#im just so done. i just want to lay on the floor and rot like i get it im useless and you dont want to support me gg this country sucks ass

[the-kipsabian]

i am this 🤏 close to a complete fucking mental breakdown how are we doing today

[phfenomena]

❝in that lavender haze❞ || tom blyth x f!reader

| request- hear me out! lavender haze with tom 🤭

| A/N- done and done. im hearing you out and im listening so hard. i’ve been high probably like hundreds of times but still cannot properly word it sorry 💔

| WARNINGS- marijuana consumption (mega slay), kissing, eating, wine, tiktok, tooth rotting fluff,

(divider by @benkeibear)

the feeling of your lungs being filled with smoke made you giddy, everything with sharp edges turning soft and fuzzy. coughing lightly at the larger hit you’d taken you passed the blunt to your left, to tom.

your eyes fixed on the way his lips wrapped around it and the way he closed his eyes at the sensation. your hopeless crush on your mutual friend with rachel had been developing for months, seeing him at every gathering and meet up.

he was fairly nice and polite, the true english way. you just wished he’d converse with you, more than small talk. you’re laying on your back on the floor and studying the swirling patterns on the ceiling. out of your peripheral vision you see tom lay down next to you.

staring at the ceiling with you, you don’t ever say too much. and you don’t really read into my melancholia.

“you don’t have much to say, do you?” you question into the air hoping that tom would cling on. he hums and says “yeah, i don’t know what you like or what you don’t like so i jus’ say nothing.” you turn your head to face him- all caution thrown to the wind. you find it hard to care about your words in your state. “when i first met you i thought you hated me, you wouldn’t talk to me like how you talked to everyone else. thought i might’ve done something. sometimes i still think that.” you confess and it hangs lowly over both of you.

“i was honestly kind of scared of you. in my head you’re this cool actress who does slashers and everyone loves her. i didn’t wanna say the wrong thing.” you smile and place your hand on your chest. “you think i’m cool? i think you’re cooler, tom.”

his eyes crinkle when he laughs and you love it. you find it hard to decipher where the high ends and where how tom makes you feel starts, but they’re mixing. “i think you’re really cool. you do these cool like artistic horror movies and i’m kind of obsessed with your acting.”

i find it dizzying, they’re bringing up my history. but you aren’t even listening.

the group on the couch and chairs above you pass a bottle of wine and finish off the blunt. your friend laughs loudly and you turn to look at him. “do you remember that time last year when you dated the like entire cast of that one movie? what’s it called? i can’t remember. that was funny as shit.” you cringe and cover your face trying to forget.

tom lightly grazes your shoulder with his finger and whispers “are you hungry? i really want pizza right now.” you smile and nod. he wasn’t going to ask about your questionable past times. he pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you. “i can’t function enough to order pizza, could you do it?” you happily nod and scroll your way through the menu before you both agree on toppings you both like.

i just wanna stay in that lavender haze. talk your talk and go viral, i just need this love spiral.

the pair had found themselves in a corner, talking and giggling over pizza whilst telling stories. “yeah! and she kept asking when i was going to settle down and get married. during an interview for a horror movie.” tom shakes his head and laughs. “i couldn’t get through one promo or interview without someone showing me at-least one edit of me. it was torture.” you pull your phone out and show him how edits of him had filled your timeline.

“you’re literally everywhere. i’m not complaining but sometimes i want to see something else!” he picks his phone up and shows your his own home page. “i’m sorry i ruined your tiktok, but this might make up for it.” his entire for you page was filled with edits of you and you co-stars from your latest movie.

you laugh and watch them “i had no idea people made edits of me, i feel honored. it’s like a right of passage.” he sets his phone down as well as his pizza. “they only the use the same ten clips of you covered in blood, i need more content.” you place you own pizza down and lean towards him.

“do you wanna know a secret i’m not supposed to tell anyone?” he nods and leans closer. “i’m gonna in the next scream movie and i’m one of the ghostface’s, you’re gonna see me murdering on the big screen.” he raises his eyebrows and you barley take into account how close your faces are.

“i love everything you’re in. when i first met you, i went home and watched everything you’ve done.” he confesses with a smile and red eyes. “i did the exact same thing, rachel told me i was creepy! we’re like each others biggest fans.”

get it off your chest, get it off my desk. that lavender haze, i just wanna stay.

you’re sitting in the bathtub of your bathroom passing a blunt back and forth between you and tom. “it’s so much quieter in here, i love them but they’re so loud.” you say leaning your head back on the tile. he softly chuckles and looks at you. “i can’t believe we could’ve been hanging out for months, i should’ve just talked to you.” you smile and set the blunt in the ashtray you brought with you.

“yeah but where’s the fun in that? this is probably the best night i’ve had in a while.” you turn to look at him and you study his features. you’ve never had a chance to really look at him, your glossy eyes try to memorize each slope and curve of his face.

“can i kiss you?” you whisper out before even realizing you’ve said it. he mutters a small ‘yes’ and you’re leaning in, like your body’s on autopilot. he tastes like weed and pizza, you couldn’t find a bone in your body that cared. you sluggishly manage to inch onto his lap. “you’re so pretty.” he whispers in between kisses. his hands find purchase on your waist, not letting you even dream of getting off of him.

you reluctantly pull back and his lips chase yours. “do you wanna hang out tomorrow?” you ask him with a smile. “i would be honored, maybe i’ll take you out on a real date.” his hands are rubbing small circles on your waist. “the press is gonna love that one.” you mutter out before leaning back into him.

[michixoxo]

HELLLOOOOO

so idk if you’ve been keeping up with uno, hopefully you have but anyways this arc is scary and im scared for all my babies so can i get some arlo fluff please?make it so sweet my teeth rot!

ALSO ILY AND YOUR WRITING!!

thank you so much!!! <3 soooo happy to see all this arlo love

you remember the first time arlo said he loved you.

you had just moved in with him, all your stuff moved into his apartment. not only did you get to be with your handsome boyfriend, but you got to live off campus without being forced into the dorms and live with a complete stranger. you were a bit hesitant at first, not wanting to be a bother, especially after only a few months of dating. but he reassured you, saying that he didn't mind you staying with him. that you were always welcome. that you could rely on him.

he wasn't one for words, but everything he said still came out so charming. so, with the help of your boyfriend, you moved in.

...

"please get out of my kitchen." ...

...as you mop the floors with a blank look on your face, you can only be thankful he said "please" at least. how were you supposed to know which glass containers were microwave safe and which weren't?! you sigh, mopping diligently as he cooks dinner. were your days as a future rich house-spouse numbered?!?

by the time you're done mopping the floors, the scent of something delicious permeates through the apartment while tickling at your nostrils. you don't have to be instructed as you set the table on your own accord.

wearing an uncharacteristically cute pair of kitten muffins, arlo brings a tray of hot dishes that would make gordon ramsey himself shed a tear. "...are you a master chef..?", "no, i'm just good at everything." you stick out your tongue at him playfully as you then thank him for the meal with a kiss on the cheek.

the food is as delicious as it looks, every taste bud on your tongue moaning in beautiful synchrony as you chew. you look up from your food towards arlo, and you find him already looking at you. your eyes meet his and, even for just a second, you find yourself in them. you see yourself through his eyes and you look more beautiful than any mirror would ever show. you then re-focus, looking at arlo himself. and he looks at you. and you wonder if he sees you like that everyday.

...

you spend the next hour taking turns showering and brushing your teeth, ending up back together on the couch in your pajamas. you scroll through netflix, picking out a movie to watch while wearing an over sized shirt of his that he gave you. you still smell his cologne on it.

you spend the next two hours with your hand running through his hair as he lays his head on your lap, his legs resting on the couch arms. "is this really a critically acclaimed movie?", he asks, his eyes closed as he merely focuses on listening to it. "nah, i saw a reddit post talking about it and figured why not?", you confess, "what the? then why'd you tell me it was?", you give him a dead pan expression, "if I told you then you wouldn't have even given it another look, you'd do your annoyed face and roll over and go to bed.", he opens his eyes just to roll them, "my annoyed face?", you raise a finger, smirking, "it's like your normal face, but your eyebrows are furrowed by approximately one centimeter.", "fuck off." you take the next 10 seconds to laugh your ass off.

...

the movie wasn't that good, but it at least worked as a lullaby as you drifted off into a light sleep. the next time you open your eyes, you're in arlo's bed and facing the wall on your side. you hear a faint talking sound along with the feeling of arlo's arm around your waist and his head pressed against the back of your shoulder. you close your eyes as you listen closer.

