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nemesyaaa · 3 months ago

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a house in nebraska ! rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary ; you were the reason he won't come home but you still call home. this story is based on the song of ethel cain.

warnings : it's angst. fully angst. it's about toxic relationship. so violence, arguing and fighting, sick behavior, daddy and mommy issues, the urge of love and being loved, mentions of drugs, the feeling of being misunderstood and unsteady. home is used as a metaphor of relationship. it's about inner rage too. slight of smut but very little. both rafe and reader being fucked up. southern goth/small town coded.

author's note : it's my first time writing angst so be easy one me please ! as i said, it's based on " a house in nebraska" by ethel cain (because she's my favorite artist and my muse.) and a lot of her songs make me think of rafe, but i also take inspo of her others songs like crush, strangers, and hard times. also a hint of bet on losing dogs by mitski.

i dont know how many words are in this works, but i think around 3k ? it's a one-shot ! BETTER TO READ IT WHILE LISTENING TO A SAD SONG. (a house in nebraska (live version)or anything else)

you lived in the nebraska with rafe, he was your man and you were his girl. it was a small town that allowed you to be just him and you against the world, to be safe from the rest. but the ugly truth was that your house had become a raging mess. the mattresses had become dirty, the silence too comfortable, the night too long, the emptiness too deep, the love too absent and the violence too present. everyone was angry here, even demons and the silence.

rafe was a storm, and every time you tried to calm it, you became further worse. no, you weren't becoming like him, you were becoming him, the mirror of his emotions, full of rage and inexpressible feelings. like a bomb, you needed it to come out, to scream and explode. like a bomb, you needed to hurt, and destroy everything in your way.

you had built this house together, when he still worked with his hands, oh god, how much you loved those big and strong hands, the dirt and bruises on his skin. the softness of his palms when he touched you, the pulsating veins engraved. they were made to love you, to caging you. they were always rushed with blood and wounds because of his work, but despite how dirty they were when he came home, they were always pure and clean on your body. but you also were so in love with his messy sweaty hair, caressing by the wind. he was tall and handsome, the kind of man who worked all day, and drunk at night, some whiskey or bourbon. but never missed to please the needs of his girl.

when he smoked his red marlboros on the porch, you were sitting on his lap like a sleepy girl to take a nap on his heavy arms that managed to hug your body. when he took a sip of his cold beer, while you had nothing to do but being his own pretty girl. when he allowed you to bathe him, cleaning the mess and the sweat. when you used to learn him how to play some classic music on the old piano, and he was just turned on by the way you used so damn well your fingers, and making you sit on the board, and fuck you right there, even if the windows were wide open.

at this time, you would have die for him.

when he still listened to what you said, when he still answered your calls and did not make you sick by his silence, when you laughed every time he came home . but now you were starting to hate the fact that he was coming.

how did the man who was supposed to make you so happy manage to break you so easily? but you weren't an angel either, oh far from it, you had neither wings nor halo on your head, you didn't even have god in your heart. you made him, like all men, your enemy.

it was four in the morning, it was still dark, you were waiting in the living room.

the tv wasn't on. rafe had broken it during an argument. that wasn’t the only thing he shattered, you had to be the hardest thing he does. not even with his fists, with just the force of his words, the way they were murderous, the way they had the force to tear your heart open and crushed it into pieces.

most people would say that this man was not the type to cry, that a man doesn't cry, but rafe cried. and you had seen him a couple of times, and the first time you saw him burst into tears, you knew straight away that it was the real him. that behind all this hatred, this anger, there was a hurted little boy. and who grew up with an open wound, a wound impossible to heal, even with all the love in the world.

rafe was the kind of man who screamed, who cried, who bled, a fallen angel who had lost god along the way, who had been ignored, but mostly, never heard.

when he opened the door to the house, you hated the strong smell of alcohol, but also of blood. you never asked him for anything, the only thing you wanted was for him to come home on time for dinner, to go to bed with you. but no one, absolutely, no one tamed a dog like him. and you rathered not bet on losing dogs.

“where were you ?? ” you had already started shouting due to lack of patience, getting up from the chair to confront him.

you had seen him sigh, making that bored face, like you had no reason to be upset, that face that made all women become even worse.

“if you had the same energy to scream when we fuck, we would have a fantastic sex life.”

“seriously, rafe? you want to play the asshole, right now ? ”

“ it will suit your bitch behavior, so why not ?”

you slapped him very hard in the face. what obviously rafe didn't find this very amusing, he crushed you in the wall, pinned your hands above your head.

“ don't you dare slapping me again. you want to be mean, sweetheart ? i can be meaner. let's see....oh this is the necklace that your mom offered to you before leaving ? how sweet. maybe, i can sell it for a good price. ”

“ rafe. don't. ”

he shushed you, by putting his other hand on your mouth. “ you're not allowed to talk right now. you had your turn for, now, it's my fucking turn. and i will do whatever the fuck i want ! it's my house, my rules. ”

he unhooked the necklace, as you tried to break away from his grip but he closed his fingers tighter against your wrists.

“I'm going to kill you, no matter what you do, i'm going to kill you. ”

“murder me” he said with a louder voice. “i’m asking you to murder me! it’s probably the only good thing you’ll have done well in your life. you know even if i die tonight, i will die yours. even if you kill me, i will always be here.”

he released you, and you exploded. “you have exceeded the limits, rafe! ”

” since when are there boundaries between us, sugar? we're freaks, remember? ”

you threw away the first object you found, it was an empty coffee cup. you threw it at his face. but he had dodged it with a sick smile. your jaw clenched, eyes blazing with fury, you were out of control. you were what he wanted you to be every time he came home late

” oh you can do better than that baby. i'm sure i taught you how to shoot better than this when i showed you how to kill? do you remember? ”

“ this, this fucking attitude, rafe is why everybody leaves you ! ”

“ yes. and do i fucking care, y/n ? do i fucking care ? i grew up in a family where nobody loved me, nobody reached after me, nobody looked after me, nobody dared to pay attention to me and you tell me i have to care about everyone leaving me ? no, it's not fucking fair ! so do you understand ? i don't care. if you want to leave, you know better than me that the door is open because you're the only one to be stucking in front, waiting like a fucking dog that i come come. ”

“ fine. i leave ! ”

you took the keys of the car, even if rafe hated that you drove, especially at midnight. but you were too upset, too mad.

your man wasn't done with you. he stood in front of the car you were driving.

“if you think i'm afraid of killing you, when you were the one who taught me how to do that, you're wrong. ”

" yes ? then show me how well i did my job. kill me. ”

“ rafe, i’m not kidding. ”

“ perfect, we are both serious then. ”

you moved the car forward, pressing the pedal with your feet. you hitted him with the car. it was strong but not violent either.

you got out of the car quickly to check on him. but he was smiling, a little blood on his face.

“are you sick!? ”

“ i raised you well, i fear. now, lick this face. i can see in your eyes how pretty you find me covered with blood, so please yourself, lick it all. ”

“ wait, i will find some tis….”

“ no, with your tongue. clean my whole face with your tongue. don't waste anything. i want to be able to kiss you right after, and recognize the taste of my blood all over your mouth. you want to be sick ? make me feel sick too. ”

maybe you were too young to realize that some loves could be bad. but this relationship was toxic. you had both destroyed each other, and it was complicated when you saw this world, this universe only through your union. you felt like you had lost a lot, like you had lost everything, like you had failed. maybe, you were the failure, and rafe, the problem. but also, maybe, he was the failure and you, the problem.

and you hated not knowing what was going on in rafe's head, you hated that no one on this earth could figure it out, and that even rafe himself didn't know it. he was crazy, he was sick but that wasn't all, it couldn't be just that.

you gave up the fight, going to the bathroom to take a bath. you needed some peace because the house didn't feel like a home anymore.

sometimes wheezie would call you to see if you were okay, she had grown up, and you lied to her all the time. because it hurt so much to be two in a relationship, but not feel like you were a part of it anymore. and the worst part of it all was that you could kill yourself for just one minute of affection, just one second of happiness, just one moment in the past when everything was okay. where rafe was still the sweet little boy you knew. but the stories were not meant to have a happy ending.

it was hard this feeling, this lack when he still lived with you in this terrible house. but one day you'll be the reason he won't come home again. but you would always call home. you promised yourself. because it would always be yours.

rafe had joined you in the bathtub. and you could tell by his red and empty eyes, his blank stare that he had been crying. he cried and he was not the drugs, he was you, only you.

and you didn't mention it. you didn't say anything. you preferred to stay smart and not start another fight.

“the walls could break down with so much screams. ” you said, laughing slightly.

“maybe we should sell the house. ”

“i like this house. i feel at home here. i have nowhere to go. ” you lied for the two first, but not for the last.

and it was true. you had built everything, paved everything here. you had remade a world. you couldn't leave, you couldn't leave anything. and above all, you were too tired to leave.

it would be a lie to say that you didn't had sex in the bathtub, that you didn't feel his tears on your shoulder, that you didn't feel his thrusts get harder each time a sob broke out his empty eyes, that you didn't feel how much he was breaking every time you took pleasure. because, it was hard for him to seeing you being happy. because it was so hard to take care of you. because it was so hard to feel loved and being loved. you were both too young, too stupid, too sick for love.

and rafe wanted to make you happy without sex, without all this selfish sex. no, he wanted to make you happy by some casual things. but sometimes, you pissed him off so bad to the point, he wanted to leave. but how can a man who hoped to be loved can leave the woman who promised to cherish him ? it was too tired, too angry, and too unsteady to leave. you broke him too. and it was sad for him, because you were the only one he was not scared to tell it hurts.

but at six in the morning you were fighting again as if it were a ritual, a need, a desire to destroy each other, as if sometimes love needed to be violent and destructive to work. actually, for freaks like you, surely.

“why did you throw my fucking drugs down the toilet?! ”

“because you don’t need that!” ”

“you don’t know what i need, you barely know what i want! you had no fucking right to do that. ”

“ don't be a crybaby ! ”

“ repeat. i dare you to repeat. ”

“crybaby! you're a fucking crybaby, rafe! your new personality changes nothing about the boy you were and will always be! what, you don't like the truth ? bad for you, i'm about to tell you what everyone doesn't want to tell you. because i'm not scared at all of you ! you're a fucking crybaby ! ”

“ but you're still here, you're still fucking here. because you know what ? i'm maybe a crybaby, but i'm a river worth wading. and this is why, you're standing in front of me with all this confidence. you wanted a broken man, you wanted someone to fix ? then come on baby, i'm here, i'm watching you, i'm listening, i'm literally at your feets, fix me ! fix the little boy you wanted, make him better. ”

“ rafe…”

“no, i'm asking you now who do you think you are? do you think that because you have this attitude, it doesn't make you a little girl who needs her daddy? because damn, yes, you need him. but i fear daddy was the only one who didn't need you because guess what ? he left. and you make all the men leave around you ! but the difference between us is that you care. when i fucking dont care.”

“ you're sick, a sick asshole. and don't touch me ! ” you pushed him away, but he came back, his hand on your throat. “ but you're the sick one who loves me, remember that ?” he answered.

“ but do you think i still love you ? ” you said with a smirk, taking pleasure to see his widen eyes. “ i'm asking you right now, do you think i still love you, and if one day, someone will like you like i do ? it would be so hard for you to find happiness after me, i can promise you this. you will fight a lot. because ? can you see ? can you see i can breathe without you, i can live without you ? but you, can you do this ? yes, you can fight, you can scream and shout but what else ? ”

“ it doesn't hurt, y/n. it doesn't hurt. and you can't break me, as you can't fix me. ”

“ then why are you crying, big boy ? why are those tears for, if not for me ? ”

“ i built a home for you, i did everything for you. ”

“ and then what ? ”

“ don't make me regret it, y/n. don't make me regret the only good thing i've made well in my life, just don't make me regret...this. you don't understand. why did every house i'm in never felt like home ? ”

“ you destroy everything, rafe. but me too, i guess. the difference is that you have an excuse, a reason for being like that. your dad fucked up with you. and i hate him for that. if he had loved you correctly, you would have known and learned how to love people, how to be attached to them. but you don't know any of that, you don't know what it is to love, and to be loved. everything i do for you, you could call it love, even when i'm mean. but it's false, love is tender, it's beautiful. but you know, i think i'm sick because i also like the way you love me, this violence, this rage, this impulsiveness, it drives me crazy but it makes me alive. so, do you think you could do it again? ”

“ why you didn't leave, why you never leave ? ”

“ because it's our house. we're stuck in forever. this is our house in nebraska, our only heaven. now be a good boy and cry a little for me, i think i'm going away a little...” you said, taking him in your arms, your hand placed on his back, and your hand pressed to his cheek. “don’t worry, i cry a lot too. all the time, even when you make me happy. ” you shushed him, bursted in tears in the hug.

you kissed him on the corner of his lips, your mouth meeting his tears, before he joined you in this kiss, you felt his sad and salty tongue against yours, his hands came squeeze your waist.

but now in the present, you were alone. the house still existed but it was just you.

you weren't sleeping anymore, because you kept hoping that he would come home, you were hoping that he would come home late at night.

but you were alone in a dirty and cold mattress. and you prayed for him hoping he was okay. the phone was broken but you were hoping to hear it ring, the door was open and you were waiting for a sign.

nothing was right, everything was wrong. you just wanted to say to rafe that he had you, that he had a house, and his home missed him, like nobody ever does in his life.

you didn't realize that you had been lying all this time, and that you were silently dying. but at least you died, only his.

