#cw:angst

[aww-crap-i-fell]

I made it to the alph ruins

It's.....really peaceful here...and the sky is amazing....so many stars....I. really do think I'm gona be OK here now....

Despite...missing everyone ..back home...makes me wonder how this works anyway, I fell and now I'm here but I know a lot of stuff about this place...

But that's..not important....I'm making stew rn, for me and my pokemon managed to get ahold of some plant based sausage, and tandoori spice, so this should be really good when I finish the rice ....

It's weird..thinking of this place as my life now... I mean yeah it's been a dream of mine to get issakied but now that I'm here..it's all kinda..too real....I'm holding fluffy close right now ....and my plush I found ....i i love my pokemon ...they're so sweet and amazing and I love them but I miss my cats back home..I wonder if I'll see them again ....

Ugh sorry this was long and rambling sorry, just ignore it ok?

[jukeboxsweethearttt]

for older sugar daddy rafe and reader would you write their first argument or something like that

Book of Love

Oldersugardaddyboyfriend!Rafe Cameron x Fem Reader

cw:angst:( but has a fluffy ending, talks of pregnancy, Rafe’s oldest daughter Claire is older than you, Victoria is the same age as you and Hannah is younger than you. no use of y/n I think

inspired by @starfxkr sugar daddy Rafe ofc

The sprawling lawn of Rafe’s Hamptons estate basked in the glow of the setting sun, creating a picturesque scene that starkly contrasted with the storm brewing inside.

The dining room, typically a place of warmth and laughter, was now tense with an unfamiliar strain. You sat at the end of the long, gleaming table, your hands clasped tightly in your lap. Rafe stood across from you, his stance rigid and his eyes filled with frustration.

His three daughters, Claire , Victoria, and Hannah, watched the scene unfold with a mix of concern and unease.

This was the first serious argument you and Rafe had ever had. It had started over the charity gala—a high-profile event you had been working on tirelessly.

“Rafe, I just want to make this event something special, something that showcases what we can achieve together,” you said, your voice trembling slightly.

Rafe, his expression hard, replied, “This isn’t about showcasing us, Bunny. This is about making strategic decisions. You need to understand the stakes involved.”

Claire, the eldest, shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She shared a look with her sisters, Victoria, and Hannah, the youngest of the bunch.

Claire finally spoke up, her tone gentle yet firm. “Dad, she’s trying to help. She’s put a lot of effort into this.”

Rafe’s eyes softened momentarily as he looked at his daughter, but his frustration remained palpable. “I know, Claire, but this is more complicated than just putting in effort. Experience matters here.”

You felt a lump form in your throat. “Rafe, I’m not just some inexperienced kid. I’m trying to contribute, to be a part of this.”

Rafe’s gaze turned steely. “You are young and inexperienced. You don’t get how high the stakes are. This isn’t some game.”

Your heart sank at his words. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to hold back your emotions.

“I can’t believe you see me that way,” you whispered, standing up abruptly. “I thought we were in this together.”

Victoria stood, her face a mix of anger and disappointment. “Dad, you’re being unfair. She’s doing her best.”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, his frustration boiling over. “Life isn’t fair, Victoria. I’m trying to protect her from making mistakes that could cost us.”

You couldn’t bear it any longer. Tears streaming down your face, you rushed out of the room, the sound of the door slamming echoing through the house.

Claire glanced at her father, shaking her head in disappointment before following you outside.

Rafe stood there, his anger giving way to a heavy silence. Hannah finally spoke up, her voice quiet but firm. “Dad, you really hurt her.”

Outside, Claire found you sitting on a garden bench, your shoulders shaking with sobs. She sat down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Hey, it’s okay. He didn’t mean it he’s just stressed,” she said softly.

You wiped at your tears, shaking your head. “It’s not okay, Claire. He thinks I’m just some naive child.”

Claire sighed, her heart aching for you. “He’s scared, that’s all. He doesn’t know how to handle this.”

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t handle all of this stress. There’s something I need to tell you,” you said, your voice barely a whisper.

She looked at you, concern etched on her face. “What is it?”

You met her gaze, your eyes filled with a mix of fear and hope. “I’m pregnant. I just found out a few days ago.”

Claire’s eyes widened in surprise she knows you’ve wanted children of your own but was shocked at the news considering her dad’s age.

Deep down she’s kind of indifferent but pushes those feelings to the side quickly as you started to cry again from her silence.

She quickly pulled you into a tight hug. “Oh my God, that’s news. Have you told him yet?”

You shook your head. “No, I was waiting for the right moment. But now... I don’t know if there ever will be one.”

She pulled back, holding your shoulders. “You need to tell him. It might be exactly what he needs to hear.”

Back inside, Rafe was pacing the living room, his frustration giving way to a deep sense of guilt. Victoria and Hannah watched him, their expressions stern.

“Dad, don’t you think you were a bit harsh?” Victoria asked, her voice steady but reproachful. “She’s part of our family.”

Rafe stopped, his shoulders slumping. “I know, I just... I don’t know how to handle this.”

“You handle it by respecting her,” Hannah said softly. “She’s not a child, Dad. She’s your partner.”

Just then, Claire walked back in with you, your face still streaked with tears but your resolve stronger. Rafe looked up, his heart aching at the sight of you so upset.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe began, but you held up a hand to stop him.

“Before you say anything, there’s something I need to tell you,” you said, your voice steady. “I’m pregnant, Rafe.”

The room fell silent, Rafe’s eyes widening in shock. He took a step towards you, his expression softening. “You’re... you’re pregnant?”

You nodded, tears spilling over once more. “I found out a few days ago. I wanted to tell you in a special way, but...”

Rafe closed the distance between you, pulling you into his arms. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just... scared. Scared of not being good enough.”

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with love and determination. “We’re in this together, Rafe. We can make it work, but you have to trust me. Trust us.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes brimming with tears. “I promise. I’ll do better. I’ll trust you, and I’ll be there for you and our baby.”

Claire, Victoria, and Hannah watched the exchange, their expressions softening with relief but making a mental note to discuss this sudden pregnancy announcement later.

The tension in the room began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of hope and renewed commitment.

Later that evening, you found yourself in the kitchen, helping Victoria prepare dinner.

Victoria glanced over at you, offering a small smile. “I’m so happy that you stood up to him,” she said softly. “Dad needed a wake-up call.”

You returned her smile, feeling a warm sense of acceptance. “Thanks, Victoria. It means a lot that you understand.”

Meanwhile, in the living room, Rafe sat with Claire and Hannah. Claire leaned forward, her expression serious but kind.

“Dad, she’s good for you. We see how happy she makes you, but you have to let her grow up. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “I know, Claire. I just… I’ve spent so much time trying to protect everyone that sometimes I forget to let go. I’ll work on it.”

Hannah, who had been quiet until now, chimed in. “We all want the best for you, Dad. And for her. Just remember, she chose to be with you because she loves you, not because she needs a protector.”

Their words resonated with Rafe, who realized just how much he had to learn about balancing his protective instincts with respecting your independence.

He stood up, feeling a mixture of gratitude and determination. “You’re right. All of you. I’m lucky to have you four looking out for me.”

Back in the kitchen, Victoria was dishing up the last of the pasta when Rafe entered. He walked over to you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I’ve been talking with the girls,” he said, his voice soft and earnest. “And they’ve made me see things more clearly. I need to let you live your life, make your own choices. I’m so proud of you for standing up to me.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with love and relief. “Thank you, Rafe. That means a lot to me.”

Dinner was a warm, lively affair. The five of you sat around the table, sharing stories and laughter. The earlier argument seemed like a distant memory, replaced by a stronger sense of family and mutual respect.

Claire and Victoria teased Hannah about her latest crush, while Rafe kept his hand on yours under the table, a silent promise of his commitment to change.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself sitting on the balcony with Rafe, the moon twinkling above. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close.

“You know, Bunny, I’ve never felt this way before. You’ve brought so much joy into my life.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling content and secure. “And you’ve given me a life I never dreamed possible, Rafe. I’m so grateful for you.”

Rafe tilted your chin up, looking deeply into your eyes. “I promise to always support you, to let you be your own person. We’re partners in this, equal partners.”

You kissed him softly, the love between you palpable. “Thank you, Daddy. That’s all I ever wanted.”

As you both sat there, you felt a deep sense of peace. The argument had brought you closer, teaching you both valuable lessons about trust and love. And as Rafe held you close, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

The next morning, Rafe surprised you with breakfast in bed, a gesture that made your heart flutter. He sat beside you, watching you eat with a content smile.

“I thought we could spend the day together, just the two of us. How does that sound, Princess?”

You grinned, feeling the excitement bubble up inside you.

[voidwritesstuff]

New Beginings In The Golden Hour

Cw:angst,strife has an anxiety attack.

Summary:Death must deal with the consequences of his millennia long awful behavior.

>Hurt/Comfort girlies.

>Part 2 of "Final Moments in the blue hour"

A/N: @darkdemeter hey Deeeem look what I've got. Also, I wrote the lil lullaby and enchantment depicted in the fic (I love making stuff rhyme)

--I'm sorry

The words still didn't registre in Strife's mind. He pulled from the hug a little startled,eyes widening as he turns to Fury for any sort of confirmation that she's just as confused as he is.

But his sister doesn't meet his gaze. She hangs her head low with a reverence for the eldest that is so unlike her. He began to feel something prickle at the back of his head. Something just didnt feel right.

Death didnt fight him when the hug was broken, he simply pressed his face to the hair of the female nephilim. Then the eldest cleared his throat and pulled back,turning to meet Strife's eyes.

--Alright...thats New-- The gunslinger didnt have his characteristical bite to his witt. He coughs a little and his eyes struggle to meet his brother's. -- we should go uh...find War.

Fury nodded,wiping what seems to be tears from the corner of her eyes. She Gave the reaper a look,a bit complicit And like they're having an unspoken conversation.

Yep,hes defenetly was missing something.

--I..I think I know where to find him-- The she-horseman said, nodding towards the spire that ominously hovers in the Sky as a dark and reddened shaped of shattered evil.

--Thats...defenetly a good start-- The gunslinger breathed out-- May! -- the earth shook, kicking up like a jittery whirlwind that sucks in debrie and dust around.

Followed by the spectral neigh of the mare that brings with her a show of beautiful dancing purple flames that pulls the Grass in a well of gravity. The air grows thick with tension that would bring the heart of any non-rider to their throat, making them feel an adrenaline so pure that they would simply become a trembling,feral mess.

As she jumps from the very boughs of the earth,Mayhem the white horse of frenzy tears through the fabric of reality. She runs past her rider and slowly lowers her speed so she can safely trot Back to her master's side.

Mayhem shakes her snout,inspecting Death with an odd tilt of her head as she blinks slowly at the pale rider with confusion. But she doesnt linger, she then turns to Fury and lets out a pitiful neigh.

Within her, Fury feels Rampage squirm at the sadness of his kin. The she-horseman reaches to pat the snout of Mayhem and Gently shooshes her-- He's still too weak to ride. But he Will be fine-- she said softly,the mare closing her eyes and pressing her ears flat to her head.

--He'll be fine-- strife tried not to linger his gaze on the face of the eldest. Its been so long since his actual features could be seen, up until now his face was but a fuzzy memory from childhood. -- C'mon up, Fury. I'll lend you my ride.

With ease he hops on Mayhem's saddle, patting the neck of the mare as a brief comfort. He then offers his hand to his sister,who takes it and gets on behind him.

Strife chuckled to himself and said--Hey whens the last time I gave you a ride? Werent you like...ten? I piggyback carried you to the kitchen didnt I?

--You did-- Fury mused,sniffing Back some of the emotions that still clung to her eyes and soul-- If I recall correctly,I called you squire.

The gunslinger scoffed-- wouldnt be the first time-- he half joked-- Wish I still had my Abyssal armor though,thats such a perfect set up for a knight joke.

With a barked out laugh,the she-Horseman says-- Hm,you've always been a knight to me. I dont see why you would hold back a joke,so unlike you.

Strife eyed Death who watched on with something akin to amusement and subsided endearment. He needs to re-learn how to read him. But still,his unhidden gaze tempers his wit and he just shrugs-- Ah,forget it. The moments passed anyway.

Faintly both hear the eldest snicker before whistling lowly. A sound so puposely horrible that it sets their teeth on edge, even as quiet as it was it remains shrill And withered like a screech from a mournful banshee.

Both wondered what it would happen if he whistled at the top of his lungs.

Yet their thoughts are cut short as theres a loud espectral neigh, behind the pale rider a Mass of blue flames emanates as Despair makes himself known. His Fire Withers the Grass in its path,sucking the life out of them and leaving the vegetation riddled with something akin to frostbite.