"...i wish i knew how to be who you see me as..."

"when i looked into your eyes, i saw my reflection... and it was someone you loved." he stops for a second, as if hesitating. you open your mouth to say something when his voice stops you.

"I love you..."

"...and i want to live life like this with you everyday." you feel your heart beating faster to the sound of the ticking clock. everyday? forever? you wonder if this is what forever feels like. a beating heart so fast it rivals time himself. unwilling to bend, or break, or—

"fuck, that was cringe.", "PFFT—"

you feel him sit up like a bolt of lighting as your hand reaches to cover your mouth. you slowly turn your head, looking at his pale face with the color drained.

"...you... heard that?", you give a sheepish smile. "...maybe~?" a silence hangs above you both.

you blink and he's already up with a pillow in hand. "i'm sleeping on the couch.", "wait! come back you emotionally constipated asshole!", you plead, holding onto his shirt as you try to drag him back to bed only to get dragged towards him instead, "come back to bed~! lets talk about our feelings~~!", "over my dead body!"

[vent-blossom]

I’ve like never actually wanted to cut myself before but now I feel like I have nothing to lose. I made it to adulthood and it’s not better. It’s worse than when I was being abused because now I’m permafucked, never to actually feel or be a real person, just a shell of what i could’ve been, what I should’ve been given the right chances. Instead I’m running aimlessly through life trying to do my best trying to make the most of it except I can’t. Everywhere I look I see the pitfalls to end up back where I was. Im tired of tiptoeing around the land mines. I just want to walk free for once, feel like I know what I’m doing ideas of hurting everyone I come into contact with. I hate myself, I hate myself so fucking much it hurts. I feel like a parasite, where I latch myself to someone and drain them and move onto the next because I can’t stand to be myself, I can’t stand to be me because I’m gross. Im so disgustingly insecure I fucking hate it. Im a coward, always have and always will be. Because I’m a coward I don’t just suck it up and fucking end it already, I sit and let it fester and ruin my loved ones as it decomposes me and leaves me as rot. I want to be rot, decomposition, I want to be one with the fungi, let them take me over. It seems so peaceful, I can see it now: resting on the forest floor, deep deep deep into the darkness where no one will find me or see. I’ll lay down and feel the embrace of the pause and then feed organisms, creating new, better, untouched life. I can be living, just not as I am now in my physical form but rather living as a means of providing life. I don’t want to be in pain anymore. I don’t want to cause pain. I’m worried I have cancer. And I would’ve given it to myself too because of the probably hundreds of cartridges I’ve smoked. If I did have cancer, at least I could die and it be out of my hands. If I quit upon diagnosis I’d have done it to myself but at least appeared to have tried enough before actually exiting this world which is the cruelest thing I’ve had to experience by far. Entering a world without consent is never the way I was meant to be. I wasn’t meant to be.

[secretbangtnn]

summary : Getting a letter from a very prestigious school was something that you could have never expect, and even more unexpected was that you didn’t need to pay a penny for it. Beautiful news that were too good to be true, but oh how stupid you were to not question such a perfect chance to get away from your shitty life.

notes:

Guys i would be more than happy for some feedback, its my first time writing in english and im more than nervous. Im not sure if what i wrote is good or even understandable. + i would be more than happy to start an ask game with this book

Chapter one

Living or in your case existing was always somehow calm. Everything you do had a plan and everyday had the same pattern, like a boring vase that stood in the same kitchen you actually were. Blue marble tiles awfully similar to tears that run down the woman's cheeks, making them a little bit more redder than before.

Not that they weren't that color before, always blushy and ready to be seen. And maybe that's why you had that sour taste in your mouth while watching them, knowing that your own were as beautifully red as hers.

"why?" a simple question sounding now like the last call for help. Voice groggy and nose runny making the sight before even more unbearable to look at. But why weren't you moved, why the tears didn't make you guality like they should. "you planned this?! You planned to leave me alone like a selfish bastard!"

Looking down didn't seem like the best option, knowing that it could just take the nerves in the room to a whole new level but you could not stop yourself. She was always one to guilt trip you into everything.

A little shout left the chapped mouth making you jump a little while lifting your head simultaneously. Sight before you seems to worsen and as you took a step back the woman took another two in the end catching your small wrist in her clawed hand.

Hissing and looking dead in her eyes made you somehow more conscious of the whole situation.

“I didn’t know.” and you really did not. Gritting your teeth so hard that it felt like some of them could fall out at any moment seems to stop you from doing sudden movements.

Breathe in and breathe out.

“Of course you think I am stupid! Just like your father, bringing me to insanity step by step. But that’s what you wanted from the beginning, am I right?”

“Stop being delusional mom” Oh how hard it was to say the name of that woman. Mother of child that she forgets most of the time, only to remember at the most shitty time. Today was exactly one of the examples of why your dream was just to wake up not seeing or better not having to think of that woman.

“Am i now? It’s you who wants me like this.” She laughed, throwing her head back in the motion. Elegant column of her neck now easy to see, showing purple and red marks similar to those from claws. “You thought I would not know, you thought you could just run away like a scared little child. Now tell me, how long were you planning this o-or maybe it was your father’s plan from the beginning.”

“I didn’t know about it, I didn’t even apply to any of the schools and you are the one that should know that.” toxicity leaked from your voice in big streams, but it was something that u could not stop at that moment. She was doing it again, acting crazy and psycho making everyone question why she wasnt getting hospital help yet.

“So you are saying that it’s my fault? You were supposed to care for me, for your ill mother, not that you are useful for anything else. How could you even think of disappearing, going to school so far away and leaving me to rot here myself like you were not meant to end like this too!”

Snatching your hand you looked at the woman once again, tears in eyes making you look fragile. Her own body looking weak, nearly dead limbs hanging from a malnourished body, showing the world wrack of a woman she was. Complexion ill looking, but what was not in her case, pale looking with green, purple and blue spots everywhere the skin was shown.

“Why are you being so shocked? Don’t tell me you thought you were going to leave someday.” Her laugh made you grit your teeth, jaw starting to hurt from the tension you were keeping. “Once again you showed how foolish you are, just like your father, just like that scumbag.”

“You are insane.”

“That we already know, so why don’t you come back to your room and start preparing for tomorrow. I want to eat a really nice breakfast next morning and maybe then after we can talk about what job you are going to have to make a living for us.”

And that was your sign to go, not looking back at the sick smirk on your mother mouth momocking your whole being. Step by step you saw the old stairs, in some place missing the color. Your room was nothing special, at least that what people said, for you it was some type of heaven. Peace that you could only catch while being there, laying on your old bed while looking at the dull ceiling.

Closing the door, you exchaled a heavy breath, sliding down on the flat surface of the door. Eyes closed like you have always done after an intense situation, today was not an exception to that.

Asking yourself what just happened, how and why. Unconsciously you looked at the letter beside you, laying so weirdly on the piece of not carpeted floor. The big fault in a little piece of paper. It was funny how this thing made such a bad influence on your life just by arriving on your doorstep.

The fact that the only person you could compare yourself to now is a story character of the name Harry was nearly not as funny as it sounded. However how u can explain getting a letter from a prestigious school you for sure did not apply or even looked up not even thinking about getting a scholarship to having a chance to think about it.

By any chance you were not stupid, but your ambitions flew away with another day in this shit hole you called home. Main reason being your own mother, which not only made it clear but for sure would kill you faster than let you leave.

You took the letter, keeping it in your hand like some unknown object you have never seen before. The texture itself is weird, making you shiver in some way. Big letter stood on the black piece of paper meaning only one thing.

Oh yes, that definitely was unsetting.

You remember clearly the first time you read the words that were put in this blank envelope. Big chance waiting for you, welcoming you with big arms and assuring you that you have nothing to be scared of.

And maybe those words were the one that brought you to that situation. It was not even three hours after the fight with your mother. Sun long down now moon shining on your pale face. Packing everything you tried to be quiet and quick hoping that your mother again ate too much of those big pills.

Big bag now laying down on your bed with a small letter beside it looking as innocent as before. You were not even seventeen making decisions that would cost you more then you can imagine. Living hell with possibility of going to another but in that moment nothing mattered like running away from old monsters.

Floor cracked under your feet even thought you were considered as a lightweight. How could you not be so malnourished when your mother forced you to teach yourself how to cook, never letting you eat before her. You tried to reason her moods or harsh behaviour to you but no matter how many times you tried it always ended in another reason why your life was just simply sad.

Running away was a good decision. You tried to say it so many times to actually believe in those empty words. The truth was that you were an innocent little child, not even a full adult that has never tasted a social life or had a friend.

