#he must've been so devastated

[catsvkis]

the hand pose 😭 the way little kacchan held it at the sides, but katsuki now holds it like izuku did. he just wants to catch up to him, to be someone like him, to have him close and connect with him like they could easily do before 😭 like he's always wanted that deep down but admitting it would admit his weakness. i'm just so heartbroken at all the ways he must've thought of to atone for his mistakes, to fix their relationship, after everything. like they can do that after the war, as long he's by his side. but he had to let that go when he thought he had to die. he had to die knowing that won't happen but he did anyway because izuku looks up to him and he expects him to win and he's his image of victory and he wants to be that so bad for izuku. 😭

*holding bleach by its neck as nobu voices out softly, "so izuku, can i still catch up to you?"*

[rainofthetwilight]

doc spoke up about the leak!!

[detectivebambam]

my roman empire is Andrew Minyard discovering that he's gay

[cu7ie]

ა˚₊﹕take your time. ⊹

cw: virgin reader, gn!reader, don't even ask me what dimension this miguel is from. miguel being a good partner, unintentional teasing, reader is just shy! an: first miguel fic! woo!!! totally dedicated to @buttress atp

You still can't look at him.

-

You've been dating Miguel for months at this point. You're not moved in together (yet), but see each other as often as possible, spending nights in his apartment, folded under his arm and leg tucked between his.

He's very familiar with you, perhaps more so than you are him. Knows what you look like when you're positively elated, seen those so hard smiles that afterward you're complaining your cheeks hurt. 

He's seen utter devastation, too. You'd mourned the loss of your dear departed cat in his arms, sobbing and snotty and cloyingly tender. Must've cried all the water out of your body that day, soaked the whole front of his shirt (the one time he chose to wear white) before dying off into the most pitiful whine. You'd grown too small to support yourself.

So he helped.  Reassured you gently with the strokes of his hand along your back, getting you water, making sure you ate, spending the night at your house …

And you two have been dating for a while now. You've seen his highs and lows too.

Hardly this kind of low though. 

-

He's seen you naked before. Not enough for this lifetime, but definitely on more than one occasion. 

You're still so bashful.

When he joins you in the shower you can barely meet his eye, washing the front of his chest tentatively while he gently massages shampoo into your hair.

You get flustered when he catches you changing, covering your chest with your shorts and risking a friction burn with how fast you force your jeans past your thighs. 

Your affections usually stop at kissing. It's clear to him you're interested, but you always seem unsure to start. You're a little self conscious, nervous about the space between you two - and right when it starts feeling better than just good, you pull away. 

It's kind of like edging, bordering on torture, but Miguel knows how to be patient. 

Eventually, you come back to him.

-

Before he found himself two fingers deep in you, you had ask him to fuck you once before. 

Almost verbatim.

"Fuck me."

and, regardless of the fact that his cock jumps a little as you whisper it so close to his lips, 

It sounds so strange falling from your lips like that. Abrupt and sudden like a clap of thunder in the dead of night, and his eyebrows shoot up - as quick as residual lightning.

Maybe the look on his face was what faltered you. The way his pupils constrict then dilate like he's really looking at you, into your depth, and probing for your intention with a breathy, "You sure?" 

And you nod, a little slow.

"Y-yeah. Certain."  Miguel arches his brow skeptically, lips quirking into a half-smirk as he turns his body to face you, his head leaning to the side as he looks you up and down slow enough to make you second guess. "Of course, Cariño - as you wish." And admittedly he's a little cruel, enjoys the way you curl in on yourself, imagines the heat burrowing into the apples of your cheeks, watching your breath catch in your chest as you stare him down. The moment lingers.

"Show me then."  He props his arm onto the couch as his posture relaxes, his expression no greater than his polite smile, which still feels goading, in a way. "Show me how badly you want me to fuck you." 

He knows right away you got a little too facey. You're a shih tzu glaring down a rottweiler and you've forgotten how to bark. It always gets caught up in you, desire tangled up in a net of worry, doubt. Can see it in your eyes, the way your lip dips down before you tuck it beneath a tooth, the aura of your gaze becoming more shadowed, more sensual.

"I'll… I'll show you."

"Mhm. 'Course you will." 

Your finger hops up a little. You don't know where to put your hands so his thighs serve as a placeholder as you push yourself into his lap, the supple flesh of your lips meeting his, and,

 ooh, his chapstick is lemon flavored.

Your kiss is so dear to him. It's dainty, lightens his heart because you're too shy for tongue kisses at first. 

Or maybe you just don't know how. Still,

You slowly build yourself up to it that night.

Cautiously, your mouth parts a little more, ushered into a new sensation as your tongue maps out the roof of his mouth, the ridges of his teeth, slowly feeling him rise to the occasion, raising your chin and humming pleasantly into your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut, your arms coming up to wrap around the back of a pleasantly surprised Miguel's neck, and he moves to settle you in his lap.

Miguel's skin feels smooth to the touch.

He’s moved you to the bedroom, urged you to wrap your legs around his hips as he took the liberty of digging his fingers into your soft ass, irritatingly thin shorts keeping him from getting to feel you for real. You're convincing him well enough so far, your skin rippling hot wrought iron left in the sun, and the burn on his skin is delicious - so when he's ready to eat,

When he's spreading you out on the bed and has your shorts around your thighs,

He notices you're not looking. Your breaths are shaky and fast, eyes welded shut, cheek turned and smushing into your pillow. You're still apart from the light tremble in your thighs, your legs dangling over the side of the bed as he adjusts his position on his knees, face partially curtained by your thighs as his arms curl up under them to tug your sex closer to his waiting lips.

"Ay." He gives your leg a healthy shake, jolting you out of your stupor. "Still want me to fuck you?" There's amusement bleeding into him again, but his eye is measured, patient. You blink an eye open, look down at him, his head between your legs,

The predatory, slow lick of his lips makes your hair stand on end, and you buck up, propping yourself up on shaky elbows. “Miguel…” 

“Hm?” He breathes so close to you that blood doesn’t know where to rush, to your head or between your legs. The dull throb of arousal that lances through you excites and terrifies, a nervous whine wheedling its way from between your lips, makes MIguel stop again. He feels your knees shake a little, still only one eye open. 

On the inside, budding frustration. There are two wolves - the desire to be cool, calm, and reassuring clashes with its twin, the overwhelming desire to have what he wants and do as he pleases. He sighs, and represses the second urge.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really.” You breathe in good for once, a relieved sigh as he pulls your underwear back up and pats your thigh, maintaining a pleasant expression while on the inside the mourns what should have been, imagines the feeling of you stretched around his cock - the tightness of your warmth, fucking in and out of you and hearing you squeal as he rolls his hips, adjusts his pace.

Tucks his fantasy away till it's only remnant is the hard-on he's trying to will away as you beckon him to join you under the sheets.

But he’s patient above all. Joins you on the bed and holds you close, burrowing his head into your shoulder as your wrap your arms around his back, 

And he leaves it alone.

-

'Could blue balls kill a man?'

He's not proud of his Google search history -

But it's been a couple weeks since he managed to get that far with you, and his hand hasn't been cutting it for a while now. And Miguel can sure as hell pretend he's not feeling as carnal as he is - that the chip on his shoulder is his increasing responsibility at Alchemax, the diminishing of his free time, lack of sleep …

But he feels no rage more potent than after he's came into his hand for the 5th time in two days, holding a shirt or a pair of your underwear up to his nose and huffing like it's paint. He's never been a junkie, but sometimes he's shaking he's so mad, that there's not more of you, enough of you, none of the soft, real parts of you.

And it's not your fault. You'll be ready when you're ready, and he just has to accept he might not make it to see that day.

But fast forward to right before bed that night. Yellow lampshade that turns the warm light dim, moonlight pressing through murky clouds and filtering into the window above the bed you two share. 

You still take showers together, but now you linger behind to wash properly while he settles into his normal routine, playing with his balls and turning his head into your pillow. 

He sighs to the sound of the creaking door, dripping water falling softly to the floor as you, towel wrapped around your naked body, step closer toward the bed.

You move from the front of the room, to the foot of the bed, til you're hovering over his side of the bed, this look in your eye like you've made up your mind about something. "What?" He flicks his head up, drowsy but not yet asleep.

"I think m'ready." Miguel blinks the tired out of his eyes and looks up, confused.

"What? Whaddaya mean you're ready?" 

"I mean," the towel falls, and he sees your bare body - your skin still dewy from your shower, glistening in the light. "I'm ready to fuck you. For real this time."

"Oh? So you're fucking me now?" He sizes you up a second, before you're crawling over him, straddling his hips as your bare intimates are flush against his groin, your butt pressing softly into his cock as he gets a half chub, not wanting to fully commit yet, but you're not letting up …

And that's how he got here. Two crooked fingers deep, up to the second knuckle, scissoring your hole open and hearing all these new noises - ones he's never had the chance to hear until now. You're accepting of his touch, but seem unwilling to fully express how bad he's got you - your wrist folded over your mouth, every moan sludging itself in your throat because you won't let it be free. You won't let him hear it.

Your back’s on the bed and he’s laying on his side next to you, over top of you, and he has the perfect view of your cute face and ditzy expression, your eyes pinched shut as you mutter something behind your hand, cut short as he curves his finger inside. “Miguel!”

“What is it querido? I’m a little busy here…”  Two fingers deep and you’re not as resistant as he’s expecting, so he feeds you a third promptly and it does not go unmissed how you clamp down on him tighter, your shuddering groan so lewd it almost beats the rational thought of preparing you out of his head. 

The only thing keeping him from mounting you then and there is your inexperience. Laid bare for him in this moment, he rubs his erection against your side brazenly, distinctly unashamed with letting you know how badly he wants you.