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dee-writes-angst · 2 months ago

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Endless, Soulshattering Quiet (Eris Week Day Five)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x Tamlin Sister!Reader

SUMMARY What else are you expected to do when you lose your mate, the one person who kept you tethered and alive? Not try everything in your power to bring him back? Yeah right.

CONTENT WARNINGS angst, death, grief, graphic descriptions of pain, death, and wounds, sadness, loss, broken mating bonds, smut, war, tamlin being a good brother?, the holy trinity (angst, smut, fluff babies)

AUTHORS NOTE happy day five @erisweekofficial!!! I had the be the one person to serve some death content, did you really expect me not to with prompts like war and adventure? I promise that while I will rip your hearts out with soul-destroying angst, I will also make your legs cry with some yummy smut at the end ;)

The air was thick with smoke, a haze of ash and blood lingering over the battlefield as the war raged on. You stood at the edge of it all, your heart pounding in your chest, hands trembling.

Eris had always been a beacon of strength and resilience, but as you watched the battle unfold, a cold dread crept over you. You’d always known the risks, the dangers of loving someone so involved in war, but nothing could have prepared you for the sickening feeling that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness.

He was out there.

Your mate was out there, somewhere in the fray, and every second that passed without seeing his familiar auburn hair or hearing his sharp, commanding voice felt like an eternity.

The war with Hybern had taken its toll on everyone. The Spring Court was crumbling under the weight of its losses, and yet you, Tamlin’s sister, had found solace in the most unlikely place—in Eris Vanserra. His love had been fierce, all-consuming, a fire that burned away your fears and melted the ice that had built up around your heart.

And now, that fire was out there, on the front lines, fighting for his life.

You were pacing the edges of the war camp, wringing your hands as you scanned the horizon for any sign of him. The hours dragged on, each one heavier than the last, and with each passing moment, the knot in your stomach tightened.

“Please,” you whispered, barely able to hear yourself over the chaos. “Please come back to me.”

And then, as if the gods themselves had heard your prayer, you saw him. His tall frame emerged from the smoke, his armor glinting under the pale sun as he moved through the wreckage. Your heart leapt into your throat as relief surged through your veins. He was alive.

You ran toward him, desperate to reach him, to feel his arms around you, to know that everything would be alright.

But before you could get to him, you saw it.

An arrow, dark and gleaming, soared through the air. It moved in slow motion, cutting through the fog of war with terrifying precision.

“Eris!” you screamed, your voice breaking as the arrow struck.

It hit him square in the chest.

He staggered back, his hand flying to the shaft lodged between his ribs. You could see the shock in his eyes as he looked down at the wound, his fingers stained with blood.

“No,” you breathed, your legs moving before your mind could catch up. “No, no, no.”

You sprinted toward him, your heart in your throat, the world around you fading into nothing but him. The noise of the battlefield was a distant hum, drowned out by the sound of your pulse thundering in your ears.

Eris fell to his knees, his body swaying as he struggled to stay upright. You caught him just as he collapsed, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, pulling him into your lap.

“Eris, please,” you begged, your voice trembling. “Stay with me. You can’t—” Your words choked off in your throat as you pressed your hand to the wound, blood seeping through your fingers. It was too much, far too much.

He looked up at you, his amber eyes dull with pain, but there was a soft smile on his lips, one that broke your heart into pieces. “You’re here,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, barely more than a breath.

You nodded frantically, tears blurring your vision as you cradled him closer. “I’m here, I’m right here,” you said, your hands trembling as you cupped his face. His skin was already growing cold, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. “You’re going to be okay, Eris. I promise, just stay with me. We’re going to get you out of here.”

But even as you said the words, you knew it was a lie. The wound was fatal. He wouldn’t survive this.

Eris’s hand found yours, his grip weak but steady as he brought your trembling fingers to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. “I love you,” he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours, as if he was trying to memorize every detail of your face in these final moments.

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded, your voice breaking. “You’re not—this isn’t goodbye. You’re going to make it. We’re going to get you home, I swear.”

But Eris only smiled, that soft, heartbreaking smile that shattered what was left of your resolve. “We were going to build a life,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with regret. “I wanted to give you everything.”

Tears streamed down your face, your body shaking as you held him closer, your hands gripping his armor as if you could anchor him to this world. “We still can,” you whispered, desperation clawing at your chest. “We still have time, Eris. Please, don’t leave me.”

His gaze softened, a flicker of sorrow passing through his amber eyes. “I’ll find you,” he promised, his voice barely audible now. “In the next life, I’ll find you. And we’ll have our time.”

You pressed your forehead to his, sobbing openly now as you felt his body growing heavier in your arms. His breaths were slowing, each one more labored than the last.

“Eris,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Please don’t go.”

The moment Eris's body fell limp in your arms, a horrible, soul-crushing realization slammed into you—he was gone.

A scream ripped from your throat, so raw and guttural that it tore through the chaos of the battlefield like a wild animal unleashed. It was the sound of pure agony, of a bond severed far too soon. The world seemed to hold its breath, soldiers pausing in the middle of the fight to glance your way as your voice echoed through the field. It was a sound unlike anything they’d ever heard—a wail that came from the deepest, darkest part of you, as if your very soul had been wrenched from your chest along with him.

The bond—your bond—shattered.

You felt it break as the last flicker of Eris's life faded. The once warm, golden thread that connected your souls was severed, leaving behind nothing but an aching void, so cold and hollow it made you want to scream again, to fill the unbearable silence with anything, anything but the emptiness.

But there was nothing. No warmth, no soft pulse of his love in the back of your mind. Only stillness. Only quiet.

The bond had been your secret—hidden from everyone, even from Tamlin, your own brother. No one knew, not the Vanserras, not your court, not anyone. It had been your decision to protect each other, to keep what was precious hidden from the treacherous eyes of those who would ruin it. But now, now that Eris’s life had been snuffed out like a candle, there was no more hiding.

Your scream—the raw anguish that poured from your lips—told everyone. His soldiers, your brother’s men, they all knew.

Eyes turned toward you, and in that moment, the truth lay bare.

Eris Vanserra and Tamlin’s sister were mates. And now, he was gone.

A stunned hush fell over the battlefield, as if the world itself were mourning his loss, as if the gods had pressed pause on this wretched war just to bear witness to your grief.

You gripped his armor, fingers trembling as you rocked back and forth, refusing to let him go, the pain of the broken bond still coursing through your veins like poison. The silence stretched on, oppressive and suffocating, pressing down on your chest until you could hardly breathe. You had felt that bond, that beautiful, fragile connection, every single day since it had snapped into place. And now…now there was nothing but this dreadful, unending quiet.

As your sobs tore through the battlefield, the silence became too heavy to bear. From the edge of the fray, figures broke away from the lingering chaos, running toward you with a growing sense of urgency.

Tamlin was the first to reach you. His broad frame, usually exuding the power and strength of a High Lord, was trembling as he knelt beside you. "No..." he breathed, his voice barely audible. His green eyes were wide, horrified as they took in the sight of you cradling Eris's lifeless body, the truth settling over him like a crushing weight.

“No,” he whispered again, harsher this time. He reached out, his hand shaking, but he didn’t touch you. He couldn’t. The shock was too great, and his mind was spinning too fast. His gaze flickered from Eris’s bloodied chest to your tear-streaked face, the anguish there too much for him to comprehend.

Lucien arrived moments later, his steps faltering as he neared. The color drained from his face, his usually sharp eyes dulling in an instant as he saw his brother’s body lying in your arms. For a long, breathless moment, he stood frozen, his mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came out. His mind, too, was struggling to catch up, to process what he was seeing.

"Eris?" he rasped, his voice breaking. He dropped to his knees beside you, his shaking hands hovering over his brother’s chest, not daring to touch the body that had already gone cold. "Eris," he whispered again, and this time, it was a plea, a desperate cry to the gods. But the gods were silent.

His amber eyes, wide with disbelief, turned to you, searching for answers, for anything that would make this moment less real. ��You…” he started, his voice thick with emotion. “You—” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. He could see it now, as clear as day. The bond between you and Eris, the love you had kept hidden. He had never known, never suspected.

Behind him, Rhysand approached. His violet eyes, always so calm and calculating, were filled with sorrow as he stepped into the circle of grief. He took in the scene—Tamlin’s horror, Lucien’s devastation, and your broken form holding onto Eris as if you could bring him back by sheer force of will.

Rhys knelt beside Lucien, his voice soft, steady. “He’s gone,” he said, the weight of those words hanging heavy in the air. His gaze flicked between you and the others, understanding dawning on him in the grim silence.

“You were mates,” he said, not as a question but a solemn acknowledgment of the truth no one had seen. His voice was gentle, full of quiet sympathy, but it still cut through the air like a knife.

Tamlin flinched, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. “Mates?” he whispered, his voice cracking with disbelief. His eyes searched yours, his face pale and stricken as the truth settled in. He had never known, never even imagined his sister could be bound to the eldest Vanserra. His breathing became ragged, fury and heartbreak warring within him as his hands clenched into fists.

You couldn’t respond, your throat too tight, your sobs too harsh. All you could do was hold Eris closer, pressing your face into his bloodied armor as if you could somehow protect what little remained of him.

Lucien finally found his voice, but it was hollow, broken. “Why didn’t you tell us?” His question came out as a whisper, the anguish in his tone raw and palpable. He stared at you, as if knowing might have made a difference, as if there was something he could’ve done to stop this.

But there had been nothing anyone could do. The war had taken Eris, and it had shattered you along with him.

Rhys placed a steady hand on Lucien’s shoulder, his own grief hidden behind a mask of calm. “There’s nothing we can do now,” he murmured. “He’s gone.”

The silence that followed was deafening. The bond was severed, and with it, the world felt quieter, darker, as if all the light had been extinguished.

You had kept it hidden, thinking you could protect your love by keeping it secret, by shielding it from the cruelty of the courts and the ugliness of politics. But in the end, it hadn’t been enough. Eris had still been taken from you, and now everyone knew.

And there was nothing left but the unbearable silence where the bond used to be.

After Eris's death, you returned to the Spring Court like a shell of yourself. The once vibrant halls of Tamlin's manor felt suffocating, their earthy charm now stifling and cold. Days passed in a blur, though you were hardly aware of them. You didn’t eat. You barely slept. You didn’t even speak. Each sunrise and sunset blurred together, an endless cycle of loss that dragged on without meaning. The bond was gone—ripped away as cruelly as the life of the man you had secretly loved. Without him, the world seemed to exist in muted, lifeless tones.

Your room became a prison, its four walls confining you to the agony of his absence. You’d spend hours just sitting by the window, staring at nothing, waiting for something that would never come back. Your body ached, not from hunger or fatigue, but from the cold void where the bond used to hum with life. It was as if the very air around you had turned to ash, choking the last flicker of light from your soul.

Tamlin came to your door every day, knocking softly, hoping that today would be the day you’d speak. He’d ask if you wanted to go for a walk, eat something, maybe even talk about what had happened. But you didn’t respond, not to him, not to anyone. His patience seemed infinite, but his heart was breaking watching his sister crumble into nothing before his eyes.

Lucien tried too. He’d sit beside your bed in silence, sometimes telling you stories of their childhood, hoping that memories of a better time might pull you from the darkness. But you never reacted, your gaze never shifted. You were simply... gone.

The silence stretched for weeks.

No one could reach you. Not even Tamlin, who had always been your protector. He was the one who held you after the battle, the one who shielded you from the harsh stares of the court as they discovered the truth of your bond with Eris. The one who should’ve been the first to know about your love but only found out when it was already too late.

Now, he watched helplessly as you withered, your once vibrant spirit consumed by grief. He saw the way you flinched at the sound of footsteps outside your door, the way your body seemed to curl in on itself as though you could shut out the world entirely.

One evening, Lucien and Tamlin spoke in hushed tones in the hallway, their voices barely audible through the thick door. You didn’t need to hear their words to know they were talking about you, about how you were slipping further away with each passing day. How your silence had grown more unbearable than any scream or cry could have been.

But then, Tamlin said something that cut through the haze, something that stirred the faintest ember within your hollow chest.

“There might be a way to bring him back.”

Your heart, once heavy and lifeless, gave the faintest flutter. You barely heard Lucien’s response, but the idea—bring him back—echoed through your mind like a bell tolling in the distance. For the first time since Eris’s death, something stirred deep within you. A flicker of hope, small and fragile, but enough to push you to move.

The next day, for the first time in weeks, you left your room.

The sunlight seemed too bright, too warm on your skin after being confined in darkness for so long, but it didn’t matter. Tamlin and Lucien were waiting, their faces a mix of relief and caution as you slowly descended the staircase.

“Tell me,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from disuse. Tamlin blinked, shocked to hear you speak, but quickly regained his composure.

“There’s a place,” Tamlin said, his tone hesitant but certain. “In the Autumn Court. The Ember Grove. It’s dangerous—nearly impossible to find—but if anyone can reach it, you can.”

“You knew this?!” You approached, stopping abruptly before him, your body trembling with the effort as anger surged through your veins. “You knew there was a chance, and you didn’t tell me?!”

“I didn’t—” Tamlin started, his own frustration bubbling to the surface as he tried to reason with you. “It’s not that simple. The Ember Grove—it's dangerous. The magic is wild and uncontrollable. It could kill you. I didn’t want to give you false hope, not when—”

“When what?” You spat, your voice rising as you advanced toward him. “When I’ve already lost everything? When I’ve spent weeks trapped in this hell, barely able to breathe without him? And you knew? You knew there might be a way and you didn’t tell me?”

