#but the heartbreaking part is is that they keep dying or having to leave

[mx-paint]

I REFUSE TO BELIEVE

[with-my-calamitous-love]

SIX WEEKS (8 YEARS) OF BREATHING CLEAN AIR / I STILL MISS THE SMOKE

touya todoroki x reader

you finally bring yourself to visit your husband in the hospital.

mha official ending spoilers

part 2/3, part 1

inspired by the black dog

what a long 8 years.

touya’s defeat came at no surprise to you. as much as you wanted to root for your husband, to hope he achieves the twisted, revenge-filled dreams he dedicated his like (death) to, you knew his attempts would be futile.

you knew that the moment shouto’s fists connected with your husbands, it’d be over. the flames would subside, and dabi’s fiery reign would come to an end. for just a moment, in the midst of the blue and red flames, you saw a glimpse of two broken brothers. just a glimpse.

what followed wasn’t any less heartbreaking. touya was kept alive in his own, high tech cell. though he had made sure to keep you hidden from the world, you heard from short whispers that there was nothing that could be done about his current state. he could only manage a few words, his vessel slowly slowly dissipating into nothing but ash.

you absolutely could not bring yourself to visit. not in any of those 8 years. maybe its because you knew you could very well be hearing your last words from him soon.

too many memories engulfed in fire. his arsons match and your tear-stained eyes, watching it all helplessly.

so for as long as you could, you stayed in your house, grieving for the living.

until now.

it wasn’t a surprise you were eventually found out. when you opened your door, expecting the mail, you were greeted with a familiar face- not when you were angry about seeing, but not particularly delighted by any means. his dual coloured eyes and scar similar to that of your husbands- not by look but by origin.

you honestly couldn’t remember how he convinced you to leave your home. he may as well have dragged you by your feet, into his car and to the facility they were keeping touya in. this man was technically your brother, too. but seeing him felt like a wound reopened.

touya laid there, his body weak and emaciated, as the machines beeped and whirred around him, monitoring his vital signs and keeping him alive. a futile but admittedly impressive effort by his rich father, wanting to somehow make amends. everyone knew, however, that he was not saving a life- he was prolonging a death. the death of his firstborn son, to be exact.

his mind was hazy, his vision blurry as he struggled to keep his eyes open. the sound of the machines became a constant, familiar background noise, almost like white noise.

as he laid there, fading in and out of consciousness, one thought ran through his mind again and again: you.

while you stood outside the room, touya’s barren body laid in his tomb. his eyelids could hardly closed, so he was more or less forced to take in the grief-stained drywall. he thought about you, every single day. wondered where you were, how you could be doing- he hoped it was better now that he was gone.

your hand was wrapped shakily around the doorknob. just one twist and push. but it felt as though that door was made of iron. why was it suddenly so heavy? why was it being weighed down with the weight of your love and grief all rolled into one?

“…i don’t think i can do this.” you say shakily, a single tear rolling down your eye at the thought of seeing your dying husband after all this time.

a hand is placed on your shoulder. a comforting touch, like one who is learning to navigate through the grief alongside you.

shouto stood silently beside you, his expression stoic as he waited for you to make a decision.

he knew how difficult this must be for you, the years of pain and guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders. if he was grieving a man he hardy knew as his brother and more as a villain, he couldn’t even grasp how his wife must be feeling- someone who had loved him despite it all.

“you can do it.” he says softly, his voice firm but gentle as he tries his best to hold it together. he doesn’t want you to face this alone, though he knows he cant enter that room with you.

“you’ve made a good name for yourself.” you say, acknowledging shouto’s growth. at least one of the two brothers can still live, still be happy. “no one even calls you endeavours son anymore.”

he nods silently, his expression softening slightly at your words.

“i guess so.” he said quietly, a small hint of a smile on his face. he doesn’t dare to jinx his success. “ i’ve… i’ve tried to separate myself from my father’s shadow, to be my own person.”

he says for a paused moment, looking at the small glass panel that gave a window into touya’s room, his hand still resting on your shoulder.

“but t wasn’t easy. it never is.” he says, taking a deep breath before speaking his next piece.

“the doctors think they can buy him a few more months, maybe.” shouto reveals. the extent of your absence towards your dying husband finally begins to sink in. you waited until it was almost too late to see him. its a guilt like no other. what could you possibly say about to him after all this time?

“…i’m going in.” you say, pushing the door open and letting it close behind you with a click that rings through the room.

theres constant whirring and beeping from the technology keeping touya breathing. he lays there, his body held together by planks of metal and wiring. god, as morbid as it may seem, you wondered why they were even trying at this point?

he doesn’t seem to notice you, not till you walk closer to him. its hard to move his head with that brace around his skull, anyway.

his eyes weakly tracked your movements as you weakly made your way over to the bed, pressing your hands against the glass keeping him inside of his pod. he recognizes you, because how could he not? he married you, after all.

“…hey.” you manage, despite the dryness on your tongue.

your heart clenches as you watch him try and respond. his throat was dry and raspy, like his quirk had given him sandpaper for lung. he was forced to swallow several times before he could even mutter a word.

“hey..” he finally croaks out, his voice barely above a whisper, hoarse and strained.

you take a deep breath, silently cursing yourself for your already shaky words.

“you look like shit.” you have the audacity to chuckle at him, the numb laughter devoid of any empathy. you were grieving, grieving yet angry. as much as you understood and wanted to understand, he still left you.

touya would be nothing if not an asshole.

“thanks, doll.” his voice almost mechanical. “..don’t look too hot yourself.”

there he is. that smartass touya you love. his quick tongue and his smart heard, smarter then he lets on. you love his remarks, his sass, his demeanour. and it seemed that even through all this pain, he still managed to give you some of it.

the tears are already sliding down your cheeks, knowing that this is likely the last time you’ll ever get to feel it.

and for a moment, through your hazy eyes, a silver glimmer catches your eyes.

“…you kept the ring..?” you have to rub your eyes, unsure if its just a grief-stricken illusion.

he scoffs, as if it should be obvious. “yeah… course i did.”

his time is running out and you both know it. you cringe watching his weaken state, trying to slide the ring off his finger. you quickly hush him, your delicate hands carefully reaching into his pod to help him remove the band. though most of his nerves are killed off, he feels as though he’s truly lost his favourite part of him.

his eyes continue to grow tired, but me fights them valiantly to catch a glimpse of you slipping the ring onto your own hand. he had taken that part of him, and given it to you.

you sob, pressing your forehead against the glass. your hand just barely grazes his, feeling the charred skin you still loved, no matter how dead.

“i love you.” you sob, baring your soul to your husband. his eyes close, feeling the exhaustion sink in- but he can’t give in. not when this is his last chance to see his wife.

despite the pain and the knowledge of his imminent death, he manages to find his voice and responds, his voice hoarse but filled with a raw intensity of emotion. he’s doing everything to stay with you right now, though you know it can’t ever make it up.

“… i love you… too…” he croaks, letting what soul he has left reach itself out to you.

“and i’m so mad at you.” you sob. “not just you… i’m mad at the world.. i’m at the world that let your father get away with abusing you and breaking you down.. i’m mad at the world that didn’t see you were a boy who needed help. i’n mad at the universe for not giving you and i a chance… i’m mad at your god damn fire for taking you away from me.”

your tears slide down the glass, only continuing as you see his eyes close. he’s still breathing, yes, but either he was so exhausted from fighting death, or he couldn’t bare to see you in this much pain. probably both.

“i know… i’m… sorry…” he prays you know how sorry he really is. for doing this to you. for exposing you to the evil of the world when he should have been protecting you.

“..don’t cry..” he rasps, asking more for him than for you. you scoff.

“i’ll cry if i damn want to, touya.” you chuckle. “i lost my husband.”

just for a second, its almost like he smiles.

“you… still… call me.. that?”

without a trace of hesitation, you nod. “of course i do.”

he’s having trouble forming his next words and you can tell. you know you have to do it. you somehow have to say goodbye.

“i love you, touya todoroki. i love you so much.” you declare, showing your soul to him right before he enters the afterlife- maybe so he knows to look for you once your time comes as well.

“…i… love you.. too..” he rasps. he’s trying and you love him for it, despite the sobs that choke out of you seeing his struggle just to speak.

“i’ll never ever, ever forget you. i wouldn’t dream of it.” you whisper.

“you better not…” he rasps out weakly. what a fucking smartass you married.

you cant kiss him. but you do press your forehead and your lips to the glass, and give his hand once last squeeze. you have to rip yourself from the room and out the door, otherwise you might have stayed in there forever.

the door clicks behind you. a breath escapes your lips, knowing that you have truly said your goodbye. you still clutch his silver ring on your finger.

the ring served as a reminder. that no matter what happens now, a part of your soul forever belonged to touya todoroki. that no matter how many of your clothes you burn and how many exorcisms you perform on your house, the love you shared with touya will never leave. no matter how much clean air you breath, a small part of you will always miss the smoke he gave. always.

you vowed to never forget him, anyway.

tags!🪽

@the-dumpster-fire-of-life @greenmanshoe @connorsui

[justadeadreaper]

These are mainly fluffy headcanons with slight themes of angst due to the nature of long deployments with implications/references of a death that could happen.

One thing people tend to forget about König working for a private military company is that he can still go on long deployments/missions that can take months to even years to complete where he would not be able to see his beloved.

König may be an extremely cocky man, which is something no one can deny from his voice lines. On the surface level he may think that no other person is skilled enough to kill him, but deep down that is not the case. Even if his anxiety does not actively affect him on a level you would truly notice it is still rooted deep in his brain as it spews out harrowing ideas that he can not get rid of as they nip at him while being made bigger by his trauma and past experiences. This causes a deep-seated paranoia about the idea of him dying on the field and leaving you all alone with your last memory of him being a sad one haunts him, or even worse in his time gone you completely forget about him and move on to someone new that could fill the hole he left behind.

This leads him to make the day before his long deployment the best of your life while he puts together a surprise to ensure you always have pieces of him while he is apart from you.

The day before he makes sure you have the best date of your life so far. It first starts with breakfast in your shared bed after he lets you sleep in until late in the morning, it is all your favourite breakfast foods and some of his own as he lets you splurge a bit and have your favourite dessert items as well while he eats his waffles with pistachio and strawberry ice cream. He loves to cuddle you and just stay in bed with you for a couple more hours to bathe in your love and warmth as you brush your hands through his hair before massaging his scalp before gently kissing all over his face, paying special attention to his scars. Once you finally get out of bed he takes you on a little shopping spree through your favourite stores letting you buy anything you want without worrying about the price even if you have to go to the sketchy game place that smells of death and sweat so he can get more figures or knives or guns or mangas for his collection. To end your adventure he would either take you to an aquarium or museum of your choice later in the evening so that fewer people are there just so you could have your moment together that looks like it is straight out of a movie. Before you leave you drag him towards the gift shop and he buys you whatever gifts you want  then he takes you home as he secretly calls your favourite takeout place so you can eat it together once it arrives as another surprise. Then to finish the day you spend the whole night cuddling and watching movies until you fall asleep. 

On a more spicy note, if you want children and do not have any yet I can see him trying his best to get you pregnant that night as he feels and loves you one last time just so if you lose him you will at least still have a part of him with you to help you pass through the years before you are reunited again.

In the morning he probably leaves with no word to you at all as he would hate your last memory to be one of heartbreak. Only a letter on his side of the bed. The first few pages are him apologising for leaving without a goodbye with the explanation that he is going on a long deployment before detailing how much he loves you, then he explains how he took a few of your shirts to use as a mask so he could always have your smell with him as he battles and a photo of you that he keeps above his heart so you can still be close to him, and finally on the last few pages are a detailed scavenger hunt with clues that lead you all over your shared homes with each clue leading to a spot with the clue being based on an important memory that was in that spot.

The items he would put in these spots varied and each time changed (unless it was his last time) but it was always the same types of items every time even if the spots changed.

In the first spot would always be some of his shirts, jackets, or hoodies that smelled of him so that when you were around the house you could wear them and be comforted by his scent as they would always smell heavily of his cologne. Every time after the first time he did this he would put different clothes in his place so you never got bored of the options he chose.

In the second spot would be a mixture of letters and USB sticks. There would be a letter on top explaining that the letters with white lily petals on the front and USBs with white lilies painted on them were for if he died, they have a gold writing on top that labels which life event of yours it was for and if you had children they would have the same and even if you did not have kids yet he still made some for future potential children, and the letters with forget-me-not petals on the front and USBs with forget-me-nots painted on them were for when you missed in and were struggling to deal with your life and different emotions without him there, and USBs with pink carnations painted on them that were just recorded videos him talking about different topics just for when you wanted to hear his voice talking about topics he found interesting. He explains in the top letter that the reason he wrote the letters and recorded videos that he put on the USB was due to the fact that in the letters he had to be concise and direct so he could get to everything he wanted to say while the videos are for him to be able to express all his emotions and not be confined to what would fit on the page as you see him be himself in the photos. Every time after the first time he did this he would put new letters and USBs in the place of the old ones to add to the collection with new responses to situations, topics, and emotions he thought of.

In the third spot would be a bear from Build-A-Bear (specifically the Pumpkin Sparkle bear due to it being ginger like him) that has multiple voice boxes in it that has recordings of him saying “I love you” or different compliments or nicknames he would usually call you with a custom heart too that bumped in the rhythm of his heart. The bear would be dressed up in a mini version of his normal uniform he wears on contracts as it holds a bottle of his favourite cologne just for you to use. Every time after the first time he did this he would put new clothes you could dress the bear up in based on his other outfits he wears on his contracts or at home or from when he dragged you to conventions.

In the fourth spot would be a scrapbook of your life together next to the small journals he took on deployments or used when his insomnia overwhelmed him which made it impossible to sleep. The scrapbook would have photos of all your dates together and important dates such as birthdays, promotions, holidays, etc. with petals and small drawings decorating the pages while the journals would be filled with countless pages filled with drawings of you, poems directed towards you or wrote solely about you, and ramblings about how he felt about you and everything he adored about you. Every time after the first time he did this he would create new scrapbooks that could be paired with the old that shows off more of your life events together and more journals that are filled to the brim with you.

In the fifth spot would be two books he made himself, the first is a cookbook bursting at the seams where he has handwritten all of the recipes that have been passed down his family over generations upon generations but alongside it are also recipes of all the dishes you enjoyed together or recipes he knew you loved even if you had never had the time to share them together, while the second is a book of all the jokes and puns he has told you or he wanted to tell you or he wanted to use when he was finally a dad or the kids were old enough to understand. Every time after the first time he did this he would write down new pages of jokes or recipes that he thought of that could be added to the books.

Apart from the scavenger hunt I also imagine him doing other things for when he is gone. The second most prominent thing is the little glass animals that he has hidden all around the house with a tiny scroll wrapped around their body or neck with a cute ribbon that matches the colour of the animal to keep it attached; once the scroll is unrolled it reveals it is a note about how much he loves you and how beautiful you are or compliments in general or motivation just so you can be reminded everyday of how much he loves you as if he never left, like he was still there with you. Something that could be considered as condescending that comes from his cockiness, and the undiagnosed autism I think he has, is how he writes down instructions and reminders for everyday he is on deployment for you to use as normally each morning he writes a chore list for the day with reminders for both of you to eat and drink. If you showed him how an Alexa worked he sets up the Alexa to do the reminders too but for the next 30 years just in case he dies.

When he is on deployment he will try to send back letters at any opportunity he gets as he collects trinkets to give you once he gets home. If you did have cameras set up around the house, whenever he has free time he is watching them to see how you are and what you are doing, and you can bet that if a speaker and microphone is attached to the camera he is using it to talk and have conversations with you even if they are short due to the nature of his work.

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hey‼️

Soooo I was wondering if u could maybe possibly write an alastor x reader where reader has a secrets admirer and alastor is super jealous but he can't show it bc they're technically only friends and acting protective would be weird.

Bonus points if the read is completely oblivious to his jealousy and eats the snacks from the gift baskets all the time, right in front of him, and wonders why his eyes is twitching so much.

Pleaseee?

👀 I don't have time for this but-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being a red flag fr

Description: ☝️⬆️

What does Alastor care if someone wants you? He has no interest in taking you for himself. Nope. Not. At. All.

Would laugh if anybody tried to claim he felt something for you other than mild fondness

It's just been a particularly annoying few weeks because of all the gifts being sent to the hotel with your name on them, from some persistent admirer

So he does his best to convince you that they aren't good enough for you

Alastor feels his mood sour when he hands you a bouquet of flowers, your face lighting up at the sight of them as you hold them like they're precious

He misses the way your smile falters a bit when you read the tag, a small part of you hoping they were from the demon in front of you instead

"Another lackluster gift from what must surely be the most lackluster admirer on this side of the pentagram. Just look at how wilted those flowers are already!"

You shake your head and toy with the petals on the flowers, picking off the dying ones delicately

He loves me... he loves me not...

"Oh hush, it's rather darling that someone took time out of their day to give me something so thoughtful.."

You walk away to put the bouquet into a vase so you miss the twitch in Alastor's eye, the tight clenching of teeth and fierce grip on his staff

"Thoughtful? Those are yellow roses! Yellow roses stand for friendship, not romance! You can do so much better!"

Or another time, you offered him a chocolate, munching away on sweets while holding a heart-shaped box

"Are you confessing to me? You shouldn't, I'm quite the heartbreaker just so you know~"

He regrets saying the words the moment they leave his mouth, but they're the only thing keeping a blush off his face, taking a chocolate to shut himself up

You only hum and roll your eyes, putting a hand on your hip as you shake the box at him, mostly all an attempt to get his eyes on the candies instead of your blushing face

"No, my secret little lover dropped off a bunch of these and I can't possibly be expected to eat all of this myself, now can I?"

The sweet treat suddenly feels bitter in his mouth and he wants to rip up the box in your hand

"Oh, so that's why these taste so uninspired! Most likely store bought instead of homemade, such a shame."

You only snort and shake your head, popping another chocolate into your pretty mouth

"Who makes homemade chocolates anymore? Let alone take time out of their day to have them delivered to me?"

Alastor is embarrassed by the warmth and genuine emotion in his voice, his smile softening as he looks you over

"Someone who cares about you enough to recognize you're worth the effort, my dear."

