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utterlyazriel · 10 months ago

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whom the shadows sing for —(and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: eek not a request but an idea that wouldn't leave me alone! thus... we embark on a mulan-esque story that i hope u will enjoy <3 big thank you's to @strangerstilinski who listened and helped immensely as i whittled a hunky idea down to a plot

word count: 2.9k

synopsis: Someone in the Illryians Mountains has been making a name for themselves— a bastard like Azriel and his brothers, ruffling the feathers of a war camp's Lords. But they seem to have no loyalty to the fighting legion, or much to anyone for that matter. fem!reader

— CHAPTER ONE :: STRANGERS

Frost was everywhere.

Despite all the eerie memories that tainted them, the Illyrian Mountains were hauntingly beautiful, even Azriel could admit that.

Pine trees stretched up tall, their timber trunks hidden beneath the snow-leaden branches. It was a sea of swirling frost. Snowflakes eddied down from the frozen sky, a soft blanket of white draped across the landscape.

He was sure that some, maybe the likes of Feyre and her artist's eye, could see that beauty easier than he could.

Beautiful, Azriel thought bitterly, but fucking freezing.

Normally, dealing with the likes of the war camps that riddled these mountains was left to Cassian. He had that raucous, fiery way about him that was far better suited to it. Enough pride to challenge the warriors and more than enough eager attitude to back his taunts if need be.

But Cassian was currently very much occupied— and highly unsuited to crack the whip against some rowdy Illyrians in his current state.

Azriel couldn't help the smile at the thought of when he'd last seen his brother.

Freshly mated Cassian looked as though he had tiny hearts circling around his head at all times. He resembled a puppy following his nose, always that wicked grin on his face as he trailed after Nesta. His adoration was impossible to miss.

Cassian had more than earned the time off. He deserved to celebrate properly, to have a couple weeks with no badgering worries, with no bickering Illyrian warriors to deal with (beyond his usual two).

So, as a mating gift to his brother —and partially to escape a house filled with intolerably mated couples— Azriel had taken over his duty temporarily. To oversee the war camps he detested so much.

Today, he was to investigate the rumoured stirrings amongst the camps and assess the level of threat it posed. More often than not, these sorts of stirrings were simply whispers of rebellion but nothing more.

There was an easy fix; a visit from one of the most powerful Illyrian warriors in history, or even from Rhys himself. It always made the Illyrians a little nervous and those whispers of a coup would sweep away with the wind in a matter of time.

This time, however, the network of spies that operated under Azriel had not come back spinning such rumours.

Instead, there was talk of Lords with ruffled feathers. Lords with bruised egos due to a single bastard warrior, rising in the ranks and not playing by the rules.

The familiarity of the situation was almost too ironic, Azriel thought. He had half a mind to tell Rhys what he had learned and leave them to it. Cauldron knew these brutal camps needed a bastard to challenge their ways from time to time.

But still, there was always the potential for such a warrior to pose a threat in the future. Azriel could not leave a possible danger to brew. No stone left unturned.

The snow beneath his boots was beginning to melt.

He had been standing in the cold and peering up at the war camp ahead, barely seen through the heavy snow falling, for too long now. Snow was gathering on his wings, tendrils of ice shooting through their sensitive membrane. Find the bastard.

Shaking off the snow, he began to walk.

—

Gods forsaken males and their egos.

The bone in your forearm ached, having taken the brunt of your initial fall in the mud. It's covered in it too, the muck of the ground that always seemed to linger. Always a layer of dirt beneath your fingernails. Truly, one of the many incredible appeals of the Illyrian mountains was never actually being clean.

You'd probably hate it more— if it didn't do such a good job of masking unwanted scents.

But right now with a jagged cut that tears up your left arm, all the way to the elbow, you're cursing the mud. It's likely festering with uncountable grim diseases. You'll have to flush the wound to properly clean it before it begins to heal.

That means water. That means energy that you don't particularly feel like summoning to fetch it. You cast your glance to the window.

Outside, the Mother's Kiss howls loudly.

The southerly chilled wind current that Illyrians don such a precious name is quite fitting for their backward ways — to expect a kiss from your mother to have such a sting on the face.

Tonight, the current seems particularly fierce. The windows of your shelter rattle in warning. A storm had blown through camp rather unexpectedly and you'd caught the worst of it, tangled up in a snarling fest against Brudam.

Brudam, who is responsible for the current state of your arm. Your lip curls at the mere thought of the arrogant male. Your wings bunch up tightly and you huff quietly to nobody.

He'd caught wind of the broth you had made that had filled the stomach of three ravenous bastards in the camp. It had been just enough to keep them on their feet. Tonight, you know that one hot meal might very well be the difference that helps them survive the night.

But Illyrians are a tough breed— and they don't take kindly to people giving handouts, as Brudam had put it.

You preferred the term leveling the playing field.

As if Brudam and his Lord father had ever experienced to ache of starvation. Ever had to sleep in the snow with nothing but their own wings for warmth against a blizzard.

Another deep pain twinges in your arm and you hiss, drawn out of your thoughts. If you have to pick your wins, you can at least admit you're glad he had only found out about the broth— and had seemed none the wiser to the healing tonics you were slipping the freshly-clipped girls.

It ached to see them and their quivering wings. The way the muscles in their backs buckled when they tried to spread their wings, a cut too deep into the wrong nerve. It ached to see it, yes, but beneath that pain was an ocean of bitter and furious fire.

But your righteous anger would not help these girls.

You were not the most proficient healer and the tonics you were attempting... it was hard to say if they would make any difference in saving any females' wings.

You were gathering knowledge as best you could though, scraping together herbs that scarcely grew in the frozen climate. It was a poor imitation of something that might work.

Whether it would be enough... that was up to the Mother. But you had to try.

You assess the wound on your arm once more, wondering about the reserve of water you had in your small hut— whether you could both clean your wound and have enough to hydrate.

Another glance out at the wintry snowscape outside. You grimaced. If you didn't, you would have to bear the blistering chill of the Mother's Kiss to get more.

Weariness weighs on your bones. You hadn't been prepared for the fight, hence your almost embarrassing injury, and it drained you more than you expected.

You stand with a sigh and drag your feet toward the tiny cauldron filled with melted snow collected earlier in the day. It hangs over the fireplace, the embers within long since snuffed out. Your motion stirs them up.

For a moment, you stare into the fireplace. The water in the cauldron shimmers. The shelter creaks around you, bending in the wind.

It's covered in soot, marred by the flames that usually lick it from beneath it. The lip of it, however, is still clean enough to see your own reflection. You peer into it.

And in that reflection, you find a tall figure with massive wings looming above their shoulders standing behind you.

Your heart spasms in shock and you have to swallow your gasp of surprise. Your eyes dart up, frantically hunting for a weapon. You grab the closest object you can, your hand closing around a kitchen fork. And before they get the chance, you twist and lunge, arm raised.

The floorboards groan as your boots slam into them, darting forward to attack. But the male dodges you easily, your strike passing through empty air.

You don't stop, turning and striking for him once again. The male sways back again easily to avoid your swing and you scowl.

Quickly feigning one way, you watch as his hands, weaponless, move to defend his gut — and you change direction, fast. Neck exposed, you snarl as you sink the fork deep into his shoulder.

The male hisses in pain.

You falter for a moment at the noise but it's a mistake. His hands move so fast you barely see them, gripping your wrist that holds the fork and twisting it down to the ground, immobilising you from using it.

You snarl again and tug against him fruitlessly. A swell of panic begins to rise within you as you tug again, again, again. His hold doesn't falter.

"Stop," The male commands you quietly.

This time when you tug, he opens his fingers and you fly back onto your ass, wings flaring out a moment too late to catch yourself.

You expect him to trudge forward, to beat an attack down on you now that you're less defended, but he doesn't move from his spot.

In fact, you realise as you stare at him, cheat heaving, he hasn't attacked you at all.

His weapons, which there are many of them, stay strapped to his side, glittering against the snow's reflected light. You spot the siphon on his hand, a churning sapphire colour — and clock the matching one on his other hand.

This was not just any Illyrian warrior in your home.

Faintly, your panic subsides as you realise that if this male meant to hurt you —to kill you— he very well could have done so by now.

You let your eyes trail up, taking in the face so hidden in shadow, and recognize that the darkness swirling around him is not ordinary shadow.

The revelation has you sitting up a bit straighter, the bindings around your chest pulling tight. You swallow, your throat suddenly dry.

What do you say to one of the most powerful Illyrian warriors in history —one who served on Rhysand's inner circle, friend of the High Lord of the Night Court— when you've just stabbed him with a fork?

As if your thought had reminded him, the male —Azriel, you know his name to be— shifts and reaches for the utensil still sticking out of his shoulder. He yanks it out without a noise of complaint.

Then he says, "Considering your choice of weapon, it's no surprise Brudam cut up your arm."

You scowl at him but at a closer look, you can see that his expression isn't condescending. No, with his raised brows, he almost looks... impressed.

"I wasn't expecting visitors." You bite back defensively.

Azriel's eyes dance with amusement. He throws the fork onto your table with a clatter. "That's how you greet visitors?"

"Uninvited ones, yes."

His amusement fades, the planes of his face shadowed and yet still handsome. Like most Illyrians, there's this incomprehensible sense of elegance to him, an alluring pull tied to his very demeanor.

But looking at him now, even in the dimness of your shelter, you could see Azriel went beyond to type of beauty that usual Illyrians had. An unparalleled grace, an unmatched Adonis.

He is the most beautiful male you had ever seen—and you had just stabbed him with a fork.

"Sorry," You mutter eventually when he doesn't say anything.

You shift onto your knees to stand, your hand coming to cup beneath your elbow— the ache of the injury had begun to bleed back in now that you weren't focused on fighting off an intruder.

"You're forgiven." He says. You can see lightly, through the dimming light, the faint blood on his neck you've caused.

"You fight well," He comments, with the air of a compliment. Something like amusement is in his eyes when he says, "Even with your unusual choice of weapon."

You glare at him as you climb to your feet and all but collapse into a chair. You don't even have another to offer to him. Buried beneath your leathers, your chest aches in pain — a reminder that it's been bound for far too long. You ignore it and tilt your chin towards him.

"Why are you here?"

You're actually sure that even if you offered Azriel a chair he wouldn't take it, given how stiffly he stands before you. He takes a moment to answer, his gaze flitting around the small room you both stand in. Calculating, categorizing.

"There were rumours of a warrior turning up trouble here."

He fixes his hazel-eyed gaze on you. You steel yourself beneath it. "A couple days in your camp and it became clear who the outlier was."

A couple days? For some reason, you can't believe that he's been surveying this place without detection from anyone. Another glance at his shadows, the dark masses that hang around his shoulders, and you can believe it a little more.

Besides, it's hardly as though the Lords would deign to tell a bastard like you anything important.

You clench your jaw but don't say anything.

"Brudam mentioned you feeding some warriors." Azriel continues, his tone unreadable. Though something, you couldn't tell what, glittered in his eyes. "Not very in the spirit of Illyrians."

You scowl at him again. Even if he had once faced these conditions before, you wondered if his time away, spent Cauldron knows where, had softened his memory.

"It's not against any law."

"No, it isn't," Azriel says. His eyes narrow. "But making healing tonics without a Healer's jurisdiction and selling them to young females is."

Your heart stops for just a moment. How could he know that? The last batch you had dropped off had been over a month ago.

Without thinking you snarl back, "I'm not selling them, you prick."

Something blooms on Azriel's face, surprise and a hint of smugness.

Your mouth snaps shut as you realise what you've done. You curse yourself. Slumping back in your chair, your wings sag with you and you let them droop onto the floor, uncaring. He could very well be here to kill you, given the knowledge of what you had just admitted.

For a long moment, there's just silence.

You stare at the floor and wonder which version of the High Lord is true; the Court of Nightmares whose power ripples through these camps and keeps them in line. Or the rumours of a softer side, a dreamer.

You wonder, more importantly, which of those this male before you is friends with.

Something in the floor creaks when Azriel finally moves. He crosses the room swiftly to the fireplace and gathers two logs from the stack of firewood beside it, tossing them onto the pile of ash.

You watch, perturbed, as he hunches over the fireplace for a quiet minute— and when he pulls back, a small flame is burning on the wood. It dances on the log, entrancing and amber-coloured.

Heat begins to fill the room. You pick your wings up and stretch them towards it, grateful for how they begin to warm. You hadn't quite realised the extent of your chill until right now.

It's such a kindness that hasn't been shown to you in many years. Surprise and silent gratitude bloom in your chest.

Azriel turns back to face you. You school your surprise away.

"What's your name?" He asks, his voice gruff.

It's been a while since anyone asked that either. Bastard. Mongrel. Imposter. There are a thousand other words that have become your name whilst growing up here.

You can't tell him your name. In the same way you can't tell anyone here your real name without revealing too much about yourself.

So you shorten it and tell him that instead.

Azriel nods. Doesn't repeat it, doesn't blink at your hesitance. Instead, he just says, "Like I said, you fight well. You could be better though."

You frown at the backhanded compliment, something in you sneering at the jab at your fighting skills. Worse, you know he's right.

If you had weapons suited to your size, exercises that focused on your agility more than your brute strength... There's a good reason you have to work twice as hard as every other warrior in camp.

Azriel looks at your arm, no longer bleeding and beginning to stitch itself up. Shit, you really need to clean that first.

"Clean that and get a good night's rest." He orders, not meanly. Then he crosses the space of your shelter in a few paces of his long legs, heading for the door.