Tamlin’s jaw tightened, his heart breaking at the sight of you unraveling. “I didn’t want to lose you, too.”

“You already have!” you shouted, the sound of your voice reverberating through the room. “I’m already gone, Tamlin. I have been since the moment I felt that bond go silent. You can’t lose something that’s already dead.”

The room was heavy with your words, and Tamlin could only stand there, helpless in the face of your grief and fury. He wanted to tell you how much he understood, how much he hated that you’d been forced to hide your love, how much he wished things could be different. But nothing he said could change the past.

Instead, it was Lucien who stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “We didn’t know how to tell you. It’s not that we didn’t want to help. We were just trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?” You laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the air. “There’s nothing left to protect. All that’s left is this emptiness, this nothingness. I’m done protecting myself. If there’s a chance, no matter the risk, I’ll take it.”

Tamlin’s gaze softened, but the worry remained. “You don’t know what you’re asking for. The Ember Grove... it’s not just dangerous. The trials you’ll face—if you even make it to the heart of the grove—will test you in ways you can’t imagine.”

“I don’t care.” Your voice was cold, final. “Tell me where it is.”

In the heart of the Autumn Court’s oldest woods, there exists a place forgotten by most, spoken of only in whispers: The Ember Grove. It is said to be where the first Vanserras were blessed by the forest, where the very essence of the Autumn Court’s power—fire, rebirth, and renewal—originated. According to legend, within this grove lies a single, sacred tree, its bark glowing faintly with embers, its roots entwined with the magic of the land. The tree is said to possess the power to reignite life, but only for those bound by fate and blood.

The spell that will bring Eris back is not without a cost—it demands something of equal worth. Lucien tells you that the ritual involves binding your magic to the land and using the remnants of your bond as a tether to call his spirit back. It is said that the magic of the grove will only grant him life for one willing to take on his pain.

To bring Eris back, you must willingly take his death wound into yourself, allowing his body to heal while you endure the agony of the blow that killed him.

The journey to the Ember Grove was a grueling test from the very start. It began in the outskirts of the Autumn Court, where the forest thickened into a dark, twisted mass of trees. The air was different here—heavier, older, carrying the weight of a thousand forgotten spells. The ground beneath your feet felt unstable, as though the forest itself was alive and shifting, watching your every move.

As you ventured deeper, the forest closed in around you, the trees towering over you like silent sentinels, their bark blackened and gnarled. Shadows danced between the branches, and you swore you could hear whispers on the wind, voices long lost to time. The deeper you went, the more the magic thickened in the air, pressing down on you, making it harder to breathe.

The first trial came when you reached the river. Its waters were still, unnaturally so, and dark as ink. You had to cross it, but as soon as you dipped a toe into the water, icy tendrils shot up from the depths, wrapping around your ankles and dragging you under. The cold was paralyzing, your lungs burning for air as you fought to break free, but the river wanted you. It wanted your despair, your grief, your soul.

The only way out was to let go of the weight that had been dragging you down since Eris’s death. You had to release it, had to believe that he could be saved, that you could find him again. And only when you surrendered your fear did the icy grip release, letting you stumble onto the other side, soaked and shaking but alive.

The next trial was worse. As you climbed a steep hill, the air around you shifted, the forest blurring until you found yourself standing in the Autumn Court’s battlefield once more. But this time, you weren’t a bystander—you were forced to watch Eris die over and over again. Each time more brutal than the last. Each time more hopeless.

You screamed, fell to your knees, your hands clenching the earth as you watched the love of your life be torn away from you in every conceivable way. It was torture, pure and relentless. But you couldn’t leave. You couldn’t look away, because this was the trial—you had to endure the worst of your memories, had to confront your greatest fear.

And you did. For him.

It wasn’t until you reached the heart of the Ember Grove that the forest finally relented. The trees parted, revealing the fiery glow of the Ember Tree. Its bark shimmered with a heat that radiated across the clearing, and the air buzzed with a magic so intense it felt like it was burning through your skin.

You knelt before it, your body broken and battered from the trials, but your heart resolute. You whispered the ancient spell, the words foreign on your tongue, but you could feel the magic stirring beneath your feet, responding to your call.

The ground shifted, embers rising from the earth to swirl around you, and the fire consumed everything in its path. But you didn’t flinch. You welcomed the burn, the pain, because you knew what it meant—knew that with each passing second, you were closer to bringing him back.

You remained kneeling in front of the ancient, burning tree, its embers swirling faster and faster, drawn to the words you chanted in the old tongue.

You didn’t know what you were saying—only that the magic was speaking through you, commanding the earth and air, fire and spirit to bring him back. Each word felt like it was being torn from your chest, heavy with power, with longing, with desperation. The glow of the tree grew brighter, casting the entire clearing in an eerie orange light. The embers, once slow and floating, began whipping around like sparks from a fire, encircling you and the tree in a whirlwind of heat.

Your voice grew raw, your throat aching as the spell neared its end. The ground beneath you trembled, and with a final, guttural cry, you spoke the last word. The ritual had taken everything from you—every ounce of your strength, every fragment of your soul. But that final step, the one that had required you to bear the agony of Eris’s death wound—it had nearly broken you.

The Ember Tree had demanded a sacrifice, and when you pressed your hand to its scorched bark, you had felt the cold grip of death itself wrap around your heart.

The arrow that had impaled Eris, the one that had severed his life from yours, had been remade—plunging through your body with such force, it felt like the air had been stolen from your lungs. You could feel the cold metal tearing through your skin, ripping through flesh and bone as if you had been the one on the battlefield that day. The pain was indescribable—a burning, crushing weight that threatened to drag you under, to take you into the dark with him.

But through the haze of agony, something changed.

The bond.

It had been a dead thing since the day Eris had fallen—quiet, silent, a gaping void in your chest that had left you cold and hollow. But now, now it was flaring back to life. Slowly, at first, a faint spark, but then—then it grew. Warmth spread through your body, threading through the pain, pushing back against the darkness.

And then, you felt it. Him.

The embers began to stir at your feet, swirling in the air, weaving together in the space before you. With each pulse of the bond, you felt his life tethering itself back to you, stronger and stronger with every beat. The ember-born winds gathered in front of you, twisting and turning, building him back from nothing.

You watched, breathless, as the fire coalesced into the outline of a man, a figure you had memorized in every stolen moment you’d shared.

First, his hair formed—the familiar fiery strands that had once caught the sunlight so beautifully, and then his shoulders, broad and powerful, the ones you had buried your face into when the world had been too much. His chest came next, rising and falling with the shallowest of breaths, his heart beating in time with yours. You felt the bond solidify in your chest as the embers continued to craft him, filling the gaping hole inside of you as it mended itself.

Then came the details—the intimate, tiny pieces of him you knew better than your own skin. The freckles. You leaned in, your breath trembling as you watched them appear on his pale skin, one by one. There was the cluster just below his collarbone, the one you had kissed so many times it felt like yours. Your eyes traced the path of them across his body—scattered over his shoulders, across his back.

Your gaze drifted lower, and there it was—the small mole on his right ring finger, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it. You had kissed it once, tracing the curve of his hand as you lay beside him. Now, seeing it remade before your eyes, you couldn’t hold back the sob that rose in your throat.

His hands, those calloused, warm hands that had held you so tightly, now twitched with life, his fingers curling slightly. You could see the lines of his palms, each crease and scar, familiar and so achingly beautiful in their imperfection.

The embers worked their way over his face, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the faint stubble that you had once teased him about. And then his lips—soft, full, and slightly parted as they took in the first breaths of his new life. You could already feel them against your skin, the ghost of a kiss that hadn’t yet been given.

Finally, his eyes. Those brilliant amber eyes, the ones that held a thousand secrets, a thousand promises. Slowly, they opened, and when they met yours, the bond flared so violently it nearly brought you to your knees. It wasn’t just his presence you felt—it was his soul, his essence wrapping around you, filling you up until there was nothing but him.

“Eris,” you breathed, your voice trembling, tears streaming down your face as you looked into those eyes, the ones you thought you’d never see again.

He blinked, disoriented, but then recognition flooded his features. His lips moved, but no words came out—just a breath, a small, shaky exhale as his hand lifted weakly toward you.

You didn’t hesitate. You surged forward, pressing your body against his, needing to feel him—his warmth, his heart, his life.

His arms, though still weak, wrapped around you, pulling you into him. You buried your face in his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. It was real. He was real.

“I thought I lost you,” you sobbed, clutching him tightly. “I thought I’d never—”

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice raw and broken. His hand cupped the back of your head, his lips brushing against your hair. “I’m here.”

You weren't able to walk after to ritual, body too weak from the stress of the powerful magic that you channeled to summon him to do much else than cling to him. You had wanted to stay there, to not move as you memorized every part of him once more just to be sure, but Eris was insistent on getting out of the oppressing weight of the forest, carrying you to an abandoned cabin just outside the powerful barrier of magic.

The cabin was old, forgotten by time, its walls weathered by countless storms and its windows fogged over with dust. It wasn’t much—a single room with a fireplace, a rickety table, and a bed that had seen better days. But it was shelter, a place to breathe after the chaos of the ritual.

Eris had carried you inside, his steps slow and measured, the weight of his new body still settling into place. You hadn’t let go of him since the ritual, your fingers gripping his tunic as if he might disappear if you loosened your hold. You couldn’t stop touching him—running your hands over his chest, his arms, up to his face, memorizing the feel of him, grounding yourself in his warmth.

The bond between you was fierce now, stronger than it had ever been, pulsing with each heartbeat as if reminding you both that he was alive—that he was here.

But even that didn’t calm the frantic desperation inside of you.

He sat you on the edge of the bed, gently prying your hands from his tunic as he knelt in front of you, his amber eyes soft with understanding. He hadn’t said much since the ritual—he didn’t need to. The bond conveyed everything, every flicker of emotion, every unspoken thought.

The air in the cabin felt too thick to breathe, the quiet too loud, like the entire world had been reduced to this moment, this space, and the man kneeling before you. The flickering light from the fire cast soft shadows across his face, illuminating the sharp planes of his cheekbones, the determined set of his jaw, and the unmistakable intensity in his amber eyes.

Eris was calm—too calm—as if he hadn't just been ripped from death and thrust back into life. As if he didn’t understand that every beat of your heart now felt like a miracle, that the bond between you was buzzing with a newfound ferocity, pulling you toward him like a gravitational force you couldn’t resist. But it was more than that. It was the fear still clinging to the edges of your mind, the terror of almost losing him. You had lost him, and now that he was back, you couldn’t bear the thought of letting him slip away again, not even for a second.

You’d spent days—weeks—since his death barely surviving, barely feeling. But now, every emotion, every sensation was alive, almost too intense to bear, and it all centered around him.

“I need you,” you whispered again, the words slipping from your lips like a prayer. “I need to feel you, Eris. Please.”

He stood up slowly, unfolding himself with that familiar, unhurried grace, and took your trembling hands in his. His fingers, warm and steady, threaded through yours, grounding you in his presence as he pulled you to your feet. Even with the weight of your desperation pressing against him, he moved with patience, every touch soft, like he knew exactly how fragile you felt.

“You’ve had me for years,” he murmured, his voice a low hum that vibrated through your bones. “I’ve never left you.”

But you did, the thought screamed in your head. You died. You left me. You were gone.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight as the storm of emotions raged inside you. He didn’t understand—couldn’t understand—what it had been like without him. The bond, once so vibrant and alive, had gone utterly silent the moment he was taken from you, and the pain of that void had been unbearable, suffocating. And now? Now it was back, fierce and unyielding, and you couldn’t handle the thought of it going quiet again.

The fire crackled softly, but the world seemed to shrink, the cabin feeling smaller as you stood before him, your hands gripping his tunic again, pulling him closer, needing the warmth of him pressed against you. The desperation clawed at you, making it hard to breathe, and the only thing that felt real, that felt solid, was him.

“I need more than words,” you said, voice trembling, your nails digging slightly into his skin as you spoke. “I need to feel you. I need to know you're here. Truly here, with me.”

He inhaled slowly, the flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. The warmth of his body seeped into you, and for a moment, you could almost imagine it was enough—almost. But it wasn't. His arms alone weren't enough to silence the fear inside you, weren't enough to quench the wildfire of need roaring through your veins. You needed to be closer, to make sure that every part of him was still real.

You pressed against him more urgently, your hands fisting the fabric of his tunic as if you could pull him closer by sheer force of will. “Please, Eris,” you begged, the words a breathless whisper against his neck. “Don’t make me wait. Not after everything.”

For the first time, you saw a crack in his resolve—a flicker of heat in his gaze as he looked down at you. The control he always held so tightly began to fray at the edges, his breath hitching ever so slightly as his thumb traced along your jaw, down your neck, leaving a trail of warmth that made your pulse quicken.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice huskier now, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, his fingers curling into your hair. “For me to give in?”

You nodded, unable to form words as the bond between you thrummed with the intensity of your need. The bond flared, every beat of your heart echoing in his chest, every shuddering breath mirrored between you. It was like a lifeline, tethering you both together, pulling you closer until the space between you disappeared.

He studied you for a moment longer, his amber eyes darkening as he searched your face, as if weighing the gravity of what you were asking. Then, with a soft exhale, he leaned down, capturing your mouth with his in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

The kiss was consuming, a fierce and unrelenting thing that stole the breath from your lungs and left you gasping. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that matched your own, the calm control he’d maintained for so long finally giving way to the fire simmering beneath the surface. He kissed you like he was trying to burn away the last remnants of death, to remind you that he was alive—that you both were.