He leaves quickly to avoid any further embarrassment, blushing deeply and sliding the rest of the candy boxes into the trash on his way out

"A-Alastor!!"

"I'm simply doing you a favor, my dear!"

He doesn't see your sputtering and blushing as you try to comprehend what just happened

Alastor can handle the flowers, chocolates and all other sorts of gifts but when the letters start pouring in?? He's about to lose his mind

It's been at least three letters a week, and he's sick of finding them outside the hotel. He actually rips up the ones he gets to first

He finds Charlie and Angel leaning over your shoulder and reading a letter in your hands, a soft blush on your face

Charlie was cooing over how sweet the letter was while Angel was obviously teasing you, making your blush deepen

"And just what is that in your hands, my dear?"

You jump and try to hide the letter but Angel quickly snatches it away to keep reading it, laughing as he does

"Toots here got another love letter from her secret admirer~ They think she's just the most precious babe around~"

Charlie is squealing and fanning herself with her hands as she jumps up and down, making you groan and hide your face in your hands

"Isn't it just so romantic? They're really head over heels in love with her!"

Alastor feels his eye twitch as he snatches the letter from Angel to read it over himself, ignoring the noise of protest that comes from you

Finally, he glances over at you, crumpling the letter up and ripping it into pieces in front of everyone

"Well now! That was about the worst thing I've read all day!"

It felt good to rip it up, picturing it to be your admirer instead

You stand there in shock, eyeing the bits of paper then Alastor, Angel and Charlie slowly backing out of the room only to peek their heads back in

"They... they said I was beautiful."

Well... now he feels a little bad...

He recovers quickly though and wraps a casual arm around you, guiding you away from the mess as Niffty runs in to clean it up

"That's exactly what they wrote in the last one! It's nothing new, I'm afraid! Truly, you deserve better than that!"

You pout and lean your head on him a little, trying not to look disappointed about the letter

"Yeah? And just what do I deserve?"

He grins at you and leans in, pulling you closer to him

"Let me show you, my dear~"

You simply roll your eyes as you let him lead you out of the hotel on a walk, enjoying the weight of his arm around you

There's no more secret admirer after that, which suits you both just fine

Here~

[darlingshane]

Professor Castle

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Summary: Frank has a weakness and it's named after you. No matter how much he tries to push you away he always returns to the same point.

CW: 18+. Explicit, Smut, Angst, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Fingering, Making out, Professor/Student relationships, Age Gap, Reader is an undergrad student in her early 20s. [I know this is very problematic. Don't come at me. It's just fiction.]

Word Count: 2.8k // AO3 Link.

A/N: This was inspired by this picture of Jon in Origin. I couldn't write for that character in particular, so I thought Frank was the best choice for it, even if it's a lot OOC.

As you muster the courage to enter and confront Professor Castle, you observe him through the cracked door of his office. He looks as good as ever, freshly shaved, in one of his Bexley plaid shirts in white with blue plaid lines, and a dark tweed blazer on top. His hair has slightly curled from the humid weather. His glasses slip a little over the bridge of his nose when he looks down, and he pushes them back in place before tucking a folder in his leather case. You haven't seen him in a few days. Even when you submitted the form to drop his class you managed to leave it on his desk yesterday after he left home. And just early this morning before getting to campus you got an email from him from his uni account, formally denying your request to drop. You don't give a fuck about failing and having to take another course with a different teacher but after what he told you last weekend, you can't stay in his class any longer. It'd be like torture having to see him and not being able to be with him like you desire to.

Of course, you don't ever want to get him in trouble either, he has a lot more to lose than you. But if he doesn't want to see you anymore, then so don't you. So, after a moment of consideration you just clench your fist as hard as you can, set your jaw straight, and storm into the office without announcing yourself. The door slamming the door behind you is what alerts him of your presence. The loud sound makes his head snap up to look at you, standing as tall as you can.

“You can't force me to stay in your class.” You say firmly without raising your voice.

His brow knits behind the thin frame of his glasses as he processes your intrusion.

“No, I guess I can't force you. But I can't let you drop either. You missed the deadline. Unless you have a good excuse like a serious medical condition or emergency the school is not going to let you withdraw at this point. It's out of my hands.”

“Does dying of heartbreak count as a medical emergency?”

“Jesus Christ, you theater kids are really dramatic.”

“Hey, you're the one who told me to join a club.”

“Yeah, but I meant something else like uh… the debate team, the honor society, the newspaper, or the fucking model UN.”

“Well, I made my choice and so did you. I can't just keep showing up at your class and pretend that nothing happened. Can you just think of something? If I meant anything to you… just give me this, Frank.”

You never said his first name before on school grounds. It sounds like a curse word as it slips out of your mouth.

“There are only two months left. That's nothing. Are you telling me you're willing to throw all of that away for me?”

“Yes, because if I can't have you then I can't see you either.”

You catch when his Adam's apple anxiously goes up and down as you say that.

“This is all my fault. I should've never… I should've put a stop to it when I had the chance.”

“Frank—” You take a step closer to his desk, but he promptly holds a placating palm in the air to push you to a stop.

“Don't. Please. Don't throw away your future for me or for anyone for that matter. You're smart and young and strong enough to endure a few more classes. You'll be getting your bachelor's next year, sweetheart. After that… you won't even remember I was ever part of your life.”

“I won't ever forget. I'm begging you. Just let me go or take me back… but…” your frustration knots in your throat. “Stop pushing me away. I know you love me.”

“It doesn't matter if I do. We both have a lot to lose if they find out.”

“Nobody will. We'll be more careful… We could just start over somewhere else, just you and me.”

“Life is not a movie. It doesn't work like that. I know it feels like a matter of life or death right but when you're older—”

“Don't patronize me. I know what I feel. Just take me out of your class or don't. I won't show up either way.”

You turn around to leave the room at once but Frank quickly shuffles behind you and as you reach to grab the handle, he holds the door closed and secures the lock before your eyes.

“So help me God, you're gonna be the end of me, sweetheart.” His tone changes to an octave graver that sends a chill through your spine.

“What are you doing?” You turn around as he steps so awfully close you can capture the strong scent of his aftershave.

“You're going to stay in my class. Front row. Every Wednesday at 10. Then, you're going to ace your final in May. I don't ever wanna hear you again saying otherwise. Is that clear?” He states as a matter of fact, as if you had no choice but to comply with his demand.

“Why are you so convinced I will?”

You watch him up close as he takes off his glasses and lifts his opposite hand to frame your jaw. With conflicted thoughts he pushes your back against the wall, as his face leans to seize your mouth. Professor Castle slowly spells with his tongue all the secrets kept between you in just one beautiful kiss that leaves you breathless.

“Is that enough?” His head pulls back as he sets his glasses back over his eyes as you smooth the lapels of his blazer.

“I'm not sure,” you draw a breath and let the bookbag hanging on your shoulder fall to the floor. “I think I'm gonna need a bigger incentive.”

“There's never enough for you, huh?” he holds your jaw again and tilts your head to the side as he buries his mouth in the crook of your neck.

His lips hold some sort of spell that enchants your body with just a few nips on your skin. The tip of his tongue is laced with poison that intoxicates each and all of your senses as it juts out to leave a wet trace from your collarbone to the back of your ear before pulling back. His eyes turn darker behind the glass as he locks eyes with you. Your pulse picks up in your chest as he licks his lips and allows lust to take over. He watches his thumb trace the shape of your mouth before fiercely succumbing to the temptation of your lips once more, with feeling.

As your arms curl around his neck, his hands travel beneath the hem of your striped, knitted sweater to bask in the warmth of your skin. The sloppy sounds of your kisses sound like sin in this room. You should stop. He should too. But neither of you have enough strength to push the other away.

One of his hands stays pressed on your spine while the other travels down your denim skirt and slips underneath the hem. Hiking it up, his large palm shamelessly grabs your ass, molds your flesh to the shape of his fingers over your panties. Your skin quickly heats up and your mind swirls along the maddening rhythm of his tongue. He presses himself so hard against you, it feels like he's already fucking you, but it's the illusion of his fingers bluntly sliding between your legs and pressing over your opening, stirring a good moan out of you.

“Sh, sh…” he breaks the kiss and whispers a millimeter away from your mouth. “Gotta be quiet now, yeah?”

You simply nod, having his eyes gauging your expression changing as his hand viciously massages your pussy.

“Like that?” His lips pull up at the corners, and you mirror his expression as you softly pant.

“Fuck yeah.”

Then, you close your eyes and press your forehead to his shoulder, keeping your hands anchored to his arms as your juices stain the fabric of your underwear.

“You're dripping, sweetheart.” His voice echoes in your ear. “Is this what you want?”

He presses harder as your grip on him tightens.

“Yeah.”

For a second you think he's going to finish you right there but all of a sudden he stops.

“C'mere,” he locks your arms around his neck before lifting your ass in his hands without much effort. You tuck your legs around his hips as he takes turns around and walks toward the desk.

Keeping you secured in one arm, Frank blindly moves the stuff in the middle before carefully lowering you down on the wooden surface. While you lay on your back, he sits on his chair and brings your ass close to the edge. Instead of letting your legs dangle, he places your feet on each arm of his chair as he kisses one of your knees.

“God, you're so beautiful,” he mumbles against your skin as he rolls down the fabric of one of your thigh-high stockings to uncover your leg. He does the same with the other stocking before letting his lips get his reward.

The inside of your thigh leads a straight road down to hell. After last weekend, he promised himself he would never cross that line again, but he has a weakness, and it’s named after you. It's taken him through a dangerous path that puts everything he ever believed into question. He could lose his job and his reputation if someone were to cross the door to his office and find you spread like a meal ready to consume. It's lunchtime after all, and he can't think of anything better to feast on other than you. His lips trail that perdition-paved road on your thigh as his fingers softly brush the back of your leg. Your skin sticks out as you pull your knees further apart to make room for his face as it gets closer to your center. The corner of his glasses gently pokes the top of your thigh when he reaches that crucial point. You bite your lip and stare at the broken fixture on the ceiling and try to keep yourself from moaning when he pulls your panties to the side. He stretches the fabric as far as it goes, it makes a tearing sound, but it doesn't break. You couldn't care less if he rips them apart. It wouldn't be the first time either. He’s ruined two pairs already. Professor Castle has a wild side that only comes untamed when he’s with you. But this is different. He's never gone down on you right in his own office on campus like he's about to do. You both know the implications of that, but rules be damned right now. All that worry floats out of your head as his tongue makes first contact with your pussy. He draws a line from your opening up to your clit ever so softly before pulling your outer lips apart and diving in. He has just an ounce of restraint himself from going too hard and making you scream out in pleasure, even though he wants so badly to suck on your clit to hear you pleading for more. To stir out of your voice call out his name and title out of sheer joy. But he holds back. He presses an array of kisses and nibbles all over your folds as you close your eyes to focus on the torturing slow pace of his tongue. Your nipples are hard as a rock under your bra, your legs strain to stay in position when Frank slowly laps around your clit, collecting your arousal as your breathing hollows. He places a palm on your stomach, right under your sweater and catches the effects of his mouth in the way your body reacts. There’s an added edge to doing this right here, it makes his cock throb in his underwear as you mumble his name.

“Frank.” It comes out as a murmur, and he hums against your tender skin before going a little harder. There’s only so much he can do to up the pace and make you come without alerting anyone behind that door of what’s happening inside.

We'll be more careful, you said. He eats out your words straight out of your sex.

To speed up the process uses his other hand to slip two fingers into your opening and press on your g-spot. Your back arches in response. Frank has to press that hand on your abdomen a little harder to keep you from squirming too much. It feels like an eternity until you reach the point of no return, once you're there you can feel that fire burning bright at your core as a mind-numbing chill settles at the back of your head. You've never felt that intense jolt sparking your body like fireworks before. Then again you don't have much to compare him to other than the one and only boyfriend you had when you started college.

You grip at his hair as he cues your orgasm. With a strong flick of his tongue and that adamant pressing of your walls you finally come undone. You bury a moan in your throat as every cell of your body is touched by that wildfire that travels from your center out in every direction. It curls your toes in your shoes, your eyes shut, your knees clench together before he can pull his face away. As the orgasm ebbs he sets himself free from your thighs and watches you descend from cloud nine. He uses a tissue to clean up your cunt and fixes your panties to their former position. Then, Frank settles your legs down as your body goes completely limp, and straightens your skirt over your thighs with such love it almost makes you cry.

“Frank,” your voice comes out watery.

“Sh, it's okay, baby. I know. Come here.” He helps you up and pulls you onto his lap.

“I missed you.”

“I know.” He smiles against your hair as he snuggles you against his chest. “I’ve missed you too, sweetheart.”

You clear your throat and stay still for a minute while his hand soothes your back before noticing he’s still hard.

“Do you want me to take care of this?” You fondle his bulge over his pants.

“No, that’s okay. That’s my punishment for hurting you.” He takes your hand away, brings it up to his lip to kiss your knuckles.

“You really have a thing for punishment, huh?” You quip, lifting your head to look at him. It’s then that you notice his messed up hair and send our fingers to fix it.

“Not as much as you do.” His hand pats your ass reminding you of all those times you've begged him to spank you when you were being a brat.

You laugh as you take off his glasses and use the hem of your sweater to clean them.

“Can I come over this weekend?” You ask putting his eyewear back on.

“I have that wedding I told you about. Can't get out of it, I'm the best man.”

“Right. Of course. One of your marine buddies. Florida, right?”

“Yeah.” His stare goes down as he massages your hand thinking that maybe… “You could come with me if you want.”

“I uh… I don't think I'm ready for that.”

“No, you are. Nobody will know you there, and I don't wanna keep lying about you, at least not to my friends. They won't give a fuck, you know? I'm tired of being set up for blind dates and shit.”

“Oh, it must be really hard being you.” You mock.

“Don't laugh. Just think about it. It'll be something casual at the beach. I'll get you a ticket if you're worried about that.”

“I really changed your mind, did I? That's a full 180 from what you said the other day, Frank. Are you sure you want this?”

“Yeah, I was only fooling myself thinking that I could stay away from you. Which I would've if you hadn't shown up here with a fucking attitude. But you're right, we'll have to be more careful from now on.”

“And we can do whatever we want in Florida.”

“Yeah, you wanna come?”

“Only if you really want me there.”

“I wouldn't be asking if I didn't.”

“Then I'll go with you.”

You press your lips sweetly against his and let them bounce together for a moment before getting back to reality. You pull up your stockings all the way up and fix up your clothes before collecting your bag from the floor. But Professor Castle can't help but stall for a bit longer to kiss you once more until you have no choice but to run to your next class.

[cinnamonroll-anon]

lmk request!

wukong and mac (separate) had a nightmare and s/o came to comfort?

a/n: thank you both for the request! Since you both had the same prompt i decided to just put the two together! Sorry for my long absence have some comfort for your heart!

Terrible Visions: Sun Wukong x Reader, Macaque x Reader (Separate)

Warnings: angst to fluff, comfort (giving), mentions of violence and mentions of death. SEASON 5 SPOILERS! (not much but will brush up on events that take place!)

Sun wukong:

Honestly, what hasn't come back to haunt the infamous monkey king? Behind his usual suave facade, he was constantly stuck in his own head, thinking about his past and what problems could await on the roads ahead. If we're being honest here, he's stressed of having to save the world or having to face his own mistakes and shortcomings. He can never live down his own choices, not entirely at least. There would always be a whisper of doubt breathing down his neck, it would never fail to make him feel ashamed of himself. Luckily for him, he can play things off perfectly and no one would know any better from his usual laid back attitude. He wouldn't allow anyone to see the burden on his shoulders, or see how weary he's grown over these recent months. Well, everyone else except you.

You have been with Wukong for a while, so you're no stranger to his attempts at keeping you at an arm's length. It was a prominent problem in your relationship. He simply wouldn't tell you what was bothering him, even if it was something so miniscule that you could stop doing. Nowadays, he tries to open up to you and to express himself to the best of his ability. It was a promise you both made to each other as your relationship continued to flourish. He'd communicate with you and you'd understand him and try to meet him in the middle. It was a fair compromise that has saved your relationship on multiple occasions.

It took a great level of trust for him to feel like he could share his worries with you, he didn't want to trouble you... At least it was partially true, especially with all the guilt that's been dying to swallow him whole. He felt as though he had dragged you down into a mess like he did with MK, and that he was the one to blame for all of his suffering, as well as yours. Another part of him wouldn't allow him to love or care as deeply as he used to. Not again because, he knows what love really leads to... To pain. He had promised himself once in the past to not let his heart suffer again, to never go through another heartbreak. It was that promise kept getting in the way with his new ambitions and his heart's desire. To be with you.

Unfortunately as all things do, these emotions build up, and when they resurface, they present themselves to the great sage as he finds enough tranquility to sleep at night. He could only keep his thoughts to himself until they started pouring into his subconscious. The nightmares weren't as frequent but they'd manifest horrors that would leave him restless and fearful. Even in his slumber, he couldn't find rest.

Maybe he would be trapped in the mountain with no one to talk to, feeling condemned, forgotten, unloved and lonely. He'd stay there, unmoving and vulnerable for eternity. Perhaps it would be all the splitting headaches with his circlet, punishing and agonizing. No matter how much he begged for it to simply disappear, the torment would only continue. He would dig his nails into the groud, clawing into his head in desperation, howling in pain and sobbing for anything to stop it. He'd never find that solace here.

Maybe it was the day he struck Macaque. It would always be the same outcome, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. To change it. His body would move without his permission, his mind torn in-between this urge to kill him and hopelessly trying to stop himself. He saw his old friend laying beaten down, he watched as Macaque tried to move to get away from him helplessly. Was that fear or hatred he saw in his eyes? He couldn't tell before he felt the way his staff punctured through his eye, cracking entirely past his skull. No matter how many times he'd watch the scene unfold, it never ceased to be any less gut wrenching when he drew the final blow. It was all worse when he could smell his blood, practically taste the hot irony liquid in his tongue.

Sometimes it was failing MK. Failing him as his mentor. He knew he wasn't the best at teaching, honestly it had stung him when MK searched for guidance in Macaque. It just didn't help ease his nerves or reassured him that he was doing the right thing. He's put the kid through so much, yet he always kept his distance from him. He couldn't afford for him to get close, not again, not after everything he's been through. MK sacrificing himself was painful to watch, and luckily for him, he'd get to relive that moment. One second he was contemplating losing his Immortality and his life, and the next that familiar excruciating pain would crush his head again. He couldn't't move to save him, to sacrifice himself instead. The worst part was seeing that look on MK's face through his tears and screams. He almost lost him, but in his dreams he wouldn't come back, and in his eyes his world would still remain shattered.

