat so full of fear / Let go you’ll never come back / Watch the lights all fade to black / And every time I think I’m fine / The darkness creeps back into my mind / Reminds me that nothing will ever be okay / I’ll never be okay / Hey maybe that’s okay! 02. Shadow - Amigo the Devil We drag around a shadow with every step we take / And every bad decision, now also theirs to make / The thief that only borrows, in a sea without the shark / But who protects the shadow from the dark? / A thousand different angles say the circle's name in vain / Are we crucifying the savior or a masochist in pain / The knife without the handle, a shark without the sea / But who will give the shadow everything it needs? 03. Withered - Beggar’s Canyon Lord child have you done no wrong / This world has left you bitter, broken, and alone / Hey now babe can’t you see what you’ve done / A broken heart left bleeding, and it’s not the only one 04. Rock Bottom - Bridge City Sinners Guilty, I know you blame me / It's a weight that I carry / Too heavy for your back to hold / Regret, some things you can't forget / So light up that cigarette / We're all wasting time til we die / And no, no matter how low / There ain't no rock bottom for me 05. Shame - Bridge City Sinners It fills my mind, the thoughts consume me / Hoping for a change that will never come / I don’t blame anyone for wanting to leave me / I’ve been staring down the barrel of a loaded gun 06. Cocytus - Pawns or Kings Can you feel me in the fog? / Pull me from this epilogue / My hands are frozen in the snow / The eyes of corpses have no glow / Made these chains for just myself / Rambling about my mental health / Demons on this hazy hill / Only my soul is left to kill 07. Break the Chain - Bridge City Sinners Days get longer, nights get shorter / The chain gets tighter, not getting younger / Live your life while the world’s still turning / Soon the seas will all be burning / Hold fast, go down with the ship / Letting go gets the crack of the whip / The only constant now is change / Break the chain, break the chain 08. Doubt - Bridge City Sinners Just get through today / There’s hope for tomorrow / You’ll feel better soon / Just outlive the sorrow / You feel hopeless now / But you’re not alone / A heart that’s rotten, dead and numb
#critical role#imodna#laudna#bridge city sinners has rotted my brain and destroyed my spotify wrapped for this year#but they just have so many songs that are so laudna coded#and honestly the singer!Laudna au that I will never write is literally just Libby Lux#crazy exaggerated pronunciation plus kinetic stage energy plus slightly deranged expressions in between being cute?#that's just laudna I don't know what to tell you#the genre of this caught me off guard but again that's bridge city sinner's fault#i'm just gonna consider the country/folk leanings of these songs as a glimmer of imogen in the dark#the title#well#everything I thought of sounded cheesy and then this popped into my head#and it felt appropriately absurd#playlists#music
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12 September, 1894
I killed a man today,
I did not hold him at gunpoint nor did a knife by my hands enter his body, but I felt his final breath dissipate from the earth like the mirage radiating from the sand just the same. The same hands that relies on this pen to write to something as sweet as you bears the sword that pulls the breath from living lungs.
I want to help people. I want to keep this town safe, but I do not want to kill. Not anymore.
I fear there is too much loss in this place. I see it in Nellie’s eyes when she bows her head and prays to a God she does not fully believe in. I heard it in between the cracks of Michael’s voice. There is a nothingness here and I fear it more than death itself. There is no God and we are his prophets.
This morning I stood in the gray light and for a moment saw the absolute truth of the world. The cold relentless circling of the intestate earth. Darkness implacable. The blind dogs of the sun in their running. The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like ground-foxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with to sorrow it.
Is anything ever truly stolen if we are never guaranteed ownership in the first place? Is life really able to be taken if it is not ours in the beginning? Or then, are we simply set free?
So tell me, then, if all time is borrowed and all world and all earthly things are simply rented: then, I might ask, may I borrow some of you? May I hold you between my hands and relish in the time like it is mine? Might you be able to do the same with me?
Might your borrowed lips meet against my borrowed flesh? And may my borrowed sorrow be lifted from by body back into the reserve of the world? Might you be the one to pull it from me?
Might we be gods, or, at least, spend this borrowed existence pretending that we are? In that case, my love, might we pull love from the reserve and quench our sullen, borrowed hearts of the feelings for which they thirst?
In that case, darling, I offer myself to you in my entirety,
Steve Harrington.