“Have you been touching yourself, carino? You’ve been preparing yourself for me?” You inhale shakily, and Miguel slows his pace so you don't have an excuse, any reason to not answer. You're so adorable when you're embarrassed. A little wetness in your eye, and usually you get all pouty like you might cry,

But he's doing something alien to you, pressing up into your sensitive walls, eliciting a brand new reaction he's sure he quite likes. 

You sniffle and answer slow. "A little… I was j-just practicing!" Your voice pitches up again, and instead of making his way further in, or adding a fourth finger, he stops. 

So abruptly you whine, arch your back in irritation and only then do you look at him, see the shadows that have settled over his face,

and isn't he feeling a might slick, having reduced you to jerking limbs and whimpering and moaning in what felt like a few minutes, though he doesn't have it in him to feel smug. 

Just hungry. 

"...Miguel." Barely a whisper. Only because it's you does he hear it. "Be gentle with me, please."

"Yeah." The single syllable is drawn out, curving into a growl, husky and deep unlike any noise a man ought to make.  "Right. Gentle."

[nowimjustastranger]

I don't know if this has already been asked before but has Stcmo Ford ever had to intervene in a world where Stanley took the journel(where that world's Ford wasn't sent through the portal) and planned for it to be the last thing he'd ever do before dying?

As he was trudging through the snow back to his car, Stan couldn't help but hear Ford's words play on an endless loop in his head, drowning out everything else. Stan had wanted so badly to shove the journal back at Ford after his brother had branded him, but he couldn't. Ford was right, he was always right.

So he kept the fucking diary and stormed out.

Ford didn't follow, so Stan must've said something about giving in to his brother's will before leaving, but he couldn't remember what had come out of his mouth. His head was swimming in a nauseating way as his shoulder screamed at him, his body shook violently with every gust of wind.

He already knew that he wasn't going far. He just needed to get to the car, then he'd burn the stupid fucking journal and drive himself off the nearest cliff. He was tired. So very tired and hungry and cold. He had dropped everything just to come when his brother called, hoping against all hope that maybe they could finally talk.

He should know better than to entertain hope by now.

He didn't even realize someone was in front of him until he literally ran into them, stumbling back with a curse as he clutched his arm, a new burst of pain surging through his shoulder. He blinked the black spots out of his vision, squinting at the weirdo who was wearing a flashy all-black getup in the middle of a blizzard.

He would've noticed that something was off sooner if he hadn't been so worn down.

But, as it stood, he heard a sharp twang before a bolt was rushing past his ear from behind. Stan stiffened, adrenaline flooding his body when Ford yelled at him, ordering him to run to his car and get out of town as fast as he could.

He took a total of three stumbling steps toward his car before an arm was curling around his throat, getting him into a firm headlock. The stranger wasn't choking him though, so small mercies. Actually, it seemed like the guy was actively avoiding his brand, which was weird because why would that matter if he was gonna take Stan hostage anyway?

Stan tried to hold on to the journal, he really did, but the asshole pulled it away from his icy fingers with ease. Stan choked on what might've been a sob, devastated that he had failed the one task that he'd been given. How did he manage to keep fucking everything up so spectacularly? He should've never been born.

"Stanley!" Ford shouted with no small amount of distress, clearly upset about his journal falling into the wrong hands on his front lawn. Stan couldn't look at him, couldn't bare to see the disappointment and anger that were surely coloring Ford's face right now.

"You can either have the journal or your brother." The stranger's voice carried over the howling wind, Stan's wide eyes darting to the book in the man's other hand with a sinking feeling in his gut. Stan already knew what Ford would pick, he had proved time and time again that he cared about his research more than he loved his brother.

"Let him go!" Ford seethed, the anger far more familiar to Stan, who finally braved a look at his brother. Ford was surprisingly close, only a few feet away with his crossbow loaded and aimed at the stranger. His expression was a mixture of terror and fury, his bloodshot eyes darting from Stan to the stranger several times.

He didn't look at the journal once.

"Is that your choice?" The stranger asked, the arm around Stan's neck slowly tightening, Stan's hands frantically prying at the dark fabric and flexing muscle with a pitiful wheeze that had Ford making an aborted movement toward him.

"Yes! Yes! I choose him!" Ford's voice cracked, face crumpling like he was about to burst into tears. Stan grit his teeth and swung his elbow down to bury it into the man's kidney, the grip on his neck loosening just enough that Stan could twist and punch the asshole right in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.

Stan lunged for the journal, wrenching it from the man's grip as he kicked the bastard's knee, hearing the joint pop out of place. The guy grunted in pain as he went down, Stan scrambling toward his brother, who had lurched forward to meet him. Stan couldn't see what was happening, but he heard another bolt fire and then Ford was dropping the weapon to grab at Stan.

"He's gone! He's gone! He left!" Ford gasped as he dragged Stan to his feet, using his body as a crutch to keep Stan upright as the two of them unsteadily made their way back to the shack. Stan's legs gave out on him as soon as they were inside, Ford slamming and locking the door behind them with an urgency that bordered on manic.

"Ford..." Stan panted, slumped against the wall, and Ford was beside him in the blink of an eye.

"What? What is it? Did he hurt you?" Ford asked in rapid-fire, shaking hands fluttering over his body. Stan caught one, Ford flinching at how cold Stan's hand was.

"I... the journal... I got it back." Stan said breathlessly, weakly raising his other hand to offer it to Ford, who looked stunned as he stared at it. Maybe he didn't think Stan would bother to grab it? Just how little did Ford trust him?

It was Stan's turn to be speechless when Ford took the journal from him and carelessly set it aside before he was back to fussing over Stan, who was too busy blinking dumbly to stop Ford from accidentally touching the brand while searching for wounds.

Stan cried out, hunching on on himself as Ford profusely apologized, scurrying away after assuring Stan that he'd be back with his first aid kit. Stan kept his head down as he nodded, teeth grit against the pain. He was used to waiting. Waiting for the millions to miraculously come pouring in, waiting for Ford to reach out first, waiting for his next meal, waiting for those rough hands to stop touching him.

Always waiting.

He heard Ford making a racket further in the house and decided that he could wait just a little longer.

[silkenedstars]

Meeting On A Whim

After a series of unfortunate and tiring events, he finally gets to see the messages you sent to him.

₊✦Honkai: Star Rail | Aventurine x gn!reader | Contains spoilers for Penacony!!✦₊

Additional Notes: Kinda self-indulgent, this one is for every single person out there who was as devastated as I was when they got his final message.

A sigh of relief left Aventurine's lips as his back hit the soft cushion of the couch in his room.

The things he had to deal with, from losing his cornerstone to being threatened by that Galaxy Ranger, not to mention the upcoming and unnerving meeting with Diamond, left Aventurine exhausted, to say the least.

Fishing out his phone from his pocket, he sighed again. If only the Family bothered to put proper beds in the hotel rooms instead of just a bathtub that guided people to the Dreamscape, Aventurine sure could use one about now to take a quick nap but alas, he'd have to go home first before he could get proper rest.

And since there was nothing else he could do right now, he might as well play on his phone, maybe even check to see if he had any new messages. He doubted it— he had just gotten out of a phone call with Jade, Topaz wouldn't text him unless it was related to a mission but even then she preferred calling, and Ratio likely wouldn't be messaging him for a good while. So that only left him with one option… which was to play on his phone and wait for time to pass.

…that was what he thought, at least, until he saw all the messages he got from you. With his curiosity piqued, as well as feeling a pang of anxiety settle within his stomach, he decided to see what you had in store for him.

NO NOOOOOOOOO AVENTURINE DON’T GO I DON’T WANT TO SAY GOODBYE COME BACK Aventurine….. Please come back you're my bestest friend ever I swear if it turns out you're dead I'm calling Ruan Mei to revive you I don't care I miss you

A strange warmth blossomed within his chest, a light chuckle escaping him before he even realized it. "I never took you for the clingy type," he mumbled to himself, rereading the messages you sent; all of which were punctuated with crying Pom-Pom stickers.

It was strange, really. He never expected you to be so devastated by his "death", not when the two of you still barely knew each other.

Not when he never had anyone be this worried for him before.

Still, he couldn't help but feel at least a little bit guilty. He may not know you well just yet, but he did consider you his friend — even if it might not feel like it at times — and his disappearance must've been hard on you, too, given all the messages and stickers you sent.

He was initially thinking of sending back a message telling you he was alright, but maybe you'd appreciate seeing him in person more instead.

And so after sending you a quick message, he stood up and stretched before promptly leaving his room.

Come meet me in the VIP Lounge, we have a lot to talk about.

[skyenish]

This boy’s too young to be singing the blues | Idia Shroud animatic 💀|

———

I don't think I really like drawing Idia, but he came out pretty okay so I'm not complaining!

Idia's backstory flashback made me cry when I first read it. Genuine props to the voice actor of kid Idia, because he tore out my heart and beat it with a club. It must've been so horrifying for a child, and the way he begged for his brother back was absolutely devastating! The way everything went from happy and normal to he shattering of Idia's world so fast, the way he lost everything he truly cared about that day, the way he truly felt alone when Ortho was gone, and the way that now Idia is completely stuck. He was so young…

Book 6 was horrible to get through (towers when I get you towers when I get you-) but the payoff was worth it, because the dynamics, the conversations, and the character development fed me amazingly, and learning more about Idia was a delight! He truly is tragic. I really wonder about the deeper psychology behind him making the Ortho robot. On a deeper level, why did he do that? What effects does it have on him now? Really interesting stuff to think about!

[justwinginglife]

hii! are u still up for request?cause im back again with another hoshina request 😭 can you do hoshina and childhood friend reader ignoring each other for years because reader thought hoshina hates her existence because she joined the sixth div? (friends to lovers trope with a touch of mutual pinning?)

Well hello again, so glad you rejoined the party! I would be happy to write this for you.

The Hoshina Brothers

You had known the Hoshina brothers your whole life but you never thought that picking between them would cause such a divide.