The lady bone demon's control was the worst dream he could ever be faced with, because instead of any other circumstances hurting his friends, he was killing them all... One by one. A ruthless frenzy and an unstoppable slaughter, all for her destiny. Her voice would pound against his head and her command over him was absolute. He couldn't even cry if he wanted to.

He'd wake up in cold sweat, lunging to sit up and gasp for air. He had startled you awake, promoting you to wearily sit up with him.

"Wukong? What's the matter?"

He gripped his heart feeling it's frantic palpitations as he took harsh breaths. Maybe, the worst nightmare of all... Was losing you. He condemned his head for getting so creative with ways he could lose you. Meanwhile, you observed him, trying to read his expression. You sat there for a minute before you gently placed your hand ontop of his own.

"Wukong-"

"P-peaches, hey y-yeah, sorry about that! Just ah, y'know ehe thought i lost my streak. And to Macaque no less!" He answered with a strained smile, you could see a him covered in sweat.

"Uh-huh, so you're expecting me to believe that you're this worked up... About your videogame?" You deadpanned as you were fighting to keep your eyes open. With or without them open you can hear how shaken up he was.

He stumbled over his words and another half assed excuse before taking a deep breath and looking down at his hands.

"You're right- It, It wasn't about videogames... I had another nightmare."

You noticed how fragile his voice sounded, that and how ashamed of himself he looked. Was it his pride or perhaps it was the horrible attempt to brush you off? It didn't matter to you in the moment as you gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Honey, that's awful. Do you want to talk about it? Or maybe cuddle-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he quickly pulled you into a tight embrace. You gradually hugged him back, wrapping your arms around him, gently rubbing his back in a comforting manner. You could feel his racing heartbeat against you, how ragged his breathing was before they began to even out. Much of your relief, he was slowly calming down. His tail wrapped around your waist, giving it a tight squeeze, trying to ground himself in the present.

"It's okay Wukong, you're safe. I'm here for you, thank you for telling me. I want to help you with things like these, okay?"

"Even if i wake you up in the dead of night?" He spoke through a chocked sob, he was trying really hard not to cry, but it was so hard when you were so willing to sacrifice sleep and time just to help him. He tightened his hold on you, burying his face against your shoulder, either for comfort or to hide his face from your view, you didn't bring it up as you placed a kiss to his head.

"Yes Wukong, even if you woke me up at four in the morning," You replied with a chuckle. "I'd rather have missed a little time asleep than having you dealing with a nightmare all alone. Especially if I'm already here for you."

He shook his head as he let out a heavy sigh, you could feel your shoulder getting wet by his tears. After his initial fear had finally passed, he began to move again. He first placed his hand behind your head before he hesitantly pushed you away, only enough to look into your eyes. He mused to himself how sleepy you looked, before remembering he was the reason you were so worried about him now and awake.

"I'm sorry... you shouldn't be up at this hour Peach, i didn't mean to-"

"It was a nightmare Wukong, you didn't exactly plan it." You interrupted him as you delicately held his face in your hands, "Besides I already told you I'm not going anywhere. Im sticking with you no matter what, be it sickness, a nightmare or the world ending, again... I'm with you Wukong."

He swore he could barely blink back the tears in his eyes threatening to pour again. Despite it all you, were still here. You stayed by his side. You were still kind and loving to him, even if he wasn't always as vulnerable or open with you. You were more than willing to help him through it, to save your relationship... to save him. That was so brave of you, he hoped you knew that. He wished he could tell you, but he wouldn't say it... not today at least or now. He smiled warmly before laying back down, pulling you into his arms as you laid your head on his chest. He held you close as he felt himself become more tired, but before he could close his eyes again you pressed a lazy kiss against his lips.

"I love you Wukong, goodnight my love." What wonderful words to hear, he thought to himself, before finally letting his muscles relax and his jaw unclench. He finally felt safe and loved... all in his beloveds arms. He truly felt like everything would be okay. He looked down at your already sleeping form, god, you must've been truly exhausted he thought to himself. He waited a bit until he knew you were sound asleep, not taking any chances to wake you again, before he placed a loving kiss against your forehead.

"I love you too Peaches, if you only knew how much you mean to me... Goodnight love, see you in the morning."

Macaque:

He's more open to you about his nightmares. You've been with him for this long, so he trusts you're not going to hurt him when he lets down his guard. You've proven yourself to him time and time again that you won't take advantage of him or harm him. On the contrary, you treat him with compassion and respect, even when he has felt undeserving of your grace and patience. Youve always so considerate and understanding to him. He swears he doesn't deserve you, he knows he's definitely not the best guy around, but if you stayed this long and showed him you're not going anywhere, then he'll be damned if he doesn't try his hardest to appreciate you and show you how much he cares about you too.

But his nightmares are a sore spot for him, especially telling you what happens in them. He'd rather forget they happened at all, but those images in his mind refuse to leave him. Why must he be reminded of how much he suffered now that he's living a better life? He's gotten close to wukong again, albeit the two still bicker, but he knows now that wukong trusts him. It's a work in progress, but their relationship was mending slowly, it all starts with a little bit of trust. And then there's you.

He'll admit that he wasn't planning on ever having a partner, with all his issues, he considered himself the least qualified in the romance department. And yet there he was, spending his days with you happily. You had even stayed with him while he was on flower fruit mountain, you would enjoy the cuddle sessions the little monkeys had with Macaque. Even if he wasn't all too thrilled with the arrangement but, he couldn't deny how adorable you looked with the little ones clinging to you.

It's been a little over a day or two since the pillar of heaven was restored, you and Macaque having been enjoying some down time from the world's end. It was such a shame that in these peaceful moments his mind would still be plagued with these horrible nightmares. Even before he met you they were quite common, it made his lifestyle change as he avoided sleep, staying up throughout the night until eventual exhaustion would overtake him. If he pushed his body to the limit the chances of having a nightmare would decrease. Not the healthiest choice on his part, but the one that has worked for him over time.

But that all changed with you. You have given him a safe space, a home he could call his own. He trusted you and he let himself relax around you, and this would cause him to fall asleep at a more reasonable hour. He was still a night owl but it was harder for him to stay awake when you were so close to him, so warm and peacefully asleep. He couldn't overcome the temptation of resting alongside you. Although that peace would be short-lived.

Every bad experience he's had gets relived and reimagined in each nightmare. The most common type is getting betrayed. It ranges from getting abandoned and feeling worthless to being used for someone else's benefit. If he's had a nightmare of you betraying him, he would be a bit distant. Luckily he was willing to talk with you about it, in which you reassured him that you just wanted to be with him because you loved him. You weren't going to leave him or cheat on him.

Another common nightmare he's had was recollecting the day Sun Wukong not only turned on him, but killed him. It was always a brutal but hopeless cause. His heart was heavy with how wukong so easily sidelined him, how everything they had been through meant nothing. That he no longer meant anything to his friend. This dream was too realistic, he could feel every strike and how tired he was becoming. Nothing he could do was enough. Not against a force like wukong. The most horrid part was when he finally looked up at wukong in defeat only to be met with an agonizing pain to his eye. This nightmare would cause him to wake up yelling and holding his eye, feeling the phantom pain the dream left behind.

The least common dreams he had that would leave him mortified were the ones of the Lady Bone Demon. Being forced to do her will or have his life taken away from him again. He thought he was clever losing the key, but somehow she always escaped. Having the slow threat of her crystals on his body being a horrifying experience, especially the days in which he would become paralyzed in fear, going stiff in his sleep. Sometimes she would make him kill Sun Wukong and MK and there wasn't any fire of Samadhi to save him from being entirely consumed by her will. The worst one of all was when she found out about you, sending macaque to kill you, her champion didn't need any distractions after all. No insignificant mortal will stand in the way of his destiny.

Macaque would jolt awake, taking in gasping breaths before looking around the room. Hed sigh in relief, he was home, he was safe, just another stupid dream. He'd stay awake in bed, looking up at the ceiling in hope's of falling asleep. He couldn't shake the vivid images from his mind and he felt agitated and restless, he couldn't sleep again. He then looked over at you and the sight warmed his heart a little. You were peacefully asleep, it was a miracle his sudden movement didn't wake you, but he was silently grateful. Hed hate to wake you up since you looked oh so blissfully asleep. He couldn't do that, not to you. So he decided to discreetly get out of bed before using a shadow portal to drop himself into the couch. It was a better option than having to maneuver himself quietly through the room with you soundly asleep. Waking you up was simply a chance he didn't want to take.

He would sit in silence on the couch simply trying not to think about whatever dream plagued his mind. At first the silence was normal but he quickly found out how not wanting to think of something made you think of it more. The silence would become unbearable so he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. He opted to mindlessly watch tv, turning the volume down to the lowest possible. It was the perks of having six ears.

You woke up, having stirred from your rest at the lack of his presence. You drowsily felt his side of the bed. It was empty, so you sluggishly got out of bed to look for him. He could hear you coming towards hims, yet his entire focus was on the nonsensical noises of the TV, he couldn't bother to pay attention to what was happening. You eventually made your way over to him and plopped yourself down on the couch next to him. You leaned against him, laying your head on his shoulder. He went tense at the sudden contact, not like he wasn't already stiff as a board as he tried to force his attention away from his own thoughts.

"Hey Honey, what's got you up so early?" He asked casually as if he also wasn't up at four in the morning.

"I didn't feel you in bed with me anymore... Are you okay Macaque?" You fought off the drowsiness in your eyes, but leaning against him and feeling his warmth was lulling you back to sleep. No, you had to make sure he was alright, sleep can wait. You slowly were able to get your hazy mind working before you felt how stiff he was against you. He usually eased up to your touch by now, even when he was caught by surprise.

He notices your discomfort before he wraps an arm around you, slowly relaxing against you. He gave you a soft smile as he took in your sleep ridden state. It was heartening to him that you missed his presence, even when you were asleep. But he wasn't exactly thrilled that he still somehow woke you up, but having you with him did relieve him of his worries.

"Sweetheart, listen... I'm sorry for leaving you alone but i just... Had a nightmare and i didn't want to wake you up about it. But i still did." His answer was honest but filled with disappointment in himself. He really wanted to handle it by himself, but a part of him knew he could never ease his mind the way you could. Having heard his explanation you leaned into him, giving him a tender hug. He's still for a moment before he finally wraps his arms around you tightly, allowing himself to be comforted by you. You gently ran your finger through his fur, it was like your every caress alleviated his aching heart and it wasn't long enough until he began to quietly cry against your chest.

"I-I didn't want any of this to happen... I didn't want to go through with it, I had to-" He murmured against you. You could tell it had been a horrible nightmare, especially if it broke him down like this

"I know baby, but you're not there anymore. You haven't done anything, you're at home... It was only a dream, you're safe... I'll keep you safe." You quietly reassured him, calming his anguish and placing kisses where his tears ran, gently wiping them away with your thumbs as you held his face. It was when you held him so close that you noticed it. His glamour was off. You could see his six ears, all the scars on his face and his eye, you wondered how you didn't notice it before. Then again being awake at four wasn't exactly peak conscious behavior and it was still dark, the only light being the dim glow of the TV.

Macaque felt safe in your embrace, enjoying the sound of your voice. He would normally be uneasy listening with all of his ears, but your voice was like a serene river to him, calming and comforting. He would gladly listen to you talk for hours about anything, but when you directed it at him and used it to ease his pains, it was simply heavenly.

After a while of hugging he thinks you might've dosed off then and there.

"Hey darling, are you still with me?" He asked quietly as he gave you a soft shake. The only response you gave him was a low, albeit late, hum of acknowledgment.

"Yeah, yeah, wide awake." Which ears a soft chuckle out of him before makes sure you're secure in his hold. Before you can ask if he wanted to head back to bed, you feel a swoosh before having landed on the soft and familiar mattress. You weren't even going to lie, his shadow portals were convenient. You probably wouldn't have made it back to the room with how tired you felt.

"A heads up would've been nice." You mumbled against him.

"Nah, I'm sure you could've handed it." You could practically hear his signature smirk in his tone.

"What if i couldn't and it scared me?" You joked as you pushed yourself away from him, earning you the sight of his handsome grin and un-glamored glory.

"Come on sugar, you're telling me you're scared of a little gravity. You'd think you'd be used to it by now." He chuckled as he patted your head before ruffling your hair.

"Hey! My hair, you're messing it up!"

"You have the wildest bed-head baby, you should be thanking me."

"Oh, I'll give you a thank you, alright. Keep this up and I'll smother you entirely." You challenged him with your own mischievous grin. He didn't believe your little threat for one second.

"Oh really? I'd like to see you try~" You then held the sides of his face before pulling him into a barrage of kisses. He's caught by surprise, unable to get away from your devoted kisses. He nuzzles against you trying to fight off his embarrassment, but you're so cute and oh lord, he feels like he's malfunctioning. Even after all this time he wasn't immune to being overwhelmed by your affections, having gone most of his life without them. Eventually you slow down your kisses, instead you poured out adoring words about every feature you love about him before giving it a kiss. You took your time, letting him know how much you loved him with each soft murmur and soft peck. That you loved him dearly and found him captivating, even with his glamor off.

"I think the scar makes you look hot" you ended off on, trying to brighten up how he might've felt about his appearance.

"Oh really? Is that so?" He smirked before finally wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against him to cuddle. You soon felt the familiar sensation of his tail curling around you protectively. You both held each other tenderly and you leaned closer to leading him into a slow kiss. Your lips molded into each other lovingly, parting to look into each other's eyes with nothing but adoration. You trailed your hands through his hair until you reached his ears, gently scratching the back of them and caressing them. He let out a content huff before resting his head against your chest, closing his eyes, allowing himself to be lulled back to sleep by your warmth and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. You place a final kiss against his forehead.

"I love you Macaque, I hope you only have sweet dreams tonight." He didn't need to when his time awake with you was his greatest dream come true.

"I'll always love you, thank you my love." That was all he said before pleasantly falling asleep, safe and loved in your embrace.

back

[vanfleeter]

Hello Darlin'

Characters: Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader Warnings: 18+ || Angst. Pain. Hurt. Heartbreak. Mentions of alcoholism. Sobriety. Fluff. Dancing. Smiling. Kissing. A/N: Hello Darlin' (originally by Conway Twitty) inspired this small follow up a year later to Let Her Go.

Seeing her again, it felt like the first time all over again.

Except now it’s tainted and everything is different than it was nearly a decade ago. Part of me felt a bit of happiness when I saw her smile, but the other part of me was hurting as I watched her smile. She was happy, and it wasn't because of me. It would never be because of me again.

It had been two years since we went our separate ways. I still remember the day she left like it was yesterday, and it was because of my own doing. I was selfish and all I thought about was me. I treated her like crap because I couldn't decide what I wanted. Of course I wanted her, but my heart just wasn't in it. That doesn't mean that I never loved her, but that she deserves someone who could have given her more than what I was offering, or what I wasn’t.

I broke her heart and in doing so, I broke mine too.

I still remember that last night that we had spent together, where I gave everything I had to her. I gave it all to try to prove to her that I was sorry. But in the end, she still left, leaving me behind and her sweater. I had that small feeling of knowing she would still leave but a big part of me was hoping that she would have stayed and worked through it all together but I guess I had hurt her too much for her to want to stay. I can’t blame her, I wouldn't want to have stayed if I were her.

In the two years we had spent apart felt like an eternity. I tried to drown myself in work, take every opportunity the band had to tour, keep my ass in the studio working on songs, anything really to keep my mind off of her. It never did work because I would find myself, like I have every night since she left, drunk off of tequila or whiskey. It numbed the pain I inflicted on myself for only a little while. A temporary fix to the wound I gave myself. It felt like there was a permanent hole in my heart where she belonged.

No one could ever replace her. I vowed that I’d be single from now on. Josh thought I was being dramatic but so far, two years and I haven't touched another woman.

I did sober up though. Quit drinking as a way to numb the pain. I was basically a functioning alcoholic and I knew that wasn’t good for me. I knew that if I ever had the chance to see her again, I wouldn’t be like that. I would be clean, I would sober up, and I would look like I’m not dying inside and constantly beating myself up.

Tonight was that night.. I hadn’t touched a single drop of alcohol and for once I wasn’t tempted to.

She was talking to Josh, he was making her smile over something he said. I couldn't hear her laugh over the multitude of people in this room, but she was happy. Or she looked like she was.

Sucking in a deep breath, I ran a hand through my hair and rubbed it over my facial hair. I could tell she had liked it the last time we saw each other so I kept it. I’d trim it and shape it but I never shaved it. As I approached the two of them, her eyes moved and landed on me and her smile only got bigger. That little flame inside of me grew a little bigger. I returned the smile and gave her a small nod of my head.

“Hello, darlin’!” She exclaims. “It’s so good to see you! Been some time, how are you?”

“I-I’m good,” I stammer. “How are you?”

“Oh well, you know.. Living..” She says with a wink. I chuckle slightly and she giggles.

“I heard you have a boyfriend,” I say. Heard through the grapevine of course. “I hope all is well.” I add, giving her a reassuring smile. I don’t want to be a dick, I truly mean it. I do hope she’s happy because that is all I ever want for her.

“I did have one..” She says. “But we broke up..” The flame seemed to grow just a little bit more when she uttered those words. ‘Broke up’, they broke up. She’s single now, right? Maybe I can try to get her back. Prove to her that I mean it this time, that I truly do want her. She’s the one, the love of my life.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, keeping the conversation cordial.

“Eh,” She shrugs her shoulders and takes a drink. “Do you have someone?” She asks. “You’re still the same old private man,” She smirks.

I shake my head and stuff my hands into my pockets. “Uh.. No.. Not since…you..”

Her eyes dim a little and she downcasts them to the floor. “Oh..”

I hear Josh suck in a breath and he smacks his teeth. “Well.. I’m going to go see what food they have here.. Anyone want something for me to bring back?” We both shake our heads and he nods his head. “Then I shall be back.” He says before taking a drink and walking away.