#whispers this is a huge spoiler for Cochise IV#steve harrington#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#cowboy!steve harrington#stranger things x reader#steve stranger things
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Albrecht Dürer, The Apocalyptic Woman, from "The Apocalypse" (Nuremberg 1511) :: [Robert Scott Horton]
* * * *
“He walked out in the gray light and stood and he saw for a brief moment the absolute truth of the world. The cold relentless circling of the intestate earth. Darkness implacable. The blind dogs of the sun in their running. The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like ground-foxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.” ― Cormac McCarthy, The Road
#apocalypse#The apocalypse#Albrecht Durer#Cormac McCarthy#Robert Scott Horton#Quotes#words and writing
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Borrowed Time
Erwin Smith x f!reader
Summary: You've known Commander Erwin since he first enrolled in the Training Corps, and he's never been able to shake his feelings, despite his best attempts. When he wakes up after his limb-losing injury to you in his hospital room, he considers it may be time to give up thinking he can let you go.
Rating: E
Word Count: 4.9k
Content: angst, smut (oral f-receiving, vaginal sex, minor marking, Erwin makes having one arm work), Erwin still dies at the end, but soft moments with Levi make it worth it.
“It’s okay, Erwin…”
The pain was searing. When adrenaline had worn off and the battle temporarily won, it had rushed through him like wildfire sending him to his knees. His right arm was gone, and with it clearly his dignity for a moment. The world was hazy, voices sounding like they were screaming at him from where he lay drowning beneath the water, gentle fingers brushing over the hair matted to his forehead…
Stinging antiseptic was the first clue as to where he wound up. The plain walls and white sheets the confirmation. Captain Levi sat to his right, Commander Pyxis to his left, the company more than he was expecting. But they weren’t the only two in the room. You were in the doorway arguing with a nurse in a hushed tone, she must have done something you didn’t quite agree with. You were always the most stubborn person he’d ever known. And that was saying a lot, Levi was sitting right there.
“Why is she here?” Erwin asked in a hushed tone, waiting until you’d begun to retort the latest defense.
“You know why,” Levi replied flippantly, his gaze never lifting from the book that had been keeping him barely entertained.
The late morning light filtering in through the gauzy curtains had set you in a heavenly glow. Maybe it had been the brush with death or the pain meds no doubt coursing through his veins, but for a moment he allowed himself to consider the forbidden, to have what he’d forsaken all those years ago, to finally give in.
He’d met you as a new Scout recruit, you‘d run a shop stand he’d spent every spare penny he had at just for the chance to stop by. His time had been rarer than funds, however, and as his visits began stretching to longer intervals as he fought the beasts outside the walls, he’d assumed you’d move on, find someone who could dedicate the devotion and time he wished he could. But you never had. Weeks turned to months and yet every time he’d walked up you, that beaming smile that shined brighter than the sun had greeted him.
When Wall Maria fell, he’d ended it. Or at least he’d tried to. He needed to focus. He was the Commander now, lives depended on him. He couldn’t have his attention or allegiances split. Yet still he visited your stand, more out of curiosity, hoping to see a baby on your hip and a husband at your side. That was the life you deserved. It was one he could never give you.
You’d allowed him into your bed yet again just a few months ago. Letting him drown his sorrows in your body, take something that felt good for once. He’d had two arms then, both wrapping you up tightly as he drifted off to sleep surrounded by your cool sheets and the floral essence that somehow clung to your hair. The next morning though, it had all come crashing down.
“I can’t keep coming back here,” he’d said as you poured two cups of tea, turning with a knowing gaze to find him dressed and ready to leave.
“You say that every time, Erwin,” you’d replied with a smirk, “And every time you show back up.”
“I mean it this time. Go and move on.”
“And what if I don’t want to?”
“I wasn’t asking— “
“I’m not one of your soldiers you can order around, Commander.”
The venom in your tone had stung. You’d been standing, palms planted on the table as your eyes flamed with a rage that should never have burned in the quiet hours of the morning. He’d felt regret as he watched tears pool in your lower lids, your body shaking as you held back a wave of ire he knew he deserved.
“Why do you wait for me?” he’d finally asked, shoulders slumped, resolve more battered here and now than after any battle with a titan.
“Because I love you.”