Unforgiving winter in his cold flames, he emanates from the ground,bringing with him the smell of sweet Decay yet so glacier cold that it burns the breath of the two younger nephilim.

Despair's hoove pads at the ground and nuzzles the chest of his rider with surrender and relief. Death Gently pats the stallion's head and hops on.

--Shall we?--The eldest asked.

Strife nodded and clicked his tongue at his Mare who begins to trot towards the spire beyond. Silence settles, yet it doesnt dampen the odd tangle of secrets and unspoken information in the air- the gunslinger is defenetly missing something.

Whatever it is, its eating at him already. First, the hug. Whatever the hell has gotten into the eldest?. His mask is gone, that stupid piece of bone is gone and now the white rider can stare with dread and fear at the face of the eldest. Its been so long, he cant reconcile the sweet memories of his brother's face to the bitter ones that were carried by the mask thats Now seemingly lost somewhere.

Neither of the three comment on the lack of spoken word, clearly each of their individual journeys has taken a toll on them. Who gets to speak first? Whats the most important thing to be said? Theres no way to decide,no way to gauge who has had it worst.

Yet if the gunslinger had to guess, Death would be the one to talk first. There has always been an air of mystery to the reaper in his cold detachment, but now he feels more like a myth than a Man.

A sigh leaves strife,louder than he intended to. He flinches as the attention is now on him.

--Something on your mind,Brother?--Death asked,seeing his Real lips say those words makes the white rider freak out internally.

His brother,his guide and lighthouse. The reaper,kinslayer and butcher with his cold,hard shoulder and dismissive attitute. The dichotomy was going to kill him.

--Nuthin' that Will help us-- he said,shrugging-- Y'know me,always thinkin' about silly shit.

The eldest Snickers with genuine warmth,hes conciously slipping up and it only confused the gunslinger further-- While it is true that you're known for your lack of sense,you never hesitated to share. Whats the difference does it make now?

Strife tried so hard to get angry at his brother,before it came so naturally to him but now...he had to conciously find a reason to get angry-- Jus' forget it,okay?-- his voice sounded filled with ire, but its all hollow. Theres no Real intent to bite,theres barely any intent to bark. -- I told you,nuthin' that Will help us.

Behind him,Fury stirrs. Hes so bad at hiding his turbulence from his siblings and specially Fury who knows what to look for. Yet she doesnt say anything and simply pats his arm, telling him quietly to simmer down.

Death let the matter rest, and with yet another dreadful whistle he sent Dust to scan ahead. Were there still demons and angels in the barren earth? This world is nothing but overgrown ruin and forgotten civilizations sundered.

Its a miracle theres still birds to sing and chirp like they've always done. Filling the sunny day with life even if humanity was not there anymore,Wether by the hand of Demise or the saving of maker and she-horseman.

--I...met Angie and Gabrielle-- Fury added a few minutes into their ride-- You sung her our lullaby?

Strife tensed up,ready to feel the scrutinizing gaze of the eldest. What he gets instead is a smug,curious look that still doesnt ease his mind.

--Well uh...its always worked-- He excused, voice a little shaky-- I dont see the issue in it.

--theres none-- she admitted,a little amused at how on edge he was-- Just curious,brother.

--Had to put her to sleep somehow. She has more energy than War when he tried sugar for the first time-- Strife dismissed,trying to shift the attention from him. He doesnt want his vulnerability to be judged by Death's words like hes grown so used to.

Hes quite surprised the pale rider hasnt said anything yet.

--Oh by creator,dont remind me-- Fury said with disdain-- Didnt we knock him out with the Hilt of a maze?

Strife chuckled--We did! I still think that was overkill,though.

--It worked,didnt it?--his sister replied with a laugh to her tone-- He slept for a week afterwards.

--And thank god for that,I couldnt handle so much energy-- the gunslinger answered.

--So much for the spirit of eternal unrest. --She teased

--Ooookay!--He raised a finger-- Lissen' that was waaaay before we became horsemen. I wont let you make me responsible for a title I didnt even have back then!-- his voice cracks just a tiny bit-- And besides! Im the spirit of eternal unrest, not the spirit of eternal sugar rush!

The comment makes his sister burst into loud laughter. She throws her head back and holds her ribs. Something in Strife calms at the sound,always happy to make his sister laugh. Its such a beautiful sound.

--I wonder if he still has that same intolerance!--exclaimed the black rider.

Death snarled-- I am not dealing with that.

--Me neither-- strife agreed-- its your bull to wrangle.

Fury shrugged--My own personal show,then.

--Your funeral-- the gunslinger corrected under his breath. A sugar rushed,grown War sounds like the stuff of nightmares right about now.

--Last time he lost control he almost cleaved you in half-- Death prodded with unhidden amusement.

The black rider shrugged-- he already apologized for It. The past is the past

Strife Turned in utter confusion-- Excuse me? I know he didn' do it on purpose but d'you know how unhinged you sound sayin' you'll forgive a near decapitation?

Fury snickered-- Ive grown a sense of humor,brother. Get used to it. Or are you begining to lose yours?

--Oh fuck right off!--He chided,turning Back to face the road-- 'm just sayin' it sounds crazy.

--You've said crazier-- she bickered back, unaware of the fondness that held the gaze of the eldest rider.

Death has missed this so much. Hes almost inclined to snicker,but he didnt want to Interrupt this very amusing battle of Witts. Ah,hes only missing the popcorn.

The gunslinger scoffed with a bit of annoyance,feeling more pressed than a panini-- Yeah,like what?

Fury thought for a few seconds,trying to remember a concrete example. --When you were at Belials dam in hell. You told war "we need you just shy of raging uncontrollable chaos or you might lose another arm"

--I...fine. ill give you that one.

Death couldnt help himself and let out a few chuckles. He gains an odd look from his siblings and says-- You two truly havent changed. I still remember you two bickered like this when we got our horses.

The she-horseman narrowed her eyes at the reaper like a discontent cat-- Then you proceeded to jump into the raging stampede. You have no place to talk.

--Hm...perhaps-- Him? Admitting defeat?. Strife was going to lose his shit.

Yet the gunslinger doesnt comment on it, he allows the moment to pass and he looks down at the ground with confusion and grief. Hes been worrying, gruellingly so. And now he shows up,face uncovered and acting so..cheerful.

Death.Cheerful...those are two words he would never think of stringing together in one sentence. Until now, that is.

It eats at him, he recalls all his sleepless nights wondering if he would lose the eldest to his mourning. He doesnt feel strong enough to ask,hes grown so accustomed to the reaper's cutting Words that now he cant concede the idea of actually talking to him.

Hes paralyzed by fear. An instinct telling him he Will be mocked and dismissed like Many times before. He wonders what must have happened for him to change so suddenly. Did he even want to know?

And what was he missing with Fury and Death? Theres a certain sadness in her eyes yet relief when she stares at the eldest of their kin. Did she reach out to him like she did with him? What did they talk about?

The gunslinger horseman wished War was here with them. The youngest had a knack for observation and insight. With his cool mind he would be able to tell,hes sure of it.

Until the red rider showed up,he would have to live with the tension in the air. An unspoken issue that still needed to be tackled, an issue that made Strife linger his gaze on the pale rider.

Beside wanting to memorize his face in case that mask comes back on,he also wanted to see how much hes changed. Death never said anything if he noticed. And his firey gaze had mellowed out into a dancing flame like the one in a fireplace.

The reaper "mellowed out" . It really is the end times,isnt it?. At least so it felt to the second oldest horseman,he picked at the situation day in and day out.

He saw his brother act in a way hes never seen before...

No. Thats a lie. Hes seen this behavior before,in the pale rider's youth when he only upheld the title of brother.

What had his journey shown him?

And what was Fury not telling him?

Strife pondered all this as night began to settle. They were in the middle of a barren city,taking refuge within one of the broken down appartment buildings. Around the first floor for easy escape and a good vantage point.

He lays there on an old,probably moldy sofa that he doesnt fit in. His legs hang and rest unconfrotably against the old stone floor thats overgrown by greenery.

Beside him a small fireplace burnt,one that Fury had set up and was currently allowing a kettle to simmer. He figured that after a hundred Years of living with humanity,she had grown attached to their customs. And honestly, the Four had always a bit of a fondness for such drinks.

Yet his ears keenly listen to a hushed conversation that Death and Fury are having outside of this run down appartment.

--I..havent told him-- came the voice of the she-horseman-- I dont think he felt you...

Death sighed and he could hear the shake of his head-- no matter. I dont believe he Will take it well. Neither Will War.

--I didnt feel you either. Not until I reached out-- She sounded confused,mournful. Its such an odd thing to be witness to- shes usually headstrong and sure of herself.

--I dont believe the Council wouldve liked us finding out about those kinds of things. They must have meddled somehow.

--How dare they?--Theres such a primal anger to her growl-- not even the decency to let us know...

--It wouldve raised alarms,sister-- the reaper answered,patting her shoulder-- No matter now. -- then he made a brief pause--...are you alright?

Fury scoffed-- No. --she then sighed,sounding Like she was deinflating as she calmed down-- How do you want me to be? After everything...-- she trailed off-- the pain just never ends for us,does it?

Death let out a low breath-- by our hand,it Will. Nevertheless,sister, I Will not expect you to be your usual self. I dont believe neither of us four are of clear mind at this moment.

--You'll find us all changed,brother.

Theres no hesitation in the reaper's voice as he says-- changed or not,we're still four horsemen united. Still we remain kin. Perhaps thats the only thing that wont change.

Strife heard the clink of armor against armor,he guessed Death hugged Fury. Or the other way around- he couldnt really tell.

Then his siblings returned to their camping spot. The she-horseman tended to the tea and Death stood there with his arms crossed and looking at the gunslinger with an actual amused smile(small, but still there).

--I pity the state of your spinal column.-- he tapped his index finger against his bicep expectantly.

--Psht, its a social construct-- he half joked,hoping that his lack of enthusiasm doesnt slip through.

Its been like this since the begining,Strife is devoid of witt and bite. Hes never quiet,unless something is bothering Him. Like when he found that dagger in Mammon's hoard.

He would rather not think about It, hed has enough of a bitter taste in his mouth. He centers on the faint chittering of cicadas And grasshoppers that begin to sing to the night Sky that remains unchanged with the moon shining bright.

The gunslinger's gaze gets lost in the dancing Fire,trying to make sense of his feelings. He is relieved that Death is alright,hes been worrying for milennia. Theres a joke in the situation that the reaper didnt give any signs of life but he really isnt in the mood for humor right now.

He cant pretend nothing has changed,and still his stupid face stares back at him. The strong features and now kind eyes remind the white rider of the nicer memories with the eldest,he hates it.

Enough was enough and he wasnt ready to reconcile the image of the perfect,protecting brother to the merciless kinslayer. It reminds him that a lot of the pain hes felt after the massacre was thanks to the hands of Death.

Yet anger cant seem to get a grasp on him,a part of him does understand that neither were the same after the siege of Eden. But why was he so cruel? So needlessly cutting.

No,he cant come back to play house without an apology.

Will he even get an apology?

--Strife...--Comes the firm voice of Fury as she hands him a Cup.

--Wha..?--He muttered,looking up to see the mug with steaming tea. He sighs and sits up,taking the cup in his hands and realizing soon he recognizes the craftmanship-- these are Gabrielles...

--Yes. She let me take them with me--The female nephilim answered-- Angie was specially happy to lend them after I told her i'd be seeing Jones too.

The white rider looked impressed-- Wait,does she know...?

--I had to tell her eventually-- Fury noted how...coy he looked. It was an adorable sight-- she really likes you.

Strife felt his face redden. Death didnt need to know about all this.

--Who is this Angie you speak of?--smug,smug old bag of bones and dust...

Fury scoffed and sent a malicious look to the second eldest who sinks against the couch and begins to dissociate as his face burns with shame. He is never living this down.

Death looks amused, wondering If some of his older brother habits rubbed off on the second eldest. He chuckled and said-- I see the resemblance with War...or is it William?

The gunslinger sets the mug on his lap and puts his hands on the eye part of his mask. He sighs loudly and says-- fury...I hate you...so much...

A laugh is the answer he gets-- Its adorable, brother--Fury takes a sip of her tea,just about to combust from how funny the image of his brother being flustered is. --She only says good things about you.

Death chuckled lowly,looking at his brother-- You've got a fan,strife. -- he teased.

Strife pointed at his eldest and said-- You. Zip. It.

The sound that comes Next stuns both of the younger riders. Its a sound that they've seldomed, something that they might have heard in a dream or a childhood memory- the origin is uncertain, which only floors them further.

From deep within the pale rider's gut, reverberating against his narrow diaphragma and his sinewy throat...Death laughs quite loudly and bares a fanged smile at his younger sibling.