We stood there in silence for a little while, neither of us daring to speak as the music played in the background. I opened my mouth at one point to say something but I couldn't quite find the words to say. In truth I wanted to spill my guts and tell her how awful it’s been without her. How dark my life has been, all of the struggles. But I knew better than that. I didn't want to hurt her anymore than I already had two years ago. It wasn't her fault, none of it was. All of the pain and suffering I went through was by my own hand because of the regret that I had.

The music changes to something slower and I see her lower her drink as she twists her body to set it down. When she turns back to me, she holds out her hand. “Care to dance with me?” She asks.

Dance? Together?

I merely nod my head and she takes my hand in hers before pulling me out to the dance floor. Feeling her again felt like a weight was being lifted from me. Her skin was still as soft as she still held my hand.

“Do you remember this song?” She asks as she guides my hands to proper places on her body. My hands tingled as I felt her warmth beneath the fabric of her dress. “You were away on tour, the longest we had been apart because I couldn’t go with you, and when you came home, you started playing this as soon as you stepped through the door.” I smile as the memory crosses my brain.

(It's Been A Long, Long Time - Kitty Kallen, Harry James)

Winter had just hit Nashville when the four of us landed at the airport. The drive was a slow one due to the snow and I was itching to get back home. And as soon as the car pulled into the driveway, I said my goodbyes to the guys as I grabbed my backpack and my suitcase and closed the car door. Trudging through the snow, I made it up to the front door and unlocked it. Setting my things on the floor by the stairs, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and connected my phone to the stereo in the living room and started to play the song.

It took a few seconds but she was at the top of the staircase and looking down at me. I held my hand out in front of me and she smiled before rushing down the stairs and grabbing hold of my hand. I pulled her into me, reveling in both her warmth as the cold from outside disappeared and from holding her in my arms again. It was the longest four months being away from her–dramatic, I know–but it was awful not having her with me.

And together we danced to the music in the foyer, holding each other close and sweetly kissing each other.

Here we are now, holding each other but not kissing. I wanted to kiss her so badly, but I knew better. Soon the song came to end and switched to something more upbeat. She lifted up her hand, looking at her watch and sighing. “I know you just got here but I have to go,” She says. “I have an early flight in the morning..”

“Where are you going? If you don’t mind me asking..”

“Washington.” She says. “Business meeting in Portland.”

“Supposed to be dreary this time of year,” I say. “Make sure you stay bundled, and carry an umbrella. You never know when it might rain.”

“Considering we grew up in Michigan?” She smiles. “I’m always prepared for the unexpected.” I can’t help but to smile and chuckle.

She starts to leave, pulling her hand from mine but I hold on and she turns back. “Can I ask you something?” I say. She nods her head and steps back up to me. “Will you forgive me for how I’ve treated you?”

She smiles again and nods her head. Reaching up on her toes, she presses her lips against my cheeks. “I already have.” When she steps away, I still don’t let go. “Jake, I have to go.”

“Just one more thing..”

Just tell her.

“I-If you ever decide to, I’ll be at home..waiting for you..”

Her hand tightened around mine as she squeezed it and she gave me a small smile. “I’ll see you around, Jake.” That was that. She disappeared through the sea of people and I stood there unsure of when I’d ever see her next.

Months flew by and soon it was winter again. Snow was lightly falling as I watched it from the kitchen window. My hands were submerged in the warm, soapy water as I grabbed another plate to scrub clean.

I’ve been thinking about her since seeing her again. I hadn’t heard from her after she left for Portland. I wasn’t entirely expecting to but I meant what I said when I told her that I would be waiting. I want her back.

Seeing my wrinkled fingers when I pull my hands out of the water, I pull the drain blockage and let the water go down as I dry off my hands. Tossing the towel onto the kitchen counter, I retrieve a water bottle from the fridge and crack the cap.

As I go to shut off the lights in the kitchen, I see headlights shine through the living room window indicating the arrival of a car in the driveway. Suddenly the stereo starts playing that song again. The trumpet fills the quiet air.

I forgot I left that thing on.

I slowly walk through the entry hall towards the door when I hear the lock turn. I stop walking when I see the door open and she steps inside the house. She pauses when she sees me.

“Josh let me use his key,” She says as she moves again to set her bag on the floor and shuts the door.

“Y-You came..” I stammer.

She smiles and nods her head. “After seeing you again, all I could think about was you. I’m sorry it took me so long to finally show up here.. I was at war with myself over if this would be a smart idea but,” She shrugs her shoulders. “I still love you, Jake. I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.”

I didn’t even stop myself from rushing up to her and grabbing her face in my hands to kiss her. Pulling away for a breath, I let my hands drop to her hips and I draw her body close to mine.

“Jake?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you still have my sweater?”

A smile cracks across my face and I throw my head back in laughter. “Yes, I still have it.” I say as I rub my thumb over her cheek. “I never got rid of it.” She looks up at me with a smile and I return it. “I know that it will take time for me to pick up the pieces, but I swear that I will work everyday to put your heart all back together.”

“I already did that,” She says as places her hand over mine. “But I am trusting you to hold it again and not drop it this time.”

“Never..” I say before leaning down to kiss her again.

____________________________________________________________

like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed this! :)

@losfacedevil @writingcold @edgingthedarkness @ignite-my-fire @hollyco @piratejtk @earthgrlsreasy @dancingcarbon @josh-iamyour-mama @oliverfuckingreed @cheersdannyx2 @fasttrainblues

tag list is linked in my master list is you would like to add yourself!

[johnwickb1tsch]

andar conmigo ~ part 14

gif by omg-imagine

A Walk in the Clouds/Don John crossover outline/fic- Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John triangle ~ You grow up at Las Nubes vineyard, and have to go home to your dying father. You take your fake new husband, Sgt Paul Sutton, with you...Your old flame don John does not like this at all. Warnings: violence, fire! chapter map

After Juan’s goons drag you away, it is Anjélica who slips from the chaos and entreats every man she finds at the fiesta wearing a uniform to come to Paul’s aid. By the time she is done the Sheriff has a mob of angry vets outside his jail, demanding the soldier’s release. 

Don Juan’s money was good, but it didn’t seem worth getting lynched over. 

When Paul roars up to Las Nubes in a Willy’s Jeep filled to bursting with fellow veterans, night has fallen, and the flames have just begun to lick out of don Juan’s bedroom window. The few workers who remained home from the fiesta are frantically shouting and passing buckets of water, fighting like hell to keep the rest of the buildings and the fields from burning. 

The house is already a lost cause. 

There is a rumble of thunder in the distance, a late summer storm too far, too late. 

Paul leaps from the Jeep before it has even stopped, running for the house. He knows you are in there, and that you need him. 

Some of Juan’s toughs emerge to meet the Jeep filled with interlopers, and Paul’s brothers in arms surge to meet them head on.

Paul bursts into the house, rushing down the hall on long legs, towards the flames.

Don Juan’s bedroom door is locked. Paul throws himself at it. It takes one, two, three tries before the heavy old wood gives. The burst of heat from the room sends him back a step, before he charges inside. 

His heart falls as he sees you laying there on the floor, crumpled and bloody as a flower crushed under foot, and for a heartbreaking moment he is certain you are dead. 

“Y/n?” he pleads, diving to his knees beside you, gathering you in his arms. 

He’s never been so relieved in his life, as when you stir in his grasp, your question of “Paul?” barely audible over the roar of the flames. 

“I’m getting you out of here.” He adjusts his hold so he can carry you out–and you see the ominous shadow in the doorway. Juan has returned, and he is holding an ornate saber that has been hanging in the hallway for longer than the two of you have been alive combined.  

“Paul–look out!” You try to warn him, but your voice is so weak. Maybe he sees the fear in your eyes, for he ducks just in time for the blade to slice just over his head. 

“You’re just in time for the barbecue!” hisses Juan, slashing again. 

Paul tries to evade, but doesn’t quite. The blade clips his arm, blood spurting. Though enraged, Juan is no swordsman. Before he can swing the heavy sword around to strike again Paul tackles him to the floor, wrestling for the blade. 

An old, familiar fury fills Paul, that consuming savagery from his war days slipped from its cage, and he wants to tear this horrible man to pieces with his bare hands for what he’s done to you.

They fight viciously, rolling, cursing, hitting and biting.

“You dishonored my house!” snarls Juan. “I will kill you both!”

The heat from the fire is scalding. You feel as though your skin will melt right from your bones, and you try to roll away from the growing flames.    

In the end Paul is victorious, pounding Juan’s hand on the floor until he must let go. The soldier throws away the fancy sword into the flames on the far wall. The room is a furnace now, and the fire is spreading out the window, up the house. You all need to go now, but Juan still will not quit, rendered mad by the desire for vengeance.

Desperate to get to you, Paul punches Juan in the jaw, hard enough to knock him out cold. 

“Paul?” you cry out, coughing on smoke. 

The decision is easy for him, to leave Juan behind to the flames, when he scoops you up and barrels into the hallway to make your escape from the burning house. As he passes through the door part of the grand old hacienda collapses behind him.  

He carries you away from the blaze as far as he can before his legs give out beneath him. “Y/n?” He cradles your head in his hands,desperate for you to answer him. Tears make sooty tracks down his cheeks. You both look like you rolled in a coal bin. 

“Paul?” Your eyes open to slits, and you cough violently. 

Are you alive?

For a moment you’re certain that if Paul is here before you–you’ve died, and this is your version of heaven. 

“Thank God,” he sobs, clutching you to him. 

Maybe you’re not dead. 

How marvelous it is, to breathe fresh air, and be cradled in this man’s strong arms again. 

Maybe you should start going to church again, because when the heavens open up and the rain falls down, it feels like a special blessing from above. You sit like that in Paul’s arms for you don’t know how long, soaking wet but warmed by his body sheltering yours. 

“I thought I lost you. Jesus Christ, I thought he’d killed you.” Paul’s words are a low litany in your hair. 

“I’m fine now,” you assure him, your voice rough from smoke inhalation.  

You absolutely are not fine, but you’re alive, and right now, that’s something. 

Even better, in your eyes, Paul is alive, and that’s the greatest miracle of all. 

You tilt your head in question, and without a word Paul answers with his lips on yours, a life-giving kiss that soothes the inferno in your soul as surely as the rain outside.

You sit together in a sodden pile, watching the house burn, before the rain starts to damper the flames. Too late for don Juan, you both are certain. On whose head lays the blame? Yours, for starting the fire? Paul’s, for leaving him? Or Juan’s himself, for being the man he was? 

You are too numb to suss it out, and Paul gingerly loads you into the Jeep to take you to the doctor in town, certain you both have worn out your welcome at Las Nubes.

*divider by animatedglittergraphics

[vinnyhongnsfwgurl]

1st Vinny Hong FanFic? I literally have no idea what this should be LOL

Hello all Windbreaker fans and Vinny Hong lovers. This is my first Vinny Hong x female reader fanfic. I hope you enjoy and comments/feedback is always welcome! Thanks :3

So, I didn't realize what kind of fanfic this would be after I finished writing it LMAO. Complete despair and heartbreak hahaha. I just chose to write and not think to hard. tbh I'm pretty happy with it. Let me know what you think :) .... also I did not proof read haha I am lazy.

I think I'll do a part 2 to this one!

"y/n? ...... y/n?"

"Y/N?!"

You're head snaps up to look at your mother sitting in the hospital bed next to you. She looked at you slightly worried.

She tilted her head as she asked "Are you okay? I called your name multiple times."

You sat up straighter in your chair and nodded. "Yes. Sorry. I, uh, just got lost in my thoughts for a moment." A lot had happened in the past couple of weeks. My mother got very sick and ended up in the hospital for a second time, nearly dying due to a brain aneurysm. It had put a lot of stress on every part of our lives, mostly financially. We weren't poor, but we certainly did not have the luxury to not work and stay in the hospital for extended periods.

I had thought about picking up extra hours at my part-time job, but I knew it wouldn't help much and I knew my studies would suffer. I was already struggling to keep my grades up. Besides my part-time job, I had to train for the upcoming final race of League of Streets. I was a part of Hummingbird and it was amazing but like my personal life, it was a mess. So much had happened with our team.

The most recent event was Vinny leaving our team deciding to ride with the Ghost crew. He started doing small races for money, which were broadcasted online. I had seen a few. Everyone was confused and upset including me. The whole reason we created Hummingbird was to compete in LOS and win the price money for Vinny's mother but I guess he had different plans in mind.

"It'll be okay honey" my mom said as she reached for my hand. I let let her hold my hand. It was warm and reassuring.

I smiled. "I know mom. I'm glad you're alright .... I was really scared actually." I could feel the pressure behind my eyes build up.

My mom started tearing up. "I know. I know y/n. but it's okay, I'm okay." She squeezed my hand.

I just nodded. "yeah."

After a few minutes and making sure my mother didn't need anything, I hugged her goodbye and started making my way out of the hospital. I took a seat on a bench that was stationed right next to the entrance of hospital. I had taken a bus here and planned on taking it to get back home. It only took me ten minutes to get to the bus stop, so I had a bit of time before I had to leave. I was really tired and too stressed. I found myself looking for more quiet moments out of my day.

I looked out toward the street across from the hospital. It was already dark out, but there was quite a bit of traffic. Honking interrupted the empty, docile night every now and than.

I heard footsteps come around the corner that ended abruptly once they caught up to the bench I was sitting at. As I turned my head to see what or who it was, I hear a familiar voice.

"What are you doing here?"

Vinny. It was all I thought as my eyes met his. His red eye seemed strikingly brighter than it usually was. Maybe it's just because I hadn't seen him in awhile.

"Oh. I was visiting my mom. She recently had surgery." I explained. ".... Are you hear to see your mom?" I asked.

He was quiet for a second before answering my question. "Yeah, she's staying here."

"MMm that's good. Glad to hear she is getting treatment" I said.

"What about your mom? Is she okay?"

"oh yeah! The surgery went well, so everything is good." I gave a sheepish thumbs up. I always became painfully aware of how awkward I felt when interacting with Vinny. I was a fairly shy person and it didn't help how handsome I thought he was. It took time in the beginning for us to get along and establish a relationship. It wasn't hard for me to figure out soon after that I was falling in love with him.

There was a lot I learned about him after Hummingbird was formed and the more I learned the more I desired to be near him. He was hot headed and pretty reserved, but it never really bothered me. I always went out of my way to greet him at practice and I chat with him when I could. I never cared if it was just small talk.

He just stared at me for a moment before saying "Good to hear that."

I knew what what was coming next, or what wasn't. This would be the end of our conversation. I didn't want it to be.

"How have you been?" I asked.

"I'm fine." He said plainly.

"And Jack?" following it up with a smile.

"He's fine too."

Man of few words I thought. I was used to it but I always wondered what actually behind those words: I'm fine.

"Are you really doing fine? I know I'm probably not the first person you think of when you want to talk to someone, but you're my friend. I'm here for you." I blurted out without much thinking.

When I had mentioned how confusing and upset I was when he left our crew, it was an understatement. I was sad and hurt. I also felt so helpless. He left us all behind and had no desire to return.

I looked down at the backpack I held in my arms. There was so much I wanted to say, but none of it seemed enough.

"I'm sorry for everything that's happened. I know you're having a hard time. I wish you hadn't had to leave the team."

"I don't know why you're apologizing, y/n. You don't need to." He replied.

Vinny walked up closer to me until he stood just a few inches from my feet. I looked up and he gaze had softened just a bit.

"You don't need to worry about me. Just focus on yourself. You have a lot going on."

"Yeah."

There was a moment of silence as Vinny and I held each other's gaze.

Then Vinny turned to leave. "I'll see you later y/n."

Before he took another step, I reached for his hand. It was a light grasp, just enough to stop him.

"Come back to Hummingbird ..... at least, at some point. We'll wait for you. It's nothing without you"

Vinny just stared at me before pulling his hand away from my mine.

"Y/n."

"It doesn't matter if it's not tomorrow, or the next day, or weeks from now! J-just come back. Please." I could feel a increase in my heart rate and the pressure behind my eyes building up again.

Vinny sighed and turned away from me.

"There's no reason for me to come back." He said sternly. "There's nothing you or the others can offer me." He continued has he started walking away.

Something warm slid down the right side of me cheek. I blinked and more came out. I was crying.

I just stood there as I continued to watch him walk away. My crying only worsened and I could feel a lump form in my throat.

I can't give up on you Vinny I thought as I recollected the memories of us together and how much our relationship progressed.

I just can't Vinny. I won't. I love you.

After he was well out of my sight, I finally left for the bus station. I cried the entire way.

For once, I wished it wasn't so quiet out.

[not-5-rats]

This is gonna sound awful but I kinda hope somebody dies in Episode 9 (Gator Boys), ((this is focused more on Bodie, Timmy, Marco and Bug dying though))

IK IK, 'how could you say that!?!?' 'that would be heartbreaking :((((' THATS THE POINT!!!! THINK ABT IT! Think about how sad it would be, each of them for their own reasons

☆---------------☆

Bodie, Timmy, Lora and Rolden have a reason in common, they've all recently been reunited with their family in some way (even if Lora wasn't super pleased to see Timmy-). Sure Timmy and Bodie had found family, they had each other, but something about knowing some of their family was alive must have been such a sweet feelings (despite the circumstances). Now imagine if as soon as they got that family back it was taken away again. You finally found your family, some of which you thought were dead, you were getting to reknow those you lost, finally feeling like you have people you belong with..then you die. You loose it all.

☆---------------☆

Now let's focus on Bodie for a minute. Bodie, the first character we met in this series, the one that knew we were a Hunter yet risked his life to aid us, allowed us into his home, took care of us...oh where would we be without Bodie? If he died, the despair that would cause. He's a carer, the only thing he wants to do is help. Even when it would be beneficial to leave someone behind, he reufses. Such a kind soul, killed because he wanted to help those that mattered to him. It would be devastating, and the guilt that followed oh my.

Timmy spent so much of his time with Bodie, the two saw each other most days! Now they wouldn't spend another minute together. No more fishing, no more hanging out in the tree house, no more talking whilst Bodie made gumbo. They would never spend time together ever again. He would feel guilty because he was the one that got captured, he was the reason Bodie was there to begin with! If he had been more careful none of this would have happened...Bodie would still be here.