“It will be alright.” Taste on your tongue after saying this a little sour with a heavy backpack danglin on your right arm. One step and then another, you touched the cold handle of your white doors. It was the first move to make and probably one of the hardest.

Bag on your arm is even more heavy making you realise what is happening. Silent breath flowed past your lips preparing you for your next step.

You pushed it closing it carefully while hoping that the oldish touch to the wood wont make an appearance in a loud noise. Silly smile now seen on your face with big relief in the back of your mind. The hardest part was just before you.

Your mothers room, not fully closed - like always, she needed to make sure nobody would come uninvited. It was just one of her weird characteristics that came with such a messed up mental health.

Small noise came out under your feet, not loud enough to wake up the woman next door but audible enough to be heard from closer.

Photos all around you telling you that you were getting near the main door. Little pictures with you inside faded from ears of hanging, making you stop for a while.

Smooth glass now under your fingers as you touch a specific photo. You and your mother being in the green garden of your grandmas. Happy vibe and pretty smiles now nearly unbelievable to witness on either of faces. It hurted or maybe it was just the adrenaline escaping from a sudden stop.

Oh how the sweet monet was quickly destroyed by the harsh noise from one of the rooms, and you exactly know which one. Loud thud rang out in the quietness of the house, making the silence even more noticable. Your breath escaped leaving you in a big ball of nerves and anxiety.

One...two...three

Silence like the one before big storms but maybe just this time it was not that. You couldn't withdraw now, you were too far and too close to the feeling of freeness. So you did the only thing that came to your mind.

Catching a sliding backpack, you turned to the door in front of you, knowing that just behind them is waiting something so much bigger than your old mother. How stupid for you to not rethink your decision, and believing your innocent mind that its just a good thing, better life that could only make you happier.

So you did it, you took the heavy steps that echoed in the narrow corridor. Light breeze touched your face, and just like the first time you gasped at the feeling. Door closing not that gently as you started running as fast as you could.

Silly smile now on your face with a bouncing bag on your shoulders keeping you on the hard ground. It was feeling similar to the first sight of the ocean or the first taste of sweet ice cream on a hot summery morning. You were in ecstasy choked by the overwhelming emotions.

And maybe because of that you were completely unaware of the danger that waited for you on that chilly night. How could you think about it when everything seemed so distracting almost as you were dreaming and in that moment you probably were closer to believing in this being a slumber.

So as you sat on the cold bench of one of the parks near your home, realization finally came silencing your beating heart. Colder weather now felt more real, as it bit your rosy cheeks. You shivered, keeping your backpack on your lap, trying to hide behind it from a chilly wind that seemed like it came from every side.

Being alone hit you like a truck and the little noises of the night didn't help your rising nerver. You started to lose your breath, feeling your tears sliding down your numb cheeks. It was terrifying now with the knowledge of your wellbeing and adrenaline wearing off with every second.

“Mom?” A silent plea that came out of your lips with shakiness that was more than noticeable. You didn't know why you said that, but the woman was probably the only person you knew. Such a sad truth that you needed to understand. You were alone now, and with that thought a more shameless sobs left your mouth with an occasional whimper.

You were sure you were going to end up dead. That you won't see the new sunset with how your body shivered. Not knowing how life worked or what is bad or good you were a little lamb that waited for hungry wolves to eat her whole.

And maybe one of those predators just saw his next meal. Long strides brought him just in front of you. Your sobs are too loud to make you hear his boots coming closer and closer. His breath just centimeters away from your head, brushing your hair like the not forgotten wind.

“Sweetheart?” It was a calming voice, not too deep but definitely belonging to a grown man. Your posture momentaly stiffened, as your closed eyes now looked at the big leather shoes before you. Your whole body is not moving, only shivering because of the chilly weather and light clothes. It was funny how suddenly you have forgotten about being alone, now wanting just this, wishing for all of this to be a big nightmare.

A deep sight left man's lips reminding you about the realness of the whole situation. You could not move, completely scared, your fingers clutched the bad praying for something to happen. The plan to just act like you were not there, ignoring the man fastly ended, when he sighted once again and crouched just to your eye level.

Deep brown eyes, looking at you with nothing but softness. If you didn’t know better you would say the man looked as if he knew you, cared and was in big relief finding you. But your mother's words echoed in your head, making you believe that every man walking on this planet is bad.

“What are you doing here sweetheart?” Once more this deep voice pierced you. Your mouth opens to answer, deeply knowing that nothing will come out. You just looked in his dark eyes, wishing that maybe he will be the one who can read minds. His eyes now on you, more concerned than before, observing your shivering body.

He was tall and broad for sure, towering over your figure surprisingly even while crouching down. His huge shoulders covered by a creamy coat which now was getting dirty by laying down on a pavement, as it partly hid his expensive looking boots.

Too distracted you didn't notice his hand coming to touch your red cheek, now gently stroking the redness of your skin.

“What a poor soul, so cold and left alone without a coat. Tell me sweetheart would you come and let me warm you a little?”

[buckys-black-dress]

teddy bear - dad!bucky barnes x fem!reader

a/n: uhhh hey guys! here’s a little bit dad!bucky since im in a soft mood today, and ive been toying with this idea in my head for a little while. i typically am not one for super fluffy stuff but here’s something with tooth-rotting fluff. LOL. -ali 

wc: 1.2k

Ever since you and Bucky welcomed your darling daughter into this world, your lives have been anything but normal.

At just six months old, Rebecca Stephanie Barnes was a force to be reckoned with.

You were incredibly grateful for the fact that any one of your friends would drop anything to come help with Becca, but more importantly, Bucky was always around. There was never a moment where you had felt insecure or unprepared with your daughter, because Bucky was at your beck and call.

He offered to make meals, he did the dishes and laundry, and cleaned the house diligently, and you didn’t even have to ask. He was perfect. 

But you felt like he was holding back.

At night, he would avoid touching your stomach when you slept, which was odd because when you were pregnant, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. 

During the day, if you needed to grab something from the grocery store, he would run out and get it without question. When you were home alone, you had time to think.

Today, Becca had just been put down for a nap when you had mentioned to Bucky that you needed some pasta from the store for dinner tonight, but you stopped him before he could grab his keys and head out.

“Buck?” You inquired, freezing him in place.

“Yeah, honey? Need somethin’ else from the store?” He asked, puzzled while pulling on his shoe.

“Come sit with me before you leave real quick.” You said, patting the couch cushion next to you.

Bucky’s movements were slow and cautious, like he was waiting for a bomb to explode.

“You okay, doll? Somethin’ wrong?” His eyebrows were furrowed.

“I’m okay, babe. I just wanted to ask you something.” Your words were slow and calculated.

“O-okay. What’s up?” Bucky was clearly scared.

“Why don’t you let me go to the store? Or make dinner? Or clean up anything anymore?” You were genuinely puzzled at this point. “Or cuddle with me at night anymore?” The last question was the one that came out the quietest, meek like a mouse.

A pregnant pause overtook the room, blanketing it in an uncomfortable silence. 

Bucky was truly speechless. 

“I-- Doll, I never meant to make you feel like I love you less after Becca or anything like that. I just wanted to make things easier for you, and I didn’t want to touch your stomach because I didn’t know if it hurt or-” he cut himself off, his rambling coming to a pause. 

“Oh, Bucky. If you wanted to know how I felt, you could’ve just asked! This is all about us working together. I know things are different with Becca now but you don’t have to feel like you have to do everything for me. I can still make dinner and do the laundry, Buck.” You explained, holding his cheeks in between the palms of your hands.

Bucky stared at you like you had three eyes.

“Angel, you pushed out a freakin’ super baby out of you. The least I can do is run to the store or do the dishes when you need me to. I want you to be comfortable at all times, I never want you to feel like you need anything.” Bucky’s hands flailed around, your hands still on his face, but your face was stretched with a wide grin. 

And all you could do was laugh.

Bucky was really confused now. 

“Bucky, baby, my love, my sunshine, my sweetest boy. Just because I had a baby doesn’t mean I’m helpless! And we had a baby, Bucky. I couldn’t have done any of it without you, and I’m forever grateful for you. I wouldn’t be able to do anything around here with Becca if it wasn’t for you helping me. We’re a team, babe.”

“I- I know, doll, I just... I’ve never done this before, and I’m so scared. I’m afraid I’m not gonna be a good enough father, I’m scared you’re gonna feel like I don’t love you anymore, if anything I love you more now. I just don’t wanna mess this up.” Bucky explained, trying to help you understand.