Both siblings exchange a look of...surprise? Horror? Neither know but Fury just joins in the laughter out of either sheer desbelief or unbridaled joy. She throws her head back,her laughter growing a little deeper and scratching her throat at the shift in position of her traquea.

Yet Strife's hands begin to shake,his breath is uneven and his world began to swirl. He hurriedly sets down the cup and all but runs out of the appartment in a huff.

His eyes Sting with tears ,and he has to go to the floor underneath their camping spot and find a dark corner to curl into himself. His helmet gets torn off and he begins to heave in his breath.

Light does his chest begin to feel,pressure lowering and his eyes Rolling back into his head, yet he still cries. His whole body shakes like an unstable earthquake,and his throat feels like its scratched by a feral,scared animal trying to get out.

Water streaks down his cheeks and chiseled jaw, his lightly scarred lips quivering and his nostrills flare with each breath that burns his lungs as he cries.

The disconnect between both faces of his brother was breaking his mind in two. How could the same brother that was his lighthouse be the responsible for his pain all those milennia back?.

He cries, realizing now that his child self is begining to catch up to all the trauma and pain that Death has caused. His whole world is about to just fall and shatter as conciousness wavers between abandoning Him and staying.

Memories begin to mix,old and New,good and bad. His brother,the kinslayer,his role model,the butcher. Its all so,so much.

Strife put his hands on his face,clawing at his scalp to try and ground himself. He cries and tries to Keep silent and yet the beast within him,that wounded Child,wants nothing more than to scream and growl.

He spent the night Cooped up in that dark corner crying. Hes seldomed his siblings and the cup of tea that his sister has so kindly brewed for him.

Meanwhile at their camp,Fury begins to settle and see that her brother is not there. She tilts her head and asks-- was he..that angry?

Death narrows his eyes at the spilt cup of tea on the sofa and sighs-- not..angry. -- he raised a hand as his sister tried to stand up-- leave him alone. I dont think its wise to go out looking for him...you know how unstable his emotions are

Fury huffed,sitting down-- I just...I dont understand what is up with him.

The eldest rubbed his face with exhaustion. He underestimated how closed off Strife would be--I dont think he can move on,nor do I blame him. Ive been...awful,to say the least-- he gave his sister a reassuring look-- we'll find him in the morning. Neither of us can handle this right now.

With a sad nodd,the she-horseman went to a quiet corner herself and hoped that her gun-slinging sibling didnt do anything stupid. Death simply stared at the flame,knowing theres a lot of hard work ahead of him. And he knows hes going to hate it,mainly because he Will have to actually show emotions.

But he wanted that second chance and he got it,so he better do good on his word.

He did tell his sister to not meddle,but he does want to make sure that Strife is okay. Dust seems to pick up on this because the rebel corvid flies down to the hiding spot.

The gunslinger tries to Gently shove the bird back,but the crow is quite insistent and cuddles on the horseman's shoulder. He sighs and relents, at least he has this anchor.

Morning came soon.And when Strife appeared outside already on mayhem, Fury went to hop on the Mare and lean on her brother reassuringly. A brief touch but a show that she had worried.

He shook his head dismissively--Im fine.

--Youre not-- she said lowly,decisively and firmly. But she doesnt pry further.

Death sees his brother avoid his gaze, and this time he doesnt whistle to call for his steed. Simply he does a hand gesture and hops on the saddle quickly, sending Dust ahead to scout.

Yet before he obeys the commands of his master, the corvid settles on the white rider's shoulder and begins to preen off a few hairs with gentle care.

Strife snorts loudly and doesnt shrug off the bird. Hes also glad that his eldest of kin doesnt comment on it, Fury does though.

--thats how he shows he cares-- she said lowly for her saddle companion to hear.

--He can come and talk to me like an adult--The gunslinger ignored the hypocrisi in his statement. He could go and talk to him too.

After that,he Gently kicks the side of his steed and both stallions begin to ride forward to that accursed spire looming over earth.

This unrest he feels lingers for days. Strife wasnt sure what he was feeling, was it relief? Horror? Fear?. He didnt know what his emotions were doing,he was scared shitless and for the first time in his life he is unable to put his brother on a place that feels right.

First he could say that he admired and loved his brother,then that he couldnt stand him and yet still he worried. Now he didnt even know if he should talk to him,or talk back.

--Dust has seen some tracks that look like Ruins-- Commented Death,trying to prod his brother to talk-- Do either of you know what happened to War?

--He was casted to the abyss--Fury seemed to know,strife doesnt even react. He had his ways of knowing but still the idea of his baby sibling suffering such fate stabbed his heart.

Not that he would let it show.

--Only that?-- Asked the eldest,disturbed at how his once witty brother now seems lost with his gaze on the floor. Hes almost allowing Mayhem to set the path and route,at least the mare does try to follow along with their plan.

--Sadly,yes. I could try and reach out again-- the sister proposed-- Easier to find him if we just ask...

Death began to see the golden hour set in. He nodds and says-- We'll find a place for you to safely reach out to War. -- he then tried to Gently nudge the calf of his brother with his foot. Emphasis on the gentle part-- Is that okay with you,Strife?

The gunslinger seemed to blink out of his stupor. Unaware of the pained look of his sister behind him,what a horrible state to see him in.-- huh?wha- Sure. Whatever-- He murmured,breathing sharply and trying to save face.

Death flinched a little and drifted his gaze to the dark spot that was dust against the Pink and purple Sky. The colors swirl together and like melted honey they mingle. Its been beautiful day so far.

As planned they find a safe enough spot. An old greenhouse thats been largely overgrown by now. And near a park with a recornizable enough statue, woman with a fruit basket.

They hope the easily recognizable landmark helps the youngest rider to find their camp spot.

Fury goes to a quiet spot but as she passed the eldest she gripped his forearm hard,strong enough to dig her taloned gauntlets on the metal armor of her sibling.

--talk. To. Him. Now. -- she growled- no,demanded. -- I wont spend one more day with him like this.-- her hair flares a bright yellow,he recognizes the power of the Fire hollow. And he sees a few glimmers of purple in her hair as the force hollow allows her to sink her nails into his armor further only to prove and solidify her Point.

With a silent sigh he nodded and felt himself shoved a little with anger.

He goes to find his brother who stands before an overgrown pond. Hes looking down at his own reflection,the helmet Next to his pistols a few meters back. The golden hour makes his spiky hair look like a jagged eclipse with a ring of Orange lines.

Silent steps approach the gunslinger and he then says--Strife...we must talk.

--What is there to talk about?-- His brother answered,voice flat.

--The matter of why Ive been behaving the way that Ive been-- he stands beside his brother,looking at the face of his younger of kin. Hes also missed being able to see his face.

Perhaps without their masks,they can finally talk.

--I need you to understand that what I did, I did for War-- He began, his hands tightening into fists and then relaxing like hes a jittery cat. -- I visited the crowfather, and fought him. The amulet shattered and embedded itself in me.-- the recalling of those memories isnt pleaseant,but he must Keep going-- to resurrect humanity, to erase the crime,I had to make a sacrifice. I...threw myself into the well of souls. To exchange the nephilim for humanity.

--...so you died?-- his voice carries no life,no witt,no snark,no rebellious undernote or teasing remark.

--yes--death tries to be soft in the way he speaks,he recalls the way he used to Lower his voice and quieten his pronounciation. With a bit of ease,he slips into his old role as brother-- and before I did,I remembered our childhood. And I realize now that i...-- he hisses out a sigh-- Ive done Many things wrong..

He sees strife blink back into conciousness-- Yeah?

Okay, hes defenetly not hearing the end of this. Ever. But he is no stranger to making sacrifices for his siblings.

--Indeed,and I have hurt you all in ways my younger self would be horrified to know about. -- he sighed loudly and put a hand on his sibling's shoulder--And for all the titles ive beared,the only one I cared for, the only one I havent been able to uphold has been the title of Brother. I....am sorry. For all the pain I've put you through.

Strife Turned to face his brother. Expression confused and eyes widened to the point they might pop out of their sockets.

--You...are such an asshole!--he chided.

Death snickered and nodded--Indeed. Ive..been nothing short of awful. But I wish not to lose another brother,and yet another part of my soul.

The gunslinger snorted.Begining to cry and having to bite back a fanged grin that ultimately,hes unable to restrain. His tears look like Fire in the golden hour glow,and his eldest of kin Gently wipes them away.

--Would you throw yourself into a well for me?--He asked,showing a bit of his humor.

With a snicker,the reaper says-- of course -- he keeps wiping away the tears-- remember when you came back home late?

--You...wiped off the dirt on ma face--Strife recalled,feeling himself slowly return to his usual self. Thats all he needed to hear-- n tended to my wounds.

--I never felt...--He struggled to hold the eye contact,but managed to do so if only because he knows the gunslinger Will never forgive him if he chickened out now.

--C'mon,asshole,spit it out.

--So...scared of losing you-- he finally finished,feeling a bit of annoyance at the disrespectful remark. But he was in no spot to be picky-- The same way I...made sure we all returned from Eden. And having...died, showed me a lot of things.

A scoff left the white rider,he nodded along and his grin never wavered-- was that so hard?

Death snorted and shook his head-- you absolute blight...-- he said with fondness.

--Hey! You deserve it.

--I do.--Strife roughly hit the side of his brother and snickered at how he flinches.--i bear my heart to you and thats how im repaid?--The reaper teased.

--Now you know how I feel.

--Fair enough

Both stand there in the overgrown garden,a Tiny oasis in this abandoned world. Reminds them both of the forests they would train in,the places they would forage. Returning to their old selves perhaps wasnt so bad.

In the golden hour,Death finally can take in the face of his brother. He missed seeing it, its good to know neither have changed much in appereance.

The eldest sighed loudly and pulled his brother for a tight hug. And this time,Strife didnt fight back and melted into his brother's embrace. The eldest begins to sing a lullaby in nephilim tongue.

Hes never forgotten the words either.

--the sun's gone to rest. The moon above begins to show.

In the clouds lay your head,and hold tight to your Cowl.

And if the cold comes to bite you,nuzzle close to my heart right beside you.

Strife picked up where his brother left off-- night sweet night,of slumber and repair.

Pair with your loved one,as the shadows lumber again.

Safe against my ribs,holding you close to my heart.

And youll find nightmares to be scarce.

When morning comes,and the sun shines bright.

Open the door and play, ever spry.

The light of the sun begins to set,the hug tightens and neither feel the need to pull away. Not anymore.

Meanwhile,Fury sits on the inner part of the greenhouse. The Windows are overgrown and the whole room is dark and its the perfect place for her to zone out and reach for her brother. She worries still that Death Will mess this up,but theres little she can do to fix her eldest's problems.

Its not her responsability to fix it.

She does worry, she finds herself doing that a lot these days. And by now shes just bitten the bullet that she has a tender heart, and always had It.

With a shake of her head she sits on the mossy Grass and puts her hands on her knees as she is currently crosslegged. She has been practicing meditation with the humans,and shes found a few magical uses for it.

A deep breath fills her air with lungs finding the thread that connects the four that they are. A bond that felt like running horses,burning flames, coldest bite, frenzied,bloody and unmoving. But kind,growing and healing.

Its a hectic Line to walk,but Fury has grown accostumed to it and knows where to step now. She holds her breath,hearing the rustle of the wind that moves the vegetation around her.

Lowly,she sings a little lullaby of her own. Like the Cantrip of a spell to focus on a certain horseman,needing not of memories but rather calling to their very Essence.

Shes perfected it along the past months where her yearning for her family has grown exponentially since shes last reached out. she'd never admit to how tailored each verse became,and she would never admit she would read what human poetry was scavenged And saved before creating New Haven as inspiration for rhyme And reason.

Clearing her throat, she allows the words to flow. The Fire hollow ignites and spreads her warmth to the Flora,its Like the magic travels across the mycelium networks. Nature in itself carried an arcane connection like few things in life.

As Death had told her, Life was quite entwined with the ending of all things. Just like she was forever tangled in the thread of her brothers.

--Beyond the smoke,beyond the brimstone.

Hulking does your form become.

Pale red in the thin storm.

Of Fire and desolation thrown. --she can see her brother walking Among an Ashen field,perhaps it was during the battle of eden or one of their countless missions.-- I becon you red rider.

I becon you,my Kin.

My red cladded brother.

Sweet as you've always been.

She breathes out,sending the call out into the world. She finds It grip the mind and attention of War and she finds herself glowing like flame,still using her hollow power. She thought the Fire would help to center her magic, she knew flame was tangled deep within the red rider.

He stands there confused,magic has always escaped him-- sister...hello?