Obviously Rolden would also have some guilt, he'd feel bad for adding to the workload. Since they found him and felt they had to free him too, that would have made it harder for them to get out which could have caused Bodies death. Add that to the fact he just lost his brother for a second time and we can see Rolden would be having a pretty shit time.

☆---------------☆

We'll get back to Marco/Bug and their guilt later :3 for now let's discuss Timmy. Such a bright, adventurous youth, his whole life ahead of him. So much for him to do, he has so much potential, so much he could achieve...he could have done so much. Now he's gone. He won't achieve anything now. He had finally found out the truth, found out what he was, why he was different...but turns out it didn't matter. He didn't live long enough to fully appreciate this information.

Lore and Roldan would be crushed, they had worked so hard to get him out of here the first time then he was dragged back and killed. Tbh they would probably partially blame Bug for what happened, for their sons death, they were part of the reason he was brought back here, they undid all their hard work, all that work to keep their son safe undone by some Hunter...but as I said we'll talk about Bugs guilt later

The guilt wouldn't only affect Bug though think how Bodie would feel. He and Timmy had known each other for so long, they had such a brotherly bond (even if it turns out they were uncle & nephew), they were family...and family is meant to protect one another, yet Bodie failed to do that. He had tried to, but he failed nonetheless. He had lost his family...sure he had Rolden and Marco, but given the fact he was just reunited with Rolden and that Marco was away so much, Timmy was the closest family member he had. Now he was gone, forever.

☆---------------☆

(If someone else died/ his guilt)

Marco, a traveller, an explorer, a venturer. He already felt guilt, before all this mess, he already felt guilty for being away so much. He was never there, Bodie and Timmy barely ever saw him. He tried to visit them whenever he could, but there was so much he had to do, so many places he had to be. Yet even though be was barely around they still cared about him, they still saw him as family, just family they never really saw...and now they will never see him again.

He would feel awful, knowing that he should have spent more time with them when he could, he shoulde have done more then and he should have done more now. More to get them out of here, more to stop them from ending up here in the first place, more to stop them from dying. He could have done more, he should have done more. Now they were dead and be couldn't do anything to save them

(Now if he was dead)

He never stayed still, Marco was always going somewhere. Where he went? Half of the time nobody but Marco knew. He simply wasn't at the swamps. Now he would never visit the swamps again, he wouldn't go anywhere anymore. He was finally going to stay in one place...that place just happened to be 6ft underground.

Timmy couldn't believe what had happened, he couldn't believe that his carelessness had ended up causing his friends death. Sure they didnt see each other much, but he still meant alot to him, they were family! And now Marco was dead because Timmy was captured, he was captured and Marco felt a need to help get him (& everyone else) out. If he had just been more careful! If he had seen the trap, Marco would still be alive.

Timmy wasn't the only one that blamed himself, Bodie shared his grief. He worried about Marco when he was away, he never knew where he went to or when he would be back, he never knew if he was safe. He worried because he cared, he may not be around much but he still mattered, he was still family. Now he's dead. Bodie would feel guilty, mostly for the same reasons listed for if Timmy died. He was meant to protect people, to help those who needed it. But he hadn't helped, he failed to help his friend when he really needed him. Now he had to face the consequences of his 'negligence'.

☆---------------☆

(if someone else died/ their guilt)

No matter who dies, it's Bugs fault. The boys wouldn't have been there if Bug had stayed away to begin with and Rolden/ Lora are only involved in this because Bug had failed to stop the Hunters from taking Timmy. Even if they died it was their own fault, they had made a plan and that plan failed. They messed up. So no matter what happened, it was Bugs fault.

I don't think they could live with themself if they were the reason for any of the boys dying, especially Bodie. He had taken care of them, they were planning on hunting him down and he still helped them. Bodie originally planned om going to save Timmy on his own, but Bug insisted on tagging along...now he was dead, why couldn't they just back off, they had caused enough damage then, they've caused so much more damage now. Timmy and Marco, even if they didn't know of their past, welcomed a human into their lives. They didn't try to hurt then or shove them away even though it would have been fair to do so. They accepted Bug and now they were dead...how could Bug let this happen

To put it simply...if one of the boys didn't make it out of the arena, Bug would probably choose not to make it out alive either.

[queerfandomtrifecta]

How Izzy’s Death Could’ve Made Basic Storytelling Sense

Just to be clear, Izzy is my favorite and I wanted him to live more than anything. This isn’t about that, and that is NOT why I hated his death. Had it served the narrative in a way that made even the most basic storytelling sense, while I’d admittedly have been devastated in a different way (i.e. the character whose queerness was relegated to the subtext in s1 and as soon as it’s textual and his whole arc is that he’s killed, but that’s a whole separate post…), but at least there would’ve been a correctly crafted arc from a surface level narrative standpoint that ended in the death of my favorite character. But that’s not what this is about. It’s is about how the show could’ve actually made the death actually make sense and work effectively. (Also, if you want my unasked for thoughts on how most of the existing plot of s2 (minus 7-8) could’ve easily been adjusted to fix the narrative as a whole and keep Izzy alive, I wrote this)

But. For those in the fandom insisting that Izzy HAD to die, including DJenks who has said as such in interviews (for reasons I do not understand), from an objective developmental editor standpoint, this is what I think needed to change to make Izzy’s death serve the narrative, character arcs and dynamics, pacing, structure, and thematic elements correctly.

It’s about 2K words just so you know what you’re gonna get into. Spoilers under the cut.

Issue 1. Izzy’s relationship with the crew and how they truly became his family this season totally vanished during his death scene. The same crew who he protected from Ed during the later, worse parts of the Kraken phase. The crew who banded together to save his life by hiding him from/lying to Ed about it, and amputating his leg to save him. The crew he saved by crawling up those stairs during the storm, hobbling out into the rain with one leg and shooting Ed before he could shoot a cannon ball through the mast and kill them all. The crew who called him “our dick”. The crew that then banded together with Stede’s half of the crew to him the leg and the new unicorn (aka the figurehead of the ship). That crew didn’t cry a SINGLE tear when he died. What?? Fang sobbed most of episode one and really lost it when Izzy got shot. Where was that when he died?? Izzy’s last speech to Ricky had something along the lines of: piracy is about belonging/family. We are Good. (Forgive me, I’m paraphrasing, but that’s the gist). Izzy truly did find his family in the crew outside of Ed. That was absolutely fantastic, especially in the first four episodes and episode six. It VANISHED when he was dying and dead.

The fix: To make the death impactful, effective, or even to make it make sense on a very basic acting and writing level, the crew should’ve been utterly DEVASTATED. At least heartbreaking music and like 30 seconds of everyone breaking down and holding each other. At least some of them crying and holding each other in the background when he was dying. Come on.

Issue 2. Thematically speaking, is piracy Good or Bad? Again, Izzy tells Ricky that they (the pirates/his crew) are capital G Good. Yet Ed has spent a lot of time maintaining piracy is capital B Bad. He tells the urchins as such. Here’s some money that I never had, now you don’t have to be pirates. Don’t be pirates. He doesn’t want Stede to kill Ned Low in cold blood. Ed just doesn’t want to be a pirate. Even at the end AFTER Izzy dies telling Ed he’s with his family (implied that this is the crew) and they love Ed, Ed LEAVES THAT FAMILY AND LEAVES PIRACY IMMEDIATELY. We’re left with him and Stede watching the family Izzy swore was Good and loved Ed sail away because Ed thinks piracy is Bad. Which is it?? The death served nothing in convincing Ed he could be happy with his found family on the sea as Ed, not Blackbeard, so the dying words were pointless. The thematic elements are all over the place (for the whole season but that’s another post) and that needs changing to make the death scene make sense.

The fix: Izzy should’ve told him he sees he doesn’t want to pirate anymore, he’s glad he’s found love with Stede because Izzy isn’t going to make it, go run your fokkin’ inn, you twat (affectionate).

Issue 3. Izzy died of bad planning and bad luck. Why didn’t they take the gun from Ricky? Between Spanish Jackie, Izzy, and Jim, SOMEONE would’ve thought about it. If not those three, someone else would’ve, but come one. One if not all of those three would’ve known better. Yeah, Izzy happened to be standing in front of Ed and he got shot instead of him, but you’ve gotta be REALLY looking for that to even be aware it’s what happened. It wasn���t even on purpose unless Ed strategically placed himself behind Izzy (which I doubt was the intent). Izzy didn’t position himself protectively/take the bullet for anyone on purpose. It was just happenstance and you only notice it if you’re rewatching and hyper-analyzing everything (which a lot of us, me included, in the fandom do, but casual watchers don’t. It’s totally unclear as far as the surface level narrative goes) Any sort of “heroism” is not acknowledged, it’s barely even noticeable in the shot. If that was the intent, it HAD to be clearer and acknowledged by the characters so the audience would realize the stakes and repercussions of clear choices. As it is, I don’t think it was intentional. If Izzy HAS to die, it should truly have rounded out his arc in a way that CLEARLY changed the course of the scene, leaving him to protect people he’d put in danger at the end of s1. It didn’t. It just read as terrible planning to the point of it being out of character for more than one character, and bad luck.

The fix: Izzy should’ve saved someone. I personally don’t like the idea of it being Ed. I’s have rather he save Stede (Not really, but it’s better than Ed I guess) But really Izzy should’ve died saving the crew. The crew makes the most sense to me, narratively speaking. He’s their figurehead, he’s protected the Kraken Crew for months and they should’ve been fiercely loyal to him, he blames himself for what Ed did to them (more on this later) so it makes sense for him to fiercely protect his crew. His family. Who should’ve been devastated that it happened because Izzy is the one character of the main three who’s managed to earn that status this season.

Issue 4. The death did not serve to move the plot along. There are literally zero things that would’ve been different for the end of the episode, save Izzy being alive and on the Revenge in his rightful role he earned with his crew as the captain, if he’d have lived. Ed and Stede aren’t partnering with Zheng to go after the guy who killed him in the next season. Nope. They got the offer but nah. They’re running an Inn. Which Izzy would’ve supported based on literally everything we’ve seen from him in episodes 5-8. The crew who Izzy protected fiercely and who viewed him as their leader? Not one tear during his death or the the funeral. Happily sailing away to do presumably more Muppet Treasure Island hijinks. No character development happened. No plot development happened. The season could’ve ended literally the EXACT SAME WAY with Izzy alive aboard the Revenge!!! No stakes were changed at all. No one was impacted enough for it to seem like it was even going to be a plot obstacle next season. It just happened, Izzy’s toxic situationship who maimed him multiple times over the course of months to the point of his leg needing to be amputated was sad for one (1) scene, then we moved on and did not seem sad at all at the funeral. What.

The fix: The plot should’ve been driven by the death. Ed and Stede (but especially Ed), and DEFINITELY the crew should’ve been sailing off plotting to avenge the death and defend piracy against Ricky and the British, especially with Zheng who lost her whole fleet. Ricky and the British are clearly (or so I hope, nothing’s clear here anymore tbh) the primary antagonist for the theoretical third season. No one should be running an whim-based inn for fun or sailing off happily into the sunset after the death of the most major character aside from Ed and Stede, who beyond proved himself a major part of something every character (his family) should’ve cared about this season. If he HAD to die, that death should have furthered the plot. But instead, it seems everyone shrugged it off with tears exclusively from Ed.

Issue 5. Izzy got shot in the left side. The side in which canonically NO ONE DOES FROM BEING INJURED ON IN THE OFMD UNIVERSE.

The fix: Yeah I know this is just too nit-picky but it was also just SO sloppy. Like just shoot him on the other side if he has to die, because this was a very memorable plot point more than once in s1. Like, come on y’all.

Disclaimer: Issues/fixes 1-5 would all need to happen together to truly fix it and make the death serve the narrative correctly. Issue/fix 6 is a totally separate route, which I personally hate, but at least the narrative would’ve made sense this way.

Issue 6. The idea that Izzy had to die so that Ed could be free of Blackbeard makes no sense at this point in the story. Ed already threw away his leathers and gave away his treasure to symbolically get rid of Blackbeard, and Izzy very sweetly encouraged him to follow the feeling that throwing out the leathers gave him. Izzy told Stede that he and Ed were good for each other. They balance each other out. Izzy is on good terms with both of them and their relationship, so Izzy “having to die” so Ed could flourish as Ed genuinely makes no sense and came totally out of left field.

The fix for 6: This one stands alone and is my absolute least favorite option, but if it HAD to happen without the 1-5 fixes, here’s how it could’ve made sense. If THIS is truly the way it was going to end, Izzy needed to be continuously antagonistic or avoidant to at least Ed and actually be shown holding Ed back from happiness until that last second. He wasn’t. He was so much better. Izzy clearly does blame himself (that’s for a separate post because I have lots of thoughts there) but to be fair they were both abusive in that relationship, for years it seems. Although I think by the beginning of s2, the power dynamic has clearly flipped and it was Ed who was doing most of it and Izzy was exhausted and knowingly “reaping what he’d sewed” (I don’t Blame Izzy for his abuse but I think this was his mindset) so the crew wouldn’t get the brunt of it.

If he seriously HAD to die because the writers just had to have it that way, those are the changes I think would’ve made the narrative work/make sense, served all the character arcs and dynamics correctly, and actually driven the plot as fictional deaths are supposed to, compelling things into a third season. Seriously, this season finale was a mess of baffling choices the most series finale season finale I’ve ever seen.

Anyway. There’s my unsolicited two-cents. Now back to hoping Izzy’s in the gravy basket waiting to be sea witch necromancied back by seagull Buttons in season 3. I love this show and I hate hating what I hate hating about it because it’s my absolute favorite and I can’t stand it because it’s fantastic and the worst thing I’ve ever seen. (Also, Izzy should’ve lived).

[benslefteyebrow]

OMG OMG OK SO i just finished s1 last night and i can confirm that i have been fully consumed by the world of sbg no doubt 😭😭😭

can i get a benlor fic with a lot of some angst and comfort please 🙏 any angst would do lol THANKSS

Yess ofc.

This took so long to write but it was SO fun

Shine on Silver Moon

Hurt comfort, non-canon complacent wc: 1671

No matter what dimension they were in, the moon always seemed to shine silver when it was shining over Taylor.

It was a relatively peaceful night, so when Taylor and Ben went out looking for the shoe Aiden lost the day before, he didn’t think about bringing more than a flashlight.

No, Ben was only thinking about Taylor. 

Beautiful, perfect Taylor.

He followed her silently as he always did.

He listened to her ramble— the accent on her “s”s, the way she would stumble on words that seemed too big for her mouth— but there was still a grace to everything she said, and Ben ate up every word greedily, like a dog drinking water for the first time in days.

Yes, Ben was looking at Taylor and not the treelines.

“Shoot, am I rambling?” She asked.

She paused. She looked up at him with her big brown eyes. 

Every time he got lost in her eyes, he thought they were the colour of dirt, the origin of life. And she was, wasn’t she?

He had little to wake up for after losing his voice and moving away from home. Even though Aiden tried, things weren’t quite the same. A small, shameful part of him thought about not living at all, but then there was Taylor.

Taylor and her big brown eyes.

Ben shook his head. “Keep going,” he signed assuringly.

Taylor smiled, and then she did.

He kept a loose hold on the flashlight as they walked. He wasn’t sure where it was pointing or where they were going, but did it matter?

Her long ponytail bounced behind her, stray hairs all over the place.

One in particular bothered him. 

It blocked the view of her face.

Unconsciously, Ben decided to move it out of the way. His body moved on autopilot around her. All his senses knew she must’ve felt like heaven to touch.

He reached out for her.

He reached out for with the hand holding the flashlight. 

Ben dropped the flashlight. He didn’t realize it until he heard it clatter. It snapped him back to attention.

“Hm?” Taylor turned to him.

Ben’s face heated up. He left his hand stuck between them like an idiot.

“I—“ he waved his hands in the air though they weren’t forming any words.

He took a step back. ”I was—“ his foot slipped and he fell flat on his butt, as if it couldn’t get any more embarrassing.

Taylor threw her head back in a laugh, and by God, it was like a psalm personified. Her lips stretched back to reveal a set of imperfect teeth that reflected the glow of the moon. The moon highlighted her every feature, the graceful arc of her jaw, and the curve of her nose, and Ben knew he’d seen an angel.

Did angels die?

In the next instant, with the flashlight still on the floor somewhere, he saw the phantom prowling behind her.

Ben saw the phantom.

Ben saw the phantom.

Ben saw the phantom kill Taylor.

Ben killed Taylor.

Its claw sliced through Taylor’s throat, lifting her clean off her feet. Its fingertips already dripping with her blood. An awful scream that was more like a dying gasp escaped her. Her expression froze on her face, a mixture of laughter and morbid fear.

Ben felt around for the flashlight, his eyes not leaving the phantom. He screamed at it with his gaze because he could not with his mouth. The phantom inspected her, raising her higher and away from Ben.

He wished he brought his gun. He wished he brought his gun.

His fingers curled around the handle. He shone it at the phantom.

The phantom screeched loudly. It shook his hand, trying to throw Taylor off.

Taylor hit the ground with a heartbreaking thump. The phantom stumbled away with a frustrated shriek. And Ben was at Taylor’s side in an instant.

He cradled her head as he carefully pulled her into his lap. She made a sickening gasping sound in her throat. Her wound puckered and smacked as she fought for air but nothing came through. 

He supported her body with one arm and the other hand went to her face. It traced her lips, nose— he dragged his finger over the wound hoping that he could somehow close it. 

She was dead. She was dead but she could not die. Her body would not die. 

Wake up, wake up, he urged. Logan had the time. Logan knew when her suffering would end.

“Tay? Tay, answer me!” Tyler’s panicked voice broke through the trees. They must’ve felt her pain.

“Beeen! Tayyy?” Aiden called next.

Help. They could help him. 

Ben opened his mouth to speak— he would for Taylor— but he shook his head. Instead, he forced himself to set her down, to untangle his fingers from her thick hair.

Ben didn’t yell for them, instead he ran. 

He followed the sound of their panicked calls, though he could barely hear them over his own heart.

They found him in the clearing.

“Ben!” Ashlyn said first.

Ashlyn, Aiden, Tyler, Logan.

Only one of them was missing.

Only Taylor was dead.

“Tay. Where’s my sister?” Tyler lunged forward, taking Ben by the collar of his shirt.

Ben raised his hands to speak. Normally, he would’ve punched Tyler, but Taylor. 