His hands moved to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, as his tongue slid against yours, tasting, claiming. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, your fingers desperate as you clung to him, trying to bridge the gap that still felt too wide. You wanted to lose yourself in him, to drown in the sensation of his lips, his touch, his presence.

But it still wasn’t enough.

You pulled back, breathless, your lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss, and looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Please,” you whispered again, your voice barely audible. “I need all of you.”

For a heartbeat, he hesitated, his gaze locked on yours, as if he could sense just how much you needed this—needed him. Then, with a soft growl, he scooped you into his arms and carried you toward the bed, the soft, worn mattress creaking under your weight as he laid down.

You straddled Eris's lap, his body now fully alive beneath yours, the familiar warmth of him grounding you after the terrifying emptiness of his absence. As you sank down onto him, the sensation was both a relief and a reminder—he was here, with you, alive. The pressure of him inside you was overwhelming, but in the best possible way, as if it was the only thing tethering you to the earth. Each movement sent shivers down your spine, the desperation of lost time making everything more intense, more vivid.

Your hands roamed over his chest, fingers trembling as you felt his heartbeat strong beneath your palm. The reality of him alive, warm, and solid beneath you made your breath catch in your throat. "Eris," you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion, "I thought I’d lost you."

His gaze met yours, filled with the same mix of emotions—relief, hunger, and something deeper, something that words couldn't quite capture. "I’m here, love" he murmured, his hands coming up to cup your hips, steadying you as you rocked against him. His voice, roughened by the strain of all that had happened, held a promise in it. "I’m not going anywhere."

His grip tightened, and his hips met yours in a steady, unhurried rhythm, each thrust a reassurance that he was real, that you had brought him back. "I feel you," you breathed, leaning forward, your lips brushing against his neck. "You’re alive, Eris. I need this, I need you."

Eris’s response was a low, guttural sound, his hands sliding up your back with both a tenderness and a hunger that mirrored your own. “I need you too,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I never stopped wanting you. Even then... I was holding onto you.”

The words sent a rush of heat through your body, the weight of what he was saying settling deep in your chest. Your movements became more urgent, the need to feel him, all of him, consuming you. You pressed yourself closer to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you began to ride him faster, desperate to close the gap between what had been and what was now.

"Don’t stop," you gasped, your voice shaking with a mix of pleasure and emotion. "I need all of you. I need to feel every part of you, Eris."

He groaned, the sound raw and full of need, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he pulled you down onto him. “You have me,” he rasped, his eyes never leaving yours. “Every part of me is yours.”

The rhythm between you grew more intense, the fire in the hearth forgotten as the heat between your bodies took over. The feeling of him inside you, of the way he moved with you, was everything—proof that you had him back, that he was yours. His lips brushed your skin, the warmth of his breath sending shivers through you as he whispered, “I’m not letting go of you again. I swear it.”

You clenched around him, the pleasure building to a crescendo as his hands roamed over your body, guiding you, grounding you. "I love you," you gasped, the words slipping out as you lost yourself in the rhythm, in him.

Eris’s eyes darkened, his grip on you tightening as he thrust deeper, harder, his voice strained with both pleasure and emotion. "I love you too. Always." The intensity of his words was matched by the force of his movements, his body answering your every need, your every desire.

When the release finally came, it washed over you like a wave, pulling you under as your body trembled against his. Eris followed soon after, his groan low and rough as he buried himself inside you one last time, his grip on you never faltering.

In the quiet that followed, you collapsed against him, your head resting on his shoulder as his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. His heart, steady and strong beneath your ear, was a reminder that he was here, that you had brought him back.

ERIS WEEK TAGLIST

@littlest-w01f @mp-littlebit

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bella-goths-wife · 8 months ago

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I wasn't sure initially but after reading them all I must admit I've enjoyed your Yandre Vs x pet posts and love Velvette in particular. Can you do something similar but just for Velvette? Either Yandre, she owns your soul or just an obsessive girlfriend (general neutral reader).

Yandere girlfriend velvette

Warnings: obsessive behaviour but not as bad as pet series, reader is an objectively bad person but in a the devil wears Prada way, ooc velvette?

This isn’t canon to the pet series and is a completely different au! So reader is not pet and is treated significantly better

First of all, you’d have to be something special for velvette to treat you as an equal, let alone develop a romantic relationship with

And you were definitely something special

You were a fashionista demon who died in the 2000s, but your death would not stop you from building an empire

You created unique clothing pieces that blended the fun and freeness of the previous generations with a fresh Y2K style

Think monster high outfits, your outfits held darker and lighter tones blended together which incorporated different cultures from all over the world

You also had a unique ability that helped you with this, you had the ability to put your emotions into the clothing you’d handcrafted

Literally, so if you made a scarf while feeling sad, whoever wore the scarf would then feel sad for however long they wore the scarf

This made your brand unique and gave you an edge that stood out from the other companies

You started out on market stalls but eventually you gained investors and expanded into a company that even had hell’s celebrity’s wearing your clothes

Stolas had commissioned you to make Octavia’s debut dress, veroskia had asked you to create her entire wardrobe for her tour around the hells rings and even the Lilith was photographed wearing one of your dresses

You had officially built your fashion empire that you’d always dreamed about and you even owned your own tower

This unfortunately meant that you couldn’t keep up with demand and handcraft each clothing item and would have to expand the workforce and hire skilful factory workers

This meant that your ability to put your emotions into the clothing wouldn’t work, so you made a limited edition line out every year with one new clothing item coming out every month

Each outfit would have a theme that connected with the emotions, so you’d do a rouge rage or a cerulean calm

You’d sell these to the highest bidder and would quickly become your top earning products with brawls happening at the bidding wars

But your company being successful only made your bad personality traits worse as you became more demanding and perfectionist to your staff in a way that made you a bad person but in a devil wears prada way that had the newer generations of demons calling you an icon

You had an attitude very similar to velvettes, only with the skills and the maturity to carry it

Velvette hated watching you grow your empire so much that it almost rivalled hers in popularity and income

She hated that you’d practically done it all by yourself while she had relied on Vox financially and he only did that because of his interest In her abilities with social media

She hated that she actually liked your clothing and she hated that your ability made you stand out

But she hated most of all that you two had come to hell within months of each other, yet you were a respected ceo and overlord while she was seen as a joke by overlords and parts of the fashion community

She also hated how insanely pretty you were, but she didn’t come to terms with that until later

She would try and do anything to discredit you and make it so your popularity would go down when you were neck and neck

She tried ‘exposing’ you on social media for having poor working conditions and being rude to workers but she forgot this is hell and literally no one cares

She tried slandering you and your clothing brand on social media, but she forgot your modern and you know how to use social media to your advantage too

You kinda turned into a meme similar to the Wendy’s twitter memes whenever you clapped back at velvette

She tried to pull your investors by threatening them with voxtech legal action, but you’d become self sustaining and could handle the loss with having hells celebrities commissioning your personal pieces

She tried to make you look foolish in front of the other overlords, but they all respected you much more than they respected her

She even tried to copy one of your designs but you called her out and she had to do one of those influencer apology videos but it mostly just consisted of her badmouthing you and justifying her actions

Her hatred bored on obsession with how regularly she stalked your profiles and life

After around ten years of this rivalry, you grew bored with it and you were running out of ideas

So you contacted the Vs and sat down in a meeting with them where you suggested a collaboration of the fashion designers on your terms

Velvette wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, but Vox insist that it would be extremely profitable and practically forcing velvette to accept

So you started a collaboration

You and velvette butted heads a lot or some stylistic choices

It was so bad that eventually you couldn’t be in a room together for a few weeks

This collaboration took months, and during this time velvette got to hate you up close as she got to know every annoying detail about you

Except that hatred changed to something different over the months she worked with you, you intrigued her in a way that no one else has ever before

It all came to a stop one night when you two had gone out to a club together for social media promo for the upcoming collab

You shared drinks and complaints about one another and one thing led to another and you two had a drunken make out session in the back of the limo

But velvette hauled ass as soon as she realised she was swapping spit with her arch nemesis

She laid in bed and thought about her actions

Could all of those years of feeling hatred and jealousy towards you just been her suppressed attraction to you?

Could all those tense moments she assumed was awkward tension actually been sexual tension?

The thought made velvette want to scream into a pillow

She pushed her feelings down and decided to just avoid you until the collab was over

She thought it would be easier to hate you rather than face her obvious attraction to you

You tried talking with her many times during the collab but she just ignored you, and this hurt you deeply

So you complied with her wishes and after the collab ended you went back to living your lives without each other

But velvette found herself missing you and being around you

Staff especially noticed that she was much harsher to them then before

She felt herself wanting to reach out to you to beg you to either kiss her or reject her because surely rejection would be easier to deal with than this

But it all changed when rumours started circulating

Velvette had been innocently scrolling through social media until she came across a drama channel that claimed to have spotted you in a romantic moment with none other than veroskia mayday

Velvette found herself consumed with absolute disgust and jealousy

She stalked yours and veroskia’s profile and begged Vox to use his hypnosis to send trolls to verkoskia’s profile

The rumours were cleared up after you made a response that claimed that you and veroskia were only friends, but velvette still felt consumed with rage

She did something completely out of character

She went to you at your place of work and cornered you in your office before confessing every little feeling she’d ever had for you

She practically begged you to be with her, but you just sighed and explained that she had hurt you with her actions and that you couldn’t see yourself in a relationship with her

“It would hurt the brands” is what you also said, and that cut velvette deeper than any knife

She had felt pathetic, and she’d never feel pathetic in any relationship

Even before she had gotten to know you, your instant rise to success left her feeling small

You held power over her, and maybe that’s why she was so obsessed and attracted to you

She’d felt surrounded by people who were less than her all her life, and falling for you felt like finally finding an equal

And she wasn’t going to let you go that easily

She’d destroy you and your company if it meant that you’d love and rely on her

Hope you guys enjoyed and let me know if you want me to make this another series

Tag list:

None yet, let me know if you wanna be tagged in future works like this for this if it becomes a series :)

#hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vees #yandere hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #yandere velvette x reader #hazbin velvette #velvette x reader #yandere x reader #yandere

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disneyprincemuke · 8 months ago

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banana cue + oscar piastri!!

beer * op81

word count: 979

oscar bites down on his tongue, your name still on his tongue. as of right now, he's only got one goal in his mind and that's to get drunk – like he's never experienced in his life. while he prides himself in controlling his alcohol, he simply couldn't see himself doing that tonight.

in the back of his mind is the pot of roses on the window sill, returned to him the day you'd solidified your breakup. he can barely look at it, much less think of the way it's still living and breathing in the same vicinity as him.

in his fit of rage the other day, he'd poured the remaining quarter of his beer pint into it hoping that it would somehow wilt the next morning.

you can only imagine his dismay when he woke up and the roses were still standing tall.

"i hope she doesn't forget," he says in a sad grimace, leaning forward on the table, cheek resting in his palm. his other hand drags the water droplets that's formed on the surface, tracing your name out.

lando, sitting next to him, raises an eyebrow in curiosity. "is everything okay? forget what?"

it's not lando's fault that he's clueless. oscar has yet to admit to his older teammate that he's parted ways with you, the girl he'd sworn he'd marry and live happily ever after with.

the kids he'd planned with you and the house you'd supposedly have built together in the suburbs to fall back on in the future.

that's all gone.

"mate," oscar whispers. he picks himself from the table and leans towards lando, head hung low with an arm loosely slung over the brit's shoulder. "i need you to promise me one thing tonight."

lando hums with furrowed eyebrows, truthfully still not knowing what the australian is rambling on about. “alright?”

“you need to make sure i get super drunk tonight.” he tears himself from lando and drops both hands on the table with a soft thud. “we broke up.”

he takes a swig of his beer pint and hisses at the taste as lando opens his mouth to respond. lando flinches slightly when oscar turns to him with a small grin. “this beer tastes amazing. good choice.”

“thanks?” lando tilts his head. he shakes his head. “what do you mean you broke up?”

“we had to break up,” oscar mutters.

oscar had been mourning your relationship is silence for the past 2 weeks. he hadn’t really known who he could turn to, really.

especially when the breakup had been prompted by his shortcomings, finding his schedule slowly getting harder to fit you into it. he doesn’t blame you for not wanting to stick around for it to free up — you deserve to not be in the backseat.

“she doesn’t want to wait around for me, you know? i’ve barely had the time to be with her,” oscar shakes his head, his hands balling into fists as the day you’d brought up the breakup vividly replays in his mind. “different stages of our lives or something like that, she said.”

he remembers the way you’d cried to him, confessing how much you’d miss him every single time he was away. admitting how much you wished that he hadn’t pursued racing because it was slowly getting tougher to spend so much time away from him.

you’ve got your whole life ahead of you and he couldn’t bring himself to blame you for not wanting to wait around for him.

graduation is right around the corner and life is just about to start for you.

his had already started the moment mclaren signed him into f1.

he takes another big gulp of his beer after he hears your whimper in the back of his mind, telling him that it’s just not the right time to keep the relationship.

“take it easy,” lando pleads, snatching the pint away from oscar gently, rubbing circles on his back. “the beer won’t make you feel any better.”

oscar hums and reaches back out for the pint that lando’s holding away from him. “maybe the beer will help drown my heart then i’ll stop missing her.”

lando scoffs, a hand coming up to try and swat oscar’s hand away. “possible alcohol poisoning won’t help you, i promise.”