Around them is An ashen battlefield with dark clouds and faint Fire crackling over a storm that threatens to break anytime soon. Corpses around them are blurry,overlapping in details like mixed memories.

The air smells of ash,decay and smoke. Neither seemed to mind,the smell just a part of their lives by now.

--Dont sound so surprised-- She laughed,crossing her arms and tapping her index finger on her bicep. Little thing she got from Death.

--Your magic escapes me-- he chided,a little embarassed at sounding so caught off guard-- But its good to see you. You heeded my call?.

--Always...-- she said softly with a fond smile-- We are in a greenhouse. I Belive we're near an old plaza,grand. Broken statue of a woman with a basket of fruits.

War remained silent,the cogs clearly turning in his head as he slowly finds the place and the route to get there. --I believe I know the place. Shant take long,a days ride away.

--Dont overwork your horse,Will you brother?--she asked teasingly.

The youngest rider laughed--Will try not to-- He snickered and then returned to his serious demeanor. A little soft,and concerned-- How is Rampage faring?

Fury's smile Turned silken and gentle-- He's...reccuperating well. I feel him grow stronger every day.

--Perseverent and enduring. Much like you, sister.

She giggled-- Thank you,brother. How is Ruin?

--Hes doing well, the time with the demons still haunt his mind. But not as often,hes returning to his self.

--Good to hear--Fury Turned behind her,hearing a soft windchime that ends with the Roaring of a flame-- Ill dissapear soon. Come find us.

War nodded and pressed a gentle kiss to the forehead of his sister's apparition before both are pulled from this pocket dimention back to their bodies.

Fury does laugh at the gentle gesture,endeared at the unlikely softness of War. She stretches and takes a few minutes to shake off the strain this spell usually caused,and to give her brothers more time to reconcile.

She lingers for ten more minutes before standing up and walking to the garden. She finds the brothers hugging and just pulling back when she fully reaches the entrance to the place they are in.

Death pats the shoulder of his sibling,purpousely tripping Him into the pond,its easily 6 foot deep. He then turns to Fury,unbothered-- well?

--He'll be here tomorrow night,probably-- She answered-- if he takes longer,Its my fault. I dont want Ruin to be overworked.

--Good enough-- he nodded approvingly,crossing his arms over his chest and Gently tapping his index finger on his bicep--You seem tir-- his sentence is cut short when Strife yanks him by the back of his crusty,dusty,stinky purple cowl into the pond.

The pale rider stumbles into the cool water,letting out a curse in nephilim tongue and goes to fight his brother in the water. His black hair sticks to his face and he bites on It a little in the rustle And toussle of the fight.

And to add insult to injury,Fury calls upon her stasis hollow and throws a ball of freezing ice into the makeshift water feature. It freezes them in spot and she laughs loudly as shes deathglared by her kin.

--You two are like dogs-- she justified with no convincing tone that what she did was fair. She walks past them,sticks her tongue out and goes to find a patch of beautiful orchids to gaze at and take just a few blooms for herself. She freezes a few of the seeds and flowers,setting them in her bag for humanity when she eventually returns.

And they stay the night,there. The brothers do break from their icy Bonds and chase after their shit stirrer sister. For the first time in milennia,they feel like children again in their little chasing game and harmless sparring.

It ends with Fury in the pond,as Strife laughs loudly and Death watches on in smug content.

-♡-

The day waiting for War is spent in quiet storytelling. Drinking tea, and finally telling eachother about their journeys across realms and even...Time.

--Of course you get time jumping shit!--Strife chided,thoroughly offended. His voice cracks and he drinks what has to be his third cup of tea.

--Jealous much,brother?-- Death asked,nursing his fourth cup of tea as the afternoon settles above them. They rest in the cool shadow of the overgrown,dark greenhouse.

--Piss off!-- He chided again, pointing accusatorily at him-- gimme! Hand it the fuck over!

--In your wildest dreams,brother-- the eldest answered,smug as always and his face not hiding the utter contentment because of his kin's dismay.

--And you get hollows?!--He asked to fury. Shes also not exempt from his jealousy-- C'mon!!! Its not fair.

The she horseman snickered,seeing his brother In the lowlight of their campfire reminds her of the times they would spend the nights in candelight and tell eachother stories back when both were young.

--You mustve gotten something fun,im sure-- his sister said.

Strife sniffed, looking at the Fire and losing his train of thought in the process-- Last cool thing I got was the Void Bomb,An Aether Spark too. But I left it hidden. That power is not good in my hands

Death raised a brow-- And then you complain about having nothing...fun.

--If the creator ever decides t'send me on a fun lil' adventure of my own through time n' space ill let you know-- He snickered,a joke only to himself. He turns to something the others cannot see,and winks.

Fury rolled her milky white eyes and smacks her brother out of his otherworldly stupor-- idiot...--She bit with a smile--I'm telling you right Now this tea had nothing special.

--Y'know I do have one cool gift but I wont tell you-- He snickered,setting the empty cup on the Grass and he laying down-- 'nyway. Shut up. 'M takin' a nap.

He puts his helmet over his eyes like an ill-feeting cowboy hat and uses his arms as pillows. His back pressed against the soft moss.

The she-Horseman checked his cup just for good measure and shrugged at her brother who does a dismissive hand gesture. They resume their conversation

in a low tone as to not disturb Strife who got really bitchy if hes interrupted in his rest.

-♡-

When night comes,they Hear the clobbering of heavy hooves and meet their hooded brother out on the street. War seems a bit on edge,wondering how much do his siblings know. And if they believe him a traitor.

No animosity has been detected in his brief interactions with Fury though, which eases his nerves.

--Brothers...sister--He called out,not hopping off of Ruin just yet-- Theres much to talk about.

As if able to sense his worry,Strife says-- The council sucks ass. Whats New? --He has his helmet tucked between his forearm and rib. He smiles a fanged grin and adds-- Death here threw himself into a well of souls for you and to bring back humanity. Fury convinced Ulthane to help you and I never doubted you. -- he scoffed-- you? Breaking the rules? Pluh-ease.

War sighed with relief,hopping down from his horse. He pats the stallion's neck and dismisses the equine steed back to rest in his pocket dimention.

Death becons his brother closer and Gently dusts off his shoulder pauldron. A habit hes always carried,always a mother hen.--We'll talk in the morning-- the eldest decided,giving a complicit look to the other two siblings.--I believe we all had enoug bad news for a lifetime.

In their heads they get the faintest hint of an idea. And so they bring their sibling within the green house,to the pond that in hindsight it really is 6 foot deep, he'll fit just fine. And with their strength combined (and a bit of Force Hollow shenanigans) they throw their behemoth of a brother into the water.

He screeches at the sudden coolness before he looks at the three with the eyes of a kicked,betrayed puppy. His white eyes just widen and his lips part,and then prank clicks instantly. Their laughter wont last long.

And thats how they know they have messed up,as his eyes fill with determination.

War yanks his siblings by grabbing the three in a waist hug and throwing them into the pond with him. Laughing along at their dismay

The night is filled with the joyful laughter of the horsemen. And when theyre done horsing around, they all huddle in the darkened interior of the greenhouse and sit around the Fire with warm tea and content looks in their faces.

Death keeps watch for the night as his siblings rest with their weapons nearby. He sighs and with a smile In his face he feels like hes finally fulfilling his Word.

Kinslayer no more,Brother from now on.

[fuffyfun123]

CheatingGiyu X Reader angst (platonic/romantic endings)

Cw:angst/fluff

For years, you’ve been in a relationship with giyuu tomioka. Everyone knew you two as highschool sweethearts and now, you’re grown adults. Youve seen and went through a lot with him.

Although giyuu was awfully quiet, he was perfect. Nothing could’ve gone bad, right?

one day, when you came back home from work, you saw giyuu was asleep. You smiled softly and went to go cook until you kept hearing his phone buzz, over and over again. You had suspicions if he was cheating or not so, you checked his phone and realized he’s been cheating on you for weeks.

giyuu woke up afterwards and his face turned pale once he realized you saw the messages.

“Why are you looking through my phone. Give it back. I promise it’s not what it looks like.”

“What the hell is this….. how-… y-you’re cheating on me?” You stare at the phone in horror as your hands start to tremble from the sudden adrenaline rush.

Giyu quickly snatches his phone back. “I’m sorry! I just thought you didn’t love me anymore…and I…” he paused looking down at his phone ashamed and guilty.

“If you wanted to break up you should’ve told me how you felt!” U felt tears sting at ur eyes as your confusion and sadness turned into rage and betrayal.

Giyu always hated seeing you cry, but he always found a way to comfort you. But this time it was different. 

Giyu watched as tears streamed down ur face, his heart ached with guilt, he couldn’t bare to see u cry especially because of him. 

“I’m so… so sorry..” he stepped close to you reaching out his hand only to it being slapped away.

“Don’t come near me!” Giyu froze at your harsh words. All he wanted to do was to hug you, to comfort you but he knew his actions would only worsen the situation.

You wipe ur tears as u avoided his gaze “I want you out…”

His eyes widen in shock as he instantly looked at you again. “W-what?… you’re kicking me out?…”

“Well I’m sure u can move in with that other b*tch ‘Reina’ instead”

Giyu clenched his fists as your words stung at his heart. But he knew he couldn’t be mad at the truth he knew his actions were completely wrong.

He looked down again and began to pack his belongings as waves of sadness and guild washed over him at the memories you had together.

He zips up his bag and tosses the strap over his shoulder as he walked towards the front door waiting for you to say something.

“Well, I hope you get everything ur karma owes you” you cross you arms giving a cold glare.

giyu looks down, not having the courage to meet your gaze. He knows that you were right. He deserved this but.. it still hurt. It stung.

he opened the door and went to step out but, he stopped. He thought maybe— just maybe there was a chance of redemption. He looks back at you, speaking for the first time since he’s been packing.

“I.. I still love you.”

“I ‘loved’ you…”

________________________________________

//Bittersweetness//

(Platonic ending )

Two weeks later

it has been 2 weeks since giyu left your house. He was still with the other girl, although he still couldn’t help but miss you. He knew that you probably hated him right now, but that didn’t stop him from wondering how you were doing.

One day at the local market you walk around looking for spices when u see… Giyu Tomioka… your ex staring at you. You were grateful for the crowds of people not only to hide from Giyu.. but from his new girlfriend too.

His girlfriend who currently hasn’t noticed you drags Giyu away to another sales booth. You quickly turn away and walk off, accidentally bumping into someone. You quickly excused urself as you try to walk by. But that person you bumped into only stared at you, and slowly started to follow behind you.

You soon notice the strange man following you and you start to walking faster. But he also quickens his pace. And once you were in a deserted area he quickly grabbed you and pulled you into a dark alleyway.

“What the hell?!” You yell as you struggle to free yourself.

The guy doesn’t say anything. He just pushes you against the wall, pinning ur wrists to prevent you from escaping.

“What are you doing creep?!” A few moments pass by until he finally speaks. “I got bored and I saw u pretty little thing walking by…” his voice was hoarse likely from smoking cr*ck. 

You grimaced as he licked his lips. “Looks like your all mine sweetheart.” 

“Damnit” you cursed to yourself wishing Giyu was here. The guy continued to press you up against the wall, his hands wandering ur figure. He was about to say something when a voice interrupted him.

“Let her go.”

“Giyu?!” 

I looked over the guys shoulder to see Giyu standing behind the creep. He had a cold expression as he spoke, taking a step forward.

The guy immediately froze at the sight of Giyu. He slowly let you go and took a step away.

“I’m doing nothing, just having a little bit of fun. Nothing for you to worry about.. right, sweetheart?”

the guy spoke, but he was interrupted as you punched his face and kicked his privates.

the guy fell back onto the floor, groaning and clutching his crotch.

“OW..! You—“

he was interrupted by giyu as he crouched down and grabbed the back of the guy’s jacket, yanking him up and pushing him against the wall.

“Don’t touch her.”

giyu spoke with a cold tone as he kept the guy pinned against the wall. He was furious with what almost happened. He was even angrier at the fact that he almost walked away and left you with that guy.

the guy slowly brought his hands up as a sign of surrender, terrified at the look on giyu’s face.

“Okay, okay! I’ll leave her alone. Just— don’t hurt me..”

giyu didn’t say anything. He just held him there for a few more seconds before letting him go and taking a step back.

“Leave.”

the guy froze and just nodded, before quickly scrambling away, disappearing from the alleyway. It was silent for a moment before giyu looked at you, his expression a bit soft.

“And don’t come back!” You remark before look back up at Giyu.

giyu just stayed quiet as he stepped closer to you, his eyes never leaving you.