You hadn't meant to pick between them, you didn't even know there were options. You just thought that when a friend asked you for help, you helped them, like any decent person. So when Soichiro Hoshina, your longtime friend, asked you to join his division to help ease him into his new position as Captain with someone he trusted by his side, you said yes in a heartbeat.

What you didn't realize was that buried underneath that request were his true feelings for you and in his mind, with you so close to him everyday, he'd one day have the nerve to reveal those feelings to you. Adding to the list of things you were oblivious about, his brother, Soshiro Hoshina, was also in love with you and he took your enlistment in the Sixth Division as a sign that his brother had finally won you over after years of what appeared to be an even struggle between the two of them. Again, you had no idea this war between the siblings even existed, you were simply happy to be of help to an old friend.

You really should’ve known better- when you’d agreed to follow Soichiro into the Sixth Division, his reaction should’ve been enough to clue you in. He’d scooped you up in his arms and spun you around and around in circles, exclaiming that you were such a lifesaver. You laughed and thought it was such typical Soichiro behavior. And it was- but only because he was typically head over heels for you, unbeknownst to you.

And you really should’ve known better when you told Soshiro the news and he’d stormed off in anger- you figured it was just a bit of sibling rivalry. And it was, but not for the reason you thought. And that anger, that devastating emotion he must've felt- it led to years of silence between the two of you, years you could never repair, could never get back. Years that took a toll on your heart.

Looking back, there were so many ways you could’ve handled it better but how were you supposed to know that both of your closest childhood friends were equally as enamored with you?

So now, here you are, mouth agape, standing in Soichiro’s office in stunned silence as he confesses his longtime feelings for you and you realize just how badly you’ve misread the situation. How badly you’ve misread the last several years.

You want to give him a fair chance, you feel like you owe his efforts this much at least, so you try to imagine being with him. What would waking up to him look like? You try to picture rolling over to snuggle him, but the person you imagine in your bed gazes back at you with eyes like amethysts. You shake your head, trying not to think too hard about it. You begin to think about coming home to him cooking in the kitchen and when you wrap your arms around him, kissing at his muscled back through his compression shirt, he turns to face you, his dark bangs shifting as he wipes the sweat from his forehead and grins at you warmly. You bite your lip as Soshiro floods your brain yet again.

Either Soichiro knows what you're thinking or your silence is too vast for his comfort because he starts to laugh awkwardly and rub the back of his head. "You know what, just forget it."

Right about now, your heart should be sinking in sympathy for him, feeling guilty for making him retract feelings that were so important to him for so long, but now that your heart knows who it belongs to, it can't help but beat a little louder in your chest, as though Soshiro is sitting smug in its chambers.

You finally find enough of your voice to apologize profusely to Soichiro but he just shakes his head, laughing a little, though the sound comes out somewhat pained. "You should tell him, you know."

You choke on your saliva. "T-tell who what?"

He rolls his eyes but then smiles at you and you're glad you can still make him smile even if you can't give him what he wants. "I mean if you never tell him how you feel, I'd be okay with that, then I might actually have a chance with you one day. But I don't know if you'd be okay with that. So maybe you should tell him, alright?" He ruffles your hair like he always does and then hesitates before finally deciding to plant a gentle kiss on the top of your head. Then he leaves you standing in his office in a daze.

Soichiro Hoshina was many things, but you never thought that he'd actually be right for once. Honestly, the way he handled things was almost always wrong. His crumbling relationship with his brother was one such example, but you wondered if that only made him more qualified to speak on the matter. If maybe he knew what it was like to want to say something and to know the pain of it being too late to say it. You were already years too late. But you hope that maybe some part of Soshiro's brain dreams of you in his bed, in his kitchen too, when he tries to think of anyone else.

And that hope is what finally forces your feet from their rooted position in Soichiro's office and propels you towards the Third Division.

Captain Ashiro greets you at the door. You know her from several meetings you and Soichiro have had with the other Captains and Vice Captains from other divisions, but somehow you've never run into Soshiro at these meetings. He must've gone well out of his way to avoid you and you couldn't blame him.

She leads you to his office where the two of you wait as she pages him. You fidget with your fingers as the minutes go by, staring at the floor because if you looked over at her you'd picture Soshiro's lips on her neck or his hands on her hips. She was taller than you, more slender than you, more powerful than you for sure. You couldn't help but wonder if she was his type, if she was already his girl.

As if right on cue, just to drive that stake deeper into your heart, she says "So what exactly is your relationship with my Vice Captain?"

We don't even have a relationship anymore, you think glumly to yourself. You smile weakly. "Ah, he's an old friend."

"Interesting. He's never mentioned you before."

The stake continues to twist its way through your organs. You think you might just bleed out from the metaphorical damage to your heart.

Then you hear his footsteps in the hallway and your heart, remembering the sweet sound, quiets itself to listen.

"Captain, you called for me-" He steps into the office and the wonderful, rhythmic, nostalgic sound of his shoes against the ground grinds to a halt as his eyes find yours. You think he might just bolt right now.

Oxygen sears your lungs as you draw your next breath painfully, realizing you were right. He does want to bolt. He's already begun to turn around with one foot out the door so you blurt out the only thing you can think of to stop him, "I LOVE YOU DAMNIT!"

He freezes in his tracks.

Captain Ashiro chokes as she hears your words, now understanding the gravity of the situation. "I think I'll be taking my leave now." She passes Soshiro on the way out and shoves him back in the room with you before closing the door. Suddenly all that animosity and jealousy you felt towards her earlier is replaced by immense gratitude at this chance she's given you.

"What the hell kind of a greeting is that??" He hisses at you, turning on you suddenly.

Your cheeks feel like you took a blowtorch to them. "Was trying to get you not to... leave me?" You say uncertainly.

He scoffs. "We don't talk for years and you think a sudden love confession will get my attention?"

You swallow. "Well... you did stop. Why did you stop?"

He looks away. "Cuz anyone would wanna know why you blurted out that crazy shit, don't go turning this around on me." He grumbles, biting his lip.

You take a step towards him and he sucks in a sharp breath but he doesn't back away.

You dare yourself to take another step and then another. You keep taking each aching step, until you're right in front of him.

Then, without thinking, you sink against him, pulling him close. He stiffens but then he leans into your touch too.

"I missed you, damnit. Stupid Soshiro, ignoring me so long." You don't even know when you started crying, you just know that suddenly his shirt is soaked. But he doesn't seem to mind.

He slowly wraps his arms around you. It's a hesitant gesture but it warms your heart all the same.

"Hey, you ignored me too." He complains but his voice is lighter now, almost teasing and affectionate.

"I th-thought you h-hated me." The words come out shaky and pathetic, drenched in a sob.

He runs his fingers through your hair with one hand and rubs up and down your back with the other. "Shh, shh. I didn't hate you- I don't hate you. I could never hate you."

You continue to squeeze him tight and your tears keep pressing themselves against him, like they're seeping into his very being.

He sighs. "Did you... did you mean what you said?"

You peer up at him, confused, still in a daze. "When I said what?"

He flushes suddenly and you wipe away your tears hurriedly, shocked to see his cheeks a color they've never been before and eager to get a better view. "When you... said you... l-lov... fuck, just forget it."

"I do. I love you. Took me a long time to realize it, but I do."

He straightens at that. "You do? You really mean that?"

You laugh against his chest. "You know, typically when someone admits they love someone else, they usually do mean it."

He scoffs but his gaze is softer now. More hopeful.

You take this chance to explain yourself, to explain the last several years.

He's shocked that you were never in love with Soichiro. Then he grins, smugly.

"Yeah, I always knew you were mine." His chin lifts as he holds his head high with a ridiculous sense of superiority.

You roll your eyes, laughing at him. "Oh did you now? And that's why you had to ask again if I meant that I loved you?"

He flushes again and you think to yourself you could get used to that color. You could get used to being the reason for it.

"But you're right though. I'm yours."

Warmth buries itself deeper into his cheeks as he pulls you closer, sighing happily, kissing your forehead over and over again.

"I'll never let you go again. I'll spend my entire life making up for missed time."

And the one thing you know about Soshiro Hoshina from the years you've known him is that he always makes good on his promises.

[muchanmocha]

ALNST twitter post, captioned "Spectator"

When I first saw this post I thought Ivan looked this way because he had something in mind for his and Till's journey on Alien Stage, and Round 5's development (leading to Till's death-seeking emotional distraught) threw a wrench in his plans.

I... don't think that's a wrong estimate on what's going on here. The original script for Round 6 implied Ivan wanted to light Till's fighting spirit again, so Till's devastation in the face of Mizi's incident is obviously considered an unwelcome development for Ivan.

But in hindsight, Ivan knew about Sua's intentions. He knew Sua's death was coming, and he's also well aware of the feelings between Sua and Mizi. How could he have not have already anticipated Mizi's reaction and the resulting domino effect?

Ivan -> Mizi [Intimacy 30%, #3]

I like Mizi because she has a pure and honest nature. As you get older, you tend to develop a pessimistic worldview. But sometimes... she's a little too bright for me.

The caption of the original post is "Spectator." There is an emphasis on the deeply unpleasant experience Ivan is having as a spectator in this scene, someone who is neither able to act nor interfere, merely watch.

And here? He's watching Mizi — who he regards as a near paragon of goodness, who is "too bright sometimes" for him to be genuinely comfortable with and relate to — break down into a crumpled mess of anger, despair, violence, and insanity.

...

That must've been hard to swallow.

I'm totally not here today to spread my Mizi-Ivan besties delulu agenda nooooooo why would you think that

[fanficsformyfaves]

Reunion

Shaggy Rogers x Daphne Blake's Sister!Reader

WARNING: Nothing but Fluff <3, Mutual Pining, Reader is a Black Belt in Karate

PREFACE: When the gang first split up, of course Shaggy was devasted, but he was more upset that he would never get to see Reader again. That was until they all reunite in the airport for a mystery they were invited to solve two years later

A/N: Flashbacks in Italics!