"You—" The question dares to come out of you. "You're not going to turn me in?"

Azriel pauses, one hand, one scarred hand you can now see with the fire going, on the door. So, the rumours of that were true.

"No," He says lowly. He sees you staring, and as if on command, the shadows swirling around his shoulders dart down to cover his hands. They and the doorknob in his hand disappear from sight completely.

You evade your eyes back up to his hauntingly beautiful face. His expression is stony, unreadable. He stares at you for a long moment, the dancing fire reflected in his hazel eyes.

"I'm going to train you."

[NEXT PART: ALLIES]

#ahhhh!!! i'm very excited for this one!!#pray i can do it justice !!#azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger x you #azriel fic

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fanfic-lover-girl · 1 year ago

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Yamcha was never my fav character but this man deserves so much better! He was a great character in DB and now is mocked and treated like a joke, especially by some loser Vegeta/Vegebul stans.

Honestly, I wish there were some more canon scenes or fanfics where Yamcha and Future Trunks spent more time together. I also liked one or two fanfics where Yamcha was a kind of uncle figure to Kid Trunks. But honestly, the man deserves better than to play Daddy for the child of the woman who dumped him for an evil jerk.

As I get older, Bulma's relationship with Vegeta bothers me more and more. And Bulma as a character. What kind of woman spreads her legs for someone like Vegeta? The man was a leech and offered her nothing but arguments. I still love Vegeta as a character but gosh.

Imagine making up lies about Yamcha to make Vegeta (who was currently evil) look like a better person.

The same Vegeta who Future Bulma lied about to her son because Vegeta was very evil and uncaring.

The same Vegeta who would have let Bulma and his own infant son die if Future Trunks didn't save them.

The same Vegeta that Bulma knew was so evil that he definetly went to Hell as she lied to her son about there being good in Vegeta.

(Vegeta first began to change from evil to good after he spent 1 yr training in the Room of Spirit & Time with Future Trunks. And Vegeta gained some respect for his son from the future after he attacked him when Vegeta was helping Cell achieve his perfect form. Future Vegeta never changed from evil to good because he never had a "Future Trunks" to be the catalyst of his change.)

All of this evidence and yet DB fans continue to lie about Yamcha. They go along with the lies that Bulma told Trunks, even though he found out the harsh truth; his mom slept with an evil man and lied to make her son think better of herself and better of his evil father by telling her son that Yamcha was a cheater.

Even if Yamcha was a cheater (evidence shown in the manga reveals YAMCHA IS NOT A CHEATER) does that mean Vegeta was "better" than Yamcha? NO. Vegeta directly threatened to kill Bulma multiple time, commits genocide, & his ultimate goal was to kill Goku then the others in his way. Then his future self died an evil man while the present Vegeta got a chance to change thanks to Future Trunks.

Is being a pure evil murderer really better than being an alleged cheater? Present & Future Vegeta killed Namekian children in the last arc & only didn't continue to kill ppl on Earth because Goku was stronger than him with SSJ. Then, Present Vegeta was going to let his own son and baby momma die & he then put the world in danger just to stroke his Saiyan pride.

Yamcha was nowhere near that evilnas Vegeta was nor did he ever cheat.

Meanwhile, Yamcha wanted to marry Bulma and was sad after he found out she had a child with their 100% still evil enemy who threatened all of their lives (& recently threatened Bulma's life) and he was partially responsible for most of the Z Warriors deaths.

And let's not forget that Yamcha was the one to tell Future Trunks that his father cared for him.

Trunks began to despise his own father, but Yamcha is the only one who told Trunks about what Vegeta did. That his father did actually care about him. Why? What did Yamcha have to gain from it? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

Yamcha just wanted Trunks to return home happy. Yamcha literally helped bring hope to the future. Yamcha even made Future Bulma (who lied on Yamcha) feel better about herself when her lie to make Vegeta look good ended up being barely true in an alternate timeline.

Why do so many ppl hate this man?

EXTRA BUU SAGA STUFF:

And let's not forget how Yamcha tried to save Bulma's relationship in the Buu Saga.

Dude moved on from her and now just wants to help out a friend. A friend who was so extremely depressed to the point she fainted in disbelief that her husband killed hundreds of people (and almost her too) just to fight Goku.

Yamcha tried to fix Vegeta's sins & he did. But many in the fandom still spread the lie that Yamcha knew Vegeta died & he made a wish to only bring back the good people so that Vegeta would stay dead. A blatant lie. Goku told Yamcha, Bulma, & the others that Gohan & Vegeta were dead AFTER they made the wish.

Stop lying on Yamcha. Y'all gotta be obsessively jealous to keep lying about a good man.

#yamcha #bulma briefs #future trunks #prince vegeta #vegeta #dbz #cell saga #dragon ball z #vegebul critical #bulma x vegeta #yamcha deserved better #buu saga #future bulma

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koji-haru · 4 months ago

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Time Travel AU Part: 8

Adam watched Eve run around with Amora along with the other animals while he rested sitting underneath the shade of a large tree. God, he forgot how energetic that woman was. He had introduced Eve to Amora as well as the other animals. The jaguar seemed to have taken a liking to her, and one playful pounce led to another, Adam got dragged into it along with the others, and now they were still running around. Adam had tapped out for at least an hour now, and yet Eve was still matching Amora’s energy. He leaned on the trunk of the tree. This was nice. This was all he truly wanted. When things were just simple. No Lucifer and Lilith, no sinners to deal with, and no heavenly councils. Just him in paradise.

Eve’s bubbly laughter snatched his attention again. She was so innocent and carefree, just like her old self before their banishment. Their hardships and misfortunes outside the garden eroded both Adam and Eve of their innocence and cheer. Adam, while back in the garden, couldn’t regain that innocence, and so he just hoped that, at least in this life, Eve would be able to keep hers. But he knew. He knew that sometime in the future, that snake Lucifer would tempt Eve into eating the forbidden fruit. Of course he would try to prevent that from ever happening, but he couldn’t always keep an eye on Eve. He supposed there would be no harm in teaching Eve how to survive outside the garden. Just in case.

The sound of approaching footsteps behind him directed his attention to his other companion, Michael.

“Would you like some?,” Michael offered Adam some grapes he gathered while waiting for Eve to eventually tire out.

“Yes please,” Adam grabbed a small cluster of grapes and popped them into his mouth. How crisp and sweet. Every fruit and vegetable in Eden was exactly as one would want them. Just perfect.

“They’re still playing?,” Michael asked, genuinely surprised by Eve’s energy.

Adam nodded in confirmation. It was going to be a long wait for both him and Michael.

—-

Eve was a good match for Adam.

Michael stood beside Adam, idly watching the scenery in front of them. It had only been a few days since Eve’s creation, and yet the two seemed like they’ve always known each other. That was how much they got along. Way better than Lilith and Adam’s relationship. Where Lilith avoided as much time as possible with Adam, and often left him alone. Eve was the opposite. She was almost never away from Adam’s side, always bringing him wherever she went. And while Michael was happy, as he should be, that Adam got the partner he deserved, he couldn’t help but miss the times when he and Adam spent some time together. Just a little bit. With Eve’s presence in the garden, Michael didn’t really have much of a reason to stay in the garden, except for the occasional visit just to ensure nothing was wrong. And that was fine! Really! He had a lot of work to do in Heaven, and he was glad to have a load off of his back. But sometimes he just wanted to have some time off and enjoy good company. There was nothing wrong with that, right?

He glanced at Adam. The first man seemed to be unoccupied as of now. He could ask right now. He wasn’t busy.

…

Why was he hesitating? It was not an odd thing to ask. Some amusement while waiting was a normal thing to do! That was right. He would just ask. Casually.

…

Michael stood in silence for a few more minutes, frowning at himself. A dark gloom seeped out of him, eventually affecting Adam, who was sitting beside him. The first man stopped eating his grapes and turned to look at the source of the gloom, clearly unnerved by it.

“Um, Michael?,” he asked a little nervously.

And in an instant Michael snapped out of his gloom, his cool demeanour quickly taking over. The first man was looking at him confused and concerned. Did something happen? He quickly scanned the surrounding area. Everything seemed to be in order. Eve was still playing, and Adam was in front of him. Oh right. He wanted to ask Adam if he would like to play learn a new board game. The angel looked back at Adam, he got his attention now, he shouldn’t dawdle.

Michael cleared his throat, why were his nerves acting up today? “I have something new for you to learn. If you would like.”

Adam furrowed his brows in even more confusion, “The fuck? That was it? What was with the dramatics earlier?”. For a brief moment Adam thought that the angel had somehow read his thoughts and that he was done for. But he supposed that Michael was just weird. He never thought of Michael to be the weird type, but then he was Lucifer’s brother so maybe it ran in the family.

Finally out of his stupor, Adam fixed his expression. Innocent and friendly as he gave an eager smile, “I would like to! What do you have in mind?”. He supposed he could indulge the angel. No harm done. Plus, he was getting bored.

Michael perked up a bit at Adam’s response, not too noticeable, but it was there if one paid attention. With a snap of his fingers a wooden board with lines all over it along with black and white game pieces poofed into existence. Michael quickly placed the items between him and Adam as he sat on the grass facing him.

“So, this one is called ‘Twelve Men’s Morris…’”

Both Michael and Adam were focused on their game, both equally unwilling to lose so easily. They had been playing after Michael explained the rules to Adam, with Adam quickly learning and getting better at the game. As Michael had expected. The first man was always quick to adapt, which was why the angel liked to spend time with him. He was pretty sure that at the rate that Adam was learning and enough time given, he could be even more capable than most angels in Heaven. It was quite fascinating for him to watch this extraordinary growth as angels were made with pre-existing capabilities. There wasn’t much for them to grow into or improve.

Michael took a subtle glance at the first man. It was his turn to make a move. Furrowed brows, pinkish lips pressed into a thin line, and an intense golden gaze in deep thought. The afternoon sun casted a soft golden glow upon his silhouette, that complemented his warm brown hair and accentuated his golden eyes. And for a moment, Michael thought he looked like an angel made of golden light from the sun’s first rays. This radiant man was putting all of his concentration on their game, and Michael couldn’t be more… content? elated? that this time was spent here, with him.

Adam moved a piece, a confident smile on his face, “Alright, your turn.”

Michael tore his attention away from Adam and back down to the game and… it didn’t look good for him. He made a rookie mistake. “Ah. I might actually lose this time.” Adam didn’t really give him a lot of options, cornering most of his pieces. Almost every move was guaranteed for him to lose a piece. How did he not see that coming? It was time for him to focus, really focus, then maybe he could still turn the game around and save face.

Just then, Eve’s call for Adam travelled through the air, breaking the bubble that surrounded the game. And just like, the intensity and focus on Adam’s features swiftly turned soft and carefree as he turned to the quickly approaching woman. Michael deflated a little. Their time together was over.

“Adam! I found this new place, and I think it’ll be more fun if you come! Come! Come! I’m sure you’ll like it!” Eve dragged Adam’s arm towards the place, her energy somehow still there.

Adam let out a small laugh, amused by his wife’s antics, before turning his attention back to Michael. “Do you want to tag along?”

“Oh, Michael, please come along!,” Eve added.

Well, Michael would like to, but… The sun was nearing the horizon, golden rays slowly turning orange, light blue skies turning dark, and fluffy clouds thinning and blending into the sky like smudged paint on a canvas. He had more work to do in Heaven. He would like to stay, but it was time to go.

Michael snapped the game board and its pieces away as he got up from his spot. “No, thank you. It’s time for me to return to Heaven anyway.”

The two gave him a nod before running off to wherever Eve wanted to bring them, leaving Michael alone under the tree. Amora stood a short distance away from him, yellow eyes seemingly piercing through him.

“What?,” Michael asked as he crossed his arms, not liking the look the animal was giving him.

Amora snorted before turning away and following the two humans.

Michael had an inkling what, but it was something he wouldn’t even consider, let alone acknowledge. He wasn’t like his brother. Setting things to ruin. Besides, Eve was a good match for Adam.

—-

Lucifer slithered his way along the tree’s many branches. He had been observing Adam for a while now, and instead of finding clarity, he just got more confused. The first man was never this helpful and attentive of a husband towards Lilith, and yet towards Eve, he was everything Lilith needed him to be. The same went for his brother, Michael, who Adam was far more receptive and genuine with. If the forbidden fruit had corrupted Adam, then how come he was much nicer to both Eve and Michael than he ever was with Lilith and Lucifer? Ever since the beginning, Adam was never that receptive to both Lilith and Lucifer. So why now? It made no sense at all.

However, he did take notice of something relevant. Whenever Eve or Michael were not present, his ‘unsettling’ presence would come back. It was like he simply shed all of that cheer and innocence, like robes for him to change out of. Which was what he was currently doing. Adam was sketching something on a piece of tree bark using charcoal from a fire he made beside him while he kept a deer lying on its side in front of him, occasionally looking up and poking certain parts like its neck and stomach. What Adam was specifically drawing, Lucifer couldn’t get a clear look, the growing darkness not helping one bit. A moment later Adam called for Eve to come sit beside him on the log, which the woman did. He showed her his sketches, going back and forth between them and the compliant deer in front of them. As if he was teaching her something. Curious, and still unable to get a clear look, Lucifer decided to slither down the tree and onto the grass. Risky, but the creeping night should help conceal his presence.

As stealthily as he could, Lucifer made his way along the grass into a small bush near both Adam and Eve.

“...the head, especially the brain and eyes, you shouldn’t even bother to handle. They can make you sick.” Adam carefully explained to Eve, pointing at his drawing of a brain with an arrow that pointed from the deer’s head, and then back to the actual deer.