“Bucky, you’re already an amazing dad. Becca is like a mini you! She perks up at your voice, she always looks for you when you’re not in the same room, she can’t even sleep if you’re not there. You soothe her, she knows you. You’re her dad.” You tell him all these things you’ve noticed over the past months. 

Bucky’s eyes were glossed over with unshed tears, trying to hold them in as he took in your words.

“Really?” Was all he could muster. 

“Yeah, Bucky. She loves you so much, when you had your first mission after she was born she wouldn’t stop crying because she knew you weren’t there, and she wouldn’t stop crying. She’d only stop when I played that recording...” You tell him. “The one of you singing to her while she’s asleep on your chest, you know the one?” You ask, carding your fingers through his locks.

“I- yeah. I know the one. I was only gone for two days, are you serious?”

“Dead serious, you gave her some powerful lungs, babe.” You chuckled.

“Is it too soon to wake her up from her nap?” He asked, looking up at you from his spot in the crook of your neck.

“Yes,” you laughed, “speaking of, I’m going to the grocery store. You’re sitting here with the monitor, mister.” You said, pointing out the device on the kitchen counter with a smile.

-

As you keyed the door to your house back open with your bags from the grocery store, you see that Bucky was nowhere to be found in the living room where you left him. 

You assumed that he would be in your room, maybe taking a quick shower, but what you found was all the more precious.

Bucky was laying with Becca on the floor, who was laying on her playing mat, staring up at her father.

“Y’know, Becs, I think you have the best momma, don’t you? Good thing you look just like her, wouldn’t want to look like a giant big man like me, huh?”

“Just saying, you might be giant, but you’re just a giant teddy bear,” you spoke up, startling your husband and causing your daughter to smile at you, “that’s why we both love to cuddle with you so much.” You say, coming to lay down next to Bucky where your daughter was squirming, looking for attention from you. 

You tickled her stomach, making her giggle and look over to you with her big, blue shiny eyes.

"I mean, hey, I’ve never been opposed to a good cuddle with my girls.” Bucky answers with a wide grin. “C’mon, we have a huge bed and more than enough space for this little one.” Bucky says, getting up and taking your little girl with you, leading you to the only place you ever want to be, surrounded by your perfect little family.

And that night, Bucky held you tighter than ever as you both fell asleep in each other’s arms. 

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Rabbit iiiiiii

Ending.

Want a chapter two? Let me know!

Draco finds a Hufflepuff attempting to cheat. He torments her, keeps her under his wing becoming possessive , unsure of his feelings. After turning Reader into a Rabbit he realizes how much of an ass he was. But now hes in Azkaban for his crimes.

A/n. Okay. So i asked Multiple people. “What happens in Azkaban?” They all said “you sit in a cell.” And im sitting here like. “I cant write that.” So THIS is what i came up with. I hope its okay :/.

W! Mind games, self injury(scratching), fear of going insane, Draco gets kicked and punched around.

@khemz1312 @goofygobber @rosiehufflepuff @trashyvicks

“Cheers love”

Draco said once you vanished from his sights, he never thought the twins would help you come see him, or anyone for that matter. Of all people, he was not exactly the most loved at Hogwarts. The man looked both ways down the very long hallway not seeing anything except for darkness. At least no one would bother him while he was thinking.

He made his way back to his spot under the window to think about his actions; maybe he went a little overboard with how he handled catching you. But a teacher? That's not as fun. Draco looked down at his hands counting the cuts all over them, he had the most on his palms and around his fingers. He was very roughed up, as soon as he got here the dementors were not very kind to him. Draco blinked his eyes feeling sleepy and slightly cold. He rolled his eyes leaning back on the wall reminiscing the time he turned you into a rabbit.

You were so cute like that; so little, curious, fit right in his pocket. Dracos hands fell to his sides and his eyes started to close. You had gotten used to him when you were a rabbit…

So tired…

When he got out Draco wanted to master the spell to change humans back whenever so he could turn you into a rabbit again. If you let him of course, he laid down on his side, holding himself.

Fading….

His father.. What would he do about that? Obviously he could not take you home . Maybe a flat of his own would be better. And that shop? It made him smirk as his eyes started to close. Cute..

Footsteps could be heard and they were getting closer now. It woke Draco up from his slumber which he was not happy about. The one time he was actually getting some sleep in this place.

“Dinner already?’ he asked, in a condescending tone as he got up to rest his back against the wall. “Is it more than bread today?”

The cell opened and closed after the figure stepped in. Draco scrambled to his feet with wide surprised eyes,“..Father?”

“Not the best cell.. But it suits you.” the man said, dusting the dirt off his clothes.

“What are you doing here? Who let you in?”

“I'm here because I have unpleasant news for you.” he took off his gloves while he spoke.

“..news?” Draco stepped over to his father.

“That girl you turned into a rabbit is dead.”

“..she… shes ……….” Draco went as far as the chain would let him to his father. His ankle was straining against the cold tight cuff link. “H..ho-w…”

“Quiddich”

“What?.. But she doesn't fly! She doesn't have a broom!” the man grabbed his fathers coat shaking it, asking him multiple questions just for Lucious to throw him off and kick him away from him. Draco hit the cold brick wall on his side in the corner. He held his head trying to process this , he was hurting inside and out.

“They needed one more , and you were not there so I suggested...”

Draco glared over at his Father, who looked rather proud of himself. His hands went to his hair white knuckling them. “You…”

“She didn't last long, it was a waste.” Lucious stepped to his son grabbing his chin so he was looking at him. “And to think she would still be alive if you just left her alone”

“Its not my fault!” Draco shoved his father just for him to strike him down into the cell floor. “Get your hands off me boy, remember who your authority is. “

“Shes dead because of you!, shes.. !!! …………………..” Draco felt very cold all of a sudden, looking down he saw that his hand was fading as if it was getting sucked up by something.

“Wait.. Azkaban would never let you come into the cell…” Draco stumbled up, hitting the wall to steady himself. “They wouldn't.. Your not my father! Get out you bloody dementor!!!”

“Draco dont you know your own father?”

“Shut up! I know my father and thats not you!”

“Pity, enjoy your time here.” the figure of Lucious faded and Draco woke up in a very cold sweat. He was still laying down under the window, no one was with him in the cell and his body ached.

“Dementors.. “ slowly he got up moving to the corner to hug his knees. “Do your bloody worst, im Draco ffffffucking Malfoy.”

It won't be the last time the Dementors mess with Draco… they were determined to break him. Throughout the two years he was there you had not come to see him again except that one time the twins helped you. Draco told you now to bother the twins so you didn't. Fred and George did try to cheer you up though as much as they could. They even got a hold of Dracos old robes that they gave to you. It helped but you wanted the real thing. Him.The carrot cravings went away after a couple weeks which was nice. You did not need to carry a bag of the produce with you anymore.

Hufflepuff was still weary of you and Slytherin were still jerks. The Ravenclaws sympathized with you and you found comfort in them when you needed it. You wanted to visit him, see if he was okay. But all you could do was hope and stare out your window at the moon knowing he was looking at the same one ..

Two years later.

“You killed me”

“Shhhuut up….”

“Im dead, because of you.”

“...”

“Do you ever wonder? What could you have done differently? Acted in a more.. Reasonable way?”

“Your not .rrr.-re-al..”

“Not anymore, my time on this earth has ended. Because of you Draco”

Draco ran into the bars punching at them, blood was dripping from them now. The figure of you faded away right as he got to them to reappear in the cell next to him now. “Your not real..” he said again.

“Treated me like an animal, toyed with me..-” he swung at the dementor watching it fade away then reappear. “I was just a hufflepuff, an innocent girl.” Draco shook his head but the thoughts just got louder and louder.

“Dead”

“Dead”

“Gone”

“Killed”

“Stay here”

“...with me, let's be together” you held out a rotted hand to the shaking man. “Be like me”

Draco had been tormented by these dementors at least 3 times a week ever since his ‘father’ had come to see him. Day in and day out for at least 6 hours a day a dementor came to him as you to try to get Draco to crack.

The first time he almost fell for it, but he quickly realized it was not you. You were not a crying mess trying to touch him and you could not float….

But still seeing your figure hurt him, your body was made to look dead to cause even more damage to the man which it did. All he could do was endure and think about you, the real you. It was all he had to hold on to. He told himself when he spent his first night here that he would be okay, he would make it out fine.

But now hes crying on the floor at least twice a week with new bruises, cuts, and a giant headache. He fully knew how awful he was to you now, he had to apologize properly. That motivated him to fight, along with keeping you safe from his father. He would get out, he would be okay.