“You know you really didn’t have to do that for me…” you spoke in a quiet tone.

giyu knew that, you were a strong and capable person, but he was still on edge. He clenched his fists again as he spoke with a cold tone, but there was a hint of relief there as well.

“Doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have to deal with creeps like that in the first place.”

His heart flutters at the sight of ur smile. “Well uh- thanks anyway.” You tuck a strand of hair behind ur ear

giyu nodded, looking down for a second before looking back up at you. He took in the sight of you, looking at your smile. It was something he was missing in his life. He exhaled silently and ran a hand through his hair before speaking up again.

“No problem..”

A few moment pass by when u break the silence. “I think- ur girlfriend is waiting for you…”

giyu’s eyes widened slightly before he looked down and nodded silently. He knew you were right, and he did feel a little guilty about ditching the other girl to run after you. He shoved his thoughts away and spoke again with a low tone.

“Can- I ask you one question?”

“You just did” giving him an amused smile. 

“Do you still… hate me?…”

The lighthearted tone disappeared in ur voice as you felt a pant of guilt of that day, but you excuse the feeling as you pull him into a tight hug. 

Giyu was slightly taken aback but slowly melted into the embrace as he wrapped his arms around ur waist.

“I could never hate you…” 

your gentle and sincere words but him like a brick as he held you even tighter his nose burying into your hair as he breathed in your familiar scent. Memories of the time you two spent together flooded his brain, making him feel even more guilty for throwing it away. He closed his eyes holding back tears.

“I miss you so much…”

“Me too…” you felt a tear fall down ur cheek as you both slowly pulled away from the embrace.

 “Will you stay in touch with me?… even after everything we went through?” Giyus gaze turns to the floor as he spoke.

“Always”

You place your hand on his cheek and softly graze your thumb against it, looking at him with a warm expression.

A moment passed by before Giyu spoke. “I probably should be going now… my girlfriend is probably worried now..” rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Oh ofc, yeah… well, I guess this is goodbye then.” You spoke in a slightly disappointed tone.

“This isn’t goodbye forever, I’ll see you around… and please.. take care of yourself.” He smiles still with a hint of concern and worry in his tone.

You give him a slightly defeated smile as he walks off. You felt gutted, but you knew it was for the best… he’s happy again… and that makes you happy… even if it’s bittersweet.

________________________________________

//Happily Ever After?//

(Romantic ending)

Two years later

it has been 2 years since giyu left your house. He has only been with the other women for a month the after incident but couldn’t help but miss you. He knew that you probably hated him right, but that didn’t stop him from wondering how you were doing.

You run into the meeting room for an interview for a job offer exhausted.

“S-sorry I’m late…” the fatigue starts to seep in as you settle down grabbing your resume and paper.

“It’s quite alright just-… y/n??”

You look up shocked as your eyes meet his… Giyu Tomioka

“Giyu?!” You stare at him shocked as old memories flood back into your memory, not much of him has changed but you never realized how attractive he looked in a suit.

The silence grows thick as neither one of you knows what to say.

After a moment you break the silence and remember you have a job interview and start speaking.

After the interview

“y/n I know we’ve had our… differences is the past but is it okay if we can… start over?”

Your eyes slightly widen at him as you finish packing all your papers.

“I-uhm… sure…”

He doesn’t say anything after but you notice the his expression becomes slightly more… joyful?

You two exchange numbers and move on.

________________________________________

After working together as coworkers for a month you get a text message.

‘Can you meet me at the park 5 pm tmr? I need to talk to you about something.”

‘Oh, yeah I’ll be there..’ you press send and turn off you phone as you begin to settle into your nightly slumber.

The next day you go on your daily routine and at 4:30 you begin to drive to the meeting spot at the park.

You park your vehicle and see tomioka sitting in a bench wearing a black T and sweatpants.

“Hey Tomioka” you wave as you begin to approach him.

His face relaxes at the sight of you “hello y/n…”

You sit beside him on the bench “so what do you wanna talk about?”

“…i know it’s been long since we’ve seen each other… but if I’m gonna be honest iv missed you…” his voice stands stoic.

“Iv missed you… so much y/n… there hasn’t been a day where I haven’t thought of you. And I just wanted to say that I’m sorry… I’m so so sorry for hurting and betraying you…” his body starts become desperate and shaky as you notice a slight tremor in his voice

“I know you won’t forgive me… but-“ His words were cut off as he felt you press your lips against his.

Shocked he looked at you a slight blush dusting his cheeks as his kissed you back melting into the intimate moment.

He wraps his arms around your waist wanting as the nostalgia of your guy’s past washes in in waves.

After a few moments you both slowly pull away staring into each other’s eyes.

“Iv missed you too…” tears begin to flow from your eyes.

He can’t help but break his stoic facade as he wraps his arms onto your neck sobbing into your shoulder. “I promise… I’ll never hurt you again, I won’t be such a foolish idiot.”

You wrap your arms around him as pull him closer.

“I love you so much y/n…”

“I love you too…”

[evita-shelby]

The Question of Age

Tommy and Alfie never liked the age difference between their daughters and their husbands, and yet neither hoped things would take a turn for the worse sixteen years later.

Takes place in the It's Only a Paper Moon fic where Diane falls in love and married John 'Bucky' Egan, Allie, Rose and Robert Collins are @justrainandcoffee ocs.

Cw:angst, large-ish age differences, alzheimer's disease, death. I think i aged up Allie and Diane again lol both were born in 1923/22 i guess

John Clarence Egan is not the man he wants for his little witch.

He is loud, American and left a string of broken hearts everywhere.

There was also his age, his girl was just too young for the man.

“And what age were you when you married your wife, treacle?” Alfie Solomons had joined on the side of the enemy here and welcomed John Egan into the family as if he were part of it too. “Exact same age the two of you eloped after knowing each other for what, six months?”

So he was being a hypocrite about this, what did it matter?

Diane was barely twenty-three and had met the infamous Major Egan of the Bloody 100th when she went behind his back and asked Churchill to send her where he couldn’t stop her. Churchill had sent her to the American Red Cross to spy for him at Thorpe Abbotts because no one trusts a Yankee.

Now the Prime Minister claims to be behind this fairytale romance in his toast to the new couple.

“He is taking her from me, to some place in fucking nowhere all across the ocean. Where the fuck is Manitowoc, Wisconsin anyways?” Tommy admits because that is something even Alfie would understand.

“We’ll get you a map then, my Rosie will be happy to help you pack and move there if you want to keep an eye on him.” The jew pats his shoulder and continues mocking him for his fatherly fears.

“If some stranger came for your Allie, you’d be sulking at her wedding too, Solomons.” Tommy points out and as luck would have it, sweet Allie is talking very animatedly with a man older than Bucky Egan. Some museum curator named Robert Collins who had been involved with the Monuments Men in Europe.

“For fuck’s sake, mate, she can’t be talking to him that way. He’s not even Jewish!”

It's not long when Tommy is sticking up for 40 year old Robert Collins at their wedding while Alfie sulks in a dark corner.

“Fuck you! You did this, Shelby.” Alfie curses as he pretends he is not hurting at seeing his little girl go with her now husband.

1961

John Clarence Egan was a few months shy of forty-six years old when he dies of a heart attack.

He leaves behind an inconsolable Diane and their two daughters, Rosemary Gale and Elizabeth Eve. His best friend, Gale ‘Buck’ Cleven tries his best to console her as he’d lost his own wife six years prior and loved the man as much as she did.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Bucky was a good man.” Alfie Solomons is worse for wear especially after Rose’s death so recently. He’d come all the way here with Allie to give his condolences and comfort Di and her girls just as Di and Bucky had flown to Margate to kick Robert in the nuts and console Allie.

“He was, he will be missed.” Tommy admits solemnly. “I’m sorry for what Collins did to your girl, shouldn’t have stuck up for him at the wedding.”

“Who?” For a moment Tommy thinks Solomons is joking, but he sees the clear confusion in his face.

They had heard of his mind failing, forgetting the stove, the business and that Rose was gone.

“No one important, Solomons.” Tommy says and tries to change the conversation. “No one important.”

[exist4me]

Stressful Day

Hi! I am new to writing. Please read my little blurb. feedback is appreciated. THANK YOU :)

cw:angst?fluff

wc:351

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

You stared at the TV watching a random reality show, when you heard the front door was slammed shut. You thought your boyfriend must be home.

"Honey is that you?". You yelled leaving the living room.

You met Aaron in the kitchen as he angrily undid his ties after throwing his briefcase onto the marbled countertop.

"Babe are you okay? How was work?"

He let out a grunt, grumbling fine under his breath.

"It doesn't seem fine. What happened?" You asked in a concerned voice.

"I'm not ready to talk about it love." Aaron said exhausted. You sighed " that's Okay...how about you go upstairs and undress while I run you a bath to relax"

Before Aaron could protest you quickly made your way upstairs to the bathroom to prepare a bath. You filled the tub with warm water, essential oils, and soap for bubbles. You added a few lit candles around the bathtub for ambiance.

"You can come in now"

Aaron walked in with a towel wrapped around his waist. " you didn't have to do this love but thank you" you smiled at him as he stripped down from the towel and got into the bath.

"I wanted to honey. I was hoping it'll make you feel better" you gave him a small smile.

Aaron let out a relaxed sigh. A moment passed when he decided to tell you about his day and the terrible meeting he had with Strauss. His boss has always been a touchy topic.

"I'm sorry you went through all that today babe. I wish I could lessen your burden" you expressed sadly.

Aaron looked at you lovingly." I appreciate what you did to make me feel better. Coming home to this...to you, makes my day a million times better." He smiled at you while holding your hand. You softly kissed each of his fingers before releasing his hand.

" I love you so much. Enjoy your bath hun. I'll be outside waiting to give you more love." you smiled brightly at your boyfriend. 

Aaron chuckled at your statement. "I love you more. Thank you, darling."

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

Hot Chocolate

Recomweek Day 4: Traditions

Summary: Whenever Zdinarsk's Dad was happy with her he made her hot chocolate.

CW:Angst just a lot of angst.

Zdinarsk's Dad made her hot chocolate when she fell in the park. The spartan concrete play area gravel dug in and stuck to her wounded knee's. It hurt, it hurt more than anything Zdinarsk had experienced in all her four years of life. She kept tears welling in her eyes, holding back the sobs for a reason she forgot. Zdinarsk waddled to her Dad and stood waiting for him to turn. He did, cooing at her and smiling.

"Oh my bug you okay?" He glanced to the woman sat next to him on the bench. Zdinarsk looked at her before nodding her head.

"You wanna play a little while longer?" he asked and she nodded again.

He carried her home later, telling her she was so brave. Her mother washed her wound and when she waddled back to her Dad he held her little plastic mug out. She crawled onto his lap on the sofa and stared at the unfamiliar liquid.

She took her first sip of hot chocolate and gulped the rest down eagerly.

When she was six she sat on that same sofa as her parents screamed at one another. On Christmas eve her mother slammed the flats door behind her. Zdinarsk's Dad bellowed curses out a window before taking one of those glass bottles to and slumping down next to her.

"We don't need her." He gulped the smelly stuff. Zdinarsk moved to the floor to change channels and watched TV there until the clock read 03:00. Her Dad snored, tear stained cheeks slack as he drooled a little. Zdinarsk crawled back up onto the sofa, resting her head in his lap.

She woke late that morning. It was Christmas! How could she sleep when Santa must have been already! She jumped down and went to the corner by the mirror where presents were placed. Last year she had two brightly wrapped boxes, one from Santa, one from Mum and Dad. This year the corner was empty.

Zdinarsk stepped past her sleeping Dad to their parents room. The bed was still made, Mum still not back? She stepped back to her Dad, the clock read 11:00. Zdinarsk nudged his cheek with her fingers.

"Daddy. Daddy it's Christmas" She whispered, voice as loud as ever. He stirred, groaning and sitting up. Zdinarsk fell back as he moved before scrambling back onto her knees. His face fell, a look on his face she'd never seen before.

"Oh um wait here bug." He shuffled slowly to the bathroom. He was in there until the clock read 11:27. Zdinarsk sat patiently on the sofa, she was hungry. Mum normally made special breakfast for Chirstmas, sweet pancakes and bacon. Her Dad returned passing her mumbling before going to his room. She watched him return holding the two wrapped presents and set them on her lap.

He smiled before wincing and rushing back to the bathroom. Zdinarsk picked at the paper, turning each in her hands. They had no tags. Mum and Dad always watched her open her presents, they'd missed so many always recently. Zdinarsk's Dad popped back out swallowing some pills before slumping down on the couch.

"Are they both from Daddy?" Zdinarsk asked.

"Yeah yeah both of 'em." He strained out.

"No Santa?" Zdinarsk asked, feeling her tears welling up. He shot up, wide eyes fixed on her.