Eve furrowed her brows, trying to take in and understand what Adam was teaching her, but was clearly struggling to grasp it. Recently, her husband had been teaching her all of these new, but odd, things. Like which parts of an animal were vulnerable, their sleeping and feeding habits, how to sneak up on them. Adam had told her it was important for her to know a lot about the animals, they were after all, supposed to care for them as they were also part of the garden. But this lesson was the oddest thus far. Why would she need to handle a deer’s head? Or the brain or eyes? They should remain in the head anyway. But she didn’t question her husband. He had been nothing but good to her, so she was sure whatever he was teaching her would come in handy one day.

Lucifer couldn’t believe what Adam was teaching Eve. Were those drawings the inside of a deer?! How did he even know those things? He hadn’t seen any dead animals, but Adam could’ve just easily hidden them as he hid his true nature. Suddenly, he worried for the second woman. What if Adam was moulding her to become like him? He couldn’t let that happen. If he could just snatch that tree bark with his drawings, then he could show Heaven that there was something very wrong with the first man.

In his peripheral vision, Adam caught sight of something white glistening inside a small bush. He squinted, trying to see clearer in the darkening sky. There was no mistaking it. That small, white snake with its stupid clown red cheeks. “Fuck. He saw me.”

Suddenly, he turned to Eve. “Well, that’s it for now. And remember…”

“...not to tell the angels!,” Eve continued.

“Right. They already have so much knowledge to remember in Heaven, so there’s no need to bother them with the intricacies of Eden. That’s for us to know.”

Adam got up from the log, then carelessly tossed the tree bark into the fire. Eve sat up straight, hand reaching out for the bark, but it was too late. It had already been set aflame, slowly turning into nothing but ash.

“Oh. I wanted to keep them, in case I forget,” Eve slumped down, a little dejected.

Adam moved in front of Eve, bending down a little as he held her face with both of his hands. “You didn’t need them anyway. I know you're smart enough to remember. You’re my wife after all. The perfect woman!,” he smiled lovingly at her.

Eve felt her cheeks warm up as she nodded at her husband’s words. Adam pulled her closer, she let him, as he tenderly placed a kiss on her forehead. All the while Adam gave Lucifer a dark and chilling stare. Cold, hard gold daring him to make his move. Challenging him.

Lucifer returned the stare. Prideful red eyes determined to cause the first man’s downfall.

“Challenge accepted.”

Part 7

Part 9

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #guitarhero #time travel au #michael x adam #hazbin hotel michael #🛡🎸

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todayontumblr · 1 year ago

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Wednesday, June 28.

Trees!

Let's face it, we simply do not deserve trees. We have everything to thank them for, quite literally. After all, they reduce the 'greenhouse effect' by removing harmful carbon dioxide from the air and releasing oxygen. Each and every year, a single mature tree will produce adequate oxygen for ten entire people. They are also an effective sound barrier, capable of limiting noise pollution, and recent research has revealed that they can also help reduce the stress of modern life. Well, we are happy to offer some more evidence from a primary research source, from us to you. There is simply nothing we like better than to nestle beneath a tree on a bright, colorful day, relax into the trunk, and relax, fingers between blades of grass.

Alone? It's great. With people? Also excellent. With a book? Exquisite. With music? What could be better. With none of the above, just the endless pleasures of looking and listening? Yes please. There are few pleasures as simple, yet profound, as watching the interplay of light and shadow beneath the leaves of trees. It's a little like watching the flow of a green river. We could go on, but time spent waxing lyrical is time you should be sitting beneath a big green bad boi.

Here's crunch time: people, being the sh*theads we are, clear millions of forested acres every year. Often for short-term rewards, like silly money, despite the long-term risks like desertification, wildlife declines, and climate change. Earth now has 46% fewer trees than 12,000 years ago, when agriculture was in its infancy. All is not lost, however. Here's a handful of links to tree conservation charities, and if you like what you see, here is a more comprehensive list.

The National Forest Foundation (NFF)

One Tree Planted

Trees for the Future (TREES)

Plant With Purpose

Eden Reforestation Projects (Eden)

#today on tumblr #trees #trees and forests #treescape #pine trees #nature #green #conservation #ecology #environment #environmetalists #planting #enviromental

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dreadsuitsamus · 1 year ago

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Lost Part Six | Vegeta x Reader |

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

author's note: we're getting very close to the end, y'all! thank you so much for your support and patience 🩷

pairing: vegeta x fem!reader

warnings: canon typical violence, does not follow canon timeline of events

"Don't expect to see this ship again soon, if ever." You murmur while carefully holding baby Trunks as Bulma unhooks various computers from the ship.

She falters in her movements for a brief moment. "What are you planning on doing?"

"Finding my son."

"That much I figured." Bulma rolls her eyes and glances over her shoulder. "You're not coming back?"

"I will for the Androids; I've already promised as much to Goku."

"You don't…" The tired mother resumes her work, doing her best to stay on task before Vegeta shows up. "I wasn't asking you to leave."

"I know that. But it's best for everyone involved if I do, don't you think?"

"No, I don't."

"Why's that? Without me, you have your perfect little family." You look down at little Trunks, who is nearly fast asleep as he rests his little head on your chest. No doubt he finds your arms to be like a warm blanket, all thanks to your Saiyan trait of running like a furnace in August, and you can't help but think to yourself just how cute he is. "Vegeta can't find V without my help, so he won't be able to kill him. I've trained and powered up in ways I never imagined, much less my son's wildest dreams. I can conquer him myself, I know it."

"And what about Goku and his family, and all they've done for you?"

"I will never be able to repay what they've done for me. And they do deserve better, but time is of the essence and all I can promise is to ensure that Gohan will not be doomed to that future your son warned you of. In four years, I will return and make sure of it."

Bulma's quiet for a moment, and it isn't until the ship is about ready that she speaks again. "Thank you. And… I'm sorry for all you've lost."

"The only thing I have still is my hope that my son isn't on that list. I love my husband and I want nothing more than to have him and be the family we dreamed of being so long ago. But my time with Vegeta… It's passed." Tears sting in your eyes, and you turn away from the woman that's being handed the fruit of your dreams on a silver platter, though you still hold her son carefully. "He's not been very good to you, I know. But Vegeta can and will be a good father and husband for your family. He was for mine, in our short time as one."

"You don't have to do this." Bulma says softly.

"I do. Perhaps the karma of my race's sins is falling on me and my family." You sigh to yourself and hand away the sleepy baby to his mother's loving arms, noting to yourself that your husband has quite the habit of making the most adorable babies. "Saiyans… We are proud, and perhaps we shouldn't be. The things Vegeta and I did…" You shake your head. "We are truly hellbound, Bulma. And maybe with you… Vegeta can avoid that fate. You're a good woman, and the people here are good. Vegeta needs that, and my son needs me."

"Just bring him here." Bulma's eyes are sad, much to your surprise. She's truly a wonderful woman. "That way everyone can win."

"To do that would be to doom him to death and seal Vegeta's fate in hell. V's my baby, and he's waiting for me at our old training grounds, I'm sure. I need to go now; Vegeta won't be down much longer."

"... Alright." Bulma sighs and after a quick summary of how to fly the ship, she steps aside and slips a pair of headphones over Trunks' gentle little ears to protect them from the loud noises of the ship. "So… Why do you think he's at the old training grounds?"

"It's where he always wanted to be. He's a true, full-blooded Saiyan, after all. We couldn't train on the planet we made our new life on, and he was always so happy when we made the journey to one of the planets King Vegeta decided to keep for the royal family's benefit. That same planet was my husband's favorite as well."

If only my boys could meet… They'd be so close.

You adjust your white gloves, pulling them tightly onto your hands and flexing your fingers a bit. Your son will never see the power that resides beneath these palms coming, and the thought does put a bit of a smirk on your face. He may think he's powerful, but his mother surely isn't one to fool with. Turning to Bulma, you give a quick two-fingered salute before closing the hatch to the ship and settling into the captain's chair for takeoff.

With an oddly calm and quiet mind, you start up the ship and aim for the stars, the image of Vegeta's smile dancing behind your lids as you relax back into your chair. He used to smile all the time, and since finding him again, you're not sure if you've seen him smile once. Will he ever smile again? you wonder as you widen the gap between your hearts.

I hope you're ready, V. Mama's coming home with a helluva chip on her shoulder.

Panic and fear flood Vegeta's mind as his eyes open up. His skull burns with a particular throb at his temple, and his back isn't faring much better as it aches with a scorching pain that climbs his spine during the dizzy scramble to his feet. What in the hell did you do?! Why?

"That woman…" He seethes and falls to his knees as his head swims. You got him good, that's for sure. He's certainly concussed and he curses lowly as he buries his face in his hands to will the nausea away.

He damn sure meant it when he said he wasn't going to let go, and despite your best effort to sway him, you will. Not. Win.

A special scent catches his nose, and it's only now that he realizes you've left your replenished lady's favor in his palm. A smirk raises his lips as your natural smell eases away his nausea and pain, which you surely must not have intended. His victory is short-lived, however, and a snarl forms as he grits his teeth with a low growl. How dare you do this to him? To yourself??

Careful not to burn your favor, Vegeta bursts through the roof of the cabin in his powerful Super Saiyan form and rushes back to Capsule Corps with a scream so raw it destroys his throat and so loud it could likely break the barrier of space and time. You've gone and fucking done it now, and the next time he sees you (and he will see you again) he may not even hesitate to get his lick back and deliver a concussion of your own.

"I will find you, woman, and you better be fucking ready to dodge!"

His landing is rough, and his stomach turns as he touches down. If Bulma let you go, so help him he'll burst into a frenzy and her poor lab won't make it out alright—

Bulma.

There's no doubt in his mind— she's the one that revealed the Androids to you. You'd been living with Kakarot and his family for months and miraculously had no knowledge at all, and after the heiress of the Brief family fortune felt slighted she had to have told you everything! What a petty, vindictive, sore loser of a—

You did threaten to kill her.

His taste in women could not possibly be worse.

Pushing through his concussed fog, Vegeta stumbles into the house loudly and isn't exactly surprised to be met with his second son's mother holding a gun at him. A small part of his heart finds the humor in it, remembering her story of shooting at Kakarot fondly. In another lifetime and universe entirely, she'd be perfect for him.

But any world you exist in destroys the possibility.

"If you shoot me, all it's gonna do is wake the baby." Vegeta slurs, vision hazy as his body fails to fully recover from your assault. The number you did on his back is just as powerful as the crack you knocked against his skull, rendering him unable to even stand to his full height as he crashes against a wall.

"You bullshitting around will wake him too." Bulma hisses and drops the gun to her side, hurrying to kneel beside Vegeta as he slides to the floor.

"Being heavily concussed is not bullshitting." Vegeta slaps his palm to his face, your old handkerchief willing the sick-to-his-stomach feeling away once again— it does not, however, dissuade his rage. "Where's my wife?"

Bulma can't help the sting and the sinking feeling in her stomach; Vegeta had obviously made his choice, and though she knew the chances of really being chosen and wanted were incredibly slim… it's still painful to hear after all she's gone through with him.

"She's gone." Bulma mumbles as she examines the forming bruise on his temple.

Vegeta's eye twitches as his blood boils, the vein at his forehead bulging at her words. She let you go and he's lost you again.

I cannot accept this.

"Get me a ship." The prince seethes, trembling as he does his best to detain his wrath and desire for vengeance. Bulma's intentions were surely selfish, but reasonable all the same. He's a bad, horrible man that's only brought havoc among those around him, and so he might as well just keep on with the destruction until he's satisfied. "Now."

"You can't even stand, much less travel through space." Bulma hisses and pushes her knuckle harshly to his bruise, her point proven as his eyes cross and the room spins. "And she did this for a reason. The mother in me can't just let you fuck that up for her."

"What, like you're friends now?" Vegeta buries his nose into the handkerchief yet again, closing his eyes to still the world around him. "I find that incredibly hard to believe."

"She knocked you out cold to get the hell outta dodge, and you think I'm lying?" Bulma picks up her pistol from the carpet and tucks it into her waistband, the cool metal chilling her heated skin. "I'd never call us friends in this lifetime. But I do respect her, that's for sure. Maybe you should try that out?"

"How dare you." Vegeta huffs into your handkerchief. "You told her about the Androids, didn't you?"

"Damn right I did! Trunks came back to us for a reason, Vegeta! Do you wanna die to those bastards?" Bulma's eyes are fierce, her conviction planting her feet firmly to the floor and her fists curl tightly at her sides as she remembers the pain in her son's voice when he gave his terrible warning. "And don't try and feed me any bullshit that we'll win and it's nothing to worry about— YOU ALL FUCKING DIED!"

Even in his slurry, wrathful state he can see the worry behind the rage: the tears in her eyes are more than a dead giveaway. Ever since his son traveled back to deliver his warning, she's been fretful and more than a little clingy. She truly has such little faith in Vegeta and the others? Do they train for nothing in her eyes?

"I have survived more dangerous things than a couple of robots. We've been warned sufficiently, and by the time they're a threat to us we'll have three Super Saiyans."

"You had three Super Saiyans then too. Take this seriously, Vegeta! I can't beg you enough, I can't make you understand!" Bulma's thin frame trembles in the midst of her duress and her cheeks are flushed a bright red. It's now that Vegeta realizes the weight she's lost as she rubs at her temples, her cropped tank top pulling up slightly— her ribs are more visible than they once were.

Vegeta's jaw sets tightly. "I understand the situation, Bulma. But understand this: the boy will have very little if he doesn't have his mother."