“...b-b-b-e like you?”

“Yes Draco, like me. Lets be together, lets get out of here.”

“Get .. out..”

“Yes , lets get-”

“No, you get out. Get out of my cell, get out of my head just GET OUT!, ill never go with you! Your not real and your NOT HER!” he stepped back, tripping over his feet and grabbing the cell bars to steady himself. His clothes by now were tattered and his dirty dark blond hair was in a pony tail. The cuts on his face turned to scars and his nails were bloody from him scratching at his itchy skin . Everytime he swung at the dementor it would fade out leaving traces of itself on the man making him freak out and scratch at his own skin till they turned purple.

The dementor faded through the bars down the hallway and Draco sunk down to his knees scratching at his arms trying to free himself of the lingering black smoke.

“Rabbit… “ Draco choked in a big breath glancing over at the small window to see the moon shining in on him. “Ill get out.. Ill be okay. We will be okay……………………….”

A few days later a man had come to Dracos cell. He unlocked the old door letting it swing open. The man stepped to the side gesturing to the hallway and Draco looked up from his hand to see Snape looking in at him.

“Hurry up, its filthy in here.”

“How is she….”

“Why don't you see for yourself? Do i look like a owl?”

“More like an over dramatic snake.” Draco slowly got up limping to his old professor who helped steady him.

“Im glad your okay, Malfoy.”

Draco rolled his shoulders and cracked his very purple bloody knuckles. “Of course i am”

Meanwhile, those two years you had graduated and opened up your own shop with the help of Fred and George. They pulled some strings and found an empty building you could sell potions in. it was a small building but you liked it.

The Wet Nose it was called. With little bunny decorations all over the inside and on the sign, the sign was your favorite. It had a little bunny looking over the sign with its ears down. You tried to make it apparent you were here so Draco could find you.. All you could do was wait now..

Draco had left Azkaban with Snape , showered, eaten , and dressed in real clothes. He was in clean black pants with a matching suit top with awhite shirt underneath and black shoes. His face was still heavily scared and his knuckles were starting to slowly heal. The scratches on his arms would not heal though. They would stay that way for a really long time. He worried if you would still want him like this. He also kept his hair long , just past his neck he liked it. Draco was not completely free of the dementors, he could still hear them in his head from time to time. Whispering things for him to come back and what not. He always had to shake his head and they would go away for the time being.

Snape had dropped him off at Diagon Alley as he requested. Before he left he got out of the car to give Draco one final word.

“Malfoy”

“What? Which way am i going?”

The man rolled his eyes and pulled Draco in for a one arm hug, even though draco loathed this. The poor man fought and cursed, slipping free of this unwanted affection.

“The bloody hell was that?”

“Go down this way, on the left.”

“Fantastic but what was-” he slapped him on the head.

“Oww!!! What gives?”

“Thats, for barging into my classroom.” and with that he left.

“Barging into my classroom” mocked the man fixing his hair.

Draco wasted no time getting to your shop. He found it easily and just stared at the sign. He was scared. Terrified, would you still want him… you said you would wait for him.. But.. the way he looks. He shook his head, making the dementors stop. “No. she will, she waited all this time. She will.”

Ring ring!! The bell on the door went off once Draco opened the door. The first thing that got his attention was the many smells coming from all over the room. All the windows were open with plants sitting in them . He had to make his way to the back where the register was, passing all types of potions a variety of colors. When he finally went to it he saw a little brown rabbit sitting on the counter wiggling its nose. The rabbit tilted its head at Draco and the man did the same.

“Biscuit? Is someone here? And you didn't ring them up you silly animal” you joked coming from the back room up to the counter.

You looked up from the rabbit to see Draco standing there, his smile slumped and he had his mouth half open. He was in awe. It was really you. The real you. Quickly he fixed himself and his smile went all the way up his face, the man stepped closer with a happy, relieved tone.

“Hey, Rabbit”

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Wildfire

Chapter 2: Foreboding

Im hoping to get a bunch of updates out before i have to get back to school - So here we go! Second chapter already! This one is a little short, but it was the only place that made sense to end it, so I hope you will forgive me. 

word count: 2885

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

There was once a male gifted by Hellas. He was born into nothing, was born into dirt and ash and squalor. He ate when he was hungry, took what he wanted, fought, stole, and whored.

Until a queen of darkness found him.

She raised him up from the slums, and turned him into a weapon of war. He gave up everything to serve her, pledged himself to her always. Even loved her.

She scorned him, but the male endured it. For he would lay down his life for her, had already given her his freedom. And what was his dignity by comparison?

The years passed, and time started to become meaningless. Courts rose and fell, warriors grew into power and others’ names were lost to time. The male built a company of soldiers to rival any throughout the land. They suffered loss, betrayal, and battles too numerous to count. But they stood strong through it all.

Until a princess of fire sailed in from across the sea, and stole his brother away.

Now his queen was lost, was blinded by her own desire for power. And for the first time in his long life, the male was unsure of the way.

A choice lay before him, two paths diverged. And time was running short for the decision to be made.

The male closed his eyes, letting his tense shoulders drop.

Both roads were fraught with darkness and difficulty. One would take him across the sea, and label him a betrayer, an oath-breaker. The other would chain him in place, to a throne whose foundation he was worried had already begun to crack. One would take him from his queen forever, but might save her from herself. The other would allow him to stay by her side, but only to watch as her greed slowly destroyed her.

One breath in, one breath out. Slow and even.

Lorcan Salvaterre opened his eyes to examine the golden ring in his palm, those two paths appearing before him, closer than ever.

And he had no more idea of his decision than he had from the beginning.

His feet shifted on the floor, rasping slightly on the stone. The sound was quiet, but it was just enough to cause his queen, asleep across the room, to stir.

Lorcan’s breath caught in his throat.

The moment stretched, twisting and pulling under the pressure. And he knew that his time had come.

But which? Which? Which?

The bedcovers ruffled, a slow sigh escaping his queen’s pink lips. Her face was clear, relaxed. And she was just as beautiful as the first moment he had beheld her. A dark majesty, like black cliffs of stone overlooking the sea, like the violence of dark water tossing itself at their feet.

Lorcan breathed deep, closing the golden ring in his fist.

And he darted from his queen’s chamber, slipping into a run. The fastest of his life.

···

Rowan lifted a spoonful of stew, then let it drip back into the wooden bowl, its soft trickling echoing between his ears.  

He had been sitting in the kitchens for what felt like hours, but by the movements of the sun, it couldn’t have been more than a quarter–, or maybe half an hour. If he was being generous. And he was not in a particularly generous mood.

Rowan was exhausted.

Not, in-need-of-a-few-hours-sleep-and-then-he-would-be-fine exhausted. More fall-asleep-standing-up exhausted. Sleep-for-three-days-straight exhausted. And it was only made worse by the fact that he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping well anytime soon.

Today had been a quarry day, and after his morning run, Rowan had spent hours under the baking Wendlyn sun, slowly coaxing rock from the earth. His magic had helped, as with it, he could make blades of ice to cut into the stone, shaping it like clay. It was far quicker, but it was just as exhausting as doing it the normal way, with arms and back and legs.

It had gotten to the point that Rowan was desperately catching minutes of rest here and there, lying awake for hours begging for sleep to come. But the nightmares just wouldn’t leave him be. And both the source of all the trouble and its only antidote was now over a month away. Even if he left that very moment.

He was too tired to even be properly angry with her.

Rowan raised the stew to his lips, swallowing the mouthful somewhat gingerly. It had gone cold. He just sighed, and swallowed another.

It had now been ten days and over two hours since he had last seen Aelin.

Luca rushed into the kitchen, knocking over a chair and causing Rowan to slosh soup all over the wooden table. The boy just grabbed something from the storage area beneath the sinks, and then rushed right out again. Rowan frowned at him.

It took him quite a bit longer than he would’ve ever been willing to admit, but eventually he realized that Emrys, who was scrubbing the stove clean at the other side of the room, was smothering a fit of laughter at his expense. And failing.

Rowan’s frown deepened as he wiped up the mess. Emrys started laughing even louder.

At least the room was nearly empty.

But honestly, he was past caring.

Rowan was patting at his damp shirt when Emrys walked over to him, bearing a washcloth and a fresh bowl of stew, steaming slightly in the light from the open door.

“Here,” he said, already walking back over to the stove. Rowan held in a sigh as he mopped himself up, then gratefully started spooning the warm stew into his mouth.