In all the times he’d imagined someone saying those three words to him, he hadn’t envisioned it feeling as it had then. Not that he’d ever expected to find himself in this position, but dread had iced his veins, the hole opening in his chest like a beast’s mouth ready to devour him, you’d looked so beautiful, and he’d stood idly by like the villain he knew he was.
“Tell me you don’t feel the same,” you’d pressed, unwilling to let him continue masquerading in this charade, “Tell me you don’t feel the same, and I’ll do as you say. I’ll marry that nice barkeep from down the road. He’s been so insistent.”
He could still remember the tension in his jaw at your suggestion, the way his teeth had been gnashed together so tightly he swore a molar would crack. Nostrils flared, fists balled, he’d tried to will himself to lie. He lied constantly—to himself, to his soldiers, to his officers—why had this been any different? Falsity had become a second language, and this had required only a few words and no explanation, it should have been easy.
“Surely the Scouts’ fearless leader can find a few spare syllables,” you’d taunted, he loved that about you, “How do I compare to the monsters you face day after day? I‘m nothing to fear.”
You’d never been nothing.
Instead of releasing the cruel iron grip he had on your heart, he’d found himself once again buried to the hilt between your thighs. Perched on your kitchen counter, you’d whimpered as he’d sought refuge in you for what he thought would be the final time. He’d tried to memorize every sensation—your fingers tugging through his golden hair, your breathy moans hot on the shell of his ear, the way your thighs quivered around his waist as he slammed into you ruthlessly and without remorse until he was spilling across your stomach. A better man would have walked away.
For the first time in all the years of infrequent rendezvouses and goodbye kisses that lingered for too long, he’d finally allowed the truth to be uttered that day.
“I leave because I love you. I return because I’m selfish. But not anymore. This is through, I promise you.”
You’d thrown him out then, screamed at the top of your lungs, betrayal so heavy in your voice the weight almost sent him to his knees. It wasn’t supposed to end like this, with you half naked by his hand slumped on the floor, tears soaking the cheeks he’d long to see pressed in a smile again. It was, however, the ending he’d deserved.
“Hange called for her,” Levi continued, snapping him back to reality, “I’m surprised she showed up after the mood you came back in last time. I’d assumed it had finally ended.”
“As did I,” Erwin replied, doing his best to stomp on the hope fluttering in his chest.
The reflection staring back at him was damn near unrecognizable. Blond whiskers sat thin and patchy on his jaw, his hair unwashed and clumped around his face, a bloody bandage still wrapped around the stump of his right arm. He hadn’t emerged in days, the troops couldn’t see him like this, it would destroy morale, so he stayed hidden.
Three knocks roused him from his self-loathing, Levi stepping into the room after invitation.
“The stench coming from this room is deplorable, Commander” he uttered with disgust, the shadow of a person standing behind the Captain dancing on the walls, “And that beard looks ridiculous.”
“It’s not so bad,” you argued as you stepped into the room, giving Levi a mischievous smirk as you passed, “I can’t argue the smell though.”
“Fix him. Please.”
And with that the door closed, leaving you alone with Erwin for the first time since he’d been brought back on a stretcher. He’d been delirious at the time, muttering about attacks and a boy named Eren. It had taken a fair amount of effort to not read into the way he relaxed when you’d taken his hand, the murmuring had stopped, his head lolling towards you, the whisper of your name. It had been coincidence, nothing more but potentially less.
Despite being in the room when he’d woken for the first time, you hadn’t spoken to him. You’d been fretting over the choice of treatments, the bandages, arguing for the sake of distraction as he laid in limbo between life and death. The last words you’d said to him had been vicious and cruel, the haunting thought it would be the last he ever heard gnawing at you as you watched his chest shallowly rise and fall from afar. Levi had been quiet, ever watchful and intuitive, you’d met him a handful of times and were unaware of what he knew. From the way his eyes slyly followed you in those terrifying hours, it was safe to assume Erwin might also be just as in the dark as you regarding just how much the Captain of the Scouts was privy to.
“Did Hange send for you again?” Erwin asked, turning back to the mirror he’d been studying himself in, “I can assure I’m perfectly fine.”
“I have no doubts you are,” you agreed, “I came for my own peace of mind.”
You’d debated whether to check in on him for days. Your head had told you to let him rot in despair, your heart needing to see he’d pulled through. As always, your heart had won out.