Bulma falters for a moment, cutting her eyes to him with slightly parted lips; Vegeta never calls her by her name. He's still crumpled to the floor and the old lady's favor is pressed closely to his cheek— she can only assume it's some odd Saiyan thing. And for the first time out of several nights together, she truly gets the sense that they are parents and having adult discussions as them.

How terribly cruel is her fate of loving a man that's never been hers and never will be.

"That would only happen if I died, Vegeta."

"Dying on a battlefield isn't the only way to do so. You'll worry and stress yourself to the grave like this— I trust you to be a good mother. Trust me to be a father. I've already promised to amend my mistakes, haven't I?"

"Forgive me for not knowing if I can trust that." Bulma snaps at him, face reddened again at his lecture. Is he telling her how to be a parent?? The audacity of a man! "The thing about trust is that it has to be earned, y'know."

Vegeta gnashes his teeth together and looks away, the guilt of his past actions hitting like a shotgun blast to the chest as it bites his ass in this dreary long run. "What do you want me to do then??"

"Try being a dad, like you were before all of this happened? If you don't want to be with me-" Her breath hitches just a bit in her throat, but she still perseveres, proving to be braver than almost anybody Vegeta's ever known. "Then don't. I-I love you, but… It's not what I need the most. It's not what Trunks needs for a healthy childhood. To even have a childhood at all, he needs you around. Please, Vegeta… Please don't abandon him." She closes her eyes and turns her head in a failed attempt to hide the tears that fall, a shudder taking her entire body in very lightly chaotic loosening of her emotional lid. An heiress to the most fruitful fortune on Earth has never been more in need of a break.

With a deep inhale, Vegeta pushes himself up from the floor and, with the grace of mercy winning against his throbbing concussion, he pulls his son's mother into a close embrace. His hand at the back of her head, Vegeta tucks her face into the crook of his neck and closes his eyes at the feeling of her tears on his skin.

"To say I hold no love for you is a lie." His deep voice buzzes against the shell of her ear. "You cared for me when no one else has, and even at my most selfish I didn't take it for granted. You are special, Bulma. I will return to raise my son— Nothing in this galaxy will stop me."

She may end up the fool again, but the conviction in Vegeta's words is far too believable for her to deny. He'll come back and protect Trunks' future, and young Gohan's too. He's not the cruel man he was when he first came to Earth— and he hasn't been that man for a long time now.

"Now…" Vegeta murmurs into her ear. "Get me a ship."

The planet's as quiet as it's ever been, and it's unsettling. Only in his wildest dreams could he imagine the way his people trained here, getting stronger and preparing themselves for any battle or hostile takeover they launched. The Saiyans would surely have ruled the galaxy, had they been given the time to build a true dynasty. It would have been magnificent.

But instead, he lives his life in this desolate place, with no purpose or even another person that understands him in sight. His father's been long gone and his mother…

Is a complicated problem of his.

V's jaw ticks as his anger swells him into Super Saiyan yet again. His whole life has been a lie— it only took you well over ten years to admit it. And he gets the strange feeling that it was all due to an accident, and that you'd have never willingly let the truth come to light.

V's just come home from a training binge, and from the moment he touched down in his ship, the energy was… off. He sprints home, a tickle of fear and adrenaline rushing his heart as he nears the house he grew up in. Bursting through the door, the sound of your cries hits his sharply-tuned ears and his arms feel light and cold now as he fears the worst.

"Mom!" Your dutiful son follows the noise to your bedroom, dropping beside you hastily as he realizes your position on the floor. Clutching your heart, you're curled into yourself with tears streaming along your cheeks. He's never seen you cry before. "What's wrong?! Are you hurt?!"

"He's dead." Your voice is hoarse, a barely-there whisper as you tremble like a leaf.

"Who?" V gathers you carefully in his arms, holding you gently as you did him when he was a young boy. He's grown up quite a lot, gotten stronger and taller and he'll kill anyone that's hurt his mother like this. You're all he has to cherish.

"Vegeta." Your eyes are near-glassy, and surely you're delusional now. V himself isn't dead, and the only other person you could possibly be this sick over is…

His father, Vegeta the Fourth, that's been dead for almost twenty years now.

"What do you mean?" V mumbles. "My father died a long time ago."

"No…" Your nails dig into the flesh of your breast, your poor heart cracking and pulling apart as your blood sears your veins and pumps a horrible migraine that throbs at your temples worse than any concussion you've ever had.

There's no other possible answer: your soul itself is dying, and it's not entirely unfeasible that Vegeta didn't die. He was always a rebel type, so who was to say that he hadn't ignored the regrouping order sent out? Hell, you certainly ignored it yourself when you were informed by your father-in-law, the King himself, to come back home with his grandson to meet with King Cold.

"Mom, be serious now!" V frowns; you're out of your mind. "We need to get you to a doctor."

"He's dead, he's dead, he's dead…" Your broken voice chants and stars flood your vision as the image of your husband, particularly from the last day you saw him, settles at the forefront of your mind. This pain is a far cry from anything you've ever felt— the broken bones, bruises and even giving birth could never compare.

V lays you on your bed, covering you with your favorite blanket that's got a strange, orange and black striped animal printed on it. "I'm gonna get some help, okay? Stay here, Momma." His icy veins throb with panic as he scrambles to someone that can help— you've never been sick before, and until now he didn't even think mothers could be sick.

Your homey little planet is small, and you've never socialized all that much with your neighbors. Enough to be friendly and have an occasional dinner together, but never enough for you to let V have a sleepover or even some sort of field trip without you being close by. He doesn't know if this is typical of Saiyan mothers or if you're just different, but either way it's biting him in the ass now as he struggles to think of anyone who—

Your energy fades further and he's got no choice but to go knocking at every door he can until someone cares enough to hear him out. And it's the odd old lady a few houses down that answers his call, and he must have quite the look on his face for her to look so shocked.

"Vegeta, dear, what's wrong?"

"My mom- I-I don't- I think she's dying!" Tears fill V's dark eyes and without much preamble, he's scooping the old woman into his arms and flying back home as fast as he possibly can, his force unintentionally though uncaringly shattering the windows of all the neighbors that didn't open up to help him.

Dizzy, the elderly neighbor holds her head once V sets her down by your bedside. You clutch your heart still, crying and repeating yourself as if you've gone mad; and maybe you have, at this point.

"My father died when I was young, but she keeps saying he's just died." V explains as he takes your hand and prays to any deity that will listen to his plea.

"Hmm." She examines the mating scar on your neck, but it's more than enough to tell her what she needs to know. "You're Saiyans, yes?"

"We are." V mumbles. "How did you know?"

"I knew since the day your Momma brought you here." She murmurs to him. "You're a unique set of people."

"Well, do you know what's wrong with her??"

Her face is too grim for V's comfort. "She's telling the truth: her mate has died."

"Vegeta…" You whimper, a fresh slew of tears cascading your cheeks.

"That doesn't make any sense! He died years ago, when I was little!"

"She's dying of a broken heart. This behavior is like most species that can bond. You see how she holds her heart, hear how delirious she is? This is the risk of bonding, boy, and why many cultures outlawed the practice."

"So I have to let her die?! There's no way to save her?!"

"There isn't."

And then you recovered a few hours later, and just kept on lying and denying it all. Dad's alive. Mom's a liar. Or is Dad alive? He must be after all, if you're still breathing. And he knows you are; he reckons he would've felt something inside of him snap if he'd killed you all those months ago. A mother and son duo so close could never not feel such a tragic separation.

"I don't want to kill you, Mother." V mutters darkly as he stares a hole into the ground. "I just want the truth."

The hairs on the back of your neck stand as you approach your son's stomping grounds. It's been years since you last set foot here and all you hope for now is that you'll be able to leave it after this fight, with your son in tow and thoroughly reminded of his place.

Once you're out of the ship's hatch and your boots crunch on the hardened, reddish-brown clay surface, you're automatically searching for V's energy. Even with your zenkai boosts and the mastered Super Saiyan form in your back pocket, the sheer power he carries is still intimidating. You're not sure if you ever truly believed your son would be so naturally strong, even though you certainly hoped he could be. Your boy is likely what Frieza was so afraid of when he ruined your home planet to mere bits.

But despite his power, yours is nothing to scoff at. Rage motivates a Saiyan like crazy and lord only knows how pissed off you are now. You haven't struggled this much and come this far even with everything that stacked against you to die at the hands of your own son. He will not win as long as you have a say in things.

It takes but a moment to locate his energy, which is pinpointed right at the center of the field you two used to run miles and miles on during training. You always beat him in tests of speed, whereas his strength overtook yours gradually as he grew up into the incredibly strong young man he is now.

As you approach, the feeling of his energy increases. He's certainly been training on his own time, as always, and he's managed to make good progress all on his own. Watching your son take your techniques and guidance and morph it into his own power and tools made you a proud Saiyan as much as a proud mother; he's inherited Vegeta's battle prowess and your creativity and blended it into a Saiyan that would've been a legend among the rest.

They took everything from us, but instead he chooses to harm me.

"Have you come to tell the truth?"

V lands before you, tall and intimidating with eyes that are cold and guarded, when they once looked at you with love and trust that was endless. You've lost your only baby and this is what remains— your heart feels the weight of your desperation to beg him to just stop this madness.

But your rage swiftly nips that in the bud.

"It's all I've ever told you, V. I don't know what kind of fantasy you'd rather me spin, but I never told you stories as a child and I don't intend to pick up the habit now."

V shakes his head slowly, taking a slow, deep inhale through his nose before looking at you once more. "Maybe if you'd told me stories, I'd trust you right now."

Okay, ow.

"I found your father."

It's not a sentence V was prepared for you to say, obviously judged by the way his eyes widen and his fists lose their tight curl. "Really?"

And there's that boy I raised.

"I sure did. And he's none too happy to hear what you've done."

And then the incredulous look is lost, hardened up into something terrible and violent once again. "And I notice you came here alone. So either you're lying again, or Father isn't the guy you said he was."

"Vegeta certainly wanted to join me, make zero mistakes about that, child." You cross your arms and stare unflinchingly at V: you refuse to be afraid of something you made with all your love and hope. "But he wanted to kill you and I said not a chance in hell to that."

"He'd kill his only son, just like that?"

"V, baby…" You sigh to yourself. Do you break the news to him? Do you anger his uneasy heart more, ruin the visage of Vegeta you've painted for him throughout his life?

"I would've welcomed him to try." V sneers, taking a step closer to you and forcing you to tilt your head back even more to still see his face.

"It's in our blood to fight, but family is off the table for us, Prince." You remind him firmly of your positions, as the Royal Family that still lives beyond the bounds of the lost planet your husband's name originated from. "We aren't low-class Saiyans with no tact or notion of civility. I taught you this many years ago."

"Hard to tell what's true and what's not when it comes from you."

"And what reason would I have had to lie to you? You've never given me much of an answer on this."

"You'd have to tell me! I know you hid things but you won't just come out and say why! You almost died because my Father did!"

"Oh, not this again!" You turn away, perhaps foolishly taking your eyes off of your well-presumed opponent. "I don't know what happened that day, V. I truly believed in my heart that your father died when our planet was lost. It wasn't until I saw him with my own eyes that I realized that wasn't the case. What do you want me to say? I'm sorry? Because I definitely am. I'm sorry you grew up the way you did. I'm sorry your father wasn't in your life. If I knew there was even the slightest chance he was alive, I would've found him for your sake before even my own. But I didn't know he was alive. I can't change that, and I can't tell you anything other than this and call it the truth because this is the truth."

"No! You knew that day he was dead for real, and then brushed it off like what happened was normal! You felt it in your soul and almost died too. You can't tell me half of a truth and think it's acceptable! I'm not an idiot, and I'm done letting you treat me like one!"

A snarl curls at your lips. Here he goes again with this song and dance, insistent you knew something you didn't and taking the word of a delirious woman before taking the one of a very sane and present one. "And I'm tired of having this same conversation with you. Mind your mother, boy."

"My mother died four years ago, the day my father did." V's fist reels back and you're quick at the ready, meeting his force with your own and a shockwave ripping through the air and disturbing the ground beneath you.

V's quick for another punch, this time aimed at your stomach and it's almost too easy for you to block it and dive your elbow down on his arm, forcing him towards his knees long enough to take a solid jab of your knee to his face. He's unphased by the pain of the bloody nose, however, as a result of your training being so thorough. Pain alone can't stop him.

His superior strength proves itself as he grabs your ankle and flings you away as if you're a gnat buzzing around his face, your back making a crackling contact with the post of one of the training ground's obstacle courses, the solid tree trunk knocking the wind out of you upon impact. And just as you taught him, V capitalizes on his advantage and presses forward with a gut punch that lands this time.

Base form isn't enough to beat him, something you already knew. Powering up into Super Saiyan isn't new to your clashes with V, but now with its optimization he has far less opportunity to take you out, now that you've negged the energy drain. Your son can use Super Saiyan himself, but without a room of space and time, there's no possible way he could've mastered it entirely like you have.

Your golden glow that reflects off of his face reminds you briefly of the very first time you ascended to the legend. Your broken heart caused such a response, and you still feel it break further as you're forced to use such a power on the boy you birthed. He cannot see reason on his own or by words alone, and if being beaten into submission is the only way, then so be it.

He will know his place.

The stars are familiar as Vegeta presses the ship as fast as it can go, Bulma's words ringing out in the quietness of his mind.

"She said something about the old training grounds. The one you liked the most. Apparently the kid likes it too."