Rowan and Emrys were the only two people remaining in the kitchen. Now that the rainy season was over, Emrys’ evening storytelling was getting more and more rare. Demi-Fae now spent their evenings out of doors, taking walks through the woods and eating below the stars.

Though he didn’t miss the wet weather, Rowan couldn’t say that he didn’t miss the evenings spent with everyone sprawled in front of the hearth, listening and laughing and crying as Emrys spun his tales. It reminded him of listening to his mother, curled up next to her in bed. The sound of her voice lulling him to sleep.

Something he desperately needed now.

A clatter sounded from the front of the room, startling Rowan from his trance. It was only Emrys, who had now moved on to the dishes, and had dropped a bowl when moving them to their cabinet to be ready for breakfast in the morning.

Once again, the old male didn’t miss Rowan’s reaction. But he didn’t say anything, instead moving to wipe down the counters and tabletops. Another moment passed while Rowan finished his stew, then stood to wash his bowl and put it away with the others.

But Rowan knew Emrys’ silence wasn’t going to last.

And sure enough, just as Rowan put the bowl in the cupboard, the old male spoke up.

“Luca told me he liked training with you the other day.”

The statement was tentative, probing. Rowan didn’t say anything.

Emrys pursed his lips, even as he continued rifling in the store cupboard for some hard-to-reach item. Another breath, then, “He said that you talked about Bas.”

Still, Rowan kept silent.

Emrys sighed. “In the weeks after the battle, Luca…” he trailed off, eyeing the bags of potatoes and onions he was supposed to be counting. “He retreated into himself. He wouldn’t talk to us, to me or Malakai. I know that we aren’t his parents, that we have no right to him. But Luca doesn’t have anyone else. His mortal parents abandoned him, and he never knew his Fae parentage…” he trailed off again.

Rowan found himself nodding to fill the silence. “You care for him,” he said softly. “Anyone could see that.”

Emrys’ eyes met his for a moment, then turned back to the potatoes. “He has become a part of our family. And to have him hide from us in that way…it was hard.”

Rowan nodded again, his brow furrowing as his thoughts began to twist. Where was Emrys going with this?

The male seemed to rally himself. “So I need to know, what happened to Bas? Was – was he really the one who betrayed us to the soldiers?”

Rowan frowned. “Luca didn’t say?”

Emrys scowled. “You weren’t here for those weeks after the battle, you didn’t see. At first, the whole fortress was in chaos, so wrapped up in healing and recovery and relief. And you – you had other things you were paying more attention to.”

Rowan’s face twisted in acknowledgement. He wasn’t sure he’d spent more than five minutes away from Aelin that week.

Emrys continued. “But then, once everything began to calm, Luca went silent. He wouldn’t eat, wasn’t sleeping. Eventually he just came back, like nothing had happened. But it was too delicate. We were afraid to ask him, to push it.”

Rowan nodded. Emrys looked at him expectantly. “What happened to him?”

Rowan steadied himself, then began to explain. By the time he was done, Emrys’ eyes were lined with silver.

“So he killed him?” the male’s voice was soft, heartbroken.

Rowan nodded, and Emrys turned back to the onions and potatoes, cutting off the growths that had sprouted, and tossing away those that looked close to rot. Distracting himself.

“To think, a few months ago I never would’ve thought that I would see you so calm.” Emrys said, almost sardonically. “The state that girl was in this spring – and you two fighting like alley cats. Always at each other’s throats.”

He stood, hauling the discarded vegetables to the compost heap, and moved on to the case of fresher vegetables that had been carted in a few days ago from a nearby farm. “And yet by the end, I thought you two inseparable.”

Rowan averted his gaze just as Emrys glanced up, his eyes sharp. Rowan knew that there was a question there, one that he had no intention of answering.

Emrys voiced it anyways. “And when do you think we will be seeing her again?”

Rowan gritted his teeth. Emrys seemed to sense an uphill battle.

“I – I need to know that she is alright. That she’s going to be alright.”

“No one can know that.”

Emrys frowned. “What will she be facing in Adarlan? Does she seek to confront the king – ”

Rowan cut him off. “Elentiya, has not shared her plans with me. Nor would she have a reason to. I serve another. She is on her own.”

Emrys’ face tightened, but he took it with grace. They were silent for another long moment, or at least until Emrys began tossing sweet peas and lettuce and leeks into a pile, murmuring about old greens and dishonest farmers.

But before Rowan could escape back to his rooms, to see if perhaps he could finally get some rest, Emrys stopped him once again. “In that case, how long do you think you will be with us, Prince?”

Rowan sighed, stalling in the doorway. He’d been avoiding this question too. “I’m not sure.”

Emrys raised his eyebrows. “Won’t your queen be summoning you soon? Now that your training with the girl is done?”

Rowan gritted his teeth. He couldn’t say anything to the old male, no matter how trustworthy he might seem. “Our Queen has ordered me to stay and assist with the repairs around the fortress, and I will stay until she orders me otherwise.”

“And you have no idea when that will be?”

“None.”

“So…” Emrys started, “While you are here…would you consider training Luca?”

Now it was Rowan’s turn to scowl. He should have known that this was where Emrys was heading. And for some reason, the offer set a wave of melancholy though him. Strong enough to take him by surprise.

“I know that the boy is not up to your standard, but when he came back from his run with you yesterday – he was different. Lighter.” When Rowan didn’t say anything, Emrys continued. “You helped him.”

Rowan shook his head, “I didn’t do anything that anybody couldn’t have.”

“Maybe so, but – ” Emrys dusted off his pant legs, making to stand. "You’ve made yourself one of the finest instructors I’ve ever seen come through here. You made that girl into what she is. And Luca was always talking about how much he wanted to go to Doranelle, to escape, and become a great warrior of the land.”

Emrys’ eyes twinkled. Rowan was still shaking his head.

“Just – please consider it. For Luca’s sake.” Emrys threw the remaining vegetable scraps onto the compost heap. “We only want him to be happy.”

“I know, but – ”

“But what, Prince?” Emrys’ eyes seemed to bore into him. “What is keeping you? If you must stay here, might you not be useful, as more than just a workhorse in the quarry?”

Rowan’s breath was tight in this chest. He wanted to say that Luca deserved someone better than him. To say that he would only disappoint, that he could never give the boy what he really wanted. Particularly since he so obviously looked up to Rowan.

But the real reason he was so reticent was because it was exactly what he wanted. In a different time, and in a different place. To settle, and build a home. To rebuild and teach and heal, from a lifetime of hurting.

It was so close.

But there was a massive, impassable cavern between here and there. Because Aelin was not with him. And the world around this fortress was far from peaceful.

War not only threatened, but snapped at their heels. Waiting to strike. Rowan could feel in it his bones. There were far too many storms to weather, and enemies to defeat, before that future could possibly be his.

So Rowan only said, “I will think on it, Emrys. And I will agree to spend time with him in the mornings. But just remember, I have no idea when I might be called away. It could be tomorrow or months from now. I can’t make any promises.”

Emrys nodded. “I didn’t really expect you to, Prince.” And he turned back to the storage cupboards, sealing things up for the night.

Rowan turned to leave, but then paused. “And Emrys – you could see about trying to talk to the boy again. Im not sure – but I think he might this time.”

Emrys gave him a small, but warm, smile. “Thank you, Prince.” And Rowan walked out.

···

Rowan jerked from sleep, his body shuddering uncontrollably. This time, the dream had been different. Had been worse.

Instead of him torturing Aelin, and listening to Lyria’s screaming, he had to watch as Aelin gave up. As she let the grief and pain overwhelm her, and she retreated into that shell of a person she had been when they first met.

Maeve threatened to have Cairn whip him, a punishment he had borne numerous times. Pain that, under the circumstances, he would take gladly. That he would take and be grateful.

But Aelin could not take it.

When Maeve threatened to whip Rowan, Aelin gave in. And she handed over the Wyrdkeys.

And Rowan could only watch as the dark queen laughed and laughed and laughed. And destroyed everything in the world that he loved.

It was knowledge that Rowan kept locked up so tight it could only come out in his dreams. The knowledge that Aelin would hand over the Wyrdkeys for him. It was their greatest weakness, their bond. But Rowan couldn’t see what he could do about it.

They were both weaker, and stronger, together. It was a problem he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to solve.

Rowan breathed, calming his wracked body, then stood up and began pulling on fresh clothes and strapping on his many blades. He shifted, then tore out the window and into the waiting sky.

It had been a few days since his conversation with Emrys, each of them longer than the last. It was like he was walking upstream, fighting against the rushing current. Time flowed around him like molasses, sticky and slow and uncomfortable as all hell. But pass it did.