Taylor, Taylor, Taylor.

“No, use your words you freak!” Tyler said.

Aiden grabbed his arm. “Don’t talk to him like that,” he smiled sinisterly.

“Ben,” Ashlyn called their attention. “Take us to her.”

He nodded, immediately bolting off in his direction. He knew instinctively as if an invisible rope was pulling him to her.

She had begun to convulse when they got back to her. 

No one had been dead without waking up as long as she did.

“Tay!” 

Ben jumped around to face Tyler.

“You were supposed to protect her!” Tyler’s fist collided with Ben’s jaw. He stumbled back in disbelief.

Aiden punched Tyler next, focusing the brawl on himself.

Ben could vaguely process Logan holding him back.

He could somewhat grasp his cousin and Tyler fighting in a heap of limbs on the ground.

His every sense was taken by Taylor, the awful gasping sound that wouldn’t stop. The sound of her body shaking violently against the ground despite Ashlyn holding her down. 

Ben approached her slowly, almost afraid to wake her.

She looked like a princess with the moon shining down on her. Instead of the red film that covered everyone else, the film was only silver over her.

He kneeled over her. 

If she was a princess, he could save her with a kiss.

His lips hovered over the wound in her neck.

Ben woke up with a jolt.

He didn’t even think about it before jumping out of bed.

“Ben, Ben wait!” Aiden yelled after him as he bound down the stairs faster than safe.

He couldn’t remember if he put on shoes.

Taylor.

He ran to her house in the pitch black of night.

Taylor.

His feet slipped over the slick of rain.

Taylor.

He didn’t bother knocking, he knew where her window was.

He let himself in.

Taylor was alive, though the gasping sound didn’t stop.

“I know, Tay, I know,” Tyler murmured to her. They sat at the edge of the bed. He had one hand around her. He rubbed her back comfortingly.

Taylor heaved loudly, doubled over in pain.

"Ben," Tyler said grimly as he glanced up to him.

Taylor noticed him. She stared up at him with horrified eyes full of tears. A combination of drool and sweat dribbled down her chin.

"H..elp..." Taylor pleaded. She erupted into a violent coughing fit.

She sounded so broken.

She sounded like him.

Ben made her sound like him.

His body reacted on instinct as it always did around Taylor.

He glanced at Tyler nervously as he stood between Taylor's knees, yet he ignored him as he cupped Taylor's face in his hands.

She stared up at him with a mixture of relief and pain.

And Ben breathed all his air into her.

He breathed the life into her that she breathed into him.

The air, the hope, the reason for living.

Her fingers curled around his bicep as her mouth opened further.

Her mouth was soft and fit against his like a missing piece.

Taylor's chest began to slow. Her harsh gasps turned into deep, ragged, breaths.

Tyler cleared his throat. "Tay?"

Ben backed away. His lips tingled.

She hunched her shoulders, finally breathing somewhat normally.

"Water, please?" she said, her voice still rough.

Tyler eyed Ben but he said nothing as he left the room.

Taylor smiled at him weakly. "Thank you," she signed.

Ben's throat closed up. He shook his head. "No."

She cocked her head at him, concern etched on her features. How could she be worried about him when she just died? When he was the one who killed her.

"I'm so sorry," he signed. He hung his head in shame. "I couldn't save you."

His eyes began to water. "I saw it, but I couldn't warn you."

"I'm sorry," Taylor croaked. "That you had to see that."

Ben signed quickly. "It's all my fault. I watched it pick you up, I watched you die--"

Taylor grabbed his hands. "It wasn't your fault," she swallowed hard. Her fingers weaved into his.

"I forgive you, Ben."

Ben nodded.

She let him go, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"It..hurts," she rasped. "Stay with me."

Ben hugged her back.

He didn't know what horrors awaited her tomorrow night, but in that moment, she was safe in his arms.

As long as they were together, they would be okay.

He basked in her warmth.

Taylor was his song in the midst of a silent world, the notes on his empty page.

He took her voice and her life force, she still had it in her heart to forgive him.

Her heart, within and without, was beautiful.

Her soul was perfect.

Beautiful, perfect Taylor.

[vintagehellfire]

Life Eternal | E.M

summary: You'd promised each other your souls forever, that you'd be with each other forever...

warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, grief, major character death, graves, death, no seriously there is no comfort... okay maybe mayyyyyybe if you squint, but tbh just pure hurt, based on Life Eternal by Ghost

18+ MDNI

There was no denying the pain that came with having someone ripped from you far too soon, but what was worse was being unable even to have one last goodbye, being unable to see their face one last time before their soul departed from their body and before the rot settled in. There was something akin to a knife being driven through one's chest repeatedly when the devastating news of a loved one taking their last breath was delivered, and it was made much worse when the two parties touched each other’s souls in a way that no other had been able to. 

Tears fell onto the dampened earth, the lot still fresh, disturbed. The cold granite of the headstone felt glacial and yet unreal. It was a physical manifestation of devastation and yet its existence felt completely ersatz. Not only because the stone was clean for the most part - barring the red spray paint that refused to be removed, another permanent mark on the memories of that which is lost - but also because stuck out like a sore thumb in the old and run-down cemetery, a symbol of the young loss. 

Sobs wracked your body and your breathing uneven, but how could it ever be even again? It wouldn’t be, not as you sat at your kitchen table to receive the news, not as you received the devastating emotional blow of finding out that there wasn’t a body to be recovered, and not when you were in front of his grave, knowing that he wasn’t even beneath the earth below your feet. How nobody was able to find him left your mouth drier than the Sahara - you weren’t able to hold his hand one last time, no matter how cold they would be, unable to see his button nose or hug his dying body to you as you lost him for what felt like the second time in the span of a week. You choked on your breath for what was probably the hundredth time, the hundredth time you breathed your soul out through earth-shattering devastation. 

With nobody but the sodden cemetery ground to turn to, you fisted the earth and let out a heart-shattering sob into the open air, nobody to hear you or to console you through the pain. The one person you wanted most was the one person you would never see again. The lump in your throat silenced your voice, vocal cords worn thin from the sleepless nights that you sobbed into the infamous Hellfire shirt he wore. His scent was quickly fading from it and once you had realised that you were left an even bigger wreck than you could have imagined - the last tether to him slowly fraying, the last little fibres unravelling themselves in tune to your own emotional demise. 

Your whole body shook with anger and heartbreak - you wanted to get out of this god-forsaken town, but he haunted you and this cursed place was the only thing keeping him alive. You could swear that you’d feel his hands on your shoulders while you tried to cook - the first time it happened, you called his name before the sensation disappeared into thin air, leaving you heaving for oxygen. Your food was forgotten and left to burn while your wails carried through your apartment and your eyes stung from the tears. That night you sobbed until there was no longer any breath left in your lungs, until the walls of your home felt cold and unwelcoming. 

The second time it happened, you were walking past the arcade and you could have sworn you felt his hands on your hips and a laughter-filled call of your name. That time you spun around so quickly you nearly lost your balance, head whipping around to see who it was behind you, but his voice haunted you and so you pushed past everyone in your way, trying to hold yourself together enough to break down the moment you reached your car. You didn’t make it and instead, you found yourself sitting by your car’s front tire as you bawled, your body wracked with tremors. They felt never-ending – the tremors – terrorising you when you would least expect them. You longed for his arms around you again, to hear his laugh, to dance with him in your little kitchen as you did on the first night you had moved into your place. The memory only served as a painful reminder of that which you no longer had. Your body had memorised the way he held you to him, his quivering voice that told you that you’d touched his soul forever before leaning in for the most gentle kiss. The way his kiss seared into your skin was like a burn that would flare up when you least expected it, and it was clear that he too had touched your soul in a more permanent way than you had ever expected him to. 

“Eddie…” You sniffled, managing to find the capacity to croak out his name for the first time in months but the assault of tears that came immediately after you breathed life back into his name was too painful, your chest seizing, lungs collapsing on themselves as if you’d just been plummeted a thousand leagues under the dark ocean. Your life certainly felt much darker with him gone. You longed for him, even while he was around, you longed to spend time in his arms, to hear him ramble about his campaigns, about his little sheep, but now that he was gone you couldn’t help but yearn for all that you used to have with him. 

It had been months of this, of showing up to his gravestone and having to clean it from the obscenities that adorned it, a painful reminder of how little love he received for how much of it he had in his heart. You spent agonising hours scrubbing the red paint off with cleaning products and salty tears, leaving flowers and letters to him in hopes that they would somehow reach him on the other side, and yet with each passing day, the fire that lit your soul grew darker, and the yearning only grew stronger. Your jaw was in a state of constant pain from how much you were trying to hold yourself together, clenching it in both your waking hours and the moment sleep consumed you, trying to keep your very being from shattering. 

“Can you hear me say your name? Can you see me longing for you?” Your voice was hoarse, unused for far too long. You barely recognised it yourself, as if it was a third party speaking for you, projecting your thoughts for you. The moment you realised you had spoken, another wave hit you, knocking you down further than you had been before. You dug your hands into the graveyard dirt and let out a shaky breath, unable to fathom the reality that wrapped itself like a noose around your neck, slowly suffocating you. You wanted nothing more than to scream but the cry never came - your last breath was spent, it seemed, and all you could muster was a weak whimper. How could he be gone? You wondered to yourself, unable to come to terms with the devastating passing of your boyfriend. You refused to believe it, the lack of a body, he couldn’t be gone, could he? But as the days passed, your hope dwindled, and you had to resign yourself to the reality that he was gone. You had to just let go… Or so everyone seemed to preach. 

The promises you both whispered to each other in the dead of night, when the witching hour struck, and you had nothing but each other, haunted you. Sometimes you swore that you could hear whispers of his voice when you couldn’t fall asleep but ultimately it was most likely your delirious conscience that plagued you, making you hear things in the dead of night. 

“You promised…” Your sobs wracked your body, shuddering the more you tried to contain your tears, your voice completely breaking as you let go of the last ounce of strength that held you together. Your mind wandered to the sweet nothings that Eddie would shower you with, and that is what they amounted to in the end, wasn’t it? Nothing. With him gone, you didn’t have any options but to let go of those feelings, those sweet words, those promises of being yours forever. His romantic monologues and ramblings of being yours forever, and if death chose to do you part, how he’d find your soul once again from the afterlife, you had to let them go for they found themselves amounting to nothing. Death did you part, except it didn’t take you as well. 

You danced slowly in the candlelight, your hand on his shoulder, his on your waist, and his soft lips right beside your ear. He pulled you close to his body and while he was warm, his hands were cold against yours, as if he’d just come in from a cold winter’s night, but all he had done was share a joint with you, something that loosened you both up after your long day. His wild curls tickled your soft face and you giggled at some ridiculous line he was feeding you but soon the suave facade fell and his voice dropped to a low murmur. 

“Sweetheart, I love you.” His voice rattled, rattled like old windows in a summer storm, sturdy, protective, and yet stable, protecting that on the inside. “I would rip the heavens apart to find you again. I’d search for you in the afterlife if it meant I could be with you in lifetimes to come.” And while this sounded like standard Munson drivel, there was a certain intonation that inclined you to believe him. 

“I don’t think God would be too happy with you, Munson, nor the devil himself for that matter.” You tried to joke with him but it fell on deaf ears. Eddie was unrelenting with his honesty. His voice was earnest and thick with emotion when he answered you, a conviction you’d never heard before lacing itself into every word. 

“I don’t care, sweetheart, I’d fight Gods and devils alike… I’d fight Satan himself for you if it meant getting to be with you in the next life.” You couldn’t do anything but hold him closer in this moment, your words dying on your tongue. How were you to answer him when his emotions were so raw? How could you even muster up something as eloquent to say to him when he opened his heart up to you in such a vulnerable way?

“I’d raise armies to rip hell apart to find you, Eddie. I’d be longing for you forever…” You whispered to him as you both slowly danced together, the candles flickering softly, illuminating both your features in a warm glow - there was nothing more beautiful than the love you both shared, nothing more pure. 

Your forehead fell to the dank earth, lungs set ablaze by your dry heaving. You couldn’t find it in you to make this the moment you just let it go. Your soul called out for him as you longed painfully for his touch, his soft words of reassurance, but you wouldn’t get them, never again. The most you had was the little love notes he left you, his DnD notebooks… There wasn’t all too much that was left of your boyfriend, and you cherished every last thing that you had in your possession. He had touched your soul forever, whether he knew it or not. 

Your eyes burned painfully as sobs tore through your raw throat, your fingers digging further into the fresh dirt of the uprooted grave. The further you stuck your hands in, the more you prayed you’d hit something, anything, but you never would. Your hands would grow cold, and there would be a story in your heart - yours and Eddie’s - but your hands would never again find his body, never again hold him to you. They would never run through his tangled curls, or feel the plush of his lips, no, instead they’d feel the humidity seep into their bones and devour them from the inside out the longer you kept them buried, and the dirt would surely cake your fingernails to the point you wouldn’t be able to get it out from underneath them. The scent of petrichor would overtake the smell of weed, cigarettes, and his cheap musky cologne. You’d never feel his callouses graze across your soft skin again, and that small detail, the one that made Eddie so… so him, would in a year escape you, fading into nothingness as you were forced to let go of him. 

You wanted to dance with him once again, to feel the chill of his long fingers against yours but that was something that wouldn’t ever come back. Not even in the ghostings of touches, the whispers and bumps that came in the night. No matter how much those moments shattered you, no matter how much pain they brought on, the most painful would be the moment you forget the feeling of his lips or the way his hands splayed across the small of your back - those moments would disappear one day… or one day until someone came along that made you remember it, and that day would be one that would make every other touch but Eddie’s feel wrong. Nobody would have the honour to touch you in the same ways as he did. 

As you bawled into the graveyard dirt, you could have sworn there was a weight on your upper back and while it wasn’t pushing you into the dirt itself, it might as well have been. Part of you hoped it would be Eddie’s arm around you but when you turned, your body was violently assaulted by an onslaught of sobs at the realisation that your boyfriend wasn’t there to hold you while you cried. You were choking on each short breath, unable to calm yourself down. The one time you needed him more than anyone, he wasn’t present. 

I’m here. Just breathe, sweetheart, thassit, I’ve got you. 

There was something so off about the whole situation, about how clinically everything was treated, about how none of his “friends” seemed to show up. The funeral was quick and dirty, arranged by Wayne and yourself in the best way you both knew and after everything was said and done, you hid away, isolating yourself from the world itself. You barely left the house. The only time you breathed the fresh Hawkins air was when you went to visit his grave or the once-a-month trip to get groceries. You should have gone to see Wayne but he reminded you too much of everything that was ripped away from you and while you yearned to visit the man and sit down with him, to speak Eddie back into existence through memories and laughter, you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. You couldn’t bring yourself to break your heart over and over again even though you knew that in some capacity you both needed each other in order to sew together your broken hearts. 

“P-please Eds…” You choked out, your emotions were getting away from you, the more you thought about it, about him, the more you felt like you lost your family. He was your rock, the love of your life, in your own ways you’d sworn yourselves over to each other, sworn yourselves to life eternal with one another, and so having him ripped from you so suddenly left a dark pit in your chest, deeper than the ninth circle of hell would ever reach. You didn’t think it would have been possible for 

I’m right here with you, sweetheart.

The wind blew colder and you shivered, but you didn’t dare move, not an inch, because it meant moving from the grave you’d come to memorise - your muscles, your fingers, your heart, even your nose, all of you had come to memorise his grave - it was ingrained in you, and the epitaph was one that burned across your vision every single time your eyes closed – another ghost haunting you as you tried desperately to soothe your aching heart. People who say breakups would be easier are liars, you decided in this moment. 

They’re not… I promise you they’re not easy. At least nobody can compete with the dead.

They’d be easier because maybe on the off chance you’d get to have the person in your life, in your heart, you wouldn’t lose all the meaningful quirks the person had, you wouldn’t forget them in due time. You wouldn’t have a dead-end trail left of them, and yet… and yet it wouldn’t be easy either. Part of you wished you could have been the one to see the light disappear from his eyes, to have this confirmation of his departure from the mortal realm, another part of you didn’t even want to think of the darkness taking over his eyes, the reflection of the light fading to nothing, his breath stopping, and his brain giving out. You simultaneously wanted and did not want to be the one to witness his last breath, you did and didn’t want to be the one to watch the light behind his eyes disappear as he croaked, you did and did not want him gone because you weren’t sure which would wind up being easier to deal with. 

Neither would be easy, sweetheart.

“I wish you were here, Eds.” You sniffled the moment your sobs slowed, your body taking too much stock into keeping you alive and warm. You had exhausted yourself and cried every last tear you had in you for today, leaving a dry husk - a shell of a human – until tomorrow when you’d replenished your tear ducks.  

I’m right here with you always. I’m not going anywhere, I promised you that not even death could do us part.A cold gust of air pushed your hair from your face and you couldn’t contain your shiver, the cold was becoming as unbearable as your boyfriend’s passing, every waking hour haunted by memories of him, every corner of Hawkins harbouring his ghost, and every unconscious moment plagued by nightmares of his last moments, twisting memories, contorting them into grotesque scenes of abject horror. With a deep breath, you pushed yourself up to your knees and swallowed down any emotions you had, bringing your soiled sleeve to your face and wiping away the tears that threatened to spill. You were sure you looked like you had just crawled out of the grave due to the amount of dirt that caked your body and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when he was gone.

With a shaky breath, you leaned over and kissed his gravestone, your eyes fluttering shut, and at that moment you swore you heard his voice calling to you, you swore you felt the warmth of his hand on your puffy cheek, his thumb brushing across the damp valley of your eye. You kept your eyes shut for just a moment longer, longing to feel this small moment of reprieve despite the fact that it probably did far more harm than it did good. 

“I’m with you always, sweetheart.” Your eyes snapped open and your head dropped against the headstone, lip trembling as you tried to bite into it from the inside of your mouth - you couldn’t stop the heavy squeezing around your heart nor the feeling of a dark pit opening itself up in your stomach. When you lost your boyfriend a chasm had ripped itself through your chest, leaving you empty and numb to everything but the onslaught of pain that each waking moment brought you. Each waking moment was plagued with the knowledge that Eddie was gone before you were even aware of it. You hadn’t even been in town when the manhunt had begun, having been away to visit your mother’s side of the family, only to come home to find out he was in hiding - ripped away from you once, then twice. 