There aren't any stories about my husband and I am deeply appalled!

SHAGGY'S P.O.V.

"Come on, Scoob. Like, we're gonna be late for the flight", I say,

Packing up our Scooby snacks for the trip, while he dealt with our clothes.

"Oooh, Rooby Snacks"

He says, trynna grab a piece, to which I bat his hand away.

"These are for the trip, man!", I scold,

As he huffed, zipping up our bags. We hail a cab, toss our luggage in the trunk and hop in.

It's been a while since we had a totally rad mystery to solve. Like, as terrifying as those creeps were, I miss getting to work on cracking the case...and getting to hang with (Y/N).

She was like, the most perfect girl in the world. Like, imagine all the best things in one person. Even all the hotdogs, sundae ice creams and rollercoasters couldn't come close to how beautiful she was. She never failed to make my heart do summersaults inside my chest.

But I never had the guts to tell her that. I mean, she was super cute and I was the goofball of Mystery Inc.

So, I knew I had no chance.

"Raggy!", Scoob snaps me out of my thoughts,

Nudging me with his elbow and letting me know that we made it to the airport. While grabbing our bags, I look over at the large tree by the entrance and my heart drops like a sack of potatoes.

There she was in all her glory. With her pretty hair and eyes that shined like gumdrops. She was just as pretty as I remembered. I could already feel the goofy grin settling on my face.

YOUR P.O.V.

"Want anything from the gift shop, while I'm in there?", Daphne questioned,

"I'm good- oh! Maybe food from the McDonald's next door?", I request,

Looking up from the book I bought prior to getting here. I watch as my sister gives me an unimpressed look, placing a hand on her hip.

"What? I missed breakfast!", I retort at her reaction,

"And who's fault is that?"

"Um, yours? If you hadn't hogged the bathroom all morning to do your hair, I would've had enough time to make some food"

"Well, excuse me for caring about my appearance. You think all this takes five minutes?", she says,

Gesturing to herself. Once she realized there was no getting through to me, she accepts defeat by sighing to herself and rolling her eyes.

"Fine, but just this once. That stuff will kill you"

"Not fast enough, apparently", I answer,

Getting back to my reading. She shakes her head, before walking off.

"Be back soon, ciao"

"Ciao", I replied,

Without averting my gaze from the pages.

As I was waited for her to get back, I decided to grab the water bottle I had in my backpack. Just then, my journal falls out from one of the compartments

Jeez, it must've been a while since I've cleaned this out.

I flip through the pages and come across one that was covered in hearts with arrows shot through them. The letters (Your First Initial) and S added together on the insides.

I've always had a thing for Shaggy. He was always such a sweetheart. I remembered how he would always give me the cherries off his sundaes, regardless of how much he wanted them.

"Shaggy, you don't have to keep giving me the cherries, if you want them", I say,

"Like, I know you want them, so...let me be a gentleman", he says,

Picking one off the vanilla ice cream and handing it over to me. For the first time ever, I decided to rid myself of the familiar shyness I was always plagued with and take it from him with my teeth, causing a bright red hue to brush against his cheeks.

"Like, wow", he giggled shyly.

Not to mention, how incredibly cute he was. I couldn't help but sigh at the memories of those pretty blue eyes staring back at me.

I knew I should've said something before we all split up, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it and besides, he probably didn't feel the same way.

As I was strolling down memory lane, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"HiYAH!", I yell,

Hitting whoever it was in the shin, before pinning them to the tree by their throats. Once I realized who it was, I gasp.

"Like, wow", he grinned,

I couldn't help but feel a weird sense of Deja Vu when he said that.

"Shaggy! I am sorry!", I apologize,

Pulling away and fixing his shirt.

"Just as strong as I remember", he says,

Rocking back and forth on his heels, with the same old laugh I remember falling for. I chuckled and bent down to pick up my stuff.

"Oh, let me help you with that", he says,

Getting down and accidentally butting me in the head with his, causing us both to fall backwards, exclaiming in pain.

"Owie!", he whines,

Grabbing his forehead, as I laugh doing the same.

"Good to see you again, Shagster", I say,

"(Y/N)", I hear a familiar sound coming from behind me,

I turn around and see the best boy in the world.

"Scooby!", I yelp in excitement,

As he ran over, barking and greeted me with a lick to the face.

"Hiya, boy!", I scratch at the back of his head,

Whilst his tail wagged and foot tapped softly on the grass.

"Like, he really missed you!", Shaggy says,

Making me turn to face him.

"We both did", he admitted shyly,

My heart skipping a beat listening to his words.

"I missed you too, you screwball", I kid,

Getting back on my feet and finally embracing him. At first I felt his body stiffen against my touch, but he eventually melted into me and his arms go around the small of my waist.

We pull away and our lips were merely inches apart. It felt like time stopped and everything else disappeared around us. In that moment, we were the only people to exist.

"(Y/N)?"

"Shaggy?", I whisper,

Feeling the magnetic current pulling me closer towards him. Just as we were about to close the space between us, we were interrupted.

"Oh my god", Daphne says,

Carrying my food in her hands, watching us leap out off each other's arms.

"Shaggy?", she calls out,

"Oh, like, Hi, Daph!", he says,

"What are you doing here?", she chuckles,

Walking closer towards us and handing my the paper bag and drinks.

"Well, Scoob and I got this super creepy invitation to solve a mystery on-."

"Spooky Island", they both say in unison,

"Like, how groovy, man!"

My head snaps in his direction.

"Wait, you got invited too?", I ask,

"Well, yeah! Didn't you hear about the all-you-can-eat buffet they're hosting?", he questions,

Making me laugh to myself. Of course, he would go for the food.

"Well, let's hope we're the only ones who got the invite", Daphne says,

Walking into the airport. We take a moment to look back at each other, before shrugging and picking up my belongings. We trail behind her and made our way through the bustling crowd. I take a bite of my burger, before looking over and finding Shaggy ogling at it.

"Hm?", I hum,

Offering him a bite.

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly-"

"The plane won't be serving food till three", I interrupt,

"Who am I to deny such a gracious offer?", he jokes,

Making me chuckle to myself.

"Wanna go halfsies?", he asks,

"Sure", I agreed,

Watching him split the burger in half and handing me the bigger piece.

"Thank you", I say,

Continuing to enjoy my share, along with the fries I was already sharing with Scoob. I throw a fry in the air and laugh as the pooch jumps up to catch it.

While walking, Scooby grabs the dufflebag Shaggy was holding and made his way to the bathroom.

"Where's he going?", washing down the last bite down with my drink,

"Oh, you'll see", he replies,

It takes us a while, but we finally get to the check-in, where Daphne proceeded to argue with the man behind the desk.

"What do you mean I can't have seven carry-on bags?! That is so economy!", she complains,

"Yeesh", Shaggy muttered to me,

"Oh, that's just her makeup. You should see the suitcases full of costume changes and hair products", I say,

Making the tall geek laugh at my joke. I look around and my eyes fall on two very familiar faces.

"Daph?", Fred called out,

Catching my sister's attention.

"Crap", Velma muttered to herself,

"Oh, no. I'm not talking to you guys", she snapped,

Pretending to zip her lips shut and throwing away the key, but alas, she could not control her anger.

"What the heck are you doing here?", she questioned,

Watching the pair make their way over to us. That's when Fred eventually notices me and Shaggy.

"Oh, hey, you two", he greets,

We couldn't do anything but wave awkwardly.

"Isn't it obvious? We all received the same letter from one Emile Mondevarious...the reclusive owner of Spooky Island", Velma explained,

"It's not fair! I was gonna solve the mystery all by myself for the first time ever", Daphne argued,

As Fred scoffed. Oh no.

"How are you gonna save yourself when you get caught?", he poked fun at Daphne's past of always being the damsel in distress,

"I'm a black belt now. I've transformed my body into a dangerous weapon", she answered,

As him and Velma laughed at her response.

"It's true!"

"Far out! I guess we're, like, all going to Spooky Island, man!"

Daphne rolls her eyes and returns her attention to the check-in employee.

"Hey, where's Scooby?", she asks Shaggy,

Just then, the Great Dane, or should I say, Great Dame, emerges from the crowd. All dressed up in an long-sleeved dress, cheetah print reading glasses and a straw hat.

"Hello, sorry", he says,

Navigating his was through the fellow airport patrons.

"They don't allow big dogs on the plane", Shaggy explained nonchalantly,

As I let out a shocked laugh.

"You've got to be kidding", Velma protested the ridiculous disguise,

"No one is stupid enough to believe that", she added,

"Who's the ugly old broad?", Fred asks,

Leaning over to Shaggy. Velma shakes her head at Fred's naiveness and folds her arms over her chest.

"Say hello to Grandma", Shaggy announced,

"Attention. Flight 3774 to Spooky Island is now boarding", the announcer alerts through the telecom,

Everyone, besides Shaggy and I, groan before heading towards our terminal.

SHAGGY'S P.O.V

"Shall we?", I move over and gesture for her to step in front of me,

"My my my, what a gentleman. Just like I remember", she smiles,

Walking ahead.

"Nailed it", I sing to Scoob,

Before following behind her. We arrive inside the plane and take our seats. A moment passes and Scoob nudges me, before holding up the neck pillow we brought.

"Aaah"

I quickly picked up what he was putting down.

"Say, (Y/N)", I call out,

She turns back to me.

"Could I interest you in some in-flight comfort?", I ask,

Offering it to her. She grins to herself, before taking it.

"Why, thank you, Shagwell", she says,

Putting it on. I turn to Scoob and he raises his eyebrows at me.