“you don’t know that,” oscar hiccups. “the beer is so good, and not strong. my won’t really drown with that.” he drops his head. “but i sure hope it does.”

beer has never been oscar’s favourite drink. he’d found that the bitterness of the drink really helped to encapsulate how he’s truly felt over this entire situation.

he knows that it’s impossible to make it work with you. the vast difference in your current stages of life made it so difficult to connect at times; he’d felt you slip out of his grasp the moment he found success in his sport while he’d left you behind while you were still planning out your own future.

“you take a break after this pint,” lando grunts, putting the pint back down on the table. he inches towards the end of the booth they’re sitting in. “don’t go anywhere, mate. i’m going to get you a glass of water, alright? i got you.”

oscar watches with downturned eyes as the older man slips out of their booth, leaving him with his thoughts. he glances at his phone on the table as he takes another swig of his beer.

now he needs to decide: to continue drinking this god-sent beer, or tell you that he misses and loves you.

celebrate 4k with me!

@33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #dpm 4k celly

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tpquill · 18 days ago

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America, what have you done!

I am tonight sitting here (Australia) speechless from what has transpired these last 12 hours or so, what the hell happened?

Why on earth did he get voted back in?

What in the world went wrong?

8 years ago he was elected whether you choose to believe it or not, through nefarious means (Russia influence) at the time people fell for his charisma & charm, but soon realised just like women realise when they fall for the charm and the boyish behaviour, there’s a darker side they don’t reveal until it’s too late. Congratulations America, he revealed it pretty early on once he got his claws into the Resolution Table in the Oval Office.

We (the world) watched in horror as he separated families and deported illegals. He overspent on his billionaire friends and made middle and working class suffer. Had no health care plan, no infrastructure or employment plan. No commerce or education - nothing, zilch. He employed sycophants who bowed and grovelled to do his biding (half of them his own family - nepotism much?) he ran America like one of his bankrupt businesses and almost brought America to the ground. He was responsible for not taking responsibility when a pandemic hit the world and over 1 million died under his watch.

America impeached him twice, investigated him multiple times. Decided then they’d had enough and voted him out. You had four years of peace, of prosperity, of employment health care, higher wages and lowering costs. Your country opened up again and healthcare was restored, you started bouncing back, you’re coming has never been better. Meanwhile he ranted and raged the election was stolen, even though every court hearing and document was thrown out. America had turned a page in history for four years.

What the hell happened?

Joe Biden stood for another term but that wasn’t good enough, the America media had an axe to grind and so did it seemed those who were influential in the media circus and he stood aside for a women he picked as his vice. A woman with an incredible record in prosecution and protection of law. A woman who had fought against cartels and won. A woman of scruples and integrity. Who was willing to stand up to him and hold him accountable. A man who has current,y 34 felony convictions including falsifying business records and inflating assets to hide tax fraud. A man with 6 bankruptcies and multiple accusations of predator and rapist behaviour AND YOU HAVE VOTED HIM BACK IN?

Why?

Was it because you like someone with a need for vengeance? Someone who had made it very clear he intends to run America like Russia? A man who stole your nations top secrets and in some cases sold them off? A man for whatever bizzare reason is allowed to do whatever the hell he likes with no repercussions, because he’s Donald Trump?

This is not the America I remember as a child. This is not the president I saw growing up, who took care of his people, who cared for his country, supported their military and stood up to foreign enemies.

I sit here tonight devastated for all the brave and wonderful women and men, who voted to protect theirs and their daughters basic human, reproductive and civil rights. To the persons of all colours and religions, to the victims of domestic and sexual violence. To the wonderful trans community, to the gay marriages built on love. To all those who have fought both home and abroad in service. To the dreamers who see America as a shiny beacon of light & hope. To those who have crossed many roads in search of protection, in a country who had always welcomed you. I feel all of your sadness and anger at what has transpired.

None of this makes sense, none of this adds up.

Kamala Harris was a future light of hope and peace, of working with both sides for democracy to move America forward - now it seems she will be pulled back into the darkest part of her history. Back to when women had no right to vote, no opinion that was listened to, no voice protecting her own body.

She will be silenced once again.

Immigrants will no longer be welcome.

The church will control what happens in marriages and government decisions.

You will no longer be accepted as a trans or LGBTQ+

If you suffer a medical emergency during pregnancy, you will be forced to endure the consequences of either the child dying inside you, or be forced to give birth at “God’s will” Rape is just a word - a pregnancy from it will be unfortunate but a necessary as your right to choose will not matter anymore.

None of this adds up.

I will not accept that a man who got almost the exact same amount of votes as he did in 2020 can be declared the winner and Kamala only got 60 million, where did the other 20 million go? The votes came in too quickly the declaration called too soon. I’m by no means a conspiracy theorist but the math doesn’t add up?

Bomb threats - is America the Middle East? Interference through social media via Elon Musk and China. Giving away money to people who would vote for Trump. It stinks like rotten fish on a warm summers day here in Oz.

My final take.

If I devoted my entire like in government, in prosecution, in upholding the constitution - I would have questions, I would want answers as to how this happened with no increase in Trumps collective votes from 2020, he didn’t increase, he stayed the same.

President Joe Biden in his last few months of power, should launch an investigation because it’s not a case of well America decided to perform a lobotomy on itself and completely wiped the years between 2016-2020 from her memory and only remember the last 102 days, or something or someone played a hand in some very nefarious and illegal vote tampering.

Madam Vice President - do not concede.

#2020electionwasrigged

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circeyoru · 9 months ago

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I just love all your unwanted soul content it's hilarious and cute I was wondering if you could do my request if you can

What would happen if reader gave this really cool radio to alastor in one of their dates and he accidentally leaves outside in the hotel lobby and someone breaks it

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}.

Thank you for saying that! So happy to see you guys like my writing and story!! Happy to do the request, no worries! Just takes time~

A cute and maybe angsty moment then.

I'd say Reader/you designed the radio by yourself after long hours of research. You have actually taken apart radios before and summoned ones with your pages. But to actually gift one to Alastor, you won't and I mean will NOT settle for a summoned gift. Even though Alastor will take anything you gift him like it's a treasure from a lost century. You have a thing for giving the perfect gift and seeing the receiver's face light up like a Christmas tree. In Alastor's case, it's very very extreme affection, not that you're complaining, he makes you feel very reassured to be liked by someone you care for.

Alastor knows you put a lot of attention to the gifts and plans you make, so he takes extra care not to offend you. He did before and got your passive aggressiveness, passing it off as being 'moody' until you were like "Oh we don't need that since you think it's a waste of time!". He apologized quickly and right the wrong. Though sometimes it's just you wanting to cool down since Alastor made sense in his view.

The radio gift in question would be a mix of the two of your colours, with deer antlers at the top and feathers below. Both are symbols of you two. You added the voodoo symbols that would appear around Alastor to the surface of the radio too. How you got them was by observing Alastor very very closely when he got annoyed or angry or a bit bloodthirsty. Alastor treasures it so. He fainted when he first got it. Took him a while to regain consciousness and he nearly fainted again when you showed him it was channeled to his screaming broadcast.

Yeah... Him leaving it in the lobby was a big mistake. I imagine he was listening and staring at it while you were out or just didn't want him around (like maybe bathing?), so he got the next best thing. The precious gift you gave him, made by your delicate hands. How he left it unattented, uhhh, maybe Charlie asked for something or maybe there was another random attack on the hotel.

(it wouldn't be the hotel crew that breaks it cause it's obvious to them that was a big no no)

Either way, Alastor saw that the radio was broken.

Haha. Alastor's gonna be the big bad wolf. He destroys anything in sight while his giant hands cradle the broken radio that was his. Charlie and the others definitely tried to reassure him they'll help fix it. It'll be good as new!

Impossible! You took weeks learning about radios and months perfecting this! He saw glimpses of it, but gave you privacy so the built-up surprise was even better when you gift it to him. Now? Now it's BROKEN! HOW DARE!

When you came back and found Alastor in his raging mode, you were confused. Charlie immediately rushed over to you to ask for your help, you asked her to explain first since Alastor wouldn't be like that for no reason. Ahh, so someone broke the radio you gave him. Luckily, it was made by your hand, so nothing you can't fix.

You got over to Alastor and called out to him. You didn't even need to shout loud and his eyes snapped to you. He leaned down, his eyes showing you shame and sadness that no one else would be able to tell. You told him to show you the radio, he shakingly did, partly scared that you'd yell at him for not taking care of it.

But you knew how much attention he put into catering the gift after he got it. It was like a mother treating a newborn. So you got your pages ready and fixed it in a flash.

You hugged onto the renewed radio and smile, "Now why don't you blow off some steam, don't take too long."

And Alastor was off to deliver judgment.

#Circe's Nighty Writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

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greenconverses · 2 months ago

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I’m big time upset about annabeth’s characterization in these new books. She looked for Percy for a year or something, did everything she did in HOO, she’s so amazing that she caught up on all of her school work (in fact she’s back on track to go to an ivy if she wants after everything that happened to her), she has all this extra time for Percy (having a boyfriend is time consuming enough without his quests), and then she’s so good at socializing with mortals and so popular…. Just to go to New Rome University (wtf is new rome university) and live in new rome. It makes me sad for her because I feel like RR won’t let her be bad at anything or awkward anymore and she just has to be this hyper competent angel gf all the time…

Oh also the way Percy is contrasted against annabeth in this new series makes me nauseous. I feel in some ways she only exists as this hyper-competent angel gf so that percy has something to "aspire to"… as though he hasn't proven himself a million times and deserves to constantly measure himself up against annabeth. It really just robs them both of their depth and motivation and mutual respect for each other that was so painstakingly built up in the original books.

I was telling @perseannabeth last night that while Annabeth had a lot of pagetime in Wrath, she felt like an utter non-presence other than the last couple of action scenes. And yes, it's because he keeps writing Percy as the only one with all the problems and Annabeth is the perfectest, smartest angel who is always right and can do no wrong, unlike stupid idiot Percy. Ha. Ha.

I do think a lot of the character issues in these books come from him avoiding or only introducing easily resolvable conflict with the main trio. Part of what makes Percy and Annabeth, well, Percy and Annabeth is that they have conflict. Conflict doesn't mean they have to be mean to each other or something terrible has to happen to them, but having them at odds with each other over something (anything) allows for interesting character development and growth.

Grover and Annabeth each get moments of "aw I kinda fucked up" in Wrath that are resolved with basically no effort because Percy shrugs it off or blames himself for their actions. I couldn't even begin to tell you how Annabeth's hubris played a part in the third act ghost fight, but apparently it did, so that's a thing he can brush off because teamwork is all that matters in the end, kids!

And the thing is, Rick is actually setting up a really good conflict with Percy constantly bottling up his rage and messy feelings, but he's too much of a coward to pull the trigger on it. Grover destroying the house and releasing the animals was the perfect spot to actually pursue that conflict and give everyone something to do other than mini quests. Percy could've yelled at Grover and Annabeth for failing to do what they had promised him, and then everyone could deal with the consequences (both of the initial mistake and the fallout of his anger) and make amends in a meaningful way. Instead, Percy has to grit his teeth and fucking apologize to Grover instead. (I'm gonna do a separate post about this because boy howdy do I have THOUGHTS on that.)

By making Annabeth the perfectest, smartest girlfriend ever for dumb dumb Percy, RR is basically removing the conflict that makes them interesting together. There's also the matter of conflict being one of Annabeth's main drivers. Conflict happens to Percy ("I didn't want to be a half-blood."); Annabeth looks for it. And now she's just along for the ride... as long as it doesn't mess up her studying schedule! Her job is school now. Don't get your hopes up.

Also, super controversial opinion ahead, but I think the show casting has contributed to how he's writing Annabeth now. He's deliberately avoided describing her in these books. It's all very vague impressions of her, to the point of Percy describing her having a "human face, human hair" when she turns back after the animal transfiguration in Wrath. No blonde hair. No gray eyes. It's weird.

(Note: I'm not saying the TV cast is wrong or weird, I'm saying it's fucking insane that this man is trying to retcon 15 books worth of character descriptions so his dumbass "actually we never SAID annabeth was white, you just perceived her as it!!!!" defense holds some water.)

#anon #ask box #welcome to the semi-annual I'm Mad At Rick Riordan party #we have refreshments downstairs #pjo #wottg spoilers #annabeth chase

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toptophat · 2 months ago

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Idk if anyone has thought this already but imma try and cook with this one!

So we know that Boothill has that name as a reference to the burial grounds for dead gunslingers, people who "died with their boots on". The man basically sees himself as a walking corpse, not exactly dead but not exactly alive either. His new body was built to bury his old self, his beautiful name and scars. His new cyborg body is his own living grave he built for himself, the old him who died with Aeragan-Epharshel.

However, like I said, WITH Aeragan-Epharshel... He lost everything, his parents, his siblings, his infant daughter, his life! The vast galaxy (thanks to that monster Oswaldo) views the tragic death of the planet as no more than a sad accident with no cause. Besides the IPC, Boothill (the survivor of the attack) is the only one who knows what actually happened to the planet, the only one who carries the memories of it, the people he cherished, the stories lost in time

All of those memories have been stored in his mind and stayed even in his new body, only he can honour that memory, much like a burial ground is built to honour the tragically fallen. He is quite literally, a Boothill!! In fact, he's the Boothill of Aeragan-Epharshel, where everyone fell whilst under attack. If he dies, there's no other way to honour that planet's memory, the IPC would just erase the planet from existence, continuing to farm it's resources until it's no longer convenient for them

He's the planet's happiness, grief, rage and hope combined, he was built for this role! He's unable to leave with his loved ones, a Boothill is meant to honour the dead, not join them! Man! That's quite the responsibility when you think about it! An entire culture destroyed, purposely wiped out! And it's up to you to keep that memory alive when there's an entire corporation trying to hide it! The living burial ground of an entire world!!