“I’m sorry for what I said,” you began, his scoff stopping you in tracks, the creases between his brow deepening as he scowled.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he lamented, his one arm now holding up upright on the edge of the dresser, “I deserved your words and much worse.”
With trepidatious steps you approached him, sliding your palms along his upper back before wrapping your arms around his middle, pressing your cheek to the valley between his muscled shoulders. You felt the shuddering exhale in his chest, and when you pulled gently to move him towards the small washroom in his quarters, he didn’t resist. You shaved him first at his meek and bashful request he felt no right to ask for, the feeling of your fingers so gently cradling his face releasing the knot of tension he’d been holding. He then allowed you to strip him down and settle him into the bath you’d drawn up. It felt unbecoming, but as your fingers began gliding soap through his hair, he didn’t care.
Perhaps in this moment he could be weak.
As you methodically worked, your face was so close to his as you continued to scrub, it was impossible to resist that which he always craved. Your breath hitched as his lips pressed to yours, the immediate tug of your bottom between his own causing a sopping went hand to cup at your jaw, he couldn’t lose this. Not yet. The water was cool as it dripped down the side of your neck, a stark contrast to the heat blossoming on your cheeks as you fell into the same snare that claimed you time and time again.
His kiss felt like home. The taste of whiskey lingered on his tongue as it met yours like an old friend, his nose pressing to your cheek as he sought more contact than the porcelain separating your bodies would allow. The water was tinged with blood from his severed limb, yet you still considered clambering into the water, the want to be pressed against his chest growing in your stomach and threatening to burst. With every meeting you’d had throughout the years, your need had always grown. Each night you spent with him made the wait until the next all the more impossible. Where once you could go weeks without desire creeping it, it had soon turned to days, and now after his brush with death, there was no stopping the raw, animalistic urgency making your nerves stand on edge.
“Get out of the water,” you begged into his open mouth, pulling him by the handful of hair you’d grabbed as your tongues had danced as they had so many times before, “Please, love.”
Out of everyone within these walls, the only person’s orders Erwin Smith would follow implicitly were yours. You wrapped a towel around his waist as he stepped out of the tub, his mouth still lazily dragging with yours as you pushed him towards the chair, the supplies to re-bandage his arm set out. Groaning in frustration, he sat, his hand tugging at the buttons of your shirt awkwardly until it slid down your shoulders. Concentrating on the task before you was far more difficult has his lips latched around your nipple, his tongue flicking the little bud until it was stiff and practically sore before moving to lavish the other with the same attention.
When he’d had his fill, he explored your ribs and shoulders with hot, opened mouthed kisses, your fingers barely able to tie the bandage that had taken you twice as long as it should have to apply. He’d mapped your body long ago, planned foolproof attacks, and struck with expert precision to every spot that made you sigh and whimper. It was strategic. The long game always the preferred method of attack.
“Lay down,” he instructed as you finished, his hand tugging your skirt down one hip, your own fingers finishing the job for him.
Your spine prickled with anticipation as you obeyed his order, his bed softer than you imagined military quarters to have. His blanket was cool and silky, a stark contrast to the fire burning beneath your skin. It didn’t matter you found yourself beneath him countless times before, each and every time had your body wracking with tremors in pure anticipation. Erwin never rushed. He always took his time from the moment his lips brushed yours until you drifted to sleep in his arms. This was no exception.
Modesty had gone out the window years ago; you laid waiting, your knees bent up and spread, his gaze transfixed on what you offered so brazenly to him. His steps were long yet slow, eyes inspecting, mind strategizing, it all sent butterflies erupting in your stomach and goosebumps rising on your skin. You’d positioned yourself for his most common attack, your bottom near the edge of the mattress, and he took the bait. Crystal blue eyes locked with yours as he dropped to his knees, your right leg being pushed towards your chest, your left following the ghost of a command to match.
“I have missed you, darling,” he purred against your inner thigh, inhaling deeply as his eyes fluttered closed.
“Prove it,” you taunted, the cool air chilling your damp skin.