"Oh shit, I mean shoot, aww bug. I'm sorry, it's... it's just Daddy. I get you the gifts. Im sorry bug I didn't mean to ruin it." He slumped his head down in his hands. Shaking and rocking, a sob wracking through his shoulders.

Zdinarsk picked at her corner again, staring at her Dad.

"It's better this way." She spoke softly, her Dad lifting his face to her again. The teared expression shocked her but she held it to herself. "Both from Daddy!" She put a big smile on for him, tearing into the gifts numbly.

That evening he made her hot chocolate again, apologizing for the lack of turkey. Zdinarsk told him it was dry and she didn't like it anyway. He ruffled her hair.

"That's my Bug."

She was eight when her hair matted. Zdinarsk's Dad had never learned to do the protective styles her curly hair needed. He'd combed it occasionally but he was always so busy and she couldn't do it well.

He fretted, eyeing her hair across the sofa. Zdinarsk was so used to seeing her Dad cry at this point the sorrow didn't shock her. Still it hurt to see him like that. Zdinarsk spied a woman on the TV, short cropped hair, buzzed to the skin. She smiled, elegant in a long flowing gown.

"Dad, I want hair like the pretty lady on the TV!" She chirped, pulling on her smile.

"Aw bug I dunno I can't...Oh yeah bug I can do it like that." He smiled over her shoulder at the woman.

He sat her in front of the bathroom mirror on the tall kitchen chairs. Her Dad pinched her cheeks before he turned the clippers on. In a few short minutes Zdinarsk watched her once curled hair fall to the ground. Zdinarsk gave her Dad her smile when he was done.

"Just like the pretty lady." She beamed. He smoothed the short hairs, brushing clumps off her clothes.

"Better!" He kissed her scalp.

That evening there was spray cream of her hot chocolate when she sat with him on the sofa.

Zdinarsk's Dad had always joked to friends that he didn't want another woman in his house again. That he already had the only woman he'd ever love. He was right, he nervously introduced Embry to her at twelve.

Zdinarsk welcomed him in, smiling at the man who filled her fathers heart again. They sat around the table again, her Father cooked again, he even paused to say grace. Zdinarsk hadn't realized how much she'd missed that.

Zdinarsk talked politely to Embry, which turned to joking and laughing with the man by the end of the day. He touched her short hair, she'd been shaving it herself for some time but wanted to grow it out again.

"You know if you don't wanna bother with the curls I could come with you to get it relaxed?" The man smiled at her. She liked him, she liked that her Father liked him.

"I'd love to." She smiled.

Zdinarsk and her Father waved him off before he went to get the mugs out.

When Zdinarsk was 16 the recruiters came to her school. They promised money, independence and if you were lucky? You could be shipped off to Pandora. Zdinarsk's eyes sparkled with the idea, an alien world. She signed up on the spot.

Zdinarsk's father was having a hard time raising her, even with Embry moved in and helping. she knew she was a drain on them. This way she could rid them of the pest. Hell in a few years maybe she could be paying them back.

Her fathter was so proud when she told him. His daughter, the brave strong soldier. Embry brought them their mugs that day and the day before she left for training.

Now she stood in the kitchen again. Her fathers eyes glassy as she told him she was leaving. That she'd be in cryo for six years, on rotation for ten, then six back home again. He slumped into his chair.

"I'll be an old man by then" he finally breathed out.

"Your an old man now." Zdinarsk joked, nudging his arm. He smiled rising the cabinet.

The memories seemed so far away now. Zdinarsk stared over her knees into the star speckled void of space. If the ship moved even a little she'd see Polyphemus and the moon Pandora. She didn't want to. She wanted to curl up on her beat up sofa with her Dad.

Six years cryo, ten serving and now fourteen since they started growing her in the pod on the way back. She wondered how her Dad reacted to her death, if Embry was still with him, how he'd feel about it. She wondered if they still had that awful sofa. Maybe her money made it back and they'd get a better one, she wished they wouldn't.

Quaritch had left her a mug on her night stand when he dropped by. He said nothing just placed it there and left. She lifted it now, cold, to her lips and sipped.

The sickly sweet concoction was unpleasant. Somehow lumpy and watery and not even tasting of that artificial chocolate syrup. Still she drank it despite all that. Plenty of cheap hot chocolate mixes in her past, it tasted like home.

[arttrampbelle]

Ok since my whooooole ass backstory for shang can't be summed up in one post. (Too long to explain)

I'll sum it up in angst art (used a base)

Cw:angst,death,illness, and many personal hcs about shang. (Yes im bias)

Also note DO NOT STEAL THIS HC! THANK YOU. IF YOU USE IT. GIVE ME CREDIT. BECAUSE THIS IS VERY SPECIAL AND HANDCRAFTED IN MY HEART,I WORKED HARD ON THIS! thank you.

Shang tsung basically telling (a young,SLIGHTLY arrogant,inexperienced young god raiden. Granted again at the time,stakes were high,emotions were high,and it just was a complicated messy situation) to fuck off for blowing off his feelings of his mother who passed away weeks before the big tournament. Whom i hc was basically fighting cancer. All his family has suffered an early death,sudden death,or just suffered from illnesses. He just happened to be the only one in his generation to be healthy and not suffer with that problem. Despite his mothers illness,she still composed herself with grace. She took descent care of herself despite her health declining. She had a gentle and kind soul but had strong,intellectual mind. With great love and compassion for her son,her community and those who were defenseless,poor,or under oppression. Never once did she have to raise her hand in anger but only in a calm authoritative way. She carried herself as if she was an empress,yet with all the humbleness of a simple weaver who lived a simple life. Caring for the only child,the only son she had. The only family. By herself none the less. No needing help from any man. Not because she didn't want shang to have a father,no. It was because she didn't feel the need. She knew of her short time on this realm. So she taught shang everything she could to the best of her ability. But tho she herself could fight,and knew martial arts. She sent shang tsung to learn from lord raiden. For this tournament....known....as mortal kombat. For the defense of his home. Tho shang only wanted to fight for his mother. Never his realm or any big cause. Nor any god.

Again i have a whole ass backstory for shang. And a whole family. Real family. None of these dumb clones,none of these damned typical hcs of deadbeat asshole dad. No his father and all his family were pretty chill,kind,and simple folk. But always valued education and spiritual connections. They just suffered from bad luck of early deaths.

Shang was the only one to avoid these things. He never knew his brothers n sister. They died in childbirth. He never knew his father. He died defending his home and village against an oppressive system. His aunts n uncles died of old age n sickness. But pretty harshly. Etc.

Like i just want shang to always have this. I need to have stability,survival,and a need for comfort because i never got it so if i have,you damn well bet im clinging to it with all my claws sinked in deeply.

Psychologically this makes even more sense when he bacame under shao kahn. An oppressive boot heel on his neck. Anything it took to survive,even if he had to swallow his pride n dignity to get ahead or even a way out or even Just to make it thru the day.

This is a man who has been broken and took the broken pieces and carved a sword. Angry,hurt,bitter at his former mentor,no friends made,that didn't turn on him,lie to him,or turned away because he was "different" (i hc yeah shang was the weird nerdy kid. Quiet. Valued books,smarts and skills over muscle and physical prowess. Tho he was good at that too and gained that also)

Again. Dm me if you are curious for more. I'll make a separate post for y'all going into details further.

For now. Have some very sad,very charged emotionally art.

Much love as always.

(Be sure to check out my mk side blog for more kontent at @mrstsung )

[ashes-and-inks]

A series of defining events in your relationship with Steve as friends with benefits, all while having a few more feelings than you bargained for. 

(Angst, lack of communication, toxic relationship as a result)

Inspired by the track Maroon from Taylor Swift’s new Midnights album.

If someone told me I would be writing for Stranger Things six months ago I would probably be pretty puzzled.

But, since I am unable to consume media in a NORMAL way, it’s consumed me, and here we are. So, here, have this thing that’s been rotting my brain all day.

Find part 2 (Steve's perspective) here .

Nothing had ever been easy.

But that’s life, isn’t it? It isn’t supposed to be easy.

Maybe that’s why when you met him, it felt a lot like the wind had been knocked out of you.

He put you at ease. He moved and lived with such an air that was unfathomable to you. He was ease.

Sometimes you wondered if you weren’t viewing him through some sort of filter - often finding yourself blinking away the soft haze that settled around him whenever he smiled.

It was worse when that smile was directed at you - and for some reason, it had begun to be directed at you with a startling frequency.

-

“What’s so funny,” he had asked, that smile on his face (ease, ease, happiness, ease), one night while you were sprawled out across the hardwood floor of the living room in the apartment he shared with a friend.

You had been giggling sporadically, wondering if the cheap rosé the two of you pilfered from Robin’s side of the fridge had been bubbly after all - the fizzing in your chest inexplicable otherwise and certainly not the result of thinking about creating constellations on Steve’s skin with a golden sharpie: connecting the dots of his beauty marks you had, up to this point, only caught glimpses of.

“Nothin’,” You grinned up at him.

He had tilted his head in that infuriatingly lovely way that he often did when smiling down at you; hair falling forward just so, the corners of his lips curving up ever so slightly, warm eyes crinkling at the edges (home, home, happiness, home).

Later that night, after a long talk of being best friends and boundaries you realized, when Steve pressed his lips to yours for the first time, the fizzing in your chest was not, in fact, the result of Robin’s rose, or of the idea of drawing constellations on Steve’s skin, but a result of Steve himself. You knew it was much too late for you and your heart when you snuck from his room the next morning. The pleasant fizzing had permanently altered into an invisible tether that pulled at you, even as you pressed your lips to his cheek in a whispered farewell as you headed out for your 8:30 am class.

-

You had agreed to this.

You watched from down the bar, as Steve smiled down at another girl, another very pretty girl.

You had agreed to this.

“You know. You could always just… stop, right?”

Robin’s voice in your ear made you jump.

“W-what?”

She looked at you a little pityingly, and your skin crawled at the implication of her gaze.

“You can tell him you don’t want to do this anymore.”

Robin could be far too perceptive for her own good. It made it worse that you had grown to love her so much, knowing she was his friend, first.

“He might be a blind idiot, but I certainly don’t miss the way you look at him.”

You rounded on her, drink clenched tightly in one hand. “And how’s that?”

She was unphased, “lovingly. Longingly.”

You down the rest of your drink.

“Whatever. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A bright peal of laughter floated above the loud music. You cringed, unable to prevent your traitorous eyes from glancing over to where Steve was now leaning into the pretty girl, speaking lowly in her ear, words only meant for her. You wondered what he was saying to her. Something new? Or something he had practiced on you on the many nights you had fallen together, tangled and inextricable. She was blooming under his attention, the expression on her face, bashful and pleased; it was familiar to you, one your features had often worn, even as it became less and less common over the last few weeks.

“Right.” Robin’s voice brought you back to yourself. You scowled at her from the corner of your eye.

“Shut up.”

“I love Steve, but you deserve better than this.”

You sighed, the fight leaving you. You knew she was right.

-

Maybe that conversation with Robin was how you ended up here. Bewildered and lost, Steve staring at you, anger hanging over every part of his body in a way you had never seen before (Jealousy, stay, please, stay). You shook your head that couldn’t be right. What right did he have to be jealous?

“I don’t understand why you’re here, Steve?”

“Because he’s an ass, and you shouldn’t have even spoken to him, let alone actually agreeing to go on a date with him!”

You felt the anger rising in you with each passing moment that his form blocked the entrance of your apartment.

“I don’t remember asking your opinion.”

He looked as though he was fighting the urge to grab you. He crossed his arms across his chest, giving you an imperious look: as though he knew better.

“Well, you should have. I am your best friend, aren’t I?”

An incredulous laugh left you before you could stop it. It came out a little unhinged, and it was enough to stop Steve in his tracks. Some of his anger fell away for confusion to your reaction.

“Is that what I am, Steve? Your best friend, who you talk to about everything? Did you ask my opinion on all the women that you’ve flirted with? The women you’ve led to your bed on the nights you don’t call me?”

He almost looked surprised, before his brow settled further into a grimace.

“What the fuck do you know-” You didn’t wait for whatever tirade was about to fall from his parted lips; you’d been here too many times.

“Get out Steve.”

“ What?”

“Get. Out.”

“No!”

“Steve you are not welcome here right now, and I need to finish getting ready for my date.”

A flash of desperation flew across his features.

“Look, I’m sorry, I just, you know, worry about you and-”

You manage to maneuver your way around him to your front door, and open it, staring at him expectantly.

“Please leave, Steve.”

He stared a little helplessly before nodding his head, his eyes clouding. You knew that look meant he was internalizing, thinking hard about something. Those eyes you’d memorized met yours again as he moved past you (stay, stay, I’m sorry, please, stay), “I hope you have a good time.”