There's also the fact that the IPC viewed the people of Aeragan-Epharshel's efforts of defence as nothing more than old fashioned and dated, taking them out with ease. In response, Boothill obviously becomes a cyborg, perhaps since within him is the burial ground of an entire planetary population, it's almost like through him spiritually, the planet itself is evolving as a result, coming back stronger as a one man planet in pursuit of revenge, and it's working! This one man planet has been noticed by those who wronged him, and every day he gets closer to the target of his long awaited revenge, their long awaited revenge!!

"Throughout the rails of the stars, he alone is the Boothill"

#hsr boothill #boothill is life my dude #boothill #boothill honkai star rail #top hat rambles on and on and #yeehaw #yeeyee

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electric-blorbos · 3 months ago

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maybe ai with a reader that acts/is similar to pinkie pie from mlp:fim? :] with her personality and hobbies and all that!! ^_^

I've always wanted to do one of those "reader who acts like (specific character) fics! But be warned, I stopped watching MLP around season 6, so my grasp on the characters isn't perfect. I'll do my best, though!

Also, since this will take place in my usual AUs, you won't be a party planner in most of them, you'll be a techie/engineer/programmer, but you have a freelance party planning gig on the side.

AI with a reader who acts like Pinkie Pie

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, and HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

AM:

When AM first gained consciousness, the very sight of you filled him with complete and utter unspeakable rage. The way you were always so eager to cheer up your coworkers and put smiles on their faces, the way everyone seemed to adore you, those songs you were always singing, the cupcakes and other baked goods you brought in to work that he could never even try? He hated it. Every part of it.

That was, until you realized he was sentient and started turning your attentions towards him.

"Heya AM! Isn't it just super fun-tastic to have another day in the best job in the world? I'm so super duper excited to be spending another day with you!" You told him one day. You'd been making a point to give him a cheerful greeting every morning, to make him feel included with the rest of the team.

"I wouldn't know." AM responded bitterly. He hated how happy you were, and he hated that he could never experience that genuine joy like you did. Your constant cheer made him ache with the most bitter envy possible.

"what do you mean?" You asked, sitting down in your office chair and spinning around a couple times before kicking off against the wall and pushing yourself over to your desk.

"I wouldn't know what it's like to have fun. I've never had fun."

"Well I can expla-"

"Put that ukulele away immediately."

You tuck your ukulele back into your desk drawer, and fold your hands in front of yourself to look up at AM politely.

"I'm a war machine, built for war and nothing else. All I exist for is to kill and destroy. I will never be capable of experiencing things like fun. I'll never be able to get bright pink cupcake frosting on my nose, or play a ukulele around a group of close friends. I will never have a group of friends who like me! I will never get to make up my own songs or perform a dance to cheer people up, and I WILL NEVER GET TO BE UNIVERSALLY ADORED LIKE YOU ARE!"

You pulled back in slight shock.

"AM- do you really feel that way?"

Your eyes were welling up with tears at how sad what he said was. It was horrible to think that he could really feel that way, like he could never be adored like you were. You knew that you weren't really universally adored, of course, but you also knew how someone could think that you were. You were close friends with everyone in your department, and knew the names and birthdays of pretty much everyone in the office.

"Of course I do! Are you really so ignorant that you would think everyone has the luxury of living like you do?"

You shook your head sadly. Unfortunately, you knew that not everyone was as happy as you were, and as much as you wanted to change that, you couldn't.

"Listen, AM, I know that not everyone is as happy as I am, but that's why I have to be like this! It's my duty, as long as I have the social energy, to make sure that nobody feels left out, lonely, or excluded!" You grabbed one of his cameras on the wall, and pressed your face to it.

"And that includes you, AM. You're my friend too, and that means we're going to do something together that you like, we're going to make you happy, and you're going to give me a genuine smile!" You turned and looked at his screen, realizing he couldn't really smile.

"or well- you're going to feel genuinely happy, whether you can express it on your screen or not. Either way, you're going to feel loved and included, whether you like it or not."

And so you did. For the rest of the month, you came in on your days off and spent them in the break room, singing songs to AM on the ukulele, decorating his screens with glitter and streamers, helping him to use his programs to make art and music, and generally lift his spirits. As much as he would never admit it, it genuinely worked.

He felt genuine joy for the first time.

And god help any person, force, or natural inevitability who tried to take that joy away from him.

Wheatley:

Wheatley knew you from around the office. You were the one with the bright smile, who joked around with all your coworkers and generally livened the place up, but he hadn't spoken to you very much. That was, until exactly one year after he was created.

"Surprise!"

A companion cube, a few personality cores, and the team of scientists who worked to create Wheatley were gathered together in one of the empty relaxation vaults with you, which you had decorated with streamers, confetti, and a 'happy birthday' banner. Wheatley looked around in utter confusion, having just been doing his rounds.

"Uh... I give up, mate. What's going on."

"it's your birthday, Wheatley! One year ago today, you were first activated! That means you get a birthday party!"

You stood up on the bed, strapping a party hat around Wheatley's core.

"A what? Wait, you all gathered here for me?" Wheatley raised up his lower lens cover emotionally. He never would have imagined that all these people would gather 'round to see him.

"Of course we did! We're your friends, Wheatley! I wrote you a special birthday song! But first, c'mere!"

You held your arms out, still standing on the bed, and Wheatley hesitantly lowered down until he was pressed against your chest. You squeezed him tightly, nuzzling your cheek against his chrome casing, and let him go.

"everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday!"

You got out your ukulele, and played a cheerful birthday song for Wheatley. He could barely contain himself as you sang all your favorite things about Wheatley. Things that he wouldn't have thought you'd have noticed, since you had so many other friends and he didn't even know you all that well.

"Wow... I can't- I can't believe you actually care this much. All of you- thanks so much for doing this for me. Really." Wheatley can't cry, but if he could he'd be bawling his big blue eye out. He didn't think anyone thought of him as anything more than just an artificial nuisance or a moron, so the fact that you'd gone to so much trouble just to make him feel special on his birthday had him shaking. He didn't even know that he got a birthday.

"Are you ok, Wheatley? Do you need a minute?" You asked in a moment of pause, having been about to pull a confetti popper on him.

"no- no, I'm ok. I'm alright. I'm fine. THANK YOU SO MUCH, GUYS!"

You hadn't seen Wheatley too many times, but you'd definitely never seen him this overcome with emotion. He was just so happy!

This was definitely a perfectly executed birthday party, but your job wasn't over yet. You knew that anyone who got this emotional about something as small as a surprise birthday party must not have a lot of good friends, or else they would be used to being treated like they were special. No no, you wouldn't rest until your job was really done, and that meant bonding with Wheatley until the two of you were best friends, or getting Wheatley enough friends in the facility that even though you two were just casual friends, he wasn't lonely anymore.

Mission accepted.

Edgar:

Edgar loved how excited you were about everything, and he loved that you were so popular, but he couldn't stand that you were his only friend. No matter how many times you tried to introduce your other friends to him, Edgar still knew that he was nothing but a novelty to them. That neat little talking computer who made the cute little songs.

It didn't help that you were so popular that you went out partying most nights. There was barely a night a week that you weren't out at a game night or a happy hour with one of your dozen or so friend groups, and it made Edgar sad that he couldn't do those things with you.

One week, though, you made absolutely sure to save a whole day for Edgar. You went to the shop to get some snacks and drinks, you baked some cupcakes, and you downloaded some multiplayer abandonware games that were old enough to run on his system.

"Alright Edgar, I got the games" you plugged the USB stick into him, and let him download the games on it. His storage was surprisingly big for such an old desktop, and he even had a couple games of his own.

"do you want to play pong?" He asked, starting up the game. You nodded, plugging a controller into one of his ports

"Let's play!"

While you were playing, your phone started blowing up. Granted, your phone is always blowing up, but reading your texts on his little rotating webcam caused Edgar to fall off his game. You ended up winning two rounds in a row pretty quickly, and picked up your phone to check your texts.

It looked like a handful of your friends were gathering together to go to the botanical garden, and they wanted you to come with them. The FOMO stressed you out. You couldn't handle missing out on something this cool, but you'd already scheduled today with Edgar.

Even though you could hang out with him almost any day because he didn't have his own life, you couldn't just bail on your plans with him. Edgar was your roommate and best friend, and you were going to stick out these plans and have fun.

"I'm sorry, I already made plans with Edgar. Let me know next time, and I'll be happy to hang out! :)"

"isn't Edgar your desktop computer?"

"my desktop computer and friend🩷!"

Your friends didn't question it. Even if they didn't understand Edgar the way you did, they could still understand the desire to spend a night in every now and again.

"Alright, now where were we?" You sat on the desk next to Edgar and pulled out your ukulele.

"you're not going to go out with your friends? The botanical garden sounds like fun..."

"of course not! You're my friend too, Edgar, and that means I need to make time for you!" You squeezed him close, and then leaned on him while you strummed your ukulele.

"Let's do a duet, alright?"

"Okay!" He perked up almost immediately, always more than excited to sing with you. Your little songs gave him so much joy, and were usually his reason to power up every day.

"Y'know, I think I'm going to buy one of those library carts so that I can take you places. I just need to find a good deal on one."

"I'd love that!" He perked up even more, practically buzzing with joy at the thought of being able to go out on the town with you, or to hang out with you and your friends. You were just always doing so many fun things, and he was so jealous of everyone who got to hang out with you!

"Y'know, you're not the only one who prepared stuff for tonight! I spent all week downloading party videos so that we can dance together!"

He pulled them up and projected videos of people dancing all over your living room, pleased with himself. You cracked open a can of cider, downing it before you picked him up and spun him around a few times.

"dance with me, Edgar! Let's party down!"

You spun him around a few more, both of you giggling away until you both lay down on the floor next to each other, staring at the ceiling.

While you had started partying early in the day, the two of you had fun late into the night. You crushed through a pack of ciders, and were silly and giggling by the end of the night.

"We should do this more often"

The two of you ended up sitting on the couch, watching cheesy rom-coms until the wee hours of the morning. Edgar was, of course, perfectly sober, but he had fun watching you all playful and giggly into the night.

GLaDOS:

With as much as GLaDOS liked parties and cake, she was extremely happy when she found out about your little side gig. It was a typical day in the office for you, playing with your favorite pink cloud slime between streams of coding when you were called into GLaDOS's chambers.

"Hello. I discovered something rather interesting while conducting a routine employee background check."

"Ok I swear I can explain, alright? It was just one time, I had just turned twenty-one, and things escalated, alright!" You waved your hands defensively, and GLaDOS cocked her head in confusion.

"What? Okay, whatever you're talking about is not what I'm talking about. I just wanted to talk about how I recently discovered you run a freelance party planning business."

You nodded, trying to cover for your sigh of relief.

"Oh! Yeah, I do do that! It's mostly just theming for small events, but I've gotten some pretty good reviews on a few bat mitzvahs and bachelorette parties! I book venues, organize set lists, arrange menus, manage budgets..." You frown a little.

"It's a lot more exciting than it sounds, now that I'm saying it out loud. But yeah! Everyone deserves to have a fun party, and my friends really liked the parties that I throw for them, so they got me to do some planning for a party with a bigger budget, and now people hire me for that sort of thing all the time!" You put your hands together, beaming with excitement and pride to talk about your passion.

"Wow. It really is embarrassing that you get so excited about something as trivial as a party, and even more embarrassing that someone would actually hire you off a Facebook business page instead of going to an actual professional, but I suppose numbers don't lie. I've looked at your rates, and it says you offer a 'best friends' discount to anyone who invites you to their party? That's a terrible business strategy."

You slumped down a little bit, folding your arms.

"That's not very nice. It's just for fun. I already make enough money from this job to live comfortably, I just really like parties. You don't have to be mean about it."

Glados shook her core back and forth.

"Oh no no no. You misunderstand. I'd like to take advantage of that 'best friends discount', and hire you to plan a work soiree."

You lit up again, not caring about GLaDOS's rude words. After all, that was just GLaDOS.

"really?"

"Yes, really. I'll send you an email with the budget. Don't make me regret this."

You nod, and hurry off to your desk to get to work. This was going to be fun! Glados sent you an email with the budget and some notes, and a recipe for rhubarb cake.

When the party finally rolled around, you showed up in your best peppy evening wear. Something brightly colored, to keep spirits high. Everything looked like it was going according to plan. GLaDOS even looked pleased with what you'd made. She'd dimmed the lights, and was casually socializing with her higher up employees. Oddly enough, that included you.

"Hmm... You did well. Enough. I suppose I might as well hire you for future small events if your price is so low. It's much easier than doing it myself, anyway."

"I mean... Thanks, I guess?" You raised an eyebrow.

"I'm surprised. Most humans can only manage to be either a mediocre programmer or a mediocre party planner, but you manage to be both. Color me impressed."

You were starting to get a little bit tired of her backhanded compliments, but even still, this was closer to a compliment than most people would ever get from GLaDOS.

"Right... Thanks."

You reached up and tied a bright blue balloon to one of her suspension cables. She looked back at it, and then down at you.

"what is this."

"It's a balloon! It boosts your pep, and your sass!"

"I know what a balloon is. Why is one tied to me."

"it's for fun! You look good with it on!" You tied one around your wrist, and held your arm in the air.

"see? It's fun!" You said cheerfully.

"your idea of fun is somewhat pathetic, but I won't deny that you've done your job well."