Your cry of relief drowned out the gruff chuckle that rumbled through his chest. There was nothing timid about the way his mouth dove into you, seeking a taste of the sweetness it craved. He began at your opening, collecting what had begun to accumulate before pursing around your buzzing bundle of nerves. Had you ever allowed other men into your bed, you knew they wouldn’t compare to the man on his knees before you. He knew the exact variations in pressure that made you keen and the pitch of your breathy moans that instructed him to flick instead of press. It didn’t matter he likely shared walls with his comrades, they could listen as he wound you up closer and closer to euphoria with every swipe and swirl of the silver tongue that he’d persuaded them to forfeit their lives to the cause with.
The warm, wet heat of his mouth was overwhelming, maybe it was the residual anxiety of losing him or the thrill of being in the Scouts headquarters splayed open on their Commander’s bed. He drank from you as if his very will to live was found in arousal freely leaking, his tongue the only thing keeping the sheets from being coated in your slick. Soft, blond hair that was still wet at the root slid easily through your fingers as your slit slid over the crook in his nose, seeking just a little bit more as the elastic stretching in your core began to quiver, its reverberating snap just waiting for the right moment to release it.
“Stop holding back,” he commanded, lidded eyes as bright as the sky filled with intention snapping to your blackened irises, “I’ll remain here all night if I must.”
A tempting offer, but the severity of his tone and unwavering resolve to keep true to those words had the weight bearing down on your center exploding outward. Your back arched off the mattress, the grip in his hair tightening as a feral cry echoed off the walls as you went boneless. As you lay gasping for air, sweaty and limp, his lips pressed softly up your body, your hands shifting to gently cup his jaw as he moved to your mouth.
When he kissed you, his tongue heavy with your taste still; it made you feel like he was yours. His chin was still damp, eyes closed as he allowed his sense of touch to overpower him, and you swallowed the little muffled grunts of appreciation he breathed into your mouth greedily. On a normal day, you were a lowly shopkeeper from Wall Maria trying to still earn her place within Wall Rose, but with him, you were almost invincible.
Almost.
Instinctually, your hand went to grip his biceps, your left hand passing where his arm would be and landing on his side. He froze, his cheeks burning pink, muscles tensing, you could feel his entire body seizing up as his gaze averted to the pillow beside your head.
“Hey,” you cooed, once again cradling his face gently, “Erwin, love, look at me.”
He obeyed, his shame almost palpable as you smiled softly at him, propping yourself up just enough to pepper lingering, reverent pecks to the curve of his now-useless right shoulder. As you felt him relax, you continued over to his collarbone, suckling hard on his alabaster skin, lapping at the freshly sore spot before pulling away to marvel at your work. His skin immediately began to blossom, your eyes transfixed as you reached down and fisted his cock that sat heavily on your stomach. Just like every time before, his body shuddered, a blissful sigh hitting your lips before you kissed him again, enjoying his slow and sloppy response.
With your legs lewdly splayed, you notched him at your entrance, his hips pushing in immediately. Your cunt took him easily despite his intimidating size thanks to both his expert warm-up and years of acclimation. He’d always split you open in the most satiating of ways, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as you sighed when he bottomed out, the blond curls at his base scraping against your clit still sensitive from his tongue.
“You’re soaked,” he noted, and you laughed, pulling his forehead to yours humming in response, “I was a fool to think I could stay away.”
He gave you no time to retort as he slammed back into you hard enough to have you sliding up the bed. His pace was unforgiving, both knees know bent up under your ass for leverage as his fingers wound into your hair, tugging your head back enough to have you arched perfectly. Your nipples brushed over the soft hair covering his chest, your throat exposed for him to leave a claim of his own, your skin prickling and sore as he moved to whimper into your ear.
Every thrust had you seeing stars, his pinpointed accuracy finding the spot so deep he’d been the only man to ever find it. He’d prided himself on that, ensuring that you got the attention he believed you so wholly deserved. Even when he was rough, he was reverent, his fingers scratching soothingly against your stinging scalp between tugs, gentle kisses, sweet reassurances; you were the priority.
“Take me so well,” he sputtered, the wet squelching of your cunt around his girth almost drowning out his words, “Always so tight. So perfect…”
If you had the ability to form words, you would have responded with praise of your own, but a hoarse cry was all you could muster as you throttled his cock, clamping down as the dam holding back the pressure threatened to shatter.
“Such a good girl,” he continued, knowing exactly what his words would do, “My good girl.”
You’d known that for years, but it wasn't something either of you had been willing to admit. You were his and he was yours, whenever he could be, and no matter the limitations and long absences that’s how it always would be.