You didn’t have the time or energy to unpack all the layers of tone he placed so delicately behind those words.

-

It had taken some practice, but you learned to stop talking to each other.

Certainly, you still spoke, but nothing meant anything. Not anymore.

Steve Harrington no longer put you at ease.

The tether from that first night, despite it all, continued to grow tighter and tighter.

Seeing the small town in Indiana he’d grown up in, didn’t help loosen that tie.

Hawkins. Something about it, never having been there before yourself, felt familiar.

Perhaps it felt like Steve.

Felt like home.

You force yourself to look over at him from the passenger seat you’d spent hours in driving down to visit his parents for the weekend.

He’s already looking at you, a soft smile curving his mouth - a look in his eyes you hadn’t seen in a while (safe, safe, warmth, safe).

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

You feel your eyebrows raise, his gaze returns to the road, and you read the tension in his shoulders.

“For what?”

“For agreeing to come down with me; to be my human shield for the weekend.”

You blink, “of course.”

He had seemed so stressed about the weekend, that when the look of mischief dawned in his eyes when he proposed you come with him to hopefully redirect some of his parents' attention from him and his perceived failures, you could hardly deny him.

When could you ever?

“Of course. What are best friends for?”

You give him a half-hearted glare, “You’re literally only two months older than me.”

You hoped the bitterness you tasted didn’t bleed into the words.

“You’re the best best friend, kid.”

“Still makes me older, kid.”

There was the grin you hadn’t seen in a long time.

Maybe, you had thought to yourself, maybe this won’t be so bad.

-

It was much, much worse than you had prepared yourself for.

It was bad enough to watch Steve’s parents tear down his every accomplishment in their carefully practiced way, but then they turned their focus on you.

You had offered to help his mother after dinner, clearing the table and helping pack up the leftovers, and there in their perfectly arranged kitchen did she tell you what she really thought of you. How you’d never be good enough for her son; how he’d toss you aside like most things he found interest in. You swallowed it as gracefully as you could manage, not wanting to cause a scene and make things worse for Steve.

You bore, and you bore, and you bore until you couldn’t anymore.

It was really, just an offhand comment that hadn’t held much weight - his father, on Sunday morning, over breakfast asking Steve something or other about his “girlfriend,” (the man had avoided speaking directly to you the previous day as well - as though doing so would encourage you to stay longer. As though it might give you delusions of his approval of you for his son), and before his father had even finished his sentence, Steve made certain to correct him.

“She’s not my girlfriend; we’re just friends. I told you that on the phone when I said we’d be coming down.”

Steve had once again stolen your breath.

This time, in the absolute worst way.

You prevented yourself from clawing at your chest; from gasping aloud.

The tether was constricting.

You had been under the impression you were posing as his girlfriend; why were you there if not for that?

Perhaps you really were a human shield, not just for Steve against his parents, but for Steve to take practice swings at as well: to relieve his anger and frustrations of never being good enough.

You knew then, you’d never be good enough to Steve for Steve either.

You’d quietly excused yourself from the table, feigning illness, and packed your bag. You snuck out the back door without saying goodbye.

-

He had chased you down of course. You had taken a bus back from Hawkins to Chicago, and barricaded yourself in your apartment, nursing your bruised pride and swearing to yourself you were done with Steve Harrington.

You lasted a good while; you managed to continually dodge Steve anytime you might run into him, and avoided his phone calls for a good couple of weeks.

You didn’t know how to explain to him why you left.

You weren’t his girlfriend. But it didn’t mean it made hearing him say it, sounding so unbothered, hurt any less.

You hadn’t expected to nearly walk right into him when you left your apartment a little over two weeks after you ran.

He was leaning against the wall across from your unit, head snapping up at the sound of your door opening.

You blinked in surprise and felt heat rush to your cheeks, lips parting, as though to say something, anything to defend yourself. But nothing came out.

“Hi,” he said cautiously.

“Hi.”

“I miss you.”

You tried to ignore the tether’s pull at his confession.

“I… I missed you too.”

He straightened from the wall, relief clear across his features.

He moved quickly into your space, crowding you back into your apartment, shaping you to him, lips desperate against yours.

You let him guide you back into your space, fumbling to lock the door again, before leading you back between the sheets of your bed.

-

He had left a few hours later; the two of you had fallen back to speaking like you had before it felt like everything had shifted beneath your feet, and he stated he had to go get ready.

“For what?” You asked softly, playfully.

He hadn’t asked why you had left the weekend at his parents so suddenly.

You hadn’t offered an explanation.

“A date, actually,” he said as he slipped back into his shirt.

Your eyes fell shut. You cradled yourself against your pillow, the smell of him, enveloping you.

You felt yourself shatter, twice.

Once as he pressed his lips to your temple and said quietly, just for you to hear, “glad to have you back, kid.”

The second time at the sound of the front door shutting behind him as he went on to move through the world with ease like nothing was wrong.

-

“You were right, you know.”

You played with the straw in your drink, eyes tracking the condensation that rolled its way down the side of your glass, to find its home with the ring on the scarlet plastic table you sat at in the 24-hour fifties-styled diner you had met Robin at sometime shortly after midnight.

You were relieved when she answered the phone, and not Steve. You’re not sure what you would have done if Steve had answered.

“I’m right about a lot of things, you’re going to have to be more specific.” She spoke with a cheeky lilt, but her eyes were watching you carefully. It made you want to duck under the table.

You fought the urge to hide.

“About Steve.”

She stayed quiet, still looking at you, but with a look meant to comfort you. It encouraged you to keep talking.

“I think… I think I’m in love with him. I can’t keep doing this.”

“You know. For all the things I’d like to have been told I was right about, this was the last one I would have actually wanted.” She paused, looking thoughtful, before realization spread across her face.

“Are you friend-breaking-up with me right now?”

You wince, and look at her apologetically.

“Not permanently. I just… need some space from him right now.”

She groaned, “and we are, unfortunately, often a package deal, huh?” there was the briefest pause before Robin was speaking again, “I knew I should have stolen you away from that dingus the moment he introduced you to me.”

That surprised a laugh out of you.

Robin beamed, thankful to see you smile again. Lately it seemed like you had forgotten how to.

“Well, we can still hang out tonight, can’t we?”

You felt warmth grow in your chest for your friend.

“Tonight. Sure.”

If the only good thing you ever got from Steve Harrington was Robin Buckley, it was more than you could ever properly express your thanks for.

-

It had been three months, two weeks and four days since you had last spoken to Steve Harrington.

No, you weren’t counting.

(Yes you were).

You spent more nights in that time drowning in your sorrow, barely able to breathe at times, mourning the fading marks on your skin he had left behind that last time.

By this time they had completely gone, but you found yourself looking for them still in the mirror sometimes.

You had been dating.

You had been dating someone steadily.

He was nice. A little awkward, but his lack of ease, puts you at ease.

You were moving on. Moving forward. Moving away from him.

But he did always seem to be able to find you, even when you didn’t want to be found.

-

You looked down to escape the hollow feeling in your chest that rooted in his eyes. He held a bouquet of flowers in one hand, looking a little worse for wear. He noticed you looking, and held them out to you, voice hoarser than you think you’d ever heard him - "I saw them - roses - and thought of you."

It felt a little like deja vu, opening the door to find him, there, again.

He stood there in the doorway, light haloed around his head, drawing darker shadows beneath eyes you no longer recognized (sorry, sorry, please, sorry).

There was a pause.

He swallowed, then: "I'm so sorry."

You stared at the deep red flowers for a moment, wondering if you had it in you to tell him what he held weren't roses, but carnations.

But, you never had the strength to say no to him.

Never him.

You took them in hand feeling yourself being pulled back into his orbit once again. The tether you thought you had cut with communication made itself known once again, pulling, pulling, tearing you open until you were simply an exposed, sensitive, vulnerable nerve.

You realize, gazing back into his eyes and the fear and hope that mixed there, the gravity of him was far too strong to ever really tear yourself free.

You might have escaped once, but now, as you stood there, unable to tell him no, you had gotten far too close.

You wondered briefly who you'd be once this all burned to ash.

"Thank you. They're beautiful."

[weatheredleatherhat]

How about a little angst about Karl thinking that he doesn’t deserve you and he tries to push you away breaking your heart… I leave to you if reader is stubborn and stay with him or leave him be…

Of course you can! Love a bit of angst, me. Hope this is okay! I added an optional happy ending, in case you love one as a dessert to your angst. (It me, I fucking love it.)

Please be aware this isn't edited and first draft, so for now there may be glaring mistakes. I might go back in and tweak it over the next couple of days, but for now here it is. Hope you like it!!

cw: angst, alcohol, arguments, crying, whump

How about a little angst about Karl thinking that he doesn’t deserve you and he tries to push you away breaking your heart… I leave to you if reader is stubborn and stay with him or leave him be…

Karl had been drinking. Heavily. You knew it from the way the metal parts floating above the piece he worked on slightly wavered and swayed like they were caught in the tides of the ocean, paired with the many empty bottles of whisky scattered across the room. You also knew he was angry by the way he had his back to you as you entered into his workshop to see what the hell he was still doing down here. Usually, even when he was deep in work, his head would turn towards you and offer a flash of those brilliant white teeth, only to duck back down and continue working while greeting you with a little “what’s up, Buttercup?”

Drunk and angry never made a good combo for Karl, and it made it worse that you had no idea what had caused it.

“Karl? Something wrong?” you called out as you closed the door behind you, trying to keep a neutral expression as you crossed the room to stand closer. Maybe he’d had a bad meeting with Miranda and the other lords? No, that wasn’t it. He’d come home from one a couple of days ago, annoyed but still wanting your arms around him to comfort and ground him. Something wrong with the soldats, maybe? Sturm still giving him trouble? As your mind raced for the answer, you noticed he hadn’t actually answered. In fact, he hadn’t acknowledged you at all. Anxiety coiled in your gut as you considered placing a hand on his shoulder. Then again, when he was in a mood like this, touch probably wasn’t a good plan. You knew he would never dream of physically hurting you, but you feared that physical contact might be too overwhelming for him right now. Better to be safe than sorry. Clearing your throat, you decided to give him time. A good start would just to be in the room, doing something that meant speaking wouldn’t be the focus. You decided to start picking up the bottles to throw away.

A gloved hand came down hard on his desk, making you jump and your head to snap back up to face him. He was no longer focused on his work, and had swivelled his chair to face you. His glasses and hat were off, hair tied back, exposing a face that was contorted in an expression you could only really identify as anger and sadness mixed into one. The skin around his eyes were also slightly red and puffy. Had he been crying?

“What are you, my fucking maid now?” he snapped, eyes burning holes into yours as the intensity in his gaze brightened. The words were slightly slurred, but to you they rang in your ears clear as day. “Get the fuck out of here, out of my sight.”

The harshness of what he was saying caused you to drop the glass in your hands, clattering to the floor but luckily not breaking. Cold shame threatened to drown you as it washed over you, and it took a few heartbeats to try and find your words. The only ones you could muster came from your heart, which was threatening to break. He had never spoken to you like this before, and it had felt like he had stabbed you with an icepick. “What have I done?” was your reply, small and shaky as much as you tried to mask that.

“What have you done?” he echoed, shaking his head with a scoff that drove that pick a little further. “What you’ve done is be here, with me. Distracting me all day and fucking night, fussing over me like I’m a child. I should be… Months ahead from where I am now! But look what I have to show for all this work.” His hand swept across the air, small metal fragments getting dislodged as he did, punctuating his words to show an empty workroom. “Now I’m not repeating myself. I want you out. Out of this fucking factory, and I don’t care where you go. So long as it’s not here.”

There was a finality in his words as his chair spun back around, shaking hands finding a whisky bottle and draining the last fifth of it in deep gulps. If you thought your heart had broken before, it had only splintered. Now it was shattered, bleeding on the floor like melting ice with no chance of putting it back together. You were stunned. This had come out of nowhere, and it was the last thing you could have possibly imagined. You thought things were going so well. With so many months of gentle care, you had ignited the pilot light in the part of Karl that hadn’t been used in so long. The part that was so soft and caring. The one that would bring home little metal trinkets of your favourite things, just because he had thought of you in a quiet hour of waiting for a soldat to wake up, just because he cared. The one that snuck up behind you when you were cooking his favourite meals, to wrap his strong arms around your waist and press kisses in your neck, whispering his thanks in the shell of your ear between them. So many memories of his gentleness flickered through your mind, only to start burning up like a film exposed to the bulb. Just to be replaced with a hollowness; an emptiness that you were certain could never be filled. No more words needed to be spoken from your part, and it wasn’t as if you could if you tried with the rising lump in your throat. Turning on your heel, you exited the workshop, slamming the door in your wake. Everything was a blur from that point. You vaguely remember packing a small backpack with what precious few belongings you had, and you remember fastening a hip holster to yourself and placing your pistol inside it. The one he had given you for protection, now would be used for survival. If you could even survive that long outside the safety of this palace of industry. Before you knew it, you were curled up on your shared bed to pour your bitterness and broken heart out while you could. In the next few hours, it would have to be placed somewhere that you couldn’t reach it. For now, you would take the opportunity for one last show of emotion, before hardness would have to replace it.