His heart jumps when the reddened clay of the planet comes into view. There's no mistaking it— this is where you are, and just as importantly, where his long lost son is. Despite his infractions and how he's lost his damn mind, Vegeta can hardly contain the bubbling feeling inside of him at the prospect of reuniting with the boy he lost the chance to raise. His heir is so close, for the first time in twenty years.

Hopefully you've got the situation handled— Vegeta's trip started a few hours after yours, thanks to the lack of senzu beans at Bulma's and Korin being a stingy thing. But he knows these stars well, knows the way to a home that doesn't exist anymore and his gift of navigation doesn't fail in an abyss so vast.

From the moment he breaks into the planet's atmosphere, he feels it. Your familiar energy amped up by Super Saiyan and another, incredibly strong energy keeping up a good pace. That's his boy, so strong and powerful? You've trained him so well, made him exactly what he was destined to be had Planet Vegeta lived on. And perhaps that's the root of V's downfall— he has all the training and yet none of the experience.

But he's aiming to kill, and you're not. And such is your downfall.

The hackles of your tail rise, and so does your son's. It's enough to warrant a pause in your battle, one that's gone on for so long you've lost track of time. Stamina was never a question though, never something meant to be an obstacle for Saiyan elites and it certainly isn't proving to be one now.

"Who the hell is that?" V mutters to himself as your heart battles between soaring and shrouding.

"Vegeta." You swallow thickly and feel a trickle of ice in your veins. How is he here, and—

Bulma. That pain in the ass!

Vegeta's out of the ship as soon as he can be, flying out and locating you both with ease.

"Father?" V's face briefly loses its rage and in what's left, you see the boy you raised. The one who could only dream of knowing his father, the one that would ask for stories of Prince Vegeta IV.

"That's right, son." Vegeta's eyes water. His boy, his son has grown into exactly how he'd envisioned; a spitting image of himself, and bitterly he realizes how much taller V is. How unfair for his son to take on his grandfather's genes, whereas Vegeta himself took after his own mother…

V's brief glimmer of starstruck doesn't last. His hands glow, gathering energy once more. "This doesn't concern you; my whole life never has." His growl loses a bit of punch as an unavoidable tear glides down his cheek. To finally meet his father…

"On the contrary," Vegeta quickly powers into Super Saiyan, quietly hoping it'll give him enough power to subdue his firstborn. "V, I think it's way past time I be a parent. Starting right now. Stand down and mind yourself, boy."

"Who are you to threaten me?!" V's temper flares again, this time sending a beam of deadly light at Vegeta. Vegeta's eyes narrow, brow creasing angrily at the attack, and with a flash he's dodged it and has V by the collar of his uniform.

"Your father. Me and your mother, mostly her, brought you into this world, and where your mother has her maternal instincts not to kill you…" Vegeta leans in closer to his son's face. "I will take you out of this world without another thought if you threaten my wife. One. More. Time."

"You don't have enough hatred." V spits out and knocks Vegeta's hand aside.

Anger flares up in your husband's eyes and his blood boils. Oh, the nerve of this child! He's as cocky as… Vegeta himself. He was always going to be this way. And Vegeta likely would've been proud, had your lives gone in the direction he planned.

"I've got a spare son to raise, so try me all you want, boy!" Vegeta releases V's shirt, backing up and crossing his arms over.

And that, right there, is the moment V's heart truly broke.

"You've got another kid??"

"He does." You mutter darkly, eyeing Vegeta with the eyes of a mother bear, daring him to lay a finger on your precious cub. "And he should've stayed on Earth with that child."

"I'll be back for Trunks, make no mistake. But if you think you'll cast me aside again, woman, you're wrong." Vegeta turns to you and is in your face now, angry and attractive and it burns you hotter than any sun to see him here and destroying the sacrifice you made.

"I left you behind for good reason." You hiss at him, mirroring his Super Saiyan glow. "You will not lay a hand on him."

Vegeta tips his fingers up beneath your chin, his lips a hair's breadth away. "If he minds himself, then you've got a deal, Princess."

"You should be training for the Androids."

"How about I will when you do?"

"Vegeta-"

"This running away thing is done. You will return to Earth with me, as my wife, and if the boy can carry himself as the man he should be, he'll be right there with us." Vegeta's fingers carefully grasp yours, holding your hand tightly as he turns to look at his son, satisfied as your hand curls with his.

"What will it be, boy?"

V's chest heaves and your aching heart cries to comfort him. His first experience that he'll remember of his father, and the asshole has shoved in his face he's got another son! You'd forgotten how cruel Vegeta's temper could be.

"Vegeta." You hiss sharply. "Do you really think this is how you should approach-"

A monstrous, angry roar deafens you and your husband. V's power swells and the glow of Super Saiyan bathes him, your entire little family now officially ascended to the legend. Hatred burns in V's eyes now, more prevalent and angry than ever as his increased speed gives him the chance to blindside you and Vegeta with a heavy tackle that makes your head rush.

Blinding light from his palms force you to cross your wrists over your face to shield your eyes, but its sudden disappearance sends your heart into freefall.

Opening your eyes reveals your husband and son in a brawl, their near-identical faces portraying a common ideal.

Fight to kill.

#vegeta x you #vegeta x reader #vegeta imagine #vegeta #dbz imagine #x reader #reader insert #fic #lost

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rebelwrites · 11 months ago

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Twelve: You Deserve The Whole World

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till the wheels fall off Masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

Warning: low body confidence

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

My heart weighed heavy in my chest, the thought of Pops going into a home made my stomach churn. My head was spinning, I needed to get away from here for a while. After having a quick chat with Jax, I met Charles on the front porch.

“You ready to go, babygirl?” he smiled softly, linking his fingers with mine guiding me towards the Ferrari that was parked at the end of the driveway. He did not know the effect he was having on me right now, the way he called me babygirl caused my heart to flutter and my stomach to flip. Everything was different with him, it was like he was the calmness I desperately sought. He settled the voices in my mind just by being around; I was already dreading once he had to leave.

As we approached the car, I cocked my brow at Charles who was now putting one of Jax’s duffel bags in the trunk. I had so many questions, why did he have a bag? What was in it? What did he have planned? Charles saw the confusion on my face but just smirked at me. “Que voulez-vous faire aujourd'hui ? What do you want to do today?” Charles asked, holding the passenger door open for me.

“Tant que je suis avec toi, je m'en fiche complètement. As long as I'm with you, I don't care,” I mumbled, letting my body sink into the black leather seats. My eyes went wide as I took in the interior of the SUV. Everything about this car was sleek, it was everything you would expect from Ferrari. “This car is fucking amazing!” I beamed, feeling my mood lift slightly.

“Just wait until you hear her roar,” Charles smirked, setting up the sat nav before resting his hand on my knee.

The moment we got onto the open road, he flashed me a wink, placing both hands back on the steering wheel putting his foot down. The small smile on my face was growing wider and wider by the second as the sound of the V12 engine surrounded us.

There was no better feeling than being on an empty road with a beast of a car.

“I want this car,” I giggled, looking over at Charles, his smile was bright enough to light up the entire world, I quickly realized this would be the closest I would ever get to feeling what he felt every race weekend. I had always loved the thrill of fast cars and bikes but this had kicked everything up a notch or two. Adrenaline was rushing through my body as Charles controlled the car beautifully to say he didn’t know the roads but that was why he was one of the best when it came to racing, even though this season wasn’t going to plan. “As much as I don’t want you to slow down, it might be wise unless we want Unser chewing our asses off.”

“I’d doubt the cops would even catch us, babygirl,” Charles laughed, there was a mischievous look in his eyes, “but I guess I’d better behave.”

We had been out of the house less than half an hour and already I felt lighter, “thank you,” I whispered, running my hands over my face, “for everything, you came here to escape all the drama and get some down time, yet you have practically been my rock the last couple of days. You hardly know me, yet here you are doing everything in your power to make the world brighter again for me.”

“Sunshine, I don’t know how to fully describe this and it’s gonna sound crazy but the moment you walked into the bar it was like I already knew you,” he said softly moving his hand back onto my knee. “I don’t have a clue what it is about you but your soul is so familiar to me. It’s like our souls have been waiting a lifetime for our hearts to finally meet.”

His words were causing my heart to race, I knew exactly what he was saying because I felt exactly the same. Placing my hand over his, I let my fingers link with his, “it does sound crazy Char,” I whispered, pausing for a moment, “I get you, I dunno it’s like our souls collided in a past life ya know,” I smiled softly, brushing my thumb over the top of his hand. “Kinda like they would forever find each other in every life.” I whispered, brushing my thumb over the side of his hand, “God, I even feel fucking crazy admitting that.”

Looking out of the window I noticed we had pulled up at the docks. I hadn’t been here in over a year, in fact it was before Pops’ health started declining. “Have you been speaking to Jax?” I asked, turning my attention back to Charles who was grinning like he had just won the world championship.

“Maybe,” he winked, killing the engine, “come on, then Sunshine.”

“What are you planning, Leclerc?” I asked, cocking my brow at him.

“Get out of the car and you shall find out,” he grinned, unclipping his seatbelt before slipping out of the car, my heart fluttering, jogging around the bonnet to open the door for me.

I had no idea what he was up to; I was just grateful for him trying to help clear my head. I could feel my mood already lifting, even if there was a dark cloud still looming over me but I think that would be there for a while, especially with Pops looking into homes. I also knew I was going to be in for an awkward conversation at some point, I saw the confused look on Charles’ face when I mentioned the surname I had at birth.

Unclipping my seat belt, I flashed him a smile as I took his hand, “this better be good otherwise I am leaving your ass at the side of the road and I’m taking this car,” I giggled, trying to ignore the sparks running through my body.

“Oh babygirl, this is going to blow you away,” He smirked, helping me out of the car. Once I was out, he gently closed the door behind me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder guiding me to the truck to grab the duffle bag.

As we walked over to the boardwalk we were greeted by a guy in a white suit, “Mr Leclerc, Miss Teller, the Princess yacht is all ready for you,” the guy said, with a friendly smile on his face. “I will be your captain today, there are stewards on board who will take care of all your needs. So, welcome aboard and we hope you both enjoy your day.”

I knew my eyes were as wide as saucers right now, no one had ever done anything like this for me before.

He had hired a freaking yacht for the day!

Feeling my eyes fill with tears I turned to Charles, placing my hand over his heart. “C'est trop Charles, tu n'avais pas besoin de louer un putain de bateau pour moi. That's too much Charles, you didn't have to hire a fucking boat for me.”

“Bébé, tu mérites le monde entier. Baby, you deserve the whole world,” Charles whispered, brushing his knuckles against my cheek. I couldn’t stop the tears spilling over my lash line as I leant into his touch, “I just want you to be happy.”

“How did you manage to plan this? You were in the kitchen with me all morning,” I asked, as he guided me onto the yacht.

“I have my ways, Sunshine,” he smirked proudly.

I had completely lost track of time, this boat was absolutely amazing, Charles was really showing me a life of luxury, something I had always dreamed about. The interior of the boat had a clean, contemporary feeling to it but I wasn’t bothered about spending too much time inside. Especially not when the sun was wrapping my body in a warm blanket making me feel safe, like my world wasn’t currently on fire.

Unzipping the duffle bag I tried to find my trusty board shorts, praying that Jax had packed them along with my bikini top that was more of a sports bra, “come on, where are you?” I mumbled to myself, tipping the bag upside down letting the contents fall onto the light gray sofa.

The bright red bikini stood out against the other items that were now spread out on the cushion. I could have killed Jax, this bikini had been thrown in the back of my closet for a reason, the damn thing made me even more self conscious about my body. Running my hand over my face I let out a frustrated growl knowing it was all I had to wear. Grabbing the stupid bikini off the sofa I stormed into the bathroom quickly getting changed.

I was about to leave the room when I finally looked at my reflection. I couldn’t lie, this bikini made my chest look amazing but after spending years picking myself apart all I could see were the stretch marks that wrapped around my hips, my thighs touching, and the dimples from the cellulite. I always made sure I had some form of hoodie or cardigan on hand, something I could wrap around my body when the dreaded thoughts crept into my mind.

To make matters worse, the bikini was the same color as Charles’ Ferrari.

My dear older brother was so dead once I got back home.

Finally, I pulled my beach coverup over my body letting out a shaky breath knowing that I wouldn’t be able to keep my tattoo hidden much longer. I needed to face the fear that was bubbling away in my stomach; it was now or never.

Letting out another breath, I stepped out onto the deck of the boat feeling the sun kiss my skin, pulling my sunglasses over my eyes. I slowly walked over to Charles.

“Thought I was gonna have to send out a search party,” Charles hummed, propping himself up on his elbow.

“If I show you something promise you won’t laugh,” I whispered, sitting on the edge of the sunlounger fiddling with the hem of my cover up, “I got it done last year on my birthday after getting wasted with Jax. Happy had just finished doing a piece on him and I just couldn’t help myself.”

Charles watched intently as I slowly peeled the thin material from my body, my heart was pounding against my chest. Not only because of the tattoo but because this was the first time he would be seeing me, seeing my body, the one that I had spent years tearing apart, trying every fad diet that was out there.

It’s like he could hear my mind racing, “you don’t have to do this if you feel uncomfortable,” he whispered, leaning forward placing his hands on mine. The feeling of his soft gaze on me provided a calmness that washed over me.

“I’m not going to let this opportunity to top up my tan go to waste,” I hummed, moving his hands away from mine, “I don’t want to hide myself away from you Char, I haven’t always had the best relationship with my body but if I don’t do this now, I never will.”