Thin, red lines decorated his back, the sound of skin slamming against skin waltzing with both of your whines and moans in the dimly lit space. He was battering into you now, chasing yours and his own release, your thighs wrapped tightly around his waist to keep yourself in place as best you could.
“Please, Erwin,” you begged, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as you teetered in the edge of overstimulated, “Please.”
Those little pleads were all he needed. His mouth captured yours again, his tongue running along yours paralyzed in anticipation as every one of your nerves seared and jolted. It rolled over you like the summer sun emerging from behind the clouds, slow and satisfying, your muscles clamping down before releasing, bliss washing over your spent, aching limbs. He followed not long after, spilling hot and thick along your stomach, your fingers absentmindedly swirling through the pearly liquid as he pulled away. They were replaced quickly with a warm, wet cloth, Erwin cleaning his mess and between your thighs gently before taking the opportunity to settle his head on your chest, your arms wrapping him up tightly.
“When Wall Maria is secured…perhaps I can…” he was slurring, exhaustion taking him hostage as the steady thud of your heart in his ear and the security of your hold lulled him to sleep.
“Sssh,” you stopped him, “Don’t.”
That would be an empty promise you wouldn’t survive being broken.
He woke first the following morning, arriving back at the room with two plates of breakfast as your eyes were fluttering open. Despite stopping him before he could utter the words, you’d dwelled on the thought of him leaving his post as Commander. He could train the new recruits, be home for dinner most nights and lying beside you in bed with a book before you silently debated who collapsed onto who to sleep. His life wouldn’t be threatened, and you’d no longer have to grapple with the hatred you felt for the man you loved risking everything for people who despised him.
The silence was heavy as you ate, your thoughts too preoccupied, and he noticed. He watched you like a hawk, trying to read you and failing, he probably didn’t even remember what he’d begun to promise in the haze of euphoria and exhaustion.
Before his duties began for the day, he walked you home, uncaring of the late arrival he’d have to his meetings with Levi, Hange, and other officials. On the street, there was no freedom to give anyone the idea it was anything more than a friendly Scout walking a woman home for safety, the risk too great you’d be used as fodder by anyone looking to exploit Commander Erwin’s one weakness. You offered him tea at the door to satisfy the curious ears, and he agreed he could stay for one cup, your mouths pressing together greedily as soon as the door clicked shut.
“Come back when you can,” you told him, a common phrase in the final moments.
“The moment I’m able to,” he promised. That was new.
Months later
Three slow raps at the door pulled your attention from the vegetables on your counter. The sun was beginning to set, broth simmering on the stove, a warm orange glow seeping in through the windows. It was an almost-perfect night by your standards.
Visitors were rare, in fact, you only ever had one. But he didn’t knock like that.
“Captain Levi…” you greeted, shocked as the small, raven-haired men came into view on your stoop, “Hello.”
“Hi,” he replied, Levi never one for words.
His gaze was focused on his boots, his shoulders slumped, you swore the lids of his eyes were rimmed with pink and swollen. As realization kicked in, a rock dropped into your stomach and bounced into your throat, the air you tried to breathe too thick for your lungs to take in.
“Erwin…” he choked, “He…”
“Lie to me,” you whimpered, tears welling in your eyes. There would only be one thing that had the normally stoic Levi feeling a semblance of emotion. “Please.”
Slate gray eyes stared at you, his nostrils flaring as he considered your request. You didn’t know Levi well, but you knew Erwin trusted him implicitly. And that was all that mattered to you.
“Commander Erwin…” he began, voice shaking but strong, “sends his regards and his regret that he’ll no longer be able to come and see you. His life belongs to the Scouts regiment, he can’t afford the distraction any longer.”
“Thank you.”
“One of the recruits will be over with some things later.”
Boxes of food were delivered by nightfall, no doubt Levi’s way of sending condolences as best he could. A small bag lay beneath enough potatoes to last you the next month at least, a small note scribbled on a shred of paper attached to the string cinching it together.
When you’re ready.
Months later, when life had returned to more of a normalcy than it had in years, Wall Maria standing once again and safety from the titans that lurked all but guaranteed, you finally pulled that small satchel from the highest shelf in your closet. Dust had accumulated, the note still sitting in the creases. Trembling fingers opened it, Erwin’s green-jeweled tie the first item in the parcel. Your fingers brushed over the cool metal, your fist gripping it like you had so many times before tugging his tall frame down for a kiss, memories you’d tried to keep suppressed for so long surging forward.