"Butt out, Scoob", I scold in a whisper,

Before looking back at her. I swear heaven was missing an angel. Like, how could someone be this perfect? I could feel the blood rush up to my cheeks every time she spoke. It always felt like that one time with the cherries. Oh, man, did it make my heart go all squirrely.

I was never man enough to tell her how I really felt back then, but those two years without her was pure torture, man. It made me realize that I couldn't put myself through that again.

So, I take a deep breath and finally plucked the courage up the guts to come clean.

"(Y/N)?"

"Yes?"

"If we ever make it out of this, you know, with our head still attached to our necks"

Making her laugh. Gosh, were her little giggles music to my ears. Focus, Shaggy, Focus! I shake myself out of my distracting thoughts.

"Would you maybe wanna...I don't know...like...go out with me?", I ask,

Cringing in anticipation for the let-down of a lifetime.

YOUR P.O.V.

Was I hallucinating? There was no way on God's green earth was the man I'd been crushing on for literal years now actually reciprocating how I felt.

I pinch at my arm and hiss at the pain that brought me to the realization this wasn't just a scenario I dreamt up.

"Ow!"

"Like, what was that?", he yelped concernedly,

"Uh, nothing, it's just...", my sentence trails off into an awkward silence,

"I would love to!"

"Really?", his eyes widen,

"Really?", Scooby repeats,

"Really! I mean, I don't know if you've ever noticed, Shaggy, but, I've always liked you", I admit,

"...Get outta here, like, me too!", he responds,

"Wait, what?! Why didn't you say anything?!", I questioned,

"Well, I mean...look at you", he blushes,

Making the heat rush to me cheeks too, as I pout in awe.

"You're so pretty and smart and nice...and you share your food with me! I mean, that takes a whole lotta moxie!", he explained,

Gosh, was he freaking adorable.

"That totally puts you out of my league!"

"Oh, Shaggy", I sigh,

Taking his scruffy face in my hands.

"You're the best guy I know", I reassure,

"Which is why I'm gonna do what I should've done a long time ago", I say,

Closing the gap that wedge us apart for years by pressing my lips against his.

[baldursgat3]

the people have spoken they demand hurt/comfort and I seek to provide. this one was supposed to be short but it got away from me so instead it's 3.6k

i call this one So You've Fucked Up A Resist Durge Saving Throw

Astarion was in love. He wouldn't admit it, yet, not even to himself, but it was true. You were just so perfect. Gorgeous and funny and sweet and a little bit murder happy but that was all right. He didn't mind. He understood a bit of bloodlust. You were really just so kind to him. You made him feel safe and warm and happy in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever experienced before. It had been so long since he trusted someone like this. So long since he felt loved. He tried to pretend he wasn't but you were so good to him. You stood up for him, you didn't force him to bite that repulsive drow. You kissed him so sweetly and held him without any expectation of something more from him. Fight it all he liked, he was head over heels. Which, of course, made it all the more devastating when you finally turned on him. He should've seen it coming.

Astarion was in love. He wouldn't admit it, yet, not even to himself, but it was true. You were just so perfect. Gorgeous and funny and sweet and a little bit murder happy but that was all right. He didn't mind. He understood a bit of bloodlust.

You were really just so kind to him. You made him feel safe and warm and happy in a way he wasn't sure he'd ever experienced before. It had been so long since he trusted someone like this. So long since he felt loved.

He tried to pretend he wasn't but you were so good to him. You stood up for him, you didn't force him to bite that repulsive drow. You kissed him so sweetly and held him without any expectation of something more from him. Fight it all he liked, he was head over heels.

Which, of course, made it all the more devastating when you finally turned on him. He should've seen it coming.

He was pulled out of his trance by a vague pressure. As he quickly woke up, the world came into focus. You were straddling his chest, eyes wide with an unfamiliar frenzy. A moment later his senses registered and he realized what was happening.

Both of your hands were wrapped around his neck, squeezing with intent. He didn't need to breathe as a vampire, but that didn't stop a strangled gasp from escaping his lips. The suffocation might not kill him, but you were still crushing his throat. It hurt like hell and he was terrified.

Had he done something wrong? Something so wrong that you wanted to kill him over it? He had thought everything was going so well, he didn't understand.

His hands flew to wrap around your wrists as he coughed and sputtered - reflexes he no longer needed but ones that lingered regardless. Despite his best efforts, you were stronger than him, even under normal circumstances, he couldn't pry you off.

You looked borderline feral as you loomed over him, leaning all your body weight into his neck. Was this what all your victims saw before they died? Why were you trying to kill him?

He frantically searched with one hand for the dagger he always kept close by. A new horror dawned in his eyes as he realized you must've gotten rid of it. His legs kicked helplessly out as he tried to scream, only succeeding in making a small, gurgling sound.

All he had left were his hands. He sunk his nails into your shoulders, dragging them down with the intent of doing as much damage as he could. It didn't seem to faze you. He tried to claw through the fabric of your shirt, not finding enough purchase to do damage.

He stared up at you, eyes wide with fear. There was nothing familiar there, only a maddened bloodlust. A shiver ran down his spine as the thought came unbidden. “Is this what Alfira saw?”

You had destroyed the girl so violently, he had honestly felt sorry for her. You had expressed guilt after, though. Said that it wasn't you. Perhaps this wasn't you either?

It didn't matter. He felt as your fingers tightened against the back of his neck, lifting his head up off the ground before slamming it back down with a dizzying crack. This would absolutely kill him.

He really only had one line of defense left. He was so hesitant to use it though, especially if this wasn't you. You crashed his skull into the ground again, tearing a shredded gasp from his lungs. He didn't have a choice.

Despite fighting for his life, he still balked just a touch. Once more he sunk his claws into you, this time aiming for the eyes. Your gorgeous eyes that usually looked at him like he was the only man in the world. He knew he should just try to jam his thumbs into both sockets but he simply couldn't. Instead, he settled for carving deep gashes in your perfect, lovely face. Judging by your reaction, that was enough.

The sound you made as you pulled back, clutching at your right eye was animalistic. A loud, pained howl that instantly woke most of your companions.

Astarion scrambled backwards, clutching at his neck and coughing. His head throbbed, he didn't need to feel it to know his hair must be matted in blood already. The world around him spun as he sat up on his knees.

He saw you lunge towards him, only to be intercepted with a full tackle by Karlach. The whole camp was alive now, people shouting and calling both his name and yours. Did anyone else know that this wasn't really you? Was it really you? Were they going to kill you?

His entire body ached, his head felt like it was splitting in two. Maybe it was. He coughed again, doubling over as he felt the tingle of magic at the base of his skull. He felt Shadowheart’s hand on his arm, heard her say something to him but the healing wasn't enough to quiet the ringing in his ears.

Gale hurled a spell at you and, for a moment, Astarion's heart lurched in his chest. Just for that split second, he was certain they were trying to kill you.

There was no fire or burst of necrotic energy, though. Instead, the magic seized your limbs, pinning you effectively to the ground. Karlach had already done an efficient job of keeping you face down in the dirt but you weren't going down without a fight. You finally stilled though, despite the way your muscles tensed in protest. Karlach finally got off, taking a few steps away as everyone simply stared.

At least in this moment, they weren't trying to kill you. That realization, coupled with the healing from his cleric, finally calmed Astarion's nerves enough for him to pull himself back into the present. Honestly, he almost wished he hadn't.

Despite being held tight by the spell, you still were very active. Whatever in you that was driving this frenzy clearly wasn't stopped by a simple spell. You growled and tensed and writhed like a trapped animal. All the while your gaze was fixed on him. You had to kill him, had to feel his blood on your hands, you needed it like oxygen, you needed it, needed it needed it needed it.

“Well what do we do?” Karlach broke the tense stillness that hovered over your camp. “This is kind of a lot.”

How astute. Astarion finally moved, crawling the few feet that separated the two of you, despite a tepid warning from Wyll. He didn't care, he was certain none of these people would understand what he knew about you. Admittedly, though, he was realizing he didn't know as much as he thought.

“Darling…” He tried, softly. You only snarled in response. Your movement was so restricted, your body twitched and spasmed as it tried to break free of the spell. He could see the way your jaw tensed, he could hear your teeth clacking together as though you were trying to bite him.

In the soft moonlight, he finally got a good look at the damage he'd done. The blood was drying on your face already but he'd carved several deep cuts into your perfect skin. It was hard to tell if your eyes were narrowed in your rage or because he'd injured them.

He could hear the rest of the camp talking behind him. It was a little frustrating, actually. They didn't seem nearly as concerned by your distress as he was. Perhaps they didn't see this as distress.

He tried a few more times to quietly break through to you before Lae’zel entered his view. As much as he wanted to stop her from binding your limbs, he didn't exactly have a better alternative. So far his option of ‘Gently Urge Whatever Is Controlling You To Stop' was not exactly panning out. Perhaps if he wasn't recovering from a severe concussion he might've been able to come up with a better idea.

Of course he volunteered to stay up to watch over you. It really only made sense. He didn't really need to sleep anyway and he was worried sick about you. Besides, he figured Lae’zel knew how to tie a pretty good knot. You didn't seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. Gale had dropped the spell and, despite straining and thrashing against them fiercely, your bonds held strong.

Slowly, and with a good deal of uncertainty, your companions returned to their tents. Suddenly, Astarion found himself alone with you again. He sat nearby, though squarely out of your reach.

Whatever had your mind in it's grip didn't quite seem to care how tightly you were restrained. The idea that you wouldn't break free didn't seem to occur to you, you just struggled and fought and snarled. He kept waiting for you to stop, to calm down enough that perhaps he could talk you down from this but you never did. You just thrashed about until, finally, exhaustion overtook your body and you collapsed.

~*~*~

You awoke to a quiet camp as dawn's first rays struck you. Your head pounded and your vision was foggy. Your limbs felt cramped and sore. Your face hurt and your vision was blurry and… were you laying in the grass? Why were you out here and not with-

Astarion.