Ignoring the feeling of my heart racing, I slowly pulled the cover up off my body tossing it behind me on the sun lounger. Taking a breath, I moved my gaze up to Charles to see his reaction, the moment I did, I felt my heart practically stop. He shifted his sunglasses to the top of his head whilst pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Babygirl,” he purred, running his eyes over my body, “magnifique, tout simplement magnifique, beautiful, simply beautiful,” he quickly moved to the end of the sunlounger so he was kneeling in front of me. His hands finding their way to my hips, the feeling of his touch sent shockwaves through my body. “I will personally hunt every single person down who made you feel bad about this amazing body and I will run them over with my car.”

“You are looking at the number one culprit,” I mumbled, focusing on the motion of the water.

“Oh baby,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around me, pressing a kiss against my shoulder, “if you will let me, I want to be the one who makes you see just how perfect your body is,” his voice was soft as he spoke, causing me to look at him.

I had never had anyone look at me the way he was; it made me feel giddy but there was also the deep feeling of sadness knowing that come the end of the summer break he would go back to racing, flying all over the world whilst I was stuck here in Charming.

“Now what was it you needed to show me?” he asked, changing the subject.

“This,” I whispered, turning my body to the side giving his full access to the tattoo that sat proudly on my ribs.

“Is that,” he trailed off, running his fingers over the skin, tracing the outline of the black ink.

“Your car, yes it is,” I said with a small laugh.

“I love it,” he hummed, leaning forward pressing a tender kiss against my ribs.

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @celestialams @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

#charles leclerc #Charles Leclerc x oc #Charles Leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #sons of anarchy imagine

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aesthetic-gamersnail · 1 year ago

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General Thoughts and Feelings about Trolls Band Together (part 1)

So, I don't know if this counts as a review, this is going to be more my thoughts on the movie (what I liked, my nitpicks, my head canons and what I would like to see in the future). This will not be coherent, it is really going be just chaotic thoughts. But be warned, because spoilers will be mentioned here. Also, the quotes might not be 100 percent accurate since I am quoting them from my memory, so be warned about that too. Have fun:

I really liked the portrayal of Poppy's and Branch's relationship and their development, because they feel like an actual couple and they feel like super natural and comfortable with it? Like there is no awkwardness and no jealousy and they are confidently saying like 'yeah, this is my girlfriend/boyfriend', I loved to see it

Interesting to see that Branch is still struggling with expressing his feelings and emotions, but that he is working on it, and you can see genuine development from the previous two movies. He still tries to push people away when overwhelmed with emotions and he deals with abandonment issues, shown especially well in the scene when Poppy goes after him after the fight with his brothers and says that she will come with him but he says that what is the point, she is going to leave anyway like everyone else did. And Poppy tries to calm him down, which actually works and it shows that he is bettering himself in that and doesn't let himself be controlled by his frustration and anger anymore. Branch generally seems to feel more comfortable in his skin and seems to be happier, which is very nice to see. Nice development here

Poppy tries to be more understanding of Branch's emotions and feelings and she supports him throughout the whole movie, even after the fight she doesn't push him to go back to his brothers but instead comes with him. I really liked it and it was really sweet

'You are not a Branch anymore, you are a TRUNK. Still could lift you though.'

John scoops Branch up when he sees him the first time again and Branch reacts as well as you can imagine - like a cat stuck on a tree

Love how John arrives and scoops Branch up, Poppy is immediately like 'Get your hands off my boyfriend!'

'When I said before you should tell me about things, maybe you should have told me you have a BROTHER?' 'Former brother.' 'THAT IS NOT HOW DNA WORKS!'

'Sorry, he gets a little hangry if he didn't have breakfast.' 'I DID have breakfast. It was an avocado toast with two poached eggs and a little bit cayenne pepper for the kick and it was DELIGHTFUL!'

Bruce bolting towards Branch and hugging him was super cute

Bruce and his wife are soooo adorable, and he is such a dad and he cares so much about them, it's augh (also Branch smiled so happily when Bruce mentioned he was a dad, he was happy for his bro)

John in the movie was being really inconsiderate of his brother's feelings and thoughts and was just pushing them towards perfection and his ideals. He redeemed himself of course at the end, but he didn't apologize at all which I think was a pity (actually no one of the brother's apologized, except Clay at the end, which is actually really sad because I think Branch deserved an honest apology and EXPLANATION, but I will bounce back to Branch and his brothers in a bit)

Clay and Bruce being really casual with each other was nice to see, but also Clay being super happy to see Branch and smushing his face

Clay really speaks to me as a character because he shows that just because other people think you're fun doesn't mean you can't be serious, love that for him

Clay and Viva do not seem to be in a relationship which I think is actually quite nice to see two people co running a village who are platonic buddies, even though who knows what the future holds. Maybe they will become a couple (or are one) which would be cute too

The portrayal of Viva's trauma was super nice to see, it felt really genuine and I liked it a lot (like how she did not want to talk about it and made impulsive decisions based on her trauma and fear)

Poppy and Viva seem to have a fun dynamic going on, would love to see more of that in the future (especially also with Bridget, since she and Poppy are super close)

Peppy did not mention for 20 Years to his daughter that she had a sister and she might be dead? WHAT?

Viva and Branch have a interesting dynamic because they seem pretty alike, and I like how Branch tries to argue with her because he has been through the same thing

Branch was sometimes not wearing pants in the bunker, sooo, yeah. That's a fun fact from the movie

Bridget was just being a girlboss thoughout the movie

Gristle and Bridget on the verge of death being like 'Let's make out :)' (Gristle and Bridget, even though having short cameos, were very fun and cute when they were on screen)

Floyd saying to Veneer that just because someone is your family doesn't mean they can treat you like crap is such a reflection on his relationship with his brothers, omg

Floyd taught Crimp how to play the ukulele, awww

Continuation in part 2

#trolls band together #dreamworks trolls #trolls 3 #trolls

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fanfic-lover-girl · 10 months ago

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The DISAPPOINTING POWER of Future Trunks

Now that I look back on Trunks, I am very sad that his potential was not fully realized. He could have been so much more powerful. My poor baby.

#youtube #future trunks #mirai trunks #dbz vegeta #perfect cell #cell saga #dbz #saiyan scholar #future trunks deserved better

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paarthurnax59 · 2 years ago

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“Never to be”

images is not mine (Also,I know I suck at this, so bare with me)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader( unrequited), Reader X ???

Summary: Dean left you for Lisa and Ben after Sam fell into the pit, told you to never contact him again, among other cruel remarks on his part. Years later you moved on, starting your own life and finally meeting a man who truly loves and cares for you. What happens when your past comes back to invade your present and tries to jeopardize your future.

warnings; Super angst (but with a happy ending), Dean's a major dick, swearing, slight physical violence, reader feeling low self-esteem.

words: 2280

Just so you know, I know Dean would not act like this, it's just a fic. if you don't like it, please do not engage if this kind of content is too sensitive for you. there will be five parts to this story. I don't own any of these canon characters. they belong to their respective owners.

part 1

May, 2010

“Dean, what are you doing?” You questioned Dean as he stopped the Impala by the Laurance Bus Station in the middle of the night. Dean said nothing, not even looking at you as he got out the car and went to his trunk and pulled out a tote bag. He proceeded to come to your door for you.

“Get out.” He said coldly as you looked up at him with confusion on your face.

“What, Why?” You asked as you still sat in his car shocked that Dean was acting as cold as he was right now. You would understand due to the fact he had just lost his brother, forever. A person he had looked after and promised to protect since he was four years old. That would make anyone act the way Dean was right now. The weird part was why was he acting this way towards you. Like you were a pest he needed to be rid of to find peace.

“I want you to leave, (Name). Isn’t it obvious?” Grunted and took your arm and pulled you out of the passenger seat roughly, making your legs stumble out of his car. You heart rate went up drastically when you nearly fell form how Dean was pulling you out of the car.

“Why?! I don’t understand, Dean.” You whispered with shaky, heavy breathing looking up at his burning gaze staring down at you with an what looked like, an amused smirk.

“Do I need to spell it out for you, (Last name)? I don’t want you around anymore. I am going to go live with Lisa and Ben, and I don’t need some little girl that follows me around like a helpless lost puppy.” He spat out his venomous words while your face started to become pale as the blood started to leave your face.

“Dean…we have hunted with each other for years. You have known me since I was five. You can’t just kick me out of your life like we didn’t mean anything.” You heartbrokenly explained to the angry man in front of you. Sure, Dean wasn’t always your biggest fan. You were more of a friend of Sam’s then of Dean’s. Sam was about seven years older than you and Dean being elven years older. Despite your age gap, you and Sam got a long great. Watched movies together, go running, and do night-long research. You two were thick as thieves, and when he died, you felt like a part of you died with him. Hoping Dean would fill that void, he would become what you wanted and you two could live out your life together. Over time, aside his dislike for you, you had fallen in love with Dean, and hoped he had felt the same.

Boy, were you wrong.

“Can’t I? Sam’s no longer here, honey. Which means that I don’t have a reason to have you in my life. So, get on that bus and we can finally part ways and I don’t have to keep you dragging along.” Dean got closer to you and you took a step back, fearing what the hunter would do. He dropped the large tote bag right at your feet while giving you a hard scowl.

“Dean, you are grieving. You just lost Sam, and I can imagine that pain you are going through. I feel it and I miss him, too. He deserved so much better than what he got. But making me leave is not going to make you feel better.” You try to reason with the older Winchester, but all he did was just got angrier and then pulled your hair by its root and forced you to look up at him and screamed from the pain Dean was inflicting on you.

“Kid, Sam was the only reason I ever tolerated you on our hunts in the first place. If he were not part of it, I would have dumped you at any bus station and get you as far away from me as humanly possible.” He confessed through gritted teeth with his hand still griping into your hair. You felt like you were going to be sick with what Dean was saying. He never liked you? Not even as a friend? “I don’t need to be a perpetual babysitter for some scared, little girl on hunts when I can go live with a very beautiful woman and have a happy monster free life.” He grunted again as tears started to stream down your face with Dean’s cruel words started to sink in. He thinks you are a coward?

“Dean, let me go. You’re hurting me.” You cry as Dean refused to give in to your demands.

“No. You need to listen and listen good, sweetheart. I had promised Sam that I would drop hunting all together and live a normal life with Lisa. He didn’t say anything about promising to look after you. You’re a grown ass woman and you can defend yourself. I don’t need to baby you and most certainly don’t need you in my life. Hell, I never needed your sorry ass to begin with. Me and Sammy were doing just fine without you and I can live my life without you always being a clingy, needy and never letting me have my space. I’m tired of it and of you. I’m exhausted of having to take care of you, looking out for you and protecting you, when I should have been protecting Sammy and my friends, people that I care about.” He said with not an ounce of remorse in his voice. The more Dean told you how little you meant to him, the more your heart broke. Was it true? Were you nothing more than a burden to Dean? Did the time you spent together mean nothing to him and Sam? What if Sam felt the same way? What would Sam say if he were here? Would he agree and tell you to leave?

“Once you get on that bus, I am leaving for Lisa, a gorgeous woman who is far more deserving of my time and my companionship than some girl that can barely fight for herself. I’m going to leave this life and everything behind, especially you. You are nothing more than a useless, stupid bitch that had been nothing but a burden from day one. Getting kidnaped by werewolves, almost eaten by vampires, I had to watch the people I love die, like Jo and Ellen because they told me to go and protect you. They are dead because of you!” He accused you as he threw you aside, with you nearly falling to your feet. You try to catch your breath while trying to not let Dena’s horrible cruel remarks get to you. He knows how much Jo and Ellen’s death weighed on you. You were very close with both women, and it hurt so much to see them die like they did. Like Sam, they never deserved a fate like that. You never once believed it was your fault, until Dean that night told you that Jo and Ellen had made Dean promised to protect you. Which is why he focused more on you than the others. Since then, Dean had held a horrible grudge against you. He blamed you for his friends’ deaths. You often wonder if he would trade your life for them in a heartbeat. Knowing how much Dean hated you, he most defiantly would. As the air grew cold and brittle, Dean held out his hand as he glowered at you. “Give me your cellphone.” He demanded while importantly holding out his hand to you.

“Why?” you asked and then Dean’s blood really boiled more as you kept making him wait.

“Just do it!” He yelled and you did as he asked and grabbed your phone and placed it in his hand. Dean then dropped it and proceeded to smash it with his foot on to your phone, making the sight made you gasp in shock, Dean continued to smash your phone repeatedly until it was broken into hundreds of tiny pieces.

“Why did you do that!? That was my only phone!” You yelled with hot angry tears streaming down your face. Had Dean lost his mind?

“So you don’t try to contact me or anyone else I may care about. I don’t want nor do I need to hear from you again. You made me sacrifice my friends and my brother’s lives for you and so many others before them. The least you can do is never contact me again and get on that bus to wherever the hell it’s going because I am done throwing my life away for you. If you want to die on a hunt, be my guest! I don’t need you dragging me ever again.” He huffed out with so much anger and hatred, you wanted to die right then and there. Never in your wildest dreams did you think Dean hated you this much. It was killing you just hearing these horrible things being said to you by a man you once called a friend. “Once more, you can’t put Bobby, Jody, or anyone else’s life in danger because of you. You’re not worth it, princess! You never were! So why don’t you just take that fucking bag yours, get on that fucking bus and get the hell out of my life!”