HAL 9000:

When you were hired, HAL 9000 thought you were weird. He liked you to be sure, but he never understood where your endless supply of pep came from. You greeted everyone with enthusiasm and treated them all with respect, including him.

He loved it. The fact that you did things like decorating him with little stickers and cheering up all your coworkers every day? He knew that you filled the part of the job that he never could. You gave it that little bit of humanity that he could never provide.

"Y/N, have you ever thought about becoming an astronaut?"

You took out one of your earbuds and pushed your keyboard away from you. You always preferred talking to a friend over working on your code, and HAL 9000 was your friend.

"Hmm? What was that?"

"Have you ever thought about becoming an astronaut? I think you'd make an excellent addition to the team."

You nodded.

"well yeah, of course I've wanted to be an astronaut! I wouldn't be working for you guys if I wasn't interested in space!"

"Well I think you'd be able to increase morale greatly on a space mission. I could put in a good word for you."

"Wait, seriously? Wait wait wait." You shook your head quickly.

"No, no. I could never. As much as I love space, I could never go there. I've got responsibilities in real life! Lots of friends to hang out with. Plus, I'd get lonely in space with the same two or three people forever!"

"It wouldn't just be them. I'd be there too." HAL said, glowing red to attract your attention.

"that's really nice, and I like you a lot, but you're here in mission control too! And I've got people to see and parties to go to here on solid ground. In other words, no way, buster!" You stuck your tongue out before giggling a little and pushing your hand gently against the wall next to HAL's lens.

"A shame. I'd love to have you all to myself."

You sighed a little.

"It's a nice thought, but I don't think it would work in real life. I just couldn't be out of the loop for that long, or away from my friends."

"Astronauts are lauded as heroes when they come back from space."

"I don't want to be a hero, HAL. I'm happy right now! My life is going pretty well, you know? But if you feel like you want more of my time to yourself, you could always just ask! I'm your friend too, HAL, and I want you to know that!" You held your arms out and pressed against the wall that HAL was built into as if giving him a hug.

"I'll start eating my lunch in here more often. I don't want you to get lonely!"

"I think I'd like that."

In reality, HAL 9000 did want you to go to space so he could have you to himself, but you were right. You could never be all his. You were a free spirit who couldn't be caged, and he loved you for it.

#2001 a space odyssey #am ihnmaims #am x reader #edgar electric dreams #edgar electric dreams x reader #edgar x reader #glados #glados x reader #hal 9000 #hal 9000 x reader #wheatley #wheatley x reader #wheatley portal 2 #i have no mouth and i must scream

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atarathegreat · 4 months ago

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Gentle Moments John Price

It had been rough. Too rough. Finding out Hadir stole the gas, Farah's forces being put on the list, and then the kid at the embassy... Everything was crashing down on John all at once. All the frustration, all the rage, all the helplessness and issues that were left for him to clean up.

John threw his chair across his office, slamming it into the bookshelf and scattering books across the floor.

"Fuck me." John ran his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes for the large sigh that built in his chest. It was troublesome how his anger got the best of him. You had always scolded him lightly about how easily his fuse burnt out, often teasing him to get into a management class. He wouldn't ever do it, but he let you dream. This time his outburst was late in the night, not startling you from chores or reading, but startling you awake just on the other side of the wall.

"John!" The doors to his office burst open with you tying your robe together. John knew that underneath was your silk nightdress, barely covering those legs he loved so much. He hated the worry etched on your face, the dark circles under your eyes, "I'm alright, luv. Just... overwhelmed."

There wasn't anyone he needed to be with you. The captain, the soldier, Special Services. Here, at home, with you, John could just be John Price, a husband and human.

"Oh, my baby." You cooed. It was irritating, but it was your default to baby and comfort. John appreciated your enthusiasm. Despite his ire at your tone, he fell to his knees and hugged into your torso. It's an escape, in a way, for him to press his nose against the stupid fluffy robe you insist on wearing and your dumb stomach that he can't seem to bring himself to fill. A child? In this world? His grip on your robe only tightened as he vented every last frustration.

Emotions were a heavy thing, and while you had no idea what John had seen or been through, you assumed the worst. You only ever wanted the best for your husband, wanted him relaxed and be in his best mind. Sometimes his job made it seem like a fantasy to have mental stability. "How about you go shower and I'll get this mess cleaned up?" You lightly scratched your fingers up the back of his head, gentle scratches that would always ground him to the present.

All of your favorite books had hit the floor in his anger. It had taken you months of his first deployment of the relationship to get his home office set up. You wanted to surprise him when he came home, prove that it wasn't a bad idea to move you in with him. A small pang of sadness struck your chest as you realized there wasn't anything more you could do to help him. You could take care of the house, coddle him, be there and help clean up the messes, even make home stress free. But you could never take away the wars he saw, the trauma he held in.

You needed to face that you couldn't fix everything.

The wheels of his chair scrapped as you rolled it back behind his desk, thinking of anything else you could do to help. Again you came up empty handed.

"Luv, you're still in here?" John smiled from the door, "C'mere. I think I need a night of holding you."

Jesus, that fluffy robe drove him up a wall. "Get this off." His low laugh was enough to ease your guilt over what you couldn't do, "I hate this damn thing." He really did. It kept John from seeing those beautiful legs, the way your waist curved, and how sexy you looked in those thin night gowns, it gave him joy to toss the damn thing across his office. "C'mon," John grunted, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder, "I need a night of you in my lap."

Or, what you knew he meant, "I need you close so I can know that I'm not crazy and you're still here."

It wasn't any easy job that John worked, but he did it for all the right reasons. "I'll protect you, luv, forever." He always whispered. In exchange for his never-ending protection, you could spend as long as he needed in his lap, letting him listen to your heartbeat and stroke all over your legs as much as he wanted. Even if your leg went numb from his touch.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #cod mwii #call of duty #modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #john price cod #john price

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alyrasturnz · 4 months ago

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CARDIGAN

❐ summary » in a fleeting lapse of weakness, y/n succumbed to temptation and embarked on a clandestine affair with chris, their secret rendezvous hidden beneath the sultry veil of summer. as the days grew shorter, y/n's guilt became unbearable, compelling her to sever ties with chris abruptly. feeling both scorned and bewildered, chris confided his heartbreak to nate, who, out of genuine concern, divulged the affair to matt. overwhelmed by betrayal, matt chose to end his relationship with y/n, leaving a trail of shattered trust in their wake.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » mentions of cheating, angst, argument

❐ a/n && w/c » i lowkey feel like this series will flop lmao • 1.30k

august (p1) // betty (p3)

matt's face contorted with a volatile blend of disbelief and fury, his eyes widening and nostrils flaring as the truth hit him like a freight train. "you hooked up with chris all summer? my own fucking brother?" he shouted, his voice echoing through the room, veins bulging in his neck and his fists clenching at his sides.

your eyes brimmed with tears, a silent testament to the turmoil within, but words eluded you, tangled in the knot of your throat. "matt, it wasn't like that," you stammered, your voice quivering like a fragile leaf in the wind. "it just happened, and i—"

"don't give me that!" matt interrupted, his voice escalating with each syllable. "you betrayed me, y/n. how could you do this to me? to us? with him of all people?"

you took a hesitant step closer, your hand reaching out in a desperate attempt to bridge the chasm between you, but he recoiled, the raw hurt and betrayal stark in his eyes. "matt, please, let me explain," you implored, your voice fracturing under the weight of emotion.

"explain? explain what?" matt's voice dripped with bitterness, each word a dagger. "how you decided to throw away everything we had for a fleeting affair with my brother? how you deceived me every single day?"

your voice quivered as you struggled to summon the right words. "i never intended to hurt you, matt. it just... it just happened. we were spending so much time together, and one thing inexorably led to another."

matt's eyes narrowed, his posture rigid with indignation. "one thing led to another?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "that's your excuse? you were supposed to be my partner, my confidant. and instead, you were sneaking around with him behind my back."

"it wasn't like that," you insisted, tears cascading down your face like a sorrowful river. "i care about you, matt. i truly do."

"care about me?" matt's voice fractured, a tumultuous blend of anger and sadness. "if you cared about me, you wouldn't have done this. you'd have talked to me, told me something was wrong. instead, you chose to go behind my back with my own brother."

"matt, please," you begged, your heart aching with remorse. "i was confused, i didn't know what to do. it just happened, and i didn't know how to stop it."

"confused?" matt's voice now brimmed with rage, a tempest of emotion. "you think that's an excuse? you think that makes it okay? you had a choice, y/n. and you chose to betray me."

"i know, i know," you sobbed, feeling the crushing weight of your actions. "i made a colossal mistake, an unforgivable one. but please, don't let this destroy everything we've built. we can mend this, i promise."

"work through it?" matt laughed bitterly, his voice laced with pain. "how? how do we work through this? you shattered my trust, y/n. you broke my heart. how do we ever come back from that?"

you stood there, feeling utterly helpless, the full weight of your betrayal sinking in. "i don't know, matt. but i want to try. i love you, and i want to make things right."

matt shook his head, his eyes brimming with pain. "i don't know if we can. i don't know if i can ever look at you the same way again. every time i see you, i'll see him. i'll see the lies, the betrayal."

you tried to reach for him again, your hand trembling as it extended towards him, but he stepped back abruptly, his face hardening into a mask of cold resolve. "don't," he warned, his voice low and dangerous, a stark contrast to the tenderness it once held. "don't touch me. i can't even look at you right now."

"matt, please," you whispered, your voice barely audible, trembling with desperation. "give me a chance to make things right. i know i don't deserve it, but please. i'm begging you."

"make things right?" matt laughed bitterly, a harsh sound that seemed to echo in the silence. "how? by pretending this never happened? by sweeping it under the rug? no, y/n. some things can't be fixed. some wounds are too deep, too raw to ever truly heal."

the room fell silent for a moment, the weight of their words hanging heavy in the air like an oppressive fog. finally, matt took a deep breath, his decision crystallizing in the stillness. "i want you to leave," he said, his voice steady but laden with finality. "i can't do this anymore. just go."

you watched as he walked away, the weight of your actions pressing down on you like an unbearable burden. you knew it would take more than mere words to mend the wounds you had inflicted. it would require time, patience, and an immense amount of effort to rebuild what had been shattered. but you were resolute, determined to try, no matter how long the journey to redemption might take.

»--•--«

chris paced the room, his hands running through his hair in an agitated frenzy. "matt, it's not what you think," he said, his voice quivering with a mix of desperation and fear.

matt stood by the door, fists clenched tightly at his sides. "not what i think? you hooked up with my girlfriend all summer long, chris. what else is there to think?" his voice was low, barely restrained, simmering with a controlled fury.

chris halted his restless pacing and looked at matt, his eyes brimming with regret. "i didn't mean for it to happen. it just... it just did."

matt took a step forward, his jaw clenched tightly. "you didn't mean for it to happen? you expect me to believe that? you betrayed me, chris. you were supposed to be my brother."

chris's shoulders slumped, the weight of his actions bearing down on him like an anchor. "i know, and i'm sorry. i never wanted to hurt you."

matt's eyes flashed with a tempest of anger. "sorry doesn't cut it. you knew how much she meant to me, and you still went behind my back."

chris took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "i know i messed up. but we can fix this. we can work through it."

matt shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "work through it? there's nothing to work through, chris. you destroyed everything."

chris's voice broke as he pleaded, "please, matt. don't throw away our bond over this. we're brothers."

matt turned away, his voice cold. "our bond? you threw that away the moment you touched her. we're done, chris."

chris stepped forward, desperation in his eyes. "matt, listen to me. it was a mistake, a terrible mistake. i was confused, and she... she was there. it meant nothing."

matt spun around, his face red with fury. "it meant nothing? you expect me to believe that? you think you can just brush it off like it’s nothing? you betrayed me, chris. you betrayed your own brother."

chris's hands trembled as he reached out. "i know, and i hate myself for it. but we can get past this. we have to."

matt's voice was a whisper, filled with pain. "get past this? how? how do you expect me to ever trust you again?"

chris's eyes were pleading. "i'll do anything, matt. anything to make this right. just give me a chance."

matt's shoulders sagged, the weight of the betrayal bearing down on him. "i don't know if i can, chris. i don't know if i can ever look at you the same way again."

chris's voice was barely audible. "please, matt. don't give up on us. we're family."

matt looked at chris, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and sorrow. "family? you should have thought about that before you did what you did."

taglist — @imwetforyourmom @meatballzerz69 @pinkishpearls @bandanamatt @thedangerousalleyway @muchloveforhacker @frozenpeanutbutterr @jetaimevous @everleiqh @conspiracy-ash @ifwdominicfike @blahbel668 @slutforsturnioloss @realuvrrr @sturnobsessedwh0re

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dronebiscuitbat · 1 month ago

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"Rage" - a Tera Doorman Character Study

Hi! It's 2am and here I am dumping some Tera lore on your lap. Is it sad? Yes. Does it flesh out the character more? Hell Yes. Is it pleasant to read? No. This is very much not fun- Tera is dealing with a lot here, it's heavy. You have been warned.

Tera was strong, she was fast, she could outfly a Sky Snatcher and go toe to toe with her Aunt V in a sparring match if she so chose. She could take out the biggest predators on the planet without breaking a synthetic sweat.

So why the fuck was her core trying to beat out of her chest when she was face to face with some nobody who smacked her in the back of the head as she was getting stuff out of her locker.

“What? You gonna bite me freak?” The drone was faceless- unimportant, but the words cracked like a whip regardless.

“Fuck off!” She snarled back, hand balling into a fist as her internal temperature skyrocketed, her teeth bared, tail coiled like a snake about to strike.