Oh gods, oh fuck. The memory of your conversation with Sceleritas hit you like a bull. With a jolt you sat up, tugging against your restraints as you frantically searched the camp for any sign of your love.

You felt your whole body relax as you spotted him standing just a few feet away, basking in the sunlight. Some of the perfect curls near the nape of his neck were stained red and slightly matted together.

He hadn't seemed to notice your shuffling and scrambling. He was alive so… what happened? Oh gods did you kill someone else?

“You're awake.” Oh, maybe he had noticed you. You couldn't read anything from his voice.

“Astarion… are you… okay?”

He finally turned to look at you, his eyes awash with emotion but mostly just sadness. “I'm not sure.” He could've just stabbed you, that probably would've hurt less.

“What… happened…?” You spoke so slowly, you were so scared to know the answer.

Astarion sighed, walking back over to cut you out of your restraints before sitting beside you. “Well, I'll admit, I didn't care for any of it. I'll say that much about this urge of yours.”

You flinched, drawing your knees up towards your chest. “I- I tried to warn you. I was going to wake you up but… I don't remember anything after that.”

“You woke me up, darling, I can guarantee that.” He scoffed, staring at the ground in front of him. “I thought I'd fucked up terribly, you know. I woke up to you trying to choke the life out of me, I had no idea what I'd done wrong.”

Guilt seized your heart and you had to stop yourself from trying to reach out to comfort him. Gods, you were so afraid of yourself. “You didn't do anything wrong…” The words came out as barely a whisper.

He sighed quietly, turning to look at you. “Is this what happened to the bard?” You nodded. “You don't have any control over it?” You shook your head. “It doesn't have anything to do with something I did?” You shook your head again.

It took him a moment, you could watch him running things through that clever head of his. Before you had a chance to worry, though, his face softened. “Come here, little love.”

You fell into his open arms immediately with a soft sob. What had such a wretched creature like you ever done to deserve someone like him? You curled into him, quietly sniffling against his chest as he held you tight.

“I'm not angry.” He whispered, dropping a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I know what it feels like - to have your will stripped away from you like that.” It was a feeling he wouldn't wish on anyone, let alone the single most wonderful person he'd ever met.

You couldn't help the choked out sob that escaped your lips as you curled up tighter. “It could happen again, though.” You didn't understand this evil compulsion that was able to so thoroughly consume you. You had no way of knowing when it would strike you.

“I'm not afraid.”

“You should be. I am.” Your voice was so fragile. You hated this chant in your head that screamed for his blood. Over and over again visions of his corpse flashed through your mind. It turned your stomach the way your heart fluttered at the thought of holding his lifeless body in your arms.

“Hey.” Astarion's voice pulled you out of the spiral you were beginning to fall into. “Don't get lost on me now, love.” He cupped your jaw, gently turning your head until you were looking up at him.

“We're going to make it through this.” He planted the softest, sweetest kiss on your lips. “You promised me that first, you know. That we would save my mind from Cazador's control. I'm happy to return the favor. We're going to break you free of whatever has a hold of you, my darling.”

It was so sweet. You didn't deserve it. The cruel, twisted thoughts that plagued your mind. The extreme violence you were capable of. You were dangerous, you knew that. He wasn't safe with you. “I'm a monster…”

“No more a monster than I am.” There was a touch of sorrow to his voice, nearly imperceptible. Something about it made this all feel so much more… genuine.

You didn't believe he was a monster, he told you you didn't know what he was capable of. Now here you were, roles reversed and you understood how he felt. He struggled to believe you and you felt the same.

Perhaps you were both monsters. Perhaps neither of you were. Whatever you were, though, it had to be the same. You two were the same. You each knew the other's hunger, understood the agony of losing control of your own body. So many atrocities had been committed by your hands for the will of someone else.

Your hand clutched the fabric of his shirt as you took a few deep breaths. His skin was cold but, still, you felt so warm in his arms. He kissed the top of your head again as he waited for you to gather your thoughts.

“My face hurts.” You whispered, finally, gently playing with the fabric between your fingers. Astarion stilled just a bit at your words, held you just a bit tighter.

He hesitated just a moment too long before answering. “I'm sorry. Can you see all right?”

You hadn't actually noticed, you'd been a little preoccupied with other things like crying and feeling sorry for yourself. Now that he mentioned it, though, things were a bit blurry. You knew there was dried blood on your face, it was probably stuck in your eyelashes.

You brought your hands up to scrub at your face. Only for a moment, though, before a shock of pain shot through your spine. Astarion felt you recoil and only tightened his grip on you further.

Ever so tenderly you brought your hands up to rub at your eyes. The left one was fine, covered with dirt and blood but nothing a good wash wouldn't fix.

The right one ached at even the slightest pressure, though. A wave of panic washed over you. You had already lost so much of yourself with your memories, it was hard enough to cope. The only thing you ever truly knew was how to kill. Losing your vision meant losing your depth perception meant losing your usefulness in combat meant losing the only thing you were good for meant-

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, my love…” Astarion's gentle words pulled you back from the brink of despair once more. His voice was laced with a heavy sadness as he pressed countless little kisses to wherever he could reach.

You were smart enough to put the pieces together. You had attacked him, he was defending himself. The alternative was letting him kill you. You had no one to blame but yourself.

Even still, you couldn't suppress the shaky sigh that betrayed how close to tears you were yet again. “Please- please don't cry, little love.” Astarion held you so tight to his chest as though he were afraid you would try to break free from his arms at any moment.

He couldn't help the guilt that crept up his chest as he clung to you, desperately. He never wanted to hurt you. Gods, hearing the sad little sounds of distress you were making was going to crush him. It was his fault, he hurt you. He could've taken another hit or two, should've taken them. He could've been louder, could've tried to use his legs instead. Could've done anything but hurt you like this.

Maybe it was temporary, maybe you would heal. He had to hope but… what if you didn't. Would you resent him? If he was the reason this wonderful, perfect- well… whatever it was the two of you had. If he was the reason it ended, because he had hurt you, he wasn't sure he'd be able to forgive himself. As it stood, he wasn't sure if he could right now either.

“I'm so sorry I hurt you.” They were words that should've come from his mouth, yet it was your voice.

“Wh- what?”

“I don't know what happened. I know I hurt you, though. You've got blood in your hair, that couldn't have come from me.”

“I thought I got that out…” A sigh of annoyance escaped his lips before he could remember himself. “But-

“Maybe…” You interrupted, as you leaned all of your weight into his chest. “Maybe we just… both be sorry.” There was a lighter tone to your voice. You were trying to brighten the mood just a bit. Even now you were still trying to be so sweet and perfect. It was a shame the undertones of sorrow and guilt betrayed you.

Still, he leaned his cheek against the top of your head, nuzzling his face into your hair. “Mm… I'm very good at feeling sorry for myself.”

You couldn't help a small, teary giggle at that. “I think today is a good day to send everyone else out for supplies. We both need a chance to recoup after last night.” Still making plans for the day, despite all this. Gods he was so glad you had been made the de facto leader. He would've hated it. It was made ever sweeter that you let him attach himself to your hip.

Then he had to go and fall in love, didn't he? It didn't matter that you tried to kill him. Or that whatever it was that had tried to could wrest control from you again at any time. That wasn't you any more than he was Cazador.

You were the person in his arms right now, quietly rattling off a list of supplies the camp needed and who should find them and where. You were so smart, so thoughtful, so kind. He couldn't stand it.

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair, interrupting whatever you were talking about with the smallest gasp.

You stilled in his grip for just a second before you pulled back, just far enough to look at him and not an inch further. “I love you.” Your voice breathless and soft. “So much.”

He pulled you in, closing the small gap between your lips. He had to kiss you and you had no objections. It was warm and soft and perfect. It was almost overwhelming.

He loved you. And you loved him. Now you both said it, it was out there. It felt like a weight lifted off his chest. This ever quiet voice that whispered that you were only using him finally stamped out with just a few soft words.

“I love you.” He whispered again, against your lips. He should've been saying it this whole time. He meant it with his whole heart. No one had ever cared for him the way you have. No one ever captured his cold, fragile heart in their delicate, warm embrace.

“I love you.” You repeated, just as desperate. You had no idea who you were, what you were doing, or what in the hells you were going to do next. You yearned to spill blood endlessly and yet this clever, funny, gorgeous man trusted you enough to love you. Maybe he was a fool but so were you.

I love you. I love you. I love you. The words filled the quiet dawn in between breathless kisses. Said over and over as though they would be forgotten the instant after spoken.

You could've stayed like that for hours. Perhaps you did, you would have no real way of knowing. But time marched ever onwards, your serene moment slipping into the past as the sound of your companions waking cut through the gossamer thin world the two of you had woven.

“Perhaps…” Astarion was the first to speak, though his lips never left yours as he stole more kisses between his words. “Perhaps we should stop.”

With a deep sigh of resignation, you bore the burden of breaking the kiss. Admittedly, seeing the look of adoration in your darling's ruby red eyes was enough consolation to ease the pain. Besides, “We'll have plenty more time once everyone leaves for the day.”

[luveline]

how about a little blurb about roan asking reader to straighten her hair and eddie is devastated because someone said something mean to roan about her hair so reader does the dressing gown curls and comes down to the kitchen table for breakfast with hair like roans? 😭

cw this blurb might imply that the reader doesn't have curly hair but hopefully it is ambiguous, like maybe r has a different curl pattern

"What are you doing?" Eddie whispers, face smushed into a pillow. You must've woken him fidgeting with your last pin. 

He went to bed early with a headache. You think that it might've been because of the afternoon's events. Poor Ro was being teased at school again for her lovely hair, and Eddie can't stand it, but worse was the face he made when Roan asked if you could straighten it out. 

That was not cool. Far from Roan's fault, of course, and gutting. 