You paused for one moment, still trying to process at what Dean was telling you. That he never cared, nor did he see you as anything but a damn burden and deadweight. Hell, he would probably dance on your ashes if you were to die the next day. After everything you went through, after everything you had sacrificed to help the boys stop Lucifer from ending the world, you think Dean would have acknowledge some tender emotions for you. Not as a lover, but as a friend or a sister maybe. No, instead all you received was a deep seeded hatred that was birthed only from the very notion that you weren’t good enough for the great Dean Winchester.

With a very heavy heart and cascading tears, you did as Dean said and picked up your bag and threw the strap over your shoulders and walked to the bus station. Dean watched with a stoic expression as you walked away from him. Walking up to the bus as the driver opened the doors for you.

“Where to, miss?” The white old man asked with a kind smile as he looked at you. You then looked behind you and looked at Dean one last time and saw that his hatful scowl on his face had never left and folded his arms in a way that screamed ‘You better get on that bus or else.’. With a single heavy sigh of bitter defeat, you looked back at the old man with a sad smile.

“Anywhere but here, please.” You requested.

“East coast it is, then.” He said as you walked up into the bus, showed him your bus pass, and walked to the back of the bus. You looked around and saw that there was only two people on the bus. A man in his mid-forties was taking a nap and an older woman who looked like she was reading a book. The buss doors closed, and the bus then started to move and out of the station. You look back the bus stop one last time to see Dean climbing into his Impala and pulling his car out of the bus station. You watch as Dean’s black car drive the opposite direction. As far away from you as humanly possible, just like Dean wanted. To go and live his perfect life he always craved. Leaving you with no phone, no contacts, and no friends to lean on. As you watched the night sky fly by through, you thought about where you were going and what you were going to do. You didn’t know nor did you care. You were alone to not only to wallow in your grief for Sam, but also for Dean abandoning you. For to completely be caught of from the people you loved and tried so hard to protect. It made you wonder if you a better hunter, fought harder, and able to save Jo and Ellen. Maybe even Sam, and even if it meant sacrificing your own life. As Dean said, you weren’t worth it. Never will you obtain the love nor the friendship that he had to offer others. Your cries became silent sobs as the bus continued to drive further away until you passed a sign that said, “You are now leaving Kansas.”

This was it, you were leaving Kansas. The only home you ever knew. Nothing was stopping from what was happening right now. Never again were you going to see Dean or Sam every again. You felt it in your bones and it broke you, never sure if you were ever going to be whole again.

Never knowing if Dean would ever be able to love you like you loved him.

Maybe, just maybe, it was never to be.

Part 2

#dean winchester #dean winchester angst #angst with a happy ending #unrequited love #angst #supernatural #requited love #fluff eventual-fluff #sad reader

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carnal-lnstinct · 1 year ago

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If you’re still taking prompts for Kinktober could I request Ft. Trunks and somnophilia where he’s the one asleep? 👀👀

FUTURE TRUNKS X READER

✦✦Content: M/18. MINORS DNI. post cell games au. mutual pining. cuddling. ✦✦Warning: dubcon, somnophilia, referenced character death, implied trauma

If he was too shy to even hold your hand in public for too long, he couldn’t imagine something as intimate as holding your whole body against him for even a second. What if he accidentally touched you in a way or place you don’t like? His entire face was red just thinking about it! But he couldn’t really say no to your insisting, it was to help him, after all. It took a long time for Trunks to get used to falling asleep and staying that way throughout the night.

For as long as you have known him, he’d finally gotten to a place where he didn’t jerk awake or suddenly become fully alert at every shift or bump.

And all too soon, it was difficult again… after what happened with Cell. A new fear to overcome. When Trunks’ mind would get too quiet and that final conscious breath released before he could slip into his dreams, a dreadful, fading sensation would suddenly hit him. Reminding him of that moment. In response, he would lurch in a panic and clutch his chest where the searing beam pierced him—paralyzed him, choked him, and claimed him.

Luckily for him, he had plenty of people to talk it over with, but it was going to be some time to fully ease such bodily distress. That’s when you dropped the idea of sharing a bed with him to help him sleep better again.

A thoughtful suggestion, but when he was around you in any intimate setting he was anything but relaxed. His heart constantly racing, his stomach in knots, and barely able to speak a complete sentence if you so much as smiled or stared at him for too long. Trunks never had such feelings for anyone like this before and he would hate to be reckless about it. A bad impression on you, when he does return to his timeline, was the last thing he wanted to leave you with.

Regardless, you made cuddling seem so natural. Your hand brushing over his lengthy purple crown of soft hair and your body against his didn’t make him nervous for long. This felt so warm to him, so soothing and peaceful. Maybe it was what he needed after all. He couldn’t help but drift in and out from the sound of your steady heartbeat, the side of his face sinking comfortably against your chest when he let go of his nerves and your arms secured his head in place. Leaving this warmth felt impossible, his large arm wrapped around you affirming that he had no intention of letting you go.

The two of you talked for a while until your responses came with many yawns and pauses in between, trying to hold your thoughts together with sleep creeping in as the hours ticked by. It was a pleasant distraction for his troubles, like everything melted away in the serenity of your embrace. Just beautiful moments that felt like they lasted an eternity as the sleep set in. He managed to shift your cuddle to where you could lie in the crook of his arm now while he was on his back, his other hand under his head.

You couldn’t help but admire the way his chest peeks out the collar of his black top, reminding you that his body was not as lean as his long sleeves and loose pants would lead you to believe but much larger. From your head on the side of his chest and his arm keeping you close, everything was endowed with firm muscles. Your hand smoothed over the unoccupied side of his chest when you realize how softly it rose and fell.

“Trunks…?” You quietly spoke out and didn’t get a response. He was out and at peace at last. You smiled to yourself looking up at his soft and relaxed expression. He deserved this. Your hand continued to stroke his chest a bit more under the idea that a present, constant motion would help him stay asleep, but then you began to idly trace the exposed skin above his black shirt. Admiring the feel of his broad muscles beneath his collarbone, following the trail to the side of his neck which made him flinch a little, but otherwise remain asleep.

The natural flush in his skin with his hair draped around his neck and ear showed off the more subtle hints of his attractive features, but you couldn’t help but linger on it all in your current position, your imagination embellishing them like a dirty secret. You bury your face against his chest with a wide, giddy grin at what flashed through your mind. Both innocent and impure things regarding your lips where your fingers had been. Yet it felt embarrassing for such things to cross your thoughts when this was to help him.

Still…This was the closest you and Trunks had been together, and alone at that. Hot things like that were what people who like each other do alone. You slowly lift your eyes from their hiding place as you contemplate your actions looking up at him. You don’t really want to wake him now that he’s getting the sleep he needs, but the light flutter growing between your legs insists the more you think about it. When would the both of you have this opportunity again before he’s gone forever?

Maybe you could just steal a small kiss—A goodnight kiss, you thought. People do that, it’s just a nice and romantic gesture for your eager nerves. So you go for it, your hand on his chest again as you pull yourself up, closer, your heart starting to beat faster when you gently press your lips to his. The fluttering at your center heated into something more profound and needy, encouraging you to do it again. A second kiss was placed just as gently as the first, but longer. Trunks stirred in his sleep feeling your nose brush over his, yet continued to stay asleep. You felt his arm hold you closer and it was exactly what your body was craving.

His innocent, unconscious gesture sent a wave of heat throughout your body, one of your legs moving to drape around him as you moved in closer and made a soft trail of your kisses down his chin to his neck. Grinding on him in an attempt to quell the need for friction between your thighs.

Your shifting and fondling did rouse Trunks out of his sleep, the exhaustion in his body replaced with a warm and steady sensation. building under your ministrations. A soft sound passes his lips when he reopens his eyes, his breath hitching when your lips find a sensitive spot between his neck and shoulder, and at the same time, your hips come down on his at just the right angle. He visibly flinches, stuttering out your name as he collects your shoulders in his hands holding you back a little to look at you. When your eyes meet, his cheeks fill with color at your lustful expression and heated breaths, your antsy hands clinging to his shirt still.

He doesn’t know what to say and you’re too turned on between your legs to let a coherent thought cross in your mind. However, you raise your hand forward to capture his face behind his hair, stroking his cheek in a silent plea to continue. You lean in close once again and Trunks' hands let go of your shoulders in favor of wrapping around you completely, kissing you deeply when your lips meet his again.

Is not the darkness sweet ?

#*SOTS #trunks x reader #trunks imagine #dbz fics #dbz imagine #nsft #My writing #♚ ;; [ requests ]

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love-toxin · 2 years ago

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remains of the day - e.m (corpse bride au)

a/n: trust me to tease this fic at halloween and not finish it until january LOL (also this is just vol I unless ppl want more!)

plot: the misfortune of Hawkins has left the town destitute, and your family in financial ruin. what better way to remedy that than to marry off their one and only daughter to the richest man in town? there's only one problem....your heart really isn't in it, and neither is your husband-to-be's. but a little practice of your vows to soothe those woes won't exactly give you the courage you were hoping for.

cws: corpse bride au, emily!eddie, victor!f!angelface, victoria!steve, major character death, descriptions of gore/rot, marriages and dowries, jealousy on both sides, a hint at eddie's abandonment issues/fears of rejection, premarital hand-holding, twinges of unrequited love.

word count: 2.4k

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.

Your cup will never empty, for I shall be your wine.

With this candle, I will light your way in darkness.

With this ring, I ask you to be mine."

How hard could those vows truly be? And yet you can't get your head around them–no matter how easily they come to mind, they won't fall from your lips properly, despite how many times you've tried.

And that rehearsal….abysmal. You're shocked that Steve even stuck around, that soft smile never leaving his face as he watched you butcher every word of every line of your vows. He deserves better than you, and considering what you've heard through the grapevine (and the town crier, of course) there's another woman that's held his attention for awhile now anyways. Maybe the only reason he stayed for you was because he was picturing her the whole time, and that thought itself makes you want to lie down in the snow under this tree and never get up.

Not that you wish his affections were turned towards you, instead–actually, you wish that she was in your place. Nancy would do better at this, the two of them would be happier, and you wouldn't have to suffer this horrible, continuous disappointment in yourself. It's only been going on for….well, for your whole life.

The wind whistling through the bare branches catches your ear, and almost sounds like the whisper of a voice, your head turning towards the sound but your eyes finding nothing but trees and snow. It's eerie out here; cold and dry, the breeze blowing wisps of your hair about your face, but the woods saying nothing more. It's too quiet, and those ill feelings draw up into your lungs until you manage to wave them away with a brush of your hand, your fingers coming to clasp around the collar of your dress. Too tight–it is all too suffocating. All of it. You dearly wish you could be left out of this whole affair, because you would much rather be a bystander than a participant.

"Oh, Lady Harrington!" You greet a tall, faceless tree trunk and tug on one of the branches, spindly and long in a way that much resembles your future mother-in-law's careful hand. "Call you mum? I'd be delighted to." Shake shake. The bark crackles under your fingertips and snaps, and you're left sighing and holding a twig in your palm that you quickly let drop to the ground.

"What's the point? I'll never be able to do this…" You wonder aloud, meandering about the roots of the massive tree you've taken up solace beneath, your mind wandering with an overflow of worries that all seem much less grand in the shadows of the forest. You find yourself humming the words of your vows to yourself, whispering them under your breath as if you weren't just talking to yourself loud enough for even the crier to hear. There's likely a running story about my madness by now, you think to yourself, the final words of your script coming out a bit louder as you kneel by one of the upturned roots of the tree, stretched out like a delicate finger on a thin hand. "With this ring…"

You produce the ring from the pocket of your dress, and smile somewhat depressedly as you slip it on to the mock hand of your lover.

"I ask you to be mine."

What a silly thought. You could almost swear the hand twitched, shuddered in anticipation, but it must be the wind–and the crows, you've only just noticed, are cawing rather aggressively at your back. A slight twinge of anxiety gnaws at you, you turn to look and search the hills for some animal creeping up-

"Ah-!" But when you do, your wrist is grabbed by something stronger–something that wasn't there before, something with your golden band on its finger that digs into your skin, and yanks you down like it's pulling you into the earth itself. It tugs, and tugs, and finally with a breath of air pumped into your lungs you scream and tear yourself away, the disembodied hand coming with you to clench harder around your wrist. With a violent shake it comes off and skitters across the icy ground, but before you can get to your feet, something even more terrifying happens before your very eyes.

The dirt cracks and crumbles from the spot where that branch had sat, pieces shattering away and stray roots snapping as something, a person-like something, rises from beneath the earth and stands towering and tall above you.

Lush, curly brown hair fans out over his shoulders, and a pair of warm brown eyes devoid of light greet your own. Pale, corpse-like skin gleams under the moonlight, but the exposed bone of his arm, legs, and the side of his neck betray that he really is just that–something dead, heart rotted away with cavernous holes in his body to show it.

He kneels before you, so close your body warmth leaches into his touch, and his lips make way for a toothy smile down at you as he caresses your face. His fingers don't feel at all like they look, leathery and branch-like….they're cool, but incomparably soft.

"I do."

He leans in for a kiss, eyes half-lidded with glory-filled glee, and the world finally blots out into complete darkness as you faint from the shock.

................................

"A new arrival!"

"Darling...I think she fainted. Darling?"

A poking, prodding sensation at your side isn't what roused you, you're sure it's the soft sounds of music and the foul, sickly-sweet smell of rot–but when your eyelids flutter open, and you shriek at the sight of that same young man accompanied by a skeleton standing over you, the two of them share a relieved grin rather than step back. He touches your face again, gentler this time, and moves to cup both your cheeks as he whispers your name. "There you are! My angel."