Three slow knocks echoed; you already knew who it was. You hadn’t spoken to him since the day he’d come to inform you about Erwin, but you’d seen him often in the streets. It had made you wonder if it was intentional on his part to linger nearby.
“Captain Levi…” you said quietly as you opened the door, his brow furrowing in confusion as your eyes met.
“There’s something I’d like to show you,” he said bluntly, “Something I know he’d…like you to see.”
You had to give him credit for maintaining the ruse.
Levi and three soldiers stood outside, a spare horse in the middle that you assumed was for you. Levi gave no hints as to where you were headed, but your heart began to hammer as you passed through the gates of Wall Maria and out into the open world for the first time in your life. You rode and rode for what felt like hours, the smell of the air changing to something briny, sand replacing the grass, and the trees all but disappearing.
“Welcome to the sea,” Levi introduced as a vast blue stretch of water that reached far beyond where your eyes could see came into view, “Feel free to take off your shoes and get in.”
“What is it?” you gasped, doing what Levi said and wading into the warm, clear waves lapping at your ankles.
“It’s salt water or something. We’re on an island. On the other side of this is a whole other world, filled with people…”
“He was right?”
“Yes. He was. I’ll be on the rocks.”
You stayed until Levi said it was time to leave, the sky turning the most magnificent shade of pink and orange as the sun began to dip. The escort Levi had brought stayed two in the front, one bringing up the rear, leaving you and Levi in more privacy than when you’d traveled out this morning. It was a relief to get confirmation that Erwin’s dream had been accomplished, even if it wasn’t by him. Those who had doubted him would now be forced to admit their error. It was something at least.
“He loved you,” Levi said, the phrase uncharacteristic and the foreignness to even the man speaking it was evident in his tone, “For what it’s worth.”
“I know,” you acknowledged, smiling softly over at him.
“Can you forgive him?”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. He just said he hoped you’d forgive him. For dying, I guess.”
“And it worries you if I can’t?”
“Well, it was his dying wish.”
Realization set in at Levi’s crass, straightforward response. You and he were so very alike. It was no wonder Erwin had taken a liking to you both.
“Yeah,” you finally agreed as the sands turned to endless green grass, “I suppose I can.”
“Good. That makes one of us then.”
Thought his eyes stayed fixed ahead of him, you noticed the flicker of a smile twitch at the corner of humanity’s strongest soldier.
**Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!**
#erwin smith x reader#erwin smith x f!reader#erwin smith x you#erwin smith smut#erwin smith#attack on titan fanfiction#attack on titan smut
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More weapon!reader x Yizé 9948e (featuring Yué méng yaó)!
This one is a bit horror like so I hope you don't mind writing for that!
[ Fem/Afab reader ] (written in 3rd person view for easier reading)
After the Zhao family kept her under captive, the infamous killer of grim reapers were in their grasp. The Zhao family were still discussing about fate of this cold-blooded killer. Should she embraced death or let her escape it?
Zhao Yizé and his mother, Yué méng Yaó took guard at the killer. The weapon was sleeping after a gruesome fight with Yizé.
Yizé watched her, torn apart by the fact he fought his highschool best friend to learn what has happend to her. Wished that he had her suffering that she did.
He turned to his mother who was writing onto a notepad, eyebrows furrowed.
“Is she going to get executed?” Yizé quivered, knowing the answer.
“We are still discussing about this, love,” Yué méng ya�� began, turning towards her son, “We just need more time to have a meeting about this.”
Yué méng yaó pulled out the notepad, silence was deafening as Yizé began to read the notes on it.
[ THEY ARE WATCHING AND LISTENING US THROUGH HER ]
[ THE HUMANS ARE BORROWING HER EARS AND EYES. ]
[ BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU SAY AND DO. THE HUMANS WILL KNOW OUR PLAN. ]
[ IF THEY KNEW WE ARE KEEPING HER ALIVE, THEY WILL KILL HER. ]
the rest is up to you :3
— 🎨
. ˚◞♡ 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒎 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒙 fem!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ⊹ ۪
⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ verse 9948e yizé
˗ˏˋ꒰ 🧋 ꒱ ⊹ ۪ ࣪ grim reaper x reader, mercenary x reader, cw: reader death, heavy angst, soul reaping.