It had now been nearly two weeks since he had last seen Aelin. It felt like a year.

Each of the past three mornings, Rowan had trained with Luca. Guiding him through the bare bones of his morning routine. Even though it had only been a few days, Rowan could already spot marked improvement in the boy’s endurance and speed. In quiet moments, when laboring around the fortress, Rowan even caught himself planning lessons for the boy. Figuring out what would suit him best.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the sadness that filled him whenever he corrected the boy’s stance, or reminded him to keep his core muscles tense. Nor could he escape the increasing feeling of foreboding whenever he thought about the future.

This tense peace was not going to last much longer, he was sure of it.

And as he shifted his wings to turn back towards Mistward, Rowan’s conviction was all but confirmed.

For wafting towards him on the western wind, was the unmistakable scent of Lorcan Salvaterre.

···

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[bitchfitch]

Conall woke to the smell of cinnamon and burning hair. His nose scrunched and his lips curled in a silent snarl he wasn't awake enough to suppress as he sat up in the bed he kept trying to escape. 

His every bone protested as he stood, and his muscles shook, with the aftermath of another full moon spent hunting through the woods like a common beast after being twisted into the shape of one by this stupid fucking curse. He managed to get his feet steady under him as he sought out the absolute bastard that kept dragging him back here. 

Arlo was where he always was, sat in front of the vanity in one of the bedrooms with his fingers combing through his stupidly long hair. He huffed as a greeting, not even bothering to look at Conall as he picked at a few strands and started the work of braiding it all into a manageable length. 

One of these days Conall was going to take a pair of shears to it all. Just to be cruel, just to stoop to Arlo's level.

"Why am I here," Conall demanded, "I left, I told you I had no interest in staying," 

"Yes well you see, I didn't bring you back here," Arlo retorted, "You crawled back all on your own, and collapsed on my doorstep like you do every damm month," 

"You know full well its your stupid curse that keeps brainwashing me back here," Conall stormed up to his side and was step away from grabbing him before that stupid curse twinged and forced any ideas of hurting the stupid unicorn out of his skull with a painful snap, 

"It's not a curse, Its not My curse, and there's nothing to do about it that I Haven't already done," 

"I'm sorry, do you just expect me to believe you have nothing to do with the curse that makes me want to protect you? That turns me into a dog everytime you are at your most powerful? You Truly believe I'm that stupid?"

"I believe you're that stupid, because you can't see that that's the truth, I didn't give you this blessing, I didn't make it. I didn't even know it was still kicking around until I Saved your sister from it," he spat,

"Fucking Explain it then, Explain why you are such a fucking liar," Conall had to swallow down bile as Arlo's hurt bumped up against the stupid curse.

"Im Not A Liar. And it's a long fucking story," Arlo snapped at him, 

"Then get fucking talking," Conall didn't care that he was scraping gouges in the wooden floor as he dragged a chair closer and dropped into it with a heavy huff. 

Arlo rolled his eyes and sneered as he started, his tone that of someone telling a bed time story to a brat they didn't particularly like, "Once upon a time, there was a queen who ruled an expansive and beautiful kingdom. She was perfect, and regal, and swelteringly kind, and most of all she was devoted to making sure her people Thrived no matter the cost.

So, one day, she gathered her kingdoms most powerful sorcerers, calling them each by name as she beheaded them and drained them of every drop of blood they had to give before rending the meat from their bones so that those may be used too.

When she was done she poured it all into her cauldron, and preyed and chanted and sang as she cut her own heart from her chest and dropped it into her brew.

The blood boiled around this offering so willingly and lovingly given, and the magic found her soul and bound it back together as the first of her children rose from the pot with her mounted on his back. 

He was a bull, white like the clouds above and as thick around the middle an entire chariot was wide, with golden hooves and single horn jutting from his forhead as he galloped and pranced with the reborn queen laughing on his back. 

The second was a similarly single horned war horse, white and gold but smaller than the bull that came before him. Still, he was stunning as he joined the joyful parade with blood clinging to his coat. 

The donkey was next, again with one horn growing from the center of his skull like a stake. Short and lean but powerful as he charged along with his brothers and their perfect mother. 

Then the deer burst forth, his single horn forked as he bounded so proudly around the room, leaping and prancing over the ruined remains of their imperfect fathers and other mothers. 

Finally a goat clambered out after them all, bleating and struggling to keep pace with his long legged family. He was the runt, the weakest, made from the dregs of the sorcerers' magic. 

The queen saw her runt and opened her arms to him and carried him on his brother's back. None of her children would ever be forgotten, or allowed to be trampled as long as she was there to protect them.

The family, complete and beautiful and perfect burst from the chamber and into their palace, the joyful cries of the people echoing through the halls at the sight of their reborn queen. They screamed and screamed as they welcomed her children into their court by offering up a feast of a first meal for their hungry mouths. 

The Queen's already prosperous land Flourished as though spring had finally hit after a year of winter. Her beloved and perfect and powerful children served their people with joy in their hearts. No one in the entire land ever went hungry, no field was ever blighted with rot, no wound left un-mended nor was even a single disease allowed to spread. The coffers were full and gold paved the streets, the water of their rivers and lakes ran crystal clear and sweet like honey.

The Perfect Queen and her Perfect children were worshiped by their people, but such beautiful perfection bred vile envy. 

A vile and selfish little human crept into the children's rooms one night. A lasso in one hand and a dagger in the other as it hunted through the corridors, looking for which one it would steal away from its family. 

But oh that silly little thing, weak and stupid as it was. It found the children curled up together with their mother watching over them. 

The Queen cought it before it could even take a single step, her wings beat as she dragged it out the window with her, her claws digging into its soft body threatening to destroy it completely. But in her divine mercy, she lifted it higher and higher and higher, twisting and bending its imperfect shape into something even more grotesque. 

She landed with it held in her arms and she called to her children, who of course always headed their mother's call.  

She laid the creature at their feet and told them that it would protect them now, that it was their pet and that they should look after it, that they should love it so that it would love them. 

That was the first werewolf, it stood guard over their rooms and when others like what it had been came close it would tear into them and spread its gift. They would turn too then, and join it in its guarding. 

Though, the children only ever loved the first of their precious dogs. The rest were too much fun to not play with. So, long as at least one lived, they could do whatever they pleased with the others. So they did. They tore them apart and painted their rooms in their blood and takes their hides with their brains and the children made their mother necklaces and crowns and bracelets and rings and every other little bobble they could from those precious wolves' bones.

The children loved their mother, so of course they wanted to lavish her with every gift they could. She had already given them so much, it was only fair.

The perfect family and their perfect pets weren't allowed to be happy forever though. A man, A king, their mother told the children to call him that, came into their home and soon their mother was heavy with his imperfect children. 

She assured her eldests that this was only a means to an end, that she needed an heir. Someone who would look after her perfect children when she was gone. She told them that while the children the king gave her would never be perfect, she would make them so. Just like she made herself perfect, just like she made all of them perfect, she would make these new lives perfect too.

To prove her devotion to the children born from the blood of her heart instead of the water of her womb, she gave the first of the king's imperfect offspring to them.

Oh how the king sobbed as they ripped it to shreds. Its awful little body not even worth being made into a gift for their mother.

The second was allowed to grow. Their mother would bring him to her perfect children every day and have each of them lay a blessing on him until he too was perfect. 

Only then did they welcome him as a brother. Only then did they begin to follow his orders like they did their mother's.

Oh how foolish those perfect children were.

Death came for their mother one night, her blood stained the long dead king's son's hands. 

Were he anyone else, they would have destroyed him just like they did that first child the king gave their mother. But their own blessings made him immune to their curses and their powerful bodies. Their mothers own blood protected him even when it hadn't protected her.

The Queen's perfect children cried and shrieked their mourning, and refused to lay their gifts on any of the cruel and selfish humans. It was their blood that ran in their littlest and most vile brother's veins, why should they serve any that would dare to share a history with him?

The new King did not have the patience for his perfect siblings. So he stole away their hounds and sent them to war, all but the one they loved, he killed that one in front of them and made them watch as it begged and suffered. 

Then, when they continued to refuse to obey him, he took everything they had. He took their hair and their eyes and their horns, and the skin off of their flesh, then the flesh off of their bones and then he took those too. And he took until there was nothing left and those perfect siblings of his were gone,"

Arlo looked back to his mirror his shoulders tense and his hands shaking with ancient grief, "Then, one day many years later, when the Perfect Queen and her perfect children were only whispered myths, a pair of witches gathered all of their magic and the corpse of their beloved sister. 