Downstairs, the heart tethered to your own was also shattering, as if the tether between the two held fast, sharing the despair and misery. I had to do it, he thought to himself as hands clawed through his hair. They’re too good for this life. Too damn good for a callous old sinner.

He never wanted to see what happened to him, happen to you. The carefully placed emotional guards he had put up had been a necessity, to protect himself from the horrors that had become his life. Death and decay; a perfume of rot and motor oil permeated his very existence. To see your soul being tarnished would destroy him. To see that spark of life, of happiness, of innocence and vitality cruelly snuffed out would be his undoing. That’s why he had drowned the hurt of what he had to do with alcohol, to make it easier on his end. If he had to see your beautiful features marred with agony with anything less than blurry eyes, he would have changed his mind. Better to rip off the band-aid now, rather than leave it to fester.

The factory rang out with screams and the sound of metal on metal as he harnessed the full strength of his powers to destroy everything in his wake. In the morning, he would awake with a hangover, a ruined workshop and the love of his life no longer around. And he knew full well which one would hurt the most.

~OPTIONAL GOOD ENDING~

He awoke to absolute carnage, and the taste of bitterness on his tongue. He had fallen asleep hunched over his desk at some point, and the resulting ache in his back radiated through his body. Rubbing his head as he pushed himself up out of his chair, he pushed through the chaos, kicking away shrapnel to reach the door.

The walk to the living quarters used to be a joyous occasion. It would mean smelling a good meal cooking, and seeing the love of his life’s smile as they padded towards him to pull him into an embrace. This marked the first time in a long while that he would come home to the cold and empty shell of rooms that it used to be. Mentally steeling himself to face the consequences of his previous actions, the door to the living quarters opened, and his heart sunk into his stomach.

He didn’t expect you still laying there on the bed, fully clothed and curled up fast asleep. From the looks of it, you were getting ready to do what he told you to and leave. Your boots were still on, a holster on your hip, and by the foot of the bed was a backpack. By the looks of your tear stained cheeks and the small sniffles that you still made, you hadn’t been asleep for long. Very possible that you’d cried so hard that it had exhausted you, dragging you into slumber that probably wasn’t very peaceful at all.

Shame washed over him, threatening to pull him under and drown him. He had caused this. His actions had meant to protect you from harm, and instead it had broken you. He had become the very thing that he was trying to shield you from, and he knew for a fact that this would become yet another demon that would haunt him. Trying to push you away had failed. Whether it was intentional or not, even through his ugliness and aggression, you decided to stick with him. It allowed a small amount of hope to bloom in his chest; no matter how much he hated himself, no matter how ugly things would get, you would stick around and ride it out. Through the darkness, his love for you deepened that little bit more. It proved your loyalty that much more.

~

You woke up to the sounds of sobs, and when you opened your eyes, the source was clear. Karl was kneeling by the side of the bed, his head bowed and hands gripping the sheets so hard you were certain they would rip. You could hear through the hiccups of breath that he was murmuring, but for the most part it was unintelligible apart from the frequent word ‘sorry’. As much as it hurt to see him after what happened, it also hurt to see the strong and powerful Karl Heisenberg literally brought to his knees. Whatever he had done, no matter bad he had lashed out, he deeply regretted it. And regrets were something that Karl probably struggled with most of all, especially considering he didn’t have many of them. Watching him cry, to struggle so hard with his emotions, you made a decision. This was going to take a lot of work, but you would both make it work. There would be so many conversations, maybe more arguments, but you’d both been through worse than this before. This can work. You were determined.

Reaching out, you gently took his hand into your own. It earned his head to snap up, staring at you with that intensity that could shatter glass. It was like his eyes were searching for answers, and he was getting frustrated with finding none. But that eased to a softness that you were used to seeing from him. Pulling him onto the bed with you was so easy; he followed you so eagerly, settled down and wrapped you in his arms so tenderly, it could make you start crying all over again. You felt him nuzzle his face into the top of your head, breaking down all over again as you tried to hold him together with gentleness.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry Buttercup,” he hiccuped, holding you that little bit tighter. “I didn’t mean it, I was trying to protect you, I’m so sorry, I-”

You shushed him gently as you pulled his face downwards to see him, brushing the pad of your thumb under his eye to wipe away his tears. He could explain it all later. For now, you just wanted him here, with you. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, you cuddled up to him, letting him get it out of his system. All of this could be dealt with later. For now, you both needed to heal. For now, you both needed this time to cry together.

For now, and forever, you loved him with all of your heart. Broken parts and all.

[arcana-amicus]

penny please. you are worth more to her than anything you could offer your life for

[pizzabiscuitwithglasses]

Ouch, I feel you so hard my friend. I always get so depressed when I’m on my period. With the pain and the hormones drop, I just wanna die too. I also want to consume content that might not be very well for me in my depressed state. I’ve answered your request ( cause I love ansgt too and I have nothing to do in my life right now XD)  but may I advice you to read it another time? When you are feeling better? You can drop a message in my inbox and talk together if it helps. I was going for a few headcanons but it turned out as fic, oh well *shrugs*.

Please proceed with caution:

Jotaro reacting to his s/o death: Cw: Death, Cw: Depression.

Jotaro was probably at his work when he heard about his s/o’s death. The news hit him hard, everything felling fuzzy around him. He thought he was going to be sad but he didn’t. He felt... nothing. He was more concerned about trying to comfort his s/o’s parents talking to him on the phone (even though comforting people has never been his forte) then about his lover’s death. He took a break from his work and traveled his s/o’s hometown. During the trip, he is left with his thoughts, and with his feelings, or should I say, his lack of feelings. Why wasn’t he sad? He wondered. He knew it wasn’t the first time he lost suddenly people he cared deeply about, but he never thought it would numb him to other deaths. After a few minutes by himself, he gave up thinking at once and turned on the radio.

He continued to not think at all, taking care of things as they come up. He said mechanically words of condelances to his s/o’s family and thanked others when they presented their sympathies for his loss. He answered to questions he was asked on the beat, without too much pondering. When he saw his s/o corpse, his mind just stopped working: it was as if it were full of static. Just like that, he spent an infinite amount of time in front of what had been his lover, the joy of his life. If you saw him, you wouldn’t be able to say if he were actually breathing or not. Then one of his s/o’s relative came to take him, it was time for the burial.

Jotaro left as soon as the ceremony was over. Every inch of his body was repulsed by the idea of lingering in that place. Even as his s/o was lowered in their grave and covered by dirt, he still didn’t feel anything. Even as weeks passed by, he still didn’t feel anything. There was only an emptiness that was threatening to swallow him whole. In order distract his mind, to fill  the hollowness, Jotaro submerged himself in work. He had never been a joyous fellow, prefering work to everything else. However, the amount of work he was doing was too much, even for him.

Then one day, or one night, he couldn’t tell, time became a homogeonous line for Jotaro, as he is rummaging through his papers, he found a token from the past: stickers of various sea animals, a gift from his s/o. They gave it to him as a joke, knowing how much he loved those creatures but despised childish things. Jotaro was not fond stickers, he was way past these kind of frivolity . But he did love what the sea had to offer and he appreciated the gesture so he never threw away the stickers, prefering to leave them in his own belongings even without the intention of ever using them.

At that moment, many memories flooded back into Jotaro’s mind: their first meeting, their confession, their first date, their first fight, their first anniversary... Their last kiss, their last words, their last meeting. Suddenly, Jotaro lifted his head, wondering how long has it been since...? And as he looked around him, searching for clues, their presence made itself aware. He could see their bored face as they were opening the fridge for no purpose, their back swaying to the sound of their humming while cooking breakfast, them looking at the window before happily shouting “Jotaro, look! The weather is so nice today!”,  their silhouette multiplying and propragating through the rooms, with their voice calling out to him. They were everywhere at once and nowhere.

Their presence became overwhelming and Jotaro felt himself choke on his tears. Jotaro clutched the stickers tightly, pressing them against his chest. His s/o were gone and they took something with them that can never be replaced, that he would always miss.

[evita-shelby]

A preview for Of Gods and Witches ch.16

Taglist: @urgonnaneedabiggership @v3d3rl1cht @thegreatdragonfruta

Cw:angst

She is hopeful.

She shouldn’t be, she knows this sudden good health lasts less and less each time. The more blood she needs, the closer she is to dying.

Every three weeks she goes to the surface for these, to a hospital in Merida where she goes as Lorena Riley, the eccentric owner of the Hacienda Flores del Mar.

She is her own great-niece, the shut in lookalike of Saint Eva of Veracruz who the Christian God gave the gift of prophecy to save Mexico from Carranza.

Ch’ah finds it funny, a known atheist who is married to a rumored god made a saint with a tragic death when all they did was elope after fucking on the beach.

Ixchel, their second daughter, had been conceived on the shrine built for her at her old house.

The great and unkillable Namor had defiled a chapel and its saint until Eva knocked over a candle and burned the damn thing down.

[eldritchlittleblackdragon]

☄️ for Ignis :D

Send me a falling star emoji and a character and I will write a drabble based on the first song that plays when I hit shuffle.

Together Again by (Evanescence) (Ignis/Reader-NSFW-ish)

Warnings: Angsty Song means angsty drabble. 

How painful it was to be separated. He had to hear the sound of your footsteps fade away into the distance when you had left. One might think there was a small mercy in that he could not see you leave. But, loss of one sense made him miss all the other things about you, about your presence. 

Your voice was gentle, compassionate, and your words equally so. Hearing the sound of your voice when you were near had a soothing effect. It gave him a sense of ground. But with both you and his king gone, he felt an internal restlessness and uneasiness. 

Yet the most he could do was wait, and prepare for the return of both of you- his lover, and his liege. 

His missed the touch of your hands, your soft skin against his. Your body was more than a temple. It was a sanctuary, a refuge in which he could find respite. In your arms he could find comfort and support, after being the one to support Noctis and the others. 

Perhaps he was getting used to the darkness. But, it was much harder to have the people he cared for away from him. He had always been selfless to a fault, but in wanting them at his side was perhaps a way in which he was selfish. 

Yet... even when Noctis returned, he knew it wouldn’t last. The man he cared for like family and more would go to his death, like a lamb to the slaughter. He didn’t want to allow it and yet he had no choice.

He didn’t really have much say in your fate either. You chose to go from his side to pursue a task of your own. Where you were going you could not say, and how long you would be gone you could not say either. Only that it was a demand of the gods. 

The world demanded so much of people. The gods... they had their own demands, agendas, prices to be paid. 

He paid his price without hesitation, and given the chance he would do the very same thing again. 

But how much more cost must others pay in all of this? 

[meridianrose]

[fr0stadvis0ry]

“i will hold as long as you like”

A breathless gasp escaped through barely parted blue painted lips. It what seemed like slow motion, Frost collapsed to her knees and her left hand moved to grasp her right bicep. Just seconds ago, a member of the anti-metahuman movement had successfully injected Frost with the metahuman cure. “No.” her voice whimpered and her lip trembled, from the overwhelming panic and disbelief that washed over her.

Lifting her head, her brightly glowing icy blue eyes locked onto The Flash. “Barry.” it was a very weak out cry. He was at her side in an instant. “Barry.” she choked out his name once more. Fearful tears brimming her eyes that where now flashing between glowing and a darkened shade of icy blue. With each passing moment, her body felt heavier and she grew weaker. This wasn’t what she imagined dying would be like, but she knew that this was exactly what was happening. She was dying.

There was quick chatter of trying to stop what was happening to her. Barry wanted to take her back to Star Labs to do just that. A pointless action, as there was no cure for the cure and they both knew it. Frost opened her mouth to speak, but only a breath was let out as she further collapsed, into his chest. “N-n…just…” Weak. Tired. Any energy she had was gone now. She could barely string together a sentence. “just…hold.”

Eyes began to flutter shut just as they blue transitioned into brown. Tears slipping down long her porcelain cheeks. “Sorry. Caity.” she whispered weakly on a single breath. The snow white color of her hair faded out into a brunette shade. There was a brief moment of silence before sobs began to emit from the now Caitlin Snow.

                                                                                      //;; @starlabson