Now that you've got a better look, somehow you're…not as frightened, but still somewhat. Maybe it's that the lighting is better than the dimly-lit woods, and you're warmer wherever you've been laid down, but the curly-haired man doesn't evoke that same sense of terror now that he's holding you.

"You're even prettier than I imagined." He strokes that velvety skin of your cheek with his thumb, the compliment falling on attentive ears and eyes that just can't look away. But where in the world is your sense? Aside from being a kept woman, he's quite clearly dead, and you stagger to your feet a little too quickly just to get back and find some space between you two. Upon doing so, though, you bump into something solid–a bar counter, the woman on the other side pouring drinks like you're not even there. She just shoots you a grin, and a few of her teeth fall from her mouth into the frothy stein.

They all are, you realize. Every single person here is in varying states of decay, the crowd surrounding you and milling about the bar with curious stares and whispers at the newcomer. And with only one of those corpses feeling somewhat familiar, you huddle up next to the man's side to his giggling glee, his hand coming down to rest on your arm as you clutch at his for safety in the face of the dead. Two of which are raising their pints, and clanking them together with booming cries on their cracked lips.

"A toast to the newlyweds!"

"Newlyweds?"

You gape in shock, and he nods down at you. A smile stretches wide across his ghastly white face, and he pats your hand affectionately.

"In the woods! You said your vows so perfectly." He shows off the gleam of the golden band of his finger with a flourish, looking on with pride both at it and you. It looks good, and you selfishly gulp back some triumphant feelings at realizing you did it right–but you shake them right back off as reality hits you even harder in the face.

"I did?" Your voice a careful whisper, you move to let go of his arm, only to be caught and held there a touch longer by his frozen hands. "Oh, God…I did."

Stupid, stupid! How could you be so stupid?! Yet you can't really be blamed for it, how could you even think about directing those vows at a corpse by accident? It's not like your parents ever warned you about that…and your heart races when you remember. Your parents, your soon-to-be husband, and everyone else in the wedding party are probably wondering where in the hell you've disappeared to.

"Y-You don't understand! I have a fiancé," You try to shuffle backwards, finally having wrenched your hands away from your undead partner, and he leans in close without a worry or care etched into his face. Steve must be worried, he must be…maybe. Or maybe he's forgotten about you already. Your shoulders fall a little, but your gaze is commanded back up by his hands on your shoulders.

"Not a fiancé, silly. I'm your husband. Although…I guess we have yet to have the ceremony, so technically you're right." He cocks his head, hair swaying a little–you can spot a few spiders here and there, swinging from curl to curl as he speaks without taking notice to them.

"No, not–ugh, how can I explain this? I was just practicing! I-I didn't actually…I wasn't…" To push on his chest is like shoving a brick wall; he's unmoveable, his chest hollow but his bones strong as he stands over you. How can such lifeless brown eyes demand so much pity?

"But you…you said your vows? What's the problem?" You can't bear it, that well-meaning face falling into what is unmistakably a pained expression. His hurt feelings are betrayed by the crack in his voice, and if the circumstances weren't so strange, you'd be a bit miffed at having such a conversation in the midst of a nosy crowd. As if this were a normal situation, a marital squabble between the shoulders of bar patrons and not drunken cadavers. "...I thought you wanted to marry me?"

"You're dead," You say without thinking, and it cuts deep and harsh–shock and hurt flashes across his face, and he flinches back as if you had cut him with a knife. The bar, which once had been bustling with chatter and delight, grows quieter as their beloved friend whimpers with tears just about breaching his dead eyes.

"But I…we…you really don't want to marry me?"

"I don't even know your name." You mutter back, suddenly shy and quiet with an ill feeling churning about in your stomach. Guilt. This young….dead man has done nothing to you, and though neither have you to him, the unfortunate fact is that he is very clearly attached–even though you know next to nothing about one another.

"It's Eddie." He sniffles and drags his sleeve across his dripping nose, yet spits both syllables out as if it were a curse. Though, for most parts of the village, it is–you could recognize that name if it were said in your sleep, and had you not been clinging to him just a few minutes prior, it would rouse you from your slumber in panic and terror at the utterance of the most notoriously bloodthirsty psychopath of Hawkins.

"Eddie?" You blink owlishly at him. "Eddie from…from the accident?"

"I'm sure everyone's heard about me by now." He looks down, despondent. Unwell and miserable, resigned, not like the murderer you've heard whispering tales about in the alleyways and lifeless bars of your hometown….not like this lounge, that's speckled with colour and bursting at the seams with life long past lived. "But it's not true. I'm not like that. I'm not…"

"...Mean and scary?" As the words slip out, you tilt your head away to keep yourself from looking at him straight, though you can't avoid the gentle touches of Eddie's cool fingers as he splays them over the back of your hand. Holding it delicately like a paper fan, keeping it close to him but not indecently, he borrows it for a short while and perhaps it's merely to feel a bit of your human warmth. You'd like to think that, and yet the intensity of his gaze on your lips says otherwise.

"Do you think of me like that? You think I'm mean and scary?" Eddie leans on his side against the bartop, eyes never leaving you even though you struggle to pull your shoulders straight, as a lady should, and finally let his full form come into your vision instead of simply his feet.

"I…I'm frightened, yes. But not...of you."

Eddie sucks in a short, quiet breath, before letting it settle in a soft exhale as he pulls your hand towards him–a bit too excitedly, as it turns out, and he releases it with a lighthearted chuckle and scratches the back of his neck, his eyes widening for just a passing moment as he feels a bit of skin come loose and anxiously smoothes it back down before you notice. Sufficiently put back together as much as a corpse can be, Eddie takes a much more firm hold of your hand in his, and lets you feel the glimmering gold of the wedding band on his finger as he starts pulling you along away from the counter.

"Let's go somewhere we can be alone, then. I know a place." He says with a smile, and parts the crowd easily who are all too giddy to throw compliments and congratulations your way. They are….rather pleasant, for dead people.

However, you know you must grit your teeth and bear these niceties for the moment. Until you can find some path away from Eddie, and back up to the place where you belong, you will play along with his games. You will entertain him. Perhaps you may even earn his trust, and he will reveal to you a way out.

Above all, you will not be wed to a corpse, nor will you fall in love with one. That is part of your oath to Steve, and to your parents, and to everyone, to be faithful even when faced with such a morbid test of faith as this. You will do as you are told, all according to plan, whether or not Eddie makes this grim future seem more….palatable than the one that awaits you upstairs, the clock ticking away every second until the union you have been promised to.

#eddie munson #eddie's angelface #eddie munson x reader #corpse bride au #st 4 #stranger things #ellie writes #2k

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fonulyn · 11 months ago

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fon's 2023 in fic

so in order to distract myself from yet another fic flopping miserably i'm gonna do the compilation of all the flops from the entire year! :'D

a big big thank you to those of you who said nice words about my stuff, who left comments on the fics, and who helped me finish surprisingly many works this year. i am truly grateful for every single lovely comment i got! 💖 that is what kept me going, what made things feel worthwhile, and what helped me through many a dark moment.

i do still have works in progress but at the same time this sort of feels like a goodbye. idk. we'll see. but I can't keep pouring from an empty chalice and the fandom clearly does not want to help me fill it so we're at an impasse :'D it feels increasingly much that exiting stage left is the right move, as much as i don't want to and as much as it hurts to let go. but I digress.

on a more positive note, I can, hand to heart, say that I am extremely pleased with pretty much everything i wrote this year :D it's got to count for something, right!

ANYHOO I posted 217k words this year, and it includes:

21 Piers/Leon

5 Krauser/Leon

3 main Piers/Leon and heavily featured past Krauser/Leon

2 OT3

1 Chris/Leon

1 Tyrants/Leon

1 Jake/Piers

1 Marcus/Dom (Gears of War)

fic links and short summaries under the cut.

Piers/Leon

good to be prepared | E | 9k | Leon gets stuck in a snow storm when his car breaks down, and a handsome stranger saves him from the roadside. It ends up in a fun night together but that's only the very beginning for them.

'cause you know the love we have is always gonna be | T | 6.7k | Finally they get to say "I do" to each other.

bad exes and a better future | T | 2.9k | Leon's very jealous ex does not know when to quit, and refuses to believe Leon wants nothing to do with him. So, logically, Leon kisses Piers to prove a point. Thankfully Piers is all in.

i crave therefore i am | E | 7k | Piers has been half in love with Leon for what feels like forever, but there's nothing he can do about it when Leon is in a long term relationship. ...Except he's not.

as long as you'll have me | T | 5.2k | Leon gets infected on a mission, then has to suffer through treatment for an infection. Thankfully Piers is there to help, in more ways than one.

you're a dream | E | 23k | Piers Nivans is eleven years old when he starts dreaming of death and monsters. It takes him well over a decade to find his soulmate, and even then, it's not all easy.

that heaven in your eyes | E | 2.7k | They finally get the honeymoon they deserve.

light in the darkest place | M | 3.6k (WIP) | Leon and Piers grew up together, and when at twenty-one they both got a job at the RPD they thought it was a giant stroke of luck. They had no idea their first day was going to be one hell of a long day.

a shadow of devotion | M | 6.9k | There's a new superhero in town, and Piers ends up being more closely acquainted with him than he ever expected. He's not complaining, tho.

before i even knew your name | M | 6.6k | Leon gets an accidental text sent into the wrong number and it ends up changing his life for the better. Soon he's flirting via texts with this stranger, and before he even notices he's grown feelings.

a dinner to remember | E | 4.4k | Leon wears a nice dress to welcome Piers home.

too much is all that I can feel | T | 4.2k | Leon gets hurt, again, and while he’s concussed and loopy from bloodloss he tries his best to flirt with Piers.

memories beneath the dust of years | T | 1.2k | Piers relives the worst time of his life in a dream, and Leon is there to support him through it.

in the end it's you and I | T | 3.5k | The sound of metal crushing was the worst. It screeched in Leon’s ears even when the car had stopped completely, finally meeting a big enough tree trunk down the hill. He's alone, injured, and unable to leave his car. Might this be the end?

time to finally breathe again | T | 3.4k | Leon tries to bury his feelings but then gets buried underground. Thankfully Piers is there to help. On both counts.

those nights | M | 5k | Leon and his difficult relationship with sleep throughout the years.

life is a chance to try | T | 5.2k | Piers and Leon have been parents for mere months, and it’s become obvious their daughter isn’t entirely an ordinary human.

everything I've kept inside me | T | 5.5k | The one with severe injuries, some reminiscing, and finally sort of a retirement. Oh, and a blowjob pillow.

at the shore of the unknown | M | 26k | The world ends, but Piers and Leon find each other.

a merry little christmas (make the yuletide gay) | T | 5.7k | Piers and Leon and their first holidays as a married couple in their own home, of course with a visit from those closest to them.

right from the start | E | 19k | Leon gets some unexpected backup on his rogue mission in the Eastern Slav Republic. And it doesn't end there. (Much to his delight.)

Krauser/Leon

question all my doubts | E | 10k | Leon gets back home from Spain only to find none other than Jack fucking Krauser bleeding onto his living room floor. And no matter how many times Leon tries to walk away from Krauser he always ends up back to him.

(it might've been love but) it's over now | T | 1.4k | Krauser is dead and had no next of kin, so Leon goes through his scarce apartment to sort through the meager belongings left behind, while also sorting through his own mess of emotions.

(no one ever died from) wanting too much | M | 1.4k | Krauser gets injured but he can only focus on the dirty thoughts he has about Leon, while Leon tends to those injuries.

my tragedy and my desire | M | 2k | Leon struggles through the mission to rescue the president's daughter, constantly feeling like he’s being stalked. He has no idea how right he is about that. And how bad things will end for him.

my religion my certain death my salvation my sacrilege | E | 2k | Krauser keeps Leon as his sex-slave. (sequel to my tragedy and my desire)

Piers/Leon with heavily featured Krauser or Krauser/Leon

all the tears and the fears and the lies and the cries of the past | E | 16k | Krauser kidnaps Leon on Wesker’s orders to use as bait. Piers heads out to save him, together with Chris and Jill. Things get really messy.

tear me open (and make me whole again) | M | 7.6k | Piers disappears, and soon after Leon starts receiving videos from an unknown email address. It's bad enough that Krauser is back, but watching him torture Piers to get back at Leon might just be the worst thing Leon has ever been through in his life.

haunt you like it's part of you | E | 3.7k | Krauser brands Leon as his own, ruining him for all others. For a while it seems he's won, but eventually Leon gets the happy ending he deserves.

OT3 (Chris/Leon/Piers)

never without you | T | 1.6k | Leon is tired, so tired, but Piers and Chris will not let him give up.

wish you were here | T | 2k | (pre-OT3) Chris is pathetically pining after Leon, doesn't even let himself examine his feelings for Piers, and then on top of it all he gets kidnapped.

Chris/Leon

whatever comes our way | T | 1.1k | Leon almost drowns and Chris panics.

Tyrants/Leon

buried so deep within | E | 3.6k | Leon finds out there's two tyrants. The tyrants find out that Leon can be used for all sorts of fun things.

Jake/Piers

pull me closer to life | T | 3.8k | Jake and Sherry save Piers when he thinks he’s left behind to die at the underwater facility. Then somehow, Jake never leaves.

Marcus/Dom (largely featured past Maria/Dom)

no battle like that of life | E | 3.7k | After losing damn near everything, Dom learns to live again. Marcus helps.

#nivannedy #metaltango #i'm just gonna tag the two that appear the most lol #2023 #my fics #i hope i didn't screw up the links this took ages :'D #my year in review i guess lol

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