"Nothing," you whisper, hoping you can tide him back to sleep with some affection, "gimme two seconds, angel, I'm just moisturising." 

You're lying. You pin the last rag in place and turn off the light by the mirror before he can investigate the authenticity of what you'd claimed, sliding into bed behind him to hold his waist and press your face to his hot shoulder. He relaxes into your touch. You're not sure who nods off first. 

In the morning, he seems to have benefited from being the little spoon; he's singing downstairs while Roan giggles, his mood lightened, his voice high-pitched as he soars up to an octave you didn't know he could reach. You set about pulling the pins and rags from your hair, and brush the resulting curls out very gently. You look pretty, because you look exactly like Roan does after she gets her hair done properly, your hair in curls that are nearly ringlet in form, winding loose toward the scalp and tighter at the ends.

You get dressed for work and make your way downstairs. 

"How much toast? One or two?" Eddie's asking. 

"I want two, please," Roan says, leaning back in her chair, the pillows slipping beneath her. 

Eddie obeys her asking and pops the toaster down with two pieces of bread, and then he turns to you and the easy smile on his face stutters. "Oh." 

"Do you like it?" you ask, bringing your hands to your chest with pride, elbows out as you turn one way and the other. "Aren't they pretty?" 

"You look beautiful," he agrees immediately, the impulse of a man who's about to get married saying what his future wife tells him to, but then softer is his genuine agreement, "you look really, really stellar. Doesn't she, Ro?" 

Roan wraps her arms around the back of her chair, cheek squished to the side. "Your hair is like mine." 

"You're lucky," you say, pulling one of the curls behind your ear. You do feel pretty. "It took me ages last night to get it ready and put all of the pins in my hair, but you wake up with your beautiful hair like that every day." 

Roan's voice is chest-achingly hopeful, "You think so?" 

"I love it."

You twist one way and another to drive the message home for her. Eddie scratches a thin layer of butter and strawberry jelly over Roan's toast and puts it in front of her, a quarter piece miraculously missing. 

She squints at him. 

"You have such nice hair," he says eventually through a full mouth. 

You lean over the back of her chair to kiss her cheek and swipe your own quarter piece of toast. "He's right, even if he has no manners."

She giggles and makes herself a little toast sandwich. Her fingers and eyes stay focused on the task at hand, but she says, "Thanks, mommy," quietly and sweetly. 

"You're welcome, my little toast monster. How did you eat that much already? You're impressive." 

Eddie sidles up to give you a grateful hug from the side, his hands joining over your shoulder as he encourages your face toward his. You lean away from his smacking strawberry scented kiss, but you cover his hands so he can't leave too quickly afterwards.

—

eddie, roan and reader drabbles

[slackerlifewhere]

random thought #4: no romance

I appreciate that the author doesn't add a romantic subplot for her characters just because they're of the opposite sex.

Like Cage and Taylor who, if this is a tv show, would've immediately been tagged as a couple even if they're just good friends. They're the best of friends who really care deeply for each other and right from the start, I never saw their bond as a romantic one. It's special since they understand each other so well because of their burdens and similar sense of humor. Like imagine how devastated Cage must've been in TBoaH. It must've been like losing a part of herself, her other half.

Yeah, I can see the idea that they can be a couple but it's so nice to see that the author just focuses on their friendship throughout the first part of TCF instead.

Then there's that time when Cale had Rosalyn and Choi Han help out Lock.

Cale clapped once, before pointing at Choi Han and Rosalyn.

“That is why we will pretend that you are the mother and father, or, if you do not like that scenario, then you shall be the older brother and older sister. You two will need to figure out how to protect him.”

- Chapter 30: You

I love the fact that Cale just gives them options to choose from so they can feel comfortable with each other. Especially since he knows they literally just met a few days ago. I also think that they just give off sibling vibes. Like Rosalyn and Choi Han never gave off anything else but friendship or family vibes and it's just so nice to see it happen.

I don't hate romance, okay? I actually love them. That is, when I look for that specific genre. If I'm not looking for it and it's there, I usually feel annoyed. Sometimes, it's not tagged but it still happens in the story.

I just find it exhausting at times when novels or tv shows push for romance when there's no need or reason for it. Especially the love at first sight trope. That one just aggravates me.

Like they can explore how close two characters are without putting a romantic context to it. In fact, the "romance" that we get in TCF are mostly from Deruth and Violan and from Deruth and Jour. It can't be said it's romance either since the focus on them is about the whole family instead. Other characters never show any sign of being in love with someone either.

And I also love the fact that Cale, the main character, doesn't have a romantic relationship throughout the whole first book. He has no time for one since he's in the middle of a war, he's focused on protecting his friends and family, and he's busy fighting some crazy bastards. He never looked at another person and thought he was in love.

If Yoo Ryeo Han ever adds romance later on, ✨I still hope she doesn't✨, it's easier to accept since I know these characters are close to each other. They've been together since the beginning. They bonded and experienced a lot of good and bad things together. Although it'll be weird to me...

[On an unrelated note: If this whole post looks weird, it's because I haven't slept yet]

[perfectfangirl]

on the topic of possessiveness [from cooper, towards lucy], i suppose i'd have to reference how he acted prewar. that's the best foundation to me about it because though he's changed a great deal in a lot of ways, his expression of love seems to be somewhat unchanged and let me explain that idk--- nothing about cooper's behaviour towards barb seems out of the ordinary or even "possessive" to me with regards to his love and expressions their of. at least anything that was presented prewar and to me. he wasn't upset about her having male coworkers, he wasn't upset at those male coworkers getting their dry cleaning, he wasn't upset she often brought work home with her and received work calls at home. this all seems like reasonable stuff, even perhaps bare minimum. now as for some other things... he let her have house parties without his consent or knowledge, he got roped into endorsements for companies he was unfortunately defending the ideals of. he'd get into arguments with her and backed down pretty quickly even if it seemed like he was making more sense than her or was probably even right. going as far as to say cooper is a doormat is not what i want to imply here. but i do think his love was kind of total, absolute... if not blind. he did almost anything she asked. so that betrayal must've been devastating realizing how entangled his life became trying to disentangle from someone who you come to find to be terrible. i saw nothing but love and respect in cooper's interactions with barb. if i read anything as "possessive", i'd wager it's when he'd be respectfully ignoring his bosses or her coworkers about work and would flirt with/stare at his wife while she/they was at work. or when he'd ask if she just had to work at vault tec and be around those type of guys she was around, who irritated and actually literally bothered cooper. i would not conventionally label these times as possessive because to me, cooper was just being a wife guy and was also annoyed with some corporate fanboys. he just seemed like he liked spending time with his family and wanted to spend time with his family, it was important to him, he liked being at home with his wife, chillin'. so then, on one hand, i am of the opinion he's closed that well off pretty good and it would take a lot of prying to open that back up again. so possession would probably not be on his mind, far from it. cooper would sooner try to not have any feelings at all, would prefer to chem them away than admit he's anywhere near in love, let alone possessive. but on the other other hand--- he's been alive for two hundred fifty years. wandering the wasteland. sometimes buried in the ground. with all ten fingers of his intact. he just took off his gloves for this vault girl to bite one of them off. then sews her finger onto his hand. he's uh going through some stuff, yeah dgdkfgk. he probably hasn't encountered an actual morally good person in centuries, he use to admire and love barb for her goodness and i suspect also for her will, intelligence, and independence. something lucy also strongly has. with what i have seen, the only thing i'd say i suspect cooper would be possessive of is her goodness. noble in one extreme, toxic in another. putting himself in harm's way, protecting her, ironically being the voice of reason and morality in a tough situation... just so she can stay "clean" and "good". now that's the possessive i could see. after she saved him, i could imagine he'd literally never want her to get her hands too "dirty" ever again.

[seonne]

Calm after the storm

Very not proofread lols

Silence.

A bone chilling, crushing, heavy silence.

It stretches its claws like sharp tendrils, pricking at his lungs as he tried to breathe. Clammy hands searched the ice cold floor in the dark, grabbing onto anything and everything that isn't a smooth wall.

Until he found a hand.

Gripping it, he grunted as he pulled himself upright. The shallow breaths through his broken nose didn't help slow his pants as he tugged at the hand in the darkness.

A whine should be heard. A hiss should be choked out. But instead, he heard silence.

Dynamight is a man of little to no fears. He's a hero, after all. Number two at that. But the one thing that shakes him to the core is the calm not before, but after the storm.

Specifically, the still calm after a horrible storm.

It's these moments of calm when the devastation truly sinks in, exhaustion not yet settling with the adrenaline still buzzing in his veins.

It's these moments of feeling the loss that he hates.

He groaned in pain as he flexed his injured leg. His hand reached down the mystery hand to grab onto their arm and pull them up onto him.

Who is it? He's not sure.

But whoever it is should not be this still.

"Wake up, damn it..."

He jabbed two fingers near their wrist, feeling around for a pulse. When he really concentrated, a soft thumping brushed against his fingers.

"Hey... hey dumbass. Come on, wake the hell up..."

Nothing.

The radio machine attached to his shoulder straps stopped working after the super sonic wave attack that debauched villain made. His last message was to call for backup, so at least he knew that someone was on their way.

He felt around in his pocket, checking for his emergency light when the person against him groaned softly.

Feeble, weak.

Definitely not on their deathbed.

Cursing at his injured leg for hurting him so much, Pro Hero Dynamight hauled the person into his arms and got up on shaky legs. Feeling around for a wall with his freer hand, he let the wall guide him along towards wherever the hell the exit was. More curses strewn against the cave's walls echoed back to him as he occasionally kept an ear out for any other movements or noises from the person over his shoulder.

Crimson liquid dripped down his eyebrow, falling heavily on his eyelash, making him wipe it on his glove before moving his hand back to the wall. Red streaks glistened along the cave walls. Not that he could see them anyway.