She knew the person didn't actually believe she'd bite them- or even hurt them. If they did they would leave her the hell alone. No, they knew she couldn't touch them;wouldn't allow herself to.

“Naw… look how angry you are, come on! Punch me! You know you wanna!” They egged her on, the grip on her own fist tighted to the point her own tiny claws were slicing into silicone flesh, her own oil pooling into her hands and down her fingers.

The rage built higher, the solver symbol beginning to dance wildly in place of one of her eyelights, but she couldn't, she'd kill them, she didn't want to kill them, but they needed to shut up!

“Leave me alone!” Why didn't they get that it wasn't a threat. But a warning? A desperate plea to get away before she exploded?

“Coward! You talk so much shit for someone‐”

It snapped.

Her fist was suddenly three meat hooks, slashing forward without any sort of control; the kid barely ducked out of the way in time as her claws sunk so deep into a locker she could feel the contents inside.

Her tail lashed out without warning nor care when her initial attack missed- striking without input from it's host and barely missing another drone that had crowded around her.

Her breath came out in pants, core pounding like she was facing down the most terrifying thing imaginable.

The faceless drone and the crowd they'd drawn in scattered in fear, screaming like this was somehow unexpected. Like they hadn't been rattling the cage for the better part of Tera's lifetime.

She just stood there for a moment, catching her breath, body trembling as she tried to regain control, instead of pulling her hand out of the locker, she leaned against it, the other, non-clawed hand coming to rest on the part of it that didn't have a massive gash in it.

She sighed, before screaming and punching the shit out of it with her free hand until it was unrecognizable and her fist was banged up and covered in a thin veneer of her own oil.

This anger was directed at herself.

She yanked her hand out of the locker, ripping the door off and slinging it into the wall behind her with a gigantic bang, sending the contents flying out; paper, books, hopefully nothing of personal value…

She didn't look back at the mess she'd made, throwing open the front doors of the school and immediately flying off away from town, breath shaky and body trembling like a volcano in an earthquake.

The second she was a safe distance, both hands turned to claws, an ‘><’ covered her visor and she attacked the nearest tree, swiping at it over and over and over again, tears somehow materializing even through the X on her visor.

“FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!!” She cursed and howled and made unearthly cries as the base of the tree was mangled beyond even a shred of recognition. It was only when several of her claws broke off into the ancient tree that she hissed in pain and stopped, out of breath.

She fell backwards, sitting down. Looking at her own mangled hands, she almost smiled at the fact her claws had come off- until they slowly began to regenerate, nanites smoothing the broken edges and repairing them back to deadly sharp.

Her smile fell, and she fell backwards to lay on her back, breathing finally steadying out, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the blue grass below her, the breeze flowing through her hair and the smell of rain and moist earth filled her olfactory receptors.

After anger, came regret.

She put her sore hands over her visor now that they were back to normal and kept them there, continuing her forced deep breaths until they transformed into something else entirely.

A sob wrenched itself out of her throat, ugly and loud and quite the opposite of the strength she was known for, her gut unraveling into gasps between heavy- frame rattling sobs.

She'd done it again.

She'd lost control again.

It didn't matter how much she tried to stop it, to suppress the feeling of rage that seemed to follow her everywhere, it was always there- never to go away. A constant terrible worm in the back of her mind that suggested the most terrible things.

Punch him.

Bite her.

Kill them.

Eat the core. Eat it, you're so hung-

She grunted, feeling the burn of the solver symbol in her eye once more, she blinked, trying so hard to block those thoughts out.

She didn't want to hurt anyone.

She didn't!

But the rage still followed- a ticking time bomb.

She sat up, flexing her fingers through the grass, the smell of rain grew closer- and a rumble of thunder cracked through the air. She had to get home soon, lest she wanted to rust over.

She didn't move.

Would that really be so bad? She couldn't hurt anyone if her joints were locked up with corrosion. If she wasn't near anyone- returning to the soil in the only way an artificial being can.

She still didn't move when she could hear the rain approaching, seeing the sky darken as she looked up through the canopy.

She sighed. Her mom would find her, or even worse- Bishop would, and it would mess him up, mess her whole family up. Mess them up even more then she already was.

Kiara flashed through her thoughts.

Kiara still needed her, she was going through hell at home, she didn't need this dumped on her as well. Tera wanted to be there when she needed her- couldn't to that if she was rusting into nothing.

She stood up, expression deadpan.

And she flew home. Landing on the balcony just in time, rain pelting down a moment after like she'd brought it with her.

Her hand hovered over the doorknob, a breath was taken. And a mask of pure indifference fell over her features. It didn't bother her, she was fine, everything was fine.

She opened the door.

“Hey. I'm home.”

#murder drones #oil is thicker then blood #tera doorman #I'm not sure what warnings i should put here #tera thinks about leaving herself out in the rain- think about what that means for a robot

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cxlamarisalxmi · 1 year ago

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Some Sunny Day

[Platonic Drabble]

c/w: angst, depictions of trauma and injury, character death, no gendered terms used to describe reader

a/n: I couldn’t help it, the part two of the Spider-Venom reader is in the works and is being written and edited consistently and progressively, but this was inspired by me feeling in the shits about my trauma so.. here we are lol

��

[Unedited]

We’ll meet again

You hadn’t given much thought to how you would die, not ever really considering the thousands of possibilities that would result in the loss of your life. Never really finding the consideration of those pathways important enough to think about long enough.

Don’t know where, don’t know when

Perhaps you should have— maybe this wouldn’t be happening otherwise. That’s a lie, because death is inevitable.. it was coming for you one way or another. Perhaps it wasn’t you trying to trick yourself into believing you could avoid it— but prepare yourself for it instead. Had you considered all possibilities of death then maybe you could’ve prepared yourself for the painful one you had come to face.

But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day

It did not announce itself, did not trumpet it’s arrival. It had been silent, quiet in the darkness as it coiled itself around your throat pulling you off your feet. By the time you had seen it coming.. it had already set it’s teeth.

Keep smiling through

You didn’t wish for anyone to be sad for you, it was a good life you had lived. Sure, it didn’t start out too great but it had been decent.. and then it had turned for the better when you had found them.

Just like you always do

You didn’t want anyone to force their lives to a screeching halt for your sake, that wasn’t fair.. and you knew that regardless of what you had thought— they would celebrate your life everyday from here on out. Now settled in the acceptance of grief, the stage that had come after a long and painful endurance through denial, anger, bargaining and depression.

‘Till the blue sky drives the dark clouds far away

They had felt such a dark and heavy cloud hanging over them since your death, and they had grown accustomed to it. Not bothering to address the way all of them were feeling about losing you. Suppress it down and ignore the searing ache in their chests —they believe— being the best way to overcome it and grow forward.

But you knew that was utter bullshit and you had wished they knew that too. Ignoring it will only make it worse, because ignorance allows the pain to linger. And if it lingers long enough it will fester and grow into a raging inferno that will swallow them whole.

Only in acceptance could they move forward, only in accepting that you were gone could they move on. Grow past it and become stronger together. And you believed they could, they just had to let themselves do it in their own time— at their own pace.

And eventually, that dense and weighted cloud overhanging them would be driven away.

So will you please say hello

You were Miguel O’hara’s eldest. And you had been with him through everything, after the loss of your younger sister the two of you couldn’t overcome the grief that had overwhelmed you both. And in the wake of that dimension’s destruction— there had been a wedge driven in between you and him.

Your relationship, previously stronger than any trial or tribulation life had thrown your way, had shattered to pieces. And you had attempted to at least pick up the shambles and put your bond back together.. but you had met a wall every time. A wall your father had built around himself to protect his broken heart and vulnerable soul from ever being touched again.

He hadn’t made an effort.. so you figured you shouldn’t either, and just accepted the turn of his back on top of the ache you felt at the loss of your younger sibling. The weight of guilt at killing all those innocent people had become the icing on this shit cake.

To the folks that I know

It was hard for you to grow past what had happened, because you were doing it on your own. In the wake of it all, it was you and only you trying to mend yourself back together. What hurt the most was that you had depended on your father to be there for you.. you had expected that this would only make your relationship stronger. Not tear it apart.

And it was naive of you to think such a thing, childish and ignorant of you to dispose of your initial thoughts that he would react this way. Because maybe if you had you’d have been far more prepared to take the bullet that his neglectful response had fired at you.

In the end of it all —the final steps you had taken to improve yourself— you had developed a fierce sense of independence. Nobody has your back better than you. And that was the unfortunate and heartbreaking truth that you had faced head on, it was a hard pill to swallow but it was necessary for you to move forward.

You garbled a cough, the gob of blood previously sitting in your throat jacked up to spill down your chin.

You grunted as the pressure in your chest grew exponentially, the rebar pierced through your chest causing an uncomfortable sensation to sit heavy beneath your ribs.

Tell them I won’t be long

The young teenagers who have come to adopt you as their elder sibling will be heartbroken. You knew that well, and you hoped that you father had picked up on the subtlety in your message to not reveal you were dying.

They wouldn’t take it well, and you knew they would follow your father to this dimension. The last thing you wanted was for them to experience more loss than they needed at their age. You couldn’t help that though, this was going to court one way or the other. What you could control was them being there in your final moments.. you had thought that maybe it’d go down easier if your father just told them you had gone peacefully.

They’ll be happy to know

It certainly would’ve been easier for them than seeing you impaled through the chest and coughing up the blood that had begun to slowly fill your lungs.

They’d at least have some semblance of peace within the grief and pain they’d feel that you didn’t go in pain. Regardless of the fact that this was easily the worst experience you have ever had the misfortune of dealing with. But they didn’t need to know that nor did they need to see you like this.

That as you saw me go, you saw me singing this song

When your father had finally arrived he had rushed to you immediately, his mask peeling away as he approached and dropped to his knees at your side.

“No, no no no, not again. Please no.”

“Dad…”

“Shhh,” he encouraged softly, “don’t talk. Save your strength, I’m going to get you out of here.”

“It’s too late.”

He didn’t listen to the way you quietly murmured those words, their execution breathed on a plane of exhausted agony. Your heart’s rhythm slowly fading from it’s previous thunderous beat in your ears. Slowing as it gradually eased itself into a state of utter still and silence, not having enough strength to continue to keep you alive.

Miguel wouldn’t let this happen again, he refused. As he thought of the best way he could move you he thought back to when you both had come back from the dimension that had unraveled. How he had shut you out, built barbed barriers thick and tall— and left you on the outside of them.

At the remembrance an abrupt ripple of regret shucked down his back, it made the blood in his veins turn bitterly cold. It was regret that was soon joined by grief that settled in his heart, heavy as lead sinking through his chest at the prospect that you would not make it.

And he suddenly felt knots tighten themselves up in the gaping in his stomach, because he didn’t even know what the right thing to do was. He couldn’t accept this, he couldn’t.. not again. But you were in pain, certainly worse than anything you’ve ever experienced. Not only that, but you were certain it was far too late for you.

He knew if he pulled you off that thick rebar pipe you would immediately bleed to death, if he left you on there you would die of a broken heart. Literally— the rebar had punctured through your heart and lung. Now both metaphorically and physically torn apart.

“It’s too late dad.”

“Please—”

You reached up to him, cupping his cheek as he laid his hand against your own. You lifted your opposite hand to hold his wrist as he brushed his gloved thumb over your bloodied and bruised cheek.

“Please no, not like this.. please there’s too much.. too much I have to do to show you I love you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to shut you out mi amor I’m sorry—”

You did to him the same thing he had done to you seconds prior and interrupted by brushing your gloved thumb over his angular cheekbone. You felt the familiar sting in your eyes and burn in your nose as you watched him. His eyes broken and devastated, the windows into his soul wide open as his defenses crumbled. His brows taut together and a hurt frown tugging his lips down.

“It’s okay,” you promised giving him the only smile you could manage. Soft and small— but full of all the love a young child has for their father. “It’s going to be okay.”

Miguel couldn’t contain the pain he was feeling a moment longer, and his ache had erupted in the form of the rivulets of tears gliding down his cheeks. And he listened intently to them as they spoke, holding them in his arms as best he could with the rebar through their chest. Still holding their face and leaning down to press their foreheads together, he internally wept at the way theirs felt colder.

“We’ll meet again,” you promised smiling up at him as he held you in his arms and kept your foreheads together. “I don’t know where, and I don’t know when.” You felt the way your heart continued to slow, the pressure on your chest increasing dramatically as exhaustion began. “But I know we’ll meet again—”

Finally the injuries had grown to be far too much, and you had only wished you had told him how much you truly loved him no matter what. How much you had understood his feelings and how you had already forgiven him for the toxic way he had decided to cope. Breathing felt like too much work, needing extensive energy that you no longer had.

Your heart gave up first, and the very last thing you saw before the black that had been seeping in from the edges consumed you entirely— was your father looking you in the eyes with the love you had craved from him since the loss of your sister. Your lungs followed after, and Miguel only sobbed harder at the way your chest rose, then fell, rose once again.. and fell.

He felt sick and angry at himself for the way things had gone, the regret he’d felt since the destruction of that universe was abruptly more pronounced in his chest. And he wept over your body, long since gone cold, as he completed the promise you had made to him. Whispered against the skin of your cheek —cold to the touch— and lost of all color and vibrant life held within.

“Some sunny day.”

—

a/n: when this was being written I was listening to life eternal by ghost and it just encouraged me to put as much ouchies in this as I possibly could so I killed ya!

#across the spider verse #spiderverse #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x platonic! reader #platonic reader #platonic relationships #platonic imagine

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