The fresh torrential downpour of tears was unexpected but they kept you at his grave, they kept you closer to him, they kept him alive even by some fucked up means. If crying for him meant that his memory was kept alive then you’d cry for him into the next lifetime, and while you thought you’d cried them all away, it seemed that neither love nor grief had limits.

tags: @munson-blurbs @rip-quizilla @the-unforgivenn @littlesubbyflower @hellfire--cult

[espinosaurusrexex]

Flooded

SteveRogers x Female!Reader

summary: There was something off in the air that morning - Y/N should have known. But bad things always happen when you least expect them. The life she was living was threatened by the one secret she hoped would never be revealed. And now that it had, there was no going back.

a/n: Welcome to heartbreak city! This is dedicated to my 2015 teen wolf obsession (make sure to tell me when you find the passage). I know it's sad and angsty; but I put a bunch of fluff in there too. I hope you enjoy - as always, feedback is appreciated!

word count: 5.5k

warnings: torture, trauma, drowning, experimenting on people (in flashbacks), mentions of abuse, mentions of dying, angst (in case that wasn't clear), swearing, idiots in love, fluff, and a happy ending :)

I don't think the bad parts are super descriptive, but please do not read if anything mentioned in the warnings makes you uncomfortable (18+ only!).

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

This just captures the vibe too well. You'll know the passage... i'll never fall in love with myself - Zeph

It’s normal to feel your heart in your head right? Like it’s pounding so hard that it literally makes your veins jump beneath your skin? There was a rush of adrenaline shooting through Y/N‘s Body. Pain sharp as lightning zickzacking its way down her spine and up again. Her lungs felt tight. Solid. As if they were of stone weighing her down and not giving in to her urge to breathe. It felt like that. And the look at the rusted metal door with the white number ’15’ brought back an awful lot of pain. Blue and green splashing their way through her brain, voices layering over one another, and a distinct smell of chemicals in her nose. Oh no. She was back there. Right now. How was that possible? How did it get that far? Were there not a bunch of people making sure that this would never happen to her again? A shiver overtook her but at the same time, sweat assembled on her skin. The room was wet and moldy and sterile all at once. No. No. No. She escaped, she was safe - fought her way through hell to get there. There was no way this was really happening.

Dull voices broke through to her. “We’re at 12 Minutes”. “180, going down”. Beeping of sorts and then - somehow, through all the water and noise, the unremarkable sound of pen on paper. What an odd thing to remember, right? But Y/N recalled thinking ‘what an odd thing to hear’ back then. Not now, though. Now it was… normal. But that day it wasn’t. It was in fact the very first time it had ever happened and the moment everyone had seemed to work towards. Even if Y/N didn’t know it back then, she was the breakthrough Hydra needed to create yet another group of human weapons. One that luckily never saw the light of day.

They didn’t know. And it should stay that way. Y/N didn’t want to be associated with Hydra anymore. She never did. She wanted to be herself when she joined the Avengers. A woman with power and endurance and, well, certain enhanced abilities. There was one person that knew how she got them, and that person was Nick Fury. But he had promised to keep his mouth shut. Y/N held onto that promise because it kept her from losing her mind - reminded her that she became who she was without their help. She had escaped, and fought, and grieved, and wept in order to get over that old self. And yet, despite all the hard work, she was in that old skin again.

It shouldn’t be possible though. She had put a recognizable amount of time into burying every piece of evidence of her past life - Her dumb anxiety included. But here it was: dark and strong and the thing that would ruin everything, every piece of harmony she had associated with its absence. 

Y/N was frozen to the ground, the image of the door branding itself into her mind and leaving a burning hole in its wake that made her head feel blank. Because that’s how it had always been: at first there is so much going on in your head that it feels like exploding and then, all of a sudden, it's wiped off everything. And all you are left with is this shell of a body that is not responsive to anything.

She didn’t know how long she had been standing in that hallway. A minute? Maybe an hour? Time moves differently when you’re not really there. But after whatever amount of time had passed, another voice rang through to her. A deep, and reasoning one, pressing and dripping of worry, though. Y/N shook her head. Steve. Steve was here.

❁ ❁ ❁

“I can’t have my team zoning out on missions.” The impatient voice echoed through the room accommodated by an expensive pair of shoes clicking on the polished floor. “We’ve had the problem before and I don’t like being lied to. Tell me what’s going on or she’s off.” Toni was pacing the floor of the common room until he came to a stop in front of Fury with his hands resting on his hips impatiently. But the man dressed in black didn’t do so much as move a muscle. He was casually lounging on the cushioned chair, waiting for his employee to finish.

“This might not feel like a big problem to you, Nick, but wait until half the Avengers are wiped out because Will Byers over here risks their lives by not cooperating.” Fury’s eye twitched when it lifted to the woman tugged into the corner. She had already been staring at him, trying to drag out the unavoidable, but there was no stopping this. She knew that, and he knew that too. 

“I can’t.” He said while still staring at Y/N. Nick would have done everything to prevent this very moment from happening, he had kept his promise for years. But this - this was the signal for her to know: ‘It’s on you now. You make the call.’

Y/N stared down at her hands that were nervously fumbling in her lap. Though from a distance it might have looked like she was disinterestedly avoiding everyone's eyes on her. Because they were - especially a specific pair of blue ones. Every single person in the room was expecting her to say something. Even more so the man whose worried expression hadn’t faded ever since he had dragged her out of that base hours ago. And even now - away from harm and safely huddled in the confines of the compound, his unrelenting stare was drenched in fear and urgency. Y/N didn't even have to look up to confirm her suspicions. Steve had not moved ever since she sat down in that chair, his arms crossed, shoulders hunched, and eyebrow furrowed as his gaze locked on her. He probably tried to find something - a twitch of a brow or the corner of her mouth - something to tell him that she was okay. But Y/N fought with everything she had not to give him that - because she was in fact not okay. She was far from it, and the storm of emotions rioting through her stomach did very well prove it as nausea crept up her throat.

She was about to reveal the very thing she had kept hidden for years - something she never thought would get dug up again. But here she was: moments away from having every assumption about her changed for the worse. And Y/N hated it. She hated that this would be defining who she was from now on. Because it always did. It happened with Bucky and it happened with Wanda, hell even Steve didn’t get away without being associated with Hydra. Even if his story bore a different relationship to the World War II organization. 

Y/N didn’t want to tell them, but deep down she knew that she would. Because what were her other options? Leaving the Avengers and drowning in sorrow over the lost family she had gained not too many years ago? God, that sounded like the villain origin story. No, she had to come clean, even if it hurt her and her status and possibly every other person surrounding her right now.

A wave of heat overtook her body, but her hands were cold. There was no going back - Y/N owed it to the team. Tony had every right to know what had put his people in danger today, but that didn’t change the fact that it would hurt nonetheless. Because she would be brought back there in her mind. And when she slowly inhaled to talk again, she tried to remember what it felt like to be free, even if the rushing of water already flooded her ears.

“You know when you’re drowning you don’t actually inhale until right before you black out.” Y/N was still staring at her fingers, desperately holding onto something she could feel. She was nervous to say the least, even if she knew exactly what her next words were going to be. 

“It’s called voluntary apnea.” She had known it for years, starting with picking up pieces of conversation in the labs and ending with a reality-shattering file search that settled the gravity of what had actually happened to her. Y/N closed her eyes as she remembered that day, trying to hold the hot tears pooling in her eyes at bay. 

“It’s like no matter how much you’re freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won’t open your mouth until you feel like your head’s exploding.” We’re at 12 minutes. 180, going down. Just fucking breathe. “Then when you finally do let it in, that’s when it stops hurting.” Her voice was shaky now but she was determined to pull through. Though her head was still hanging low - almost ashamed at what she was going to say next. “It’s not scary anymore, it’s… it’s actually kind of peaceful.” She shrugged weakly. “At least that’s what I told myself.” 

She paused then, mentally preparing for the next part was impossible, but for some reason, she still couldn’t get it over with. This was it. This was the moment she was going to change in their eyes. The moment she would turn into a charity case that deserved nothing but sad looks and encouraging shoulder taps. And the thought of that made the lump in her throat grow. One last shaky breath and then she finally looked up, eyes locking with that of a blonde Super Soldier whose posture had faltered drastically since she last looked at him. A grey and brooding shadow had overtaken his cerulean orbs and it was shaking with the plead that settled in between: ‘Please tell me that’s not true.’ 

The first tear found its way down Y/N’s cheek, goosebumps rippling through her but her next words were said steadier than ever before. “I drowned in that room. One hundred and eighty-six times.”

And there it was: pity. Thick and unmistakable - smeared all over their faces. Y/N didn’t want it - dismissed it like a hot plate, pushing it further and further away from her on the table until she, herself, was backed up against the wall. They should stop pitying her. Try to feel what she felt but that proved itself difficult. Because Y/N didn’t feel anything. She’d expected to hear the voices in her head shouting numbers or smell the sterile smell of sanitizer or be unable to move - anything. But her mind was blank. It had all stopped buzzing as soon as she had stopped talking. With that last syllable, all the flashbacks faded into darkness and all that was left was this huge empty space. And she reveled in the calmness in her head for a second, but then Steve stepped forward with a heartbreaking look on his face and when he said her name and reached out his hand, that’s when her pulse picked up.

Y/N couldn’t do this - not from Steve, who was the only person whose opinion really mattered to her. Those dreadful eyes bored into hers when she sprung up from the chair, legs screeching over the dark floor, and then, she bolted. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve watched as Y/N ran out of the common room, a blank stare covering his features while his heart grew heavy with every step she took from him. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?!” Tony screamed.

“She didn’t want you to know.” Fury answered, and his voice hosted a sense of sadness.

Y/N. A Hydra experiment. And Steve hadn't known. He would have never known had they not happened to raid the base she had been kept at. It killed Steve to know that he could have prevented today from happening. He could’ve told Fury what a bad idea it was had he just known. But he didn’t. Somehow it unsettled him that Y/n chose not to tell him. It was traumatic and painful but did she really think that he would judge her for it? He of all people. No, he would never.

A look at Bucky rattled another zap of pain through his bones. His friend had this distinct mystery etched on his face. And when Steve shot him a questioning glare, Bucky jerked his head to the side, signaling for the blonde to follow him. 

Bucky’s shoulders were stiff when Steve watched them leading the way to a private lounge area and the spring in his step slightly faltered. 

When he had woken up that morning, Steve would have never guessed that the day would bring such dramatics. It was a simple mission - one he had done several times, too. And yet it could have not gone worse than today. Steve couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him, he knew that. His position as Captain didn’t allow him to let them lead his choices. But right now, with Bucky visibly agitated and Y/N clearly upset as well, that duty seemed near impossible. He cared too much for both of those people. 

Bucky stopped by the window, his gaze focused outside where the rain pattered aggressively against the concrete. He swallowed thickly before his head turned to his best friend.

“I think I remember her, Steve... I remember seeing her in the base.” Bucky finally confessed, though there was a distance in his words. And despite the information doing fairly little to calm Steve’s nerves, he was glad that his friend condoned in him. 

“You do?” A hopeful wave of emotions washed him over, suggesting that he might get a little more information about Y/N’s situation. And that maybe... he had been looking out for her back then. Yes, Bucky was most certainly sedated by hydra at that time, but the Winter Soldier had proven time and time again that he was not completely clouding Bucky and his sense for the good.

“I was there. I was-“ Bucky stopped as if he had suddenly said too much. A dreadful look overtook his eyes before his jaw wired shut and Steve’s hopeful feelings vanished.

“What? What is it?” He pressed, but his friend remained silent. 

Panic rose in his chest with every second filling the quiet and Steve couldn’t help but feel like the words Bucky had withheld from him drew far heavier consequences than he had anticipated.

“I - I can’t tell you that, Steve. I think you should talk to her.” 

Why did everyone decide they had to hide things from him today? What could have possibly been so bad? 

“Anything else I should know?” Steve asked stiffly, a slight coldness overtaking his mind.

Bucky shook his head with what looked like guilt. Nonetheless, after a frustrated huff, Steve thanked Bucky and made his way to the dormitories.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed before his chest and a worrisome look pressing on his features. But Y/N just stared blankly ahead, ignoring the boring stare from the hallway. She didn’t want him to be here. Because he was - and that Y/N was 100 percent certain of - here to tell her things she didn’t want to hear. 

Their relationship had just recently reached the brooding edges of the pot. So close to overflowing into uncharted territory for the both of them. But for once in her life, Y/N had been excited about where it spilled. She wanted to feel the burning hot sensation on her skin and be dragged down into its endless abyss of warm feelings and excitement. But the information she had just dropped had taken the pot from the flame. She knew it the moment her eyes met Steve’s. They were dull, and lifeless, and sad. He had probably registered how much work she would be - would not see her as equal anymore. More of a menace than someone he could actually enjoy life with. And it broke her heart.

To say the least, there were far more parts of hers broken than her heart at this point. But Y/N didn’t know how to cope with them. For all her life, she had pushed it away. Brushed it off like it was nothing except a memory destined for her past, only allowed to creep to the surface when the dark corners of her mind leaked into the rational part of her. These times were not with people, especially not Steve - who was her captain and something more... up until now, that was.

Nonetheless, she needed a friend and Steve was the closest thing to that. Since more was probably not within her reach anytime soon, she decided to give into the nagging urge to spill every feeling on the floor before her. She looked up at him when he walked into the room and that’s when a dam of tears broke. She was ready to lay it all out bare for him. She had to, because for some reason - from one second to the other - all the things she had kept hidden for the past years felt unbearable to hold in. They seeped through her eyes in form of salty water and leaked through her nose and eventually built a big fat lump in her throat, one that was not possible to swallow. She had to get it out, along with all the other things hiding beneath.

Steve laid a warm hand on her trembling shoulder. A soft stroke pushed the last bit of reluctance from her body and prepared her to make it all go away. He was so close, but for some reason, she felt further away from him than ever before.

“You know I never stopped counting,” she whispered through ragged breaths. The nights in the dark cell encased her like a fog. Cold and moldy smells and the sound of dripping water echoed through her skull with every word she revealed to Steve. 

“I thought I would lose track at one point - maybe die,” she huffed, bitterness seeping through her tone, ��but they pulled me back from the dead so many times… sometimes I feel like I got stuck somewhere in between.” Not really living - not really there. But she wouldn’t say that out loud. Not again, at least. She did it once - to the Winter Soldier, when she had thought to see a glimpse of humanity seeping thought the tough exterior. But it didn’t change a thing then too.

The movement of Steve’s hand stopped but he caught himself after a beat. He probably knew what she was thinking. And he probably also thought that dying was the cowardly way out of her situation, which was why a wave of shame came over her. 

“You know what’s funny? I’ve tried so hard to keep this a secret in order to have people like the real me and now... I feel like the only way I have any chance with the people I love is by giving this all away.” And it was true. Y/N felt like the last thing keeping her connected to Steve and the others was her cooperating and coming clean. She would be the prettied avenger, the one they always felt like they had to look out for - and she hated that because, really, the last thing Y/N wanted was to be babied - but if it was the last chance of keeping even a piece of them within her reach, she would have no choice but to take the deal. She would never be seen as an equal again. Always the inferior that never got over her trauma but if it meant staying with her family, she would be just that. Even if it was not even half of what she had made herself to be.

Steve’s eyes softened but at the same time, they filled with worry. His shoulders looked like they urged him to speak but his mouth closed as soon as it opened. And the last shimmer of hope vanished from Y/N’s consciousness. She wasn’t ready to let him go into pure friendship again, not when they had been dancing around the edge of something more for so long now. And she realized that now. So much, in fact, that she decided it would be better to just shut the whole thing off before the situation played out the way it was doomed to. Maybe that way she had a little more time to dwell in her fantasies. 

With that thought in mind, she licked up the last pieces of pride she had and patted her hand on Steve’s knee.

“Don’t worry about it, Captain. Thank you for checking in but I’m okay.” She said steadily, though she couldn’t help but notice the slump in the man’s shoulders beside her when she led him to the door.

❁ ❁ ❁

Captain, she had called him Captain. Steve exhaled on his way to his room. For some reason, he was devastated by that even more than the events that had taken place just half an hour prior. She didn’t trust him. She never trusted him enough, for that matter, to tell him about her past. A past he very well shared and understood better than any other person on the team - well, except Bucky... and Wanda.

He had wanted to tell her that she was okay now. That she should not let her past define her. That he would never in a million years even consider neglecting her because of it. But he couldn’t. For some reason, he had been still beside her like a stupid puppet. 

Tears brimmed in his eyes when he defeatedly sunk onto his bed. He wanted to stay rational. He wanted to think it through before burning up into flames, but his heart was pounding like a sledgehammer and his brain was running a mile a minute in opposite directions. There was no possibility to think straight. 

His body felt torn between the two most powerful organs within him and they were fighting like there was no tomorrow. He wanted to punch the wall and lay the softest kiss on Y/N’s lips at the same time. It was infuriating. 

For the first time in a long time, Steve had no idea what to do, or how to behave. There were no rules in the territory he and Y/N had created for themselves. There were times when he could come up behind her and press her into his chest and others when he wouldn’t even dare look at her. Right now, neither of these were an option, unfortunately. 

Of course, deep down Steve knew that he had to talk to her again. Make sure she knew where their differences lay and clearly state what he had been thinking about the whole situation. But his heart was screaming so loud into his head that that thought never reached his ears. 

It was strange, Steve was never the one to lose control over his emotions like this. But this situation felt as though it deserved every last drop of the feelings he had to offer. It was because of Y/N, of course. She tumbled up his feelings every time she looked at him. And to say that the look she had given him in the meeting room had shattered all his perceptions regarding her and her wellbeing was an understatement. He had been worried about her before. But never like this. Never in a way that had both his and her identity questioned. 

For some reason, he could deal with death threats and vital injuries - it was sadly a normal routine in his line of work - but the added emotions that came with everything concerning Y/N ordered a whole new level of consciousness to his duties. He no longer felt the need to care for his team and make sure they got out of and through missions unharmed because it was his job, he now had to care for them because his heart was involved if anything were to happen to any of them. And he had to care more about himself, too because there were people who would get hurt if he were to. Y/N did that - she had sucked him into her warm and welcoming self and Steve had embraced it with all his being.