Seconds turned to minutes. Minutes turned to hours. Dynamight was willing to bet his injured leg that he's been stuck in this cave for about half a day now.

Excruciating minute after minute, he started feeling like he was in one of those pathetic survival stories. Those stories of people falling down a cave or a manhole and having to be rescued afterwards. But he wasn't like them, no. He's gonna find his own way out, even if he had to lug along this idiot who got caught by that dumbass villain. Chest heaving, determination filled his eyes as he kept walking with his hand along the wall.

Hours must've turned to days, leaving no hope for him to find a safe exit. Then came the doubts: "What if I'm going the wrong way?" "What if I'm going deeper in?" "What if I'm hours away from home?" "What if I've come in so far that backup can't reach me?" "What if-"

No. He had to stop. He wasn't alone in this, he's carrying a nitwit on his shoulder. It probably hasn't been days, this person would've woken up by then. But if it has been days, then...

Suddenly, a flash of something caught his eye. He squinted, having not seen much for so long that he couldn't register if he was actually seeing something. But, sure enough, in the distance he saw a spot of light. A sigh of relief escaped him when he saw the spot grow bigger with more the distance that he covered.

"Fucking finally... About time-"

"Pro Hero Dynamight! Dynamight, sir! Can you hear us? Are you here?"

He scoffed out a laugh as he heard the panicked voices of his sidekicks.

"Oi! Yeah, I can hear ya."

More sighs, exasperated ones and ones of relief. As he approached the mouth of the cave, his eyes registered the numerous faces standing before him, hands extended to take the unconscious person off his shoulders and towards the paramedics. Their faces scrunched in pity and worry as they rushed the person to the ambulance.

Dynamight sighed heavily as he sat down on one of the makeshift chairs he was provided and unscrewed the water bottle his sidekick gave him.

"Finally... I thought I'd never get out of there. My wife would've been so upset if I died disgracefully in a rotten cave. Can't wait to fucking go home already..."

The sidekicks exchanged worried glances at each other which the Pro Hero promptly noted.

"What? Did she call or something?"

From a distance, the panicked voices of the paramedics could be heard.

"She's flatlining!" "Quick! Get the defribillator!" "It's not working, we're losing her!"

Dynamight turned his head towards the panic in shock.

"Shit, is the person dying? I knew there was something wrong with them... Let me go check-"

"No sir! I-I mean you should probably stay here, one of us will look over them!"

His sidekick chuckled nervously and slipped towards the chaos, another one of his sidekicks sitting beside him instead. He cocked a blonde brow at the nervous sidekick but sighed and turned his face, hoping for the best for the person he rescued.

"Did my wife call or anything when I didn't get home on time?"

The rookie cleared his throat as he squirmed beside him. Dynamight frowned, frustrated but unsurprised.

"Well? Just open your mouth and speak up! Did she?"

The sidekick shied away from the piercing red gaze of his superior as said superior's patience ticked like a clock.

Just as he was about to explode, a paramedic approached him with a solemn look. He lowered his head towards Dynamight.

"I am so sorry for your loss. We tried everything but... they didn't make it."

Dynamight's face fell as a hollowness filled his chest.

Ah.

So the person he saved didn't make it.

He nodded at the medic before standing up.

"Can I see them?"

The paramedic nodded before guiding him towards the ambulance. Medics were running to and fro around the ambulance, but as he approached them, they all halted to stare at him for a while. Paying no mind to the unwarranted attention, he jogged slightly towards the ambulance and let the doctor guide him inside.

The moment he saw the face of the person, time stopped. The world stopped spinning and everything went zipping past his ringing ears, his eyes welling with blood and sweat. His broken nose healed for a moment's fresh air before bearing the pain of the broken bone all over again and his lungs stopped pricking as he stopped breathing.

The air felt stale, the silence from earlier falling over him again, but this time, broken by the sorrowful voice of a female doctor.

"Y/n Bakugou. Time of death, 23:11."

Phewwww I don't know what came over me. I guess exam season brings out the best in me.

[godihatethiswebsite]

Mourning Doves

✽Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x f!reader

Johnny provides you with some comfort after your favorite hockey team loses

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

This is a little drabble I wrote for me and @ohbo-ohno after we both suffered grievous losses in the Stanley Cup playoffs tonight. I know we're supposed to be in mourning, but the brain bunnies demanded comfort so I stayed up late and wrote it myself ❤️

Also I'm biased so it's our favorite Scotsman

"I'm going to die."

"Yer not goin' tae die."

"Bury me in the garden underneath the willow tree."

"Ye havnae gone there since ya ran into that spiderweb last summer."

"The spider can have my carcass."

"Now yer jus' being a numpty."

Your face was still buried in the pillow from where you put it fifteen minutes ago, the rest of your body sprawled out on your stomach with your right arm and leg dangling off the couch like a limp ragdoll. He'd returned home to find you like this after a late night spent with the team, expecting to find you asleep by the time he got home from the bar since it was now well after midnight. Instead, he's greeted with the sight of your theatrics to having watched your favorite hockey team - the Denver Brown Bears - defeated in double overtime by the Austin Tigers.

Johnny located the remote you must've tossed in your grief and turned the TV off, setting it on the coffee table before kneeling down next to your form, running his knuckles up and down your hanging limb. "There now, hen. Dunnae fret. Ye'll get 'em next year, ah'm sure of it."

Turning your head to the side, he finally got to see the sunken expression marring your beautiful face; bloodshot eyes overflowing with tears, face flushed and splotchy from crying. You'd tried to put on a brave facade with your earlier banter, but it was obvious now that you were struggling. This was more than just a minor upset - his girl was genuinely hurting.

His brows furrowed and heart dropped in his chest to see you so devastated. He knew how much this had meant to you, the unbridled joy and excitement he'd seen you display the past few weeks as your team made it into the playoffs had only endeared him to you even more. Oh sure, he'd ribbed you for it playfully whenever he saw you curled up in the living room wearing the Bears goalie's jersey animatedly cheering on your team and throwing popcorn at a bad call, but truthfully he'd loved getting to see you so spirited, especially knowing the rough patch you'd been going through lately. Hockey had been a good distraction and it was a shame the season had to end like this for you.

He brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, damped by the moisture and sticking to your skin before moving it back behind your ear. The quiet broken whimper as he touched your cheek had him reacting on instinct, rolling you onto your side so that he could lift you up into his arms, cradling you to his chest as your hand fisted his shirt like a child would seeking comfort. What tears had slowed over time began anew now that you had him here, needing his steadiness and warmth to ground you from the onslaught of emotions pulling you down below the waves. He kept his voice soft and tone reassuring, letting you seek solace in his familiar embrace.

"Shhhh... s'alright, mo chridhe. Ah'm here. Ah've got ye..."

Carrying you down the hall, he carefully toed the bedroom door open, slipping inside the darkened room before closing it behind him with his heel. He stepped over the wrinkled clothes on the floor as he made his way over to the bed, never stopping his comforting noises as you continued to hiccup out tears, ruining his shirt with wetness from where your face stayed pressed against his collarbone.

Johnny perched himself on the edge of the bed, settling you more comfortably in his lap as the arm that had been tucked under your knees moved to rub circles into your back. He let you get all your emotions out, content to just hold you safe until the worst of it had passed. It tore at his insides to see you so depressed, wishing it was a problem he could get his hands on instead of feeling so useless for you. He'd never been very good at sitting idly by, the beast under his skin itching for a fight he could walk away bloodied from. If it wasn't for the baser need to be here for you, there's a good chance he'd be on his phone right now trying to convince the lads to take a day trip down to Austin with him for some retribution for making his girl weep.

But no. Putting his fists into an entire hockey team wouldn't change the outcome of tonight. Johnny knew you simply had to let time take it's course and eventually make it easier for you to move on past your grief.

Once your cries had quieted and tears lessened, he'd gently maneuvered you off his lap and onto the mattress, pressing a firm kiss to the crown of your head before walking over to the dresser and rooting around for something more comfortable to wear. He ignored the quiet sniffles behind him as he worked quickly to rid himself of his clothes, changing into a pair of sweats and an old army shirt before joining you back by the bed. You let him tug the Bears jersey up over your head, keeping your arms raised as he replaced it with one of his soft shirts you often loved to steal from him, dragging your pants off your legs before pulling back the comforter and motioning you to climb in.

Once you got situated in your spot, Johnny curled up right next to you and pulled you back into his hold, head resting on his chest as your limbs tangled together under the sheets. He made sure you were tucked in all nice and snuggly, heart fluttering at the familiar sensation of you nuzzling your face into him and breathing in his scent. You were still upset at the loss, but it was easier to deal with wrapped up in your lover's arms.

There weren't many problems that being with Johnny couldn't fix; he was your pillar, your rock, the one thing in this world that could find you in the darkest of depths and drag you from it's clutches up towards the surface. He radiated pure light in a way that even after all this time together still left you in total awe. He liked to say he wasn't a good man - that you deserved someone made of softer materials with less blood on their hands - but he didn't understand it no matter how hard you tried to explain.

You didn't need soft. You needed someone made of iron and shattered teeth that could fight back your inner demons. Someone with scarred knuckles and split lips who knew how to mend the tattered edges of your soul because they already had the experience stitching themselves back together with needle and thread.

So on nights like tonight when you couldn't fight your own battles...

"I really wanted them to win..."

"Ah ken, love. Ah ken. But jus' think how hard they fought fer ye. Dinnae go down easy that's fer damn sure. Be proud of yer boys, love. It's cuz of bonny lasses like yerself that they had the support and strength to get as far as they did. They'll come back swingin' - and when they do, they'll naught ask fer a better fan cheerin' them on."

...you knew you had someone right there beside you to throw the first punch and shield your body with his own.

And if you ever asked him to, he'd glady show those Tigers what happens when they encounter a pack of wolves