A heavy, heartbroken sigh escapes Yìzé at each paragraph read and burnt into his mind. He could almost hear his mother speak them to him verbally.
You really aren’t making it out of this alive, are you?
With guilt so overbearing and too much to handle, his heart crumbles. It sways with the curtains in the room that float gently, as the wind tugs away at it.
The soft breeze was going to go still at some point as your heart would.
Well. . .
At the very least, you would be a place of peace, of care. He knew that much about the mortal afterlife. No more sorrows and no more hurt inflicted upon anyone. Just peace.
What more could you ever ask for than peace?
Deep maroon eyes wet with crystalline tears that threaten to spill over the waterline and glide their way down his face, land on the floor with the smallest of taps. The same way that your blood had. Earlier.
Splattered across the concrete ground, in some alleyway in the society of shades. It would have dried by now. Or maybe washed away. By some confused but unfazed enigma, or otherworldly of which resided in the neighborhood the fight went down.
Depressing, it was all so depressing. From the cold air of the room, to the atmosphere that haunted the entire estate.
He wanted you to be free.
Free of this control you were under.
Free to breathe, free to live.
But that was not the reality you were going to face and it hurt like nothing he had ever felt. Loss truly was the cost of love.
‘This is why reapers are taught not to love mortal souls,’ he recounts bitterly within his very own mind palace. A place he never visits. If he is able to disregard feelings, he can work effeciently. Feeling, that is something for later.
With his eyes now closed, and the world around him quiet. As he and his mother sits and simply watches the time waste and rot itself away in your sleep. He sits and recounts more of the lectures he has been taught.
‘And should one fall for a mortal, may the heart distance itself and a head be turned. Lest the heartbreak kill the vulnerable heart we bear.’
The touch of a staff, the smallest tug at it. Dragging a large blade with it in it’s tug. Painfully ironic, the hand finds the scythe before it finds yours. His soul knows his purpose but his heart and brain screams for him to stop.
With the smallest of glance cast his way by his mother. All she can do is sigh, and eventually look away again. What efforts is there to make when he simply wishes for your peace? You were a mortal, and your soul was long overdue. A crinkling pocketwatch told her as much.
“Shall I leave?” She murmurs quietly. Breaking the silence that previously covered the room like a rug attempting to suffocate all living things within the area.
Her eyes meet with his face that grows ever sharper than it previously was. Formations of the purest of quarts scattering across her son’s cheekbones and down his throat, his arms, and leaving no skin to be seen on his hands.
Fat tears plap down on the floor as the reaper you have known since you were a kid raises his scythe at you. Once again today, has he raised blade. And for the last time today is it with the means of taking away your soul and sending it to solace and solitude.
There is no saving if you are this far into everything. There is no comfort.
As much as that may be what the wooden planks of the floor that has greeted you with groans and creaks each time you have walked upon it, wishes to be. As much as the trees of the garden may cry themselves to death and disease as you go—
It has to be done. And you have to go.
Maybe next spring will be better. The leaves blossming a bit more with the kindness that you carried. The flowers fragant thant ever.
One day you will be able to understand why he did it. When you are in the afterlife and you have been helped to peace. You will understand.
This was an act of love and not one of resent, nor repulsion.
And the blade swings itself through your sleeping form. Cutting through your body, but only collecting your soul.
No harm is truly done, and you still lay there. With a newfound tranquility roaming each and every nerve and sense. the bed sinking a bit more as your body turns off. You feel just as alive as you did when he last reaped your soul. It is freeing.
It is quite tragic, you never heard the scream he let out as he had to send you off. No soul ever truly does.
But you were free.
And his grieving, shattered heart will mend with that knowledge. Next spring, he will find himself at peace again.
You did not deserve to go through execution awake. A soul with forced taint, and forced violence. You deserved a peaceful passing. Even if that means he will get in trouble for doing what he has done.
Alas, he has his mother with him the entire way.
#⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ daydreams — yize 9948e ꒱#monster fucker#terato#teratophillia#grim reaper character#mercenary character#x reader#reader insert#yize 9948e#zhao yize 9948e#angst#asterism
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