Now, he saw how dangerous that was. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. Getting closer to her was the best thing that had happened to Steve in a long time. He was happier and more energetic.

It dawned on him, then, that he had to tell her that. No matter how rage fed his brain or love blinded his heart was in the moment. Y/N deserved to know. Much like he had deserved to know about her secret much sooner. This thought sent another wave of frustration through his body. Steve tried to push it away, but it lay heavy on his heart when he stepped into the hallway, trying to suppress the nervousness brooding up within him.

❁ ❁ ❁

Y/N twitched up when the door slammed into the wall. When it bounced back from the gray concrete, there was a sizable hole visible where it jammed. But as her ears picked up on something else, that’s when her eyes wandered past the door to the heaving man within its frame. Steve’s eyes were dull, his shoulders hunched but his heart was beating at a rapid speed. He must’ve heard it in his head from the pressure with which it traveled over to Y/N. 

Thumb, Thumb.

Steady and yet rapidly pounding. And for some odd reason, it had a soothing aspect on the woman. But before Y/N could register and ask what was going on, Steve stepped into the room. He was hesitant but still carried himself with a familiar confidence she’d only ever seen from him.

“I’m sorry,” he straightened up, “...for the door, I- I dint think it would open that easily.”

“It’s okay.” Y/N was still seated on her bed - hadn’t moved a muscle since Steve left.

“Y/N...” His voice was heavy with sadness, though she didn’t dare look at him. There was no going back. He would be saying what she had been dreading from the second she confessed. She didn’t also need to watch the disappointment in his eyes when he told her that itwas over - whatever it was. “I know what happened to you can’t be changed.” He sat down beside her, though there was a significant distance between the two Avengers now. “And I can only imagine how hard today has been for you. I don’t think I would be as strong as you are keeping this for yourself for so long. But you don’t have to shut us out. Please don’t shut me out, Y/N. We can help you, we can be there for you. Just... please. I don’t know how to-” he inhaled deeply but his speech didn’t continue like she had expected it to.

Y/N just sat there, her fingernails suddenly the most interesting thing to ever exist, even though there was a distressed man sitting inches away from her. Whatever he had said, because frankly, the words had swayed by her like a breeze, sounded like heartbreak to her - for her. There was pretty clear that Steve didn’t see a future for them. And if Steve thought this - the person she had grown closest to over the years - she could only imagine what the rest of the team was thinking. 

Tears burned in Y/N’s eyes and when the first one fell in her lap, she closed her eyes in pain. “You pitied me..,” she whispered, the burning in her throat threatening to swallow her whole, “You felt bad for me... you of all people, you decided I need comforting.”

Steve sent a confused look at her once her eyes met his. He was looking through her gaze as if the answer to his questions lay beneath them.

“Of course I do.” He spoke calmly but irritated. Y/N shut her eyes again, trying to ignore the confirming string of pain wash over her. Somehow hearing him say it out loud was worse than she imagined.

“It shouldn’t even concern you, Steve. I’ve managed very well on my own over the past years. There is no reason for anyone to pity me-”

“Not pity,” he interrupted, “concern, yes. Pride, worry, fear... I feel all of those things for you. But not Pity.”

“But why.” The words were barely audible through the stream of tears that had broken loose by now. Y/N couldn’t possibly comprehend why Steve would say that. Because she didn’t see how Steve could see anything but her past from now on. She had struggled to do so herself at first. It had taken years to finally become herself again, even if that self bore a terrible secret for everyone else.

“Because I admire your strength. And I care about you.” His hand hovered over hers, but he didn't dare touch her just yet. “I care about you more than I probably should.” He closed his eyes and retracted his hand when he saw the dread in her eyes. “And I try to ignore it, I really do but then you come at me with that smile and with your wit, and I... I can’t stop my heart from racing.”

“I know I can hear it.” She was whispering again, feeling like an intruder for listening in on something as personal as his heartbeat.

Steve looked at her with an indescribable look on his face. “I hear yours, too, you know? But for some reason, it’s telling me other things than your eyes are.”

“What are my eyes telling you?”

Steve’s fingers grazed her chin, moving upward until his thumb stroked the skin on her cheek. “That you are afraid of something. That you are waiting for something bad to happen... but I don’t know what.” Y/N nodded in awe - somehow this man could read her better than she could herself, which was scary and comforting at the same time.

“And what is my heart telling you?” She took his hand and placed it upon her chest, where a steady rhythm pushed through her skin.

“The same thing I’ve been trying to say.” His heartbeat was steady and sure as well. It was fast, yes, but not in a bad way. There was an unfamiliar glimmer in his eyes when they softened upon her love-dazed face. Maybe her intrusive thoughts had blinded her after all...

“And what-”

Suddenly, his soft lips pressed to hers. A warm and tingling feeling traveled over Y/N’s body as her arms almost automatically reached up to his shoulders. Steve pulled her closer by her waist, deepening the kiss with the lean of his head. He was warm and he felt like the hug she had subconsciously craved ever since staring at that white number ’15’ in the base hours ago. All the tension drained from her like a waterfall. Steve pulled the fear from her body with every stroke of his tongue against hers. And for the first time in a while, Y/N felt as though everything had fallen into place. She was right where she belonged. The squeeze of Steve’s fingers reminded her of that.

When they pulled apart, breathless and floating, she tightened the grip on his collar.

“But- I thought...” Y/N breathed out shakily. Her forehead was firmly pressed against Steve’s and her lips were grazing his with every word she whispered, sending waves of shivers down her spine.

“What? That I’d sign you off as a charity case?” Steve locked his eyes on hers for the hundredth time. There was so much emotion in them. “I would never underestimate you. I know you are stronger than half the people on this team... well mentally that is.”

“Stop,” she chuckled before pressing her face into his chest. Steve kissed the top of her head as his hand began to soothingly stroke up and down her back, leaving a warm trail of comfort in its wake.

“I really like you, Y/N... and if you’d let me, I would like to take you out sometime.”

Y/N smiled. It seemed silly how worried she had been about his feelings now. Considering hers were just as strong for the man in her arms, there had not been a reason to believe it was different for him. Though the edges of self-consciousness nipped at her brain every now and then. Those were the monsters pushing intrusive thoughts into her heart - convincing her of things, for which there was no indignation. She would learn it with time - that her past didn’t define her. It did to some extent, but it would never become her entire identity. And until she could tell herself that alone, she would have Steve to help her remember.

“I would love to, Steve.”

Steve pulled back and held her by her shoulders before leaning in again. A content smile etched on his lips before they sealed to hers again, capturing her in another searing kiss.

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[xocasper]

it’s beautiful how dynamic life can be.

when the internet found me, i was sick. i wasn’t dying, it wasn’t terminal, but i was undoubtedly decaying with every passing day. i spent weeks in bed, sleeping and starving, and some nights i’d mindlessly wander through dark parts of town. and i can tell you with 100% certainty that none of that is as poetic as it sounds.

when i left tumblr, i was nearly dead. genuinely. i would not like to trigger anyone, so i am warning you now that the next paragraph will cover a severe eating disorder.

i will keep it as simple as saying that i had a bmi of 13. i couldn’t leave my room. i was on a mood stabilizer that decreased my appetite. my body physically rejected and regurgitated everything i ate. my stomach was swollen to the size of pregnant person. i looked like i was a good seven months along. my body was holding onto every nutrient it could find. i lived with my parents at the time, and they body shamed me and constantly commented on the size of my stomach. my dad stood in my bedroom and watched as i chugged an entire bottle of magnesium citrate because he believed it was constipation, not starvation. no one wanted to help me in the ways i needed. to this day, i have no idea how my body survived that much trauma.

that was a year ago.

in a single year, i gained twenty pounds. i fell in love. i discovered that i am not aromantic, but simply cannot harbor romantic feelings towards men. i faced years of internalized homophobia due to religion with that realization. i had my first true heartbreak. many of them, over and over with the same person. the relationship was so toxic towards the end that they caused me to get re-diagnosed with type 1 bipolar. and no, i am not passing blame. i faced harassment and lies and stalking from them and their friends. it sent me into a manic episode so severe that i flew thousands of miles away because i believed that if i stayed, i would end my life—hence the re-diagnosis.

this is not all a trauma dump though.

life IS dynamic.

i finally think i’m beautiful. i’m learning to love my body. i’m accepting of weight gain. i’ve decided to enroll in college and will be leaving an incredibly toxic environment to stay on campus. i got a better position at work. i have wonderful friends. i stopped drinking excessively. i saw one of my favorite music groups live. i went on vacation for the first time in years. i left a debilitating relationship the day before my birthday. i must’ve cried too much the day i broke up with them because for the first time in years, i didn’t cry on my birthday. i got a surgery that changed my life in a million ways.

i’ve felt things i didn’t know were possible. i’ve cried until my eyes were swollen shut the next morning. i’ve had pregnancy scares. i’ve had ER visits. i’ve earned money and i’ve burned it. i’m in love with a girl.

i’ve learned that life is not fixed. change is possible. love is possible. the internet is not lying when they say that the sickness won’t last forever. the pain is temporary. this is not the end of the road.

i have more notifications than i can count. i have more followers than i ever imagined. but this isn’t about the numbers—it’s real, tangible proof that people will love you when you’re gone. you will not be forgotten, so do not leave. it’s worth it to stay. it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to hit the bottom of the well, and it’s okay to stay there for a while before you have the strength to pull yourself back up.

i’m incredibly grateful for everyone who read my work. whether you clicked on one or devoured my masterlist, thank you. you appreciated the only thing i loved about myself. i’m proud to say that there are so many things i love about myself now, past my writing and creativity.

you are all beautiful, kind people. it’s not always easy to see that, but existence is the most beautiful thing in the world. every day, you exist, and that in itself is a remarkable thing.

so thank you, for everything. i hope to hear from you soon.

xo,

casper

[vaguely-concerned]

Thoughts upon finishing Master and Apprentice! A good double read with Padawan; the ending of that leaving Obi-Wan slightly hopeful about his relationship to Qui-Gon makes for a very sad yet hilarious ‘Local Padawan loses last little bit of hope he didn’t even know he still had’ sort of vibe to the beginning of this one, which is set one (1) year later and Obi-Wan is So Done with Qui-Gon’s whole deal by this point (correctly btw). Also if you can’t tell already I will not be objective or free from bias in this because I love Obi-Wan so much and some of the stuff Qui-Gon pulled made me incandescent with rage on his behalf <3 let’s go

- 'oh obi-wan, you're so mature for your age, I keep forgetting you're only seventeen years old,' qui-gon says, word for word, repeatedly, in master and apprentice, apparently willfully deaf to the industrial-sized warning bells about their relationship dynamic that should probably be setting off in his head. qui-gon believes in vibing with the living force and being in the moment right up until the moment requires him to pay attention to the kid he's raising for more than oh, one and a half minutes of self-effacing inner monologue and then he's like 'well unfortunately there is simply no time for that right now there are prophecies to be pondered'. (the fact that the admission that obi-wan has essentially been left to raise himself emotionally and the resigned reframing of that as 'and maybe that is a good thing!' is part of the olive branch they extend to each other towards the end... will my sadness never end)

- most of all it's so heartbreaking to me that qui-gon seemingly never understands just how much obi-wan as a person is rooted deeply in shame. I don't think that's a feeling that's particularly prevalent in qui-gon's own inner world so he doesn't recognize how central it is in obi-wan's psychology and completely misunderstands and misaligns with him again and again and again and then gets annoyed with obi-wan for that, thus making the shame even deeper. doubly painful because he does see the way rael lives so much of his life out of shame now and feels sad about it, but can't see the way he's contributing to obi-wan doing so. this is what fucks me up so bad about the generational trauma in star wars -- no one here meant to be cruel. for all his faults I do think qui-gon does love obi-wan and doesn't mean to hurt him. but the original sin of the prequels as far as I'm concerned is qui-gon tenderly drying away obi-wan's tears as he's dying even while completely failing to see him, his eyes too fixed on anakin's future to actually be with obi-wan, who's there right now and needs him.

these are simply very different people trying and failing to understand each other, and the harm that can still happen in that… 'if you love me, you don't love me in a way I understand', all the way through the disaster line, even when the love is there, it is there, that’s what hurts the most, it just doesn’t reach where it’s needed, there’s a connection that doesn’t happen. (ironically I think ahsoka doesn't doubt that anakin loves her, it's just uh everything else that went down. so y'know family curse broken! new even more fucked up curse achieved now with more child murder. I mean there already was some child murder in this family but anakin upped the game exponentially) 

- a lil guy who's basically tarzan except the gorillas are replaced with protocol droids and then he becomes a jewel thief is one of the funniest star wars concepts I've ever heard and I hope pax and rahara get to pop up in more star wars media, they’re great fun. (also an idea I think would be super fun to make a character/campaign around in Edge of the Empire or something, everyone playing different droids and then one person being robo-parented lol) 

- was not prepared to have rael posit a theory of what essentially seems to be the jedi version of predestination in his despair, but I do love to see it haha. especially interesting since he, qui-gon and dooku must be among the people alive who've studied the prophecies in most depth, and they've all reached different conclusions -- dooku decides to join the war of light and dark on the side of dark for some reason, qui-gon (possibly the stubbornest fucker the jedi order ever produced) 'turns towards the light not to win some great cosmic game, but because it is the light', and rael in the middle falls into the depressed apathy of 'it doesn't matter what we do here, the outcome is already decided; for there to be true balance there has to be as much dark as light in the world so we're fucked'. but in the end he does take qui-gon's words to heart and turns towards the light rather than accepting dooku's offer, even if he might not believe it makes a difference in the long run. man I love rael. hobo-looking sonofabitch living in a castle for eight years will just suddenly fling out some deep jedi theology huh

- master rael 'I'm gonna make up for the big terrible mistake I made on accident by making an even bigger more premeditated mistake on purpose' averross (affectionate)

- the added layer to dooku’s fascination with prophecy after reading dooku: jedi lost — that his best friend in the world was a seer who couldn’t turn it off and it destroyed him……….. dooku you’re not getting him back if you just understand what he saw you know that right

- the more I read of master and apprentice the more I realize that the reason yoda and qui-gon don't get along is that they're two of the judgiest bitches the jedi order ever produced. They’re like two cats scowling judgmentally at each other from opposite sides of the room pretending to live and let live while going ‘you’re wrong tho’ internally. 

- I dunk on him constantly (not entirely without affection, however grudging), but Qui-Gon is genuinely a really interesting character. He’s so… he’s so. He’s infuriating but he’s infuriating in an equidistant sort of way. You feel me. He’s pissing everyone off equally and he just doesn’t care because again, he’s the stubbornest judgiest bitch around and thinks he’s right all the time. I would be free to just enjoy his ornery ‘no actually I’m right about this’ ass and the chaos he wreaks so much more if Obi-Wan didn’t have to live with the emotional consequences of it lol. 

- poor rael closing in on fifty with his puriteen middle-aged little brother clutching pearls about his getting laid once in a blue moon fhdskjahfas. again a really interesting insight into different ways of interpreting the jedi code, though, I love seeing the jedi not be an ideological monolith. to be fair to rael, having sex sometimes does seem to be the indulgence he has that causes the least conflict with his principles or loyalties so you know what honestly force speed you my friend why not. (and then there's qui-gon 'noooo sex is only okay if you're In Love (implied: like I was)!!!' jinn lmao. I wonder what he'd think of anakin and padme's relationship, would that pass the 'being sufficiently purely in love' test for him) I do like how consistently it’s shown that rael doesn’t mean to be cruel or unkind in anything he says, he always notices something landing too close to home and then pulls carefully back from it instead of pushing on. He seems to be the emotional intelligence powerhouse in this lineage (as long as he doesn’t have his feelings too tangled up in something, at least). 

Dooku: jedi lost also shows us that dooku absolutely knows rael is out there in the galaxy laying pipe and is, at worst, softly amused by it. So in this little family unit it’s only qui-gon losing his mind over it fjsdkafa I’m so used to having qui-gon be the wild card maverick compared to obi-wan ‘*in tears* but what are the RULES master’ kenobi, it’s so fucking funny that within the context that raised him he’s the stick in the mud 

I guess. the book also had a plot and it was not bad! some interesting insights about how the republic interacted with the big corporations and just how fucked everything already was by this point. I'm a pretty character-driven reader so that's what sticks with me for the most part

- obi-wan’s big teenage rebellion here being that sometimes. Occasionally. When he really loses his temper and gets hot under the collar. He’ll say something slightly passive aggressive out loud instead of keeping it contained inside his head. And qui-gon still can’t handle that gracefully AT ALL he snaps right back fdjskfhas. (I guess he also snitches on qui-gon to the council but well, you know, qui-gon was breaking republic law pretty brazenly at that point I think that moves beyond teenage angst and into ‘...master that’s a wholeass felony’ territory). Obi-Wan does go for a couple of low blows, but like. Nothing that’s not actually true, is the thing. And mostly he blames himself for not being good enough, because surely if he were qui gon wouldn’t treat him like this. Augh. hngh. Pain. suffering. 

- I am not one of the people who think everything would have automatically been just hunky-dory if only qui-gon lived and could have been anakin's master (in fact I would have given it a 50/50 chance of going exponentially worse way faster; being more similar as people is not always a guarantee that a relationship will go smoother and qui-gon is an incredibly difficult man to be close to for any length of time), but the way this book basically presents how the dynamic between dooku, rael and qui-gon could have gone on in the next generation too... it would have been incredibly unfair to obi-wan (as always I think that's just an universal constant lmao) but I think the odds of it turning out okay would have been better if you had him in the mix to run crisis control for both qui-gon and anakin, as he does for each of them individually as best he can anyway. at least he could have been free to be anakin's brother and friend purely in that scenario, without all the added mess of grief and having to take on a parental role there so young. he does basically fill that role in ahsoka's apprenticeship, after all.

- qui-gon finally hugging rael before he leaves the planet (and especially since when they were younger he wanted to, but held himself back from it)... that's still his big brother even with all the shit that's happened since ;_____; when someone teaches you how to swim (literally and symbolically) that shit stays with you I suppose

Relatedly: DOOKU getting hugged, and gladly. What the fuck. Are you all seeing this shit. I’m gonna cry or laugh I’m not sure which one why am I emotionally invested in the galaxy's most problematic grandpa now this sucks