They went to the place that the Perfect Queen's castel had once stood and called on the fragments of her children, They pulled the goat, the weakest of his siblings from the aether and begged for him to revive their sister. 

He looked at the humans, and saw only their selfish ways. But he could not return to his rest. No, they held him there and demanded he do what they asked. Said they would never let him go if he didn't. Said they would damn all of his brothers to that horrid… inbetweenness of not being fully alive and not fully dead while being all to aware of it.

So, he looked them in the eye and made them a deal, Their sister's heart would beat and her body would walk again, but they must never attempt to summon his brothers. 

They were stupid, and agreed.

The goat took the dead sister's body as his. Her heart beat, and she walked and talked, but it was him who was in control.

He damned himself to this existence, knowing the witches had no way of killing him, nor did they have a way to summon his brothers while the body was being used. 

Years passed again, now with the goat alone in the palace he had shared with his perfect family. Unable to leave because if he did some other ungrateful and selfish human might try to take from him again. They might not care about destroying the body he wore like the witches did, and if the body was destroyed, the witches might try to summon and damn his brothers. 

So the goat lived in the buried castle and watched the world above through his mirror, and eventually he began talking to the witches, he was so dreadfully lonely that even their vile company held value. 

Other horrid little humans would stumble close sometimes. He'd kill them on sight, Or curse them until their blood boiled in their veins, or he'd give them something that looked like a blessing just so they would lead more to him. It was the only fun he could have without risking his physical body being known. 

But then the witches finally promised the goat a kindness. They told him that the wolves his mother had made for her perfect children still spread their blessings, but that with the unicorns dead and gone they had turned to vile beasts as they desperately searched for their charges. 

The goats heart ached but then it soared when the witches told him that there was one being brought to him.

A little girl, they told him it was, a child so young that if he loved and cared for it it would grow up to love and care for him in return. He remembered the precious wolf he shared with his brothers and Gladly accepted the offer for them to let him care for it.

Offering them a loc of his hair and blood from his veins. He knew how to not be selfish, unlike the humans, he knew that you always offer something in return.

They took what he gave, but when they brought him his pup, she was in the arms of a strange man. 

He collapsed onto his knees and begged for his sister to be cured tears staining his..."

Arlo hesitates, looking at Conall and picking his next words carefully, 

"His face, that the goat had initially found repulsive but no longer minds. The goat was about to kill the awful and pathetic creature, about to take his precious pup to show her to the room the goat had put together just for her. But then the man's words registered.

He wasn't begging, he wasn't asking to take. He was offering everything he had for the goat to save his sister from a perceived suffering. 

And the goat didn't see the witches making cruel demands and threats. He didn’t see that monster of a half brother demanding he and his perfect brothers work for the creature that killed their mother. 

He saw himself, and he saw his perfect brothers, and their mother. He saw his family always looking out and protecting eachother. 

The man asked for the goat to cure his sister of her blessing, and in return he would give everything he could. 

The goat's heart broke. He wanted, truly wanted, to help a human for the first time since his mother's passing. But he couldn't do what the man asked. His mother was far more powerful, and even now centuries after her death and many many generations removed, her blessing still held stronger than the goat could ever hope to be able t overpower. 

So he made the man, the pure and clever human who knew not to take without giving something in return, an offer. 

The goat couldn't destroy the blessing, but if the man could offer up another to take his sister's place, the goat could transfer it to them." 

Arlo looked back to his mirror, where he saw only Conall's reflection, as he finished the last braid, "I think you know the rest," 

A long moment passed as Conall tried to reconcile the story he was just told with the monster- no, the man, he sat across from.

"Were you really going to take care of Asena?" Conall asked, his voice low and quiet, as though speaking too loudly would break the careful peace between them, 

"I was going to raise her as though she were my own. I was so excited to teach her magic, and to give her all the blessings I could... I guess the witches are doing that now though," He leaned forward against the worn wood of his vanity and rested his chin on his folded arms, "I was going to have a family again," he wiped at his eyes before the tears could spill,

"I'm sorry, Conall," he sighed

"Why?" Conall tried not to sound surprised at such a genuine sounding apology,

"I know those weren't the answers you wanted. I know you wanted me to tell you that it had all been a trick and I could just snap my fingers and cure you of my mother's blessing," 

"No, those weren't the answers I wanted but..." Conall didn't know what to say next, so he said nothing and just settled a hand on one of Arlo's thin shoulders. He squeezed it softly as he felt Arlo go rigid under his touch for just a moment before practically melting beneath his palm. 

Conall had the sinking realization that this might very well be the first time anyone has touched Arlo since his entire family was killed. 

Conall had the sinking realization that the same might be true for himself.

"Please," Arlo whimpered burrying his face in the crook of his arm, "Please, I don't want you to feel trapped here, but please stay, I'll offer whatever I can, but Conall please stop leaving me alone here," 

"I..." he tried to swallow down the words before they could damn them both, but he was so much weaker than The Perfect Queen's blessing,

"Of course,"

[rorikoa-xiv]

Where There’s Smoke

The desert sun beat down on the Silver Bazaar as Talon stepped through the town gate. Adjusting his shades, he scanned the stalls and stonework for anyone of interest. He eventually settled on a black-haired midlander waving his finger at some men in wet, raggy clothing.

"I thought you sailors were supposed to have spine! Instead, you--" The furious fellow turned to see the stranger approaching him, and let out a tired sigh. "Yes? Can I help you?"

The miqo'te shrugged. "Maybe. I'm lookin' for anyone who knows about the recent sahagin sightings."

The hyur let out a bemused chuckle. "Sahagin! Don't you talk to me about sahagin! Do you have any idea how much trouble those bedeviled beastmen have made for my master's enterprise?"

"Quite a bit, I'm guessing." Talon set his hand on his hip, and cocked his head. "Care to elaborate?"

Taking a deep breath, the man bowed his head in greeting. "Aurton, servant of master Adalymo Totolymo, owner of Totolymo Munitions. And you are?"

The miqo'te straightened his posture and patted the wand on his hip. "Scorching Talon, of the Ashen Wolves. Here to solve the fishback issue."

The servant looked to the sky and clasped his hands. "Oh, thank the Traders! You must help us retrieve our grenade cores before the saha--"

"Whoa, hold up!" the Ashen Wolf threw his hands out. "Grenade cores!? Shit, I get that you're in the gunpowder business, but enough of those things can level a damn tower if you ain't careful!"

Aurton cleared his throat. "Which is precisely why we can't well leave them in the hands of their scale-skinned thieves. My men here were sailing from Vesper Bay when they were driven from their boats at spear-point. Had to swim their way to shore."

The seeker glanced at the drenched men and thumbed his chin. "Didn't occur to you to maybe take a land route?"

"And get gutted by tolls at Horizon?" The hyur crossed his arms.

One of the sailors, a dunesfolk, shook his head and muttered something obscene. The midlander shot him a look of disdain, and he zipped his lips.

"Tch, tch, tch… you know, I've monkeyed around with a grenade core once or twice." Talon rolled his shoulders, and clapped for the black-haired man's attention. "Whatever those two-legged guppies want with 'em, they must be putting 'em someplace dry. Otherwise the things'll go inert."

The hyur gave one last menacing look to his employee, then rubbed his neck. "The boats my men were on aren't meant for deep-sea travel, actually. It's unlikely they went far with their cargo."

The lalafell perked up. "A-actually, I might know where they are!"

Aurton cocked an eyebrow. "Well… go on then. Daylight's burning."

"Was sorta hopin' there'd be a bonus for telling?" the dunesfolk said with a nervous chuckle.

The servant's mouth went agape, then twisted into a sneer. "Why, yes! The bonus is, you get to keep your godsdamn job, Babayori! Now spill it!"

"A cave! A cave!" A look of terror appeared on the little man's face. "There’s some grottoes in the desert islets off the coast! I steal away to 'em now and again to catch forty winks and I, uh… that is…"

"Ohoho, you filthy little filcher!” The hyur stomped his way toward the dunesfolk. “First you try to shake me down for my own product, then you admit to napping on the job?! Well that's it! Your sorry ass is--"

"Enough!" Talon put himself between the two. "This ain't getting us anywhere. Look… Babayori, right? Can you take me to this cave where you think the sahagin're hiding?" The lalafell nodded emphatically.

The Ashen Wolf turned back to the midlander. "Then how 'bout this: let the little dude take me to the cave, and if I find the cores, we call it a job well done." He then glanced at the small sailor. "Oh, and you keep this schmuck on the payroll."

Aurton's brow twitched. "Keep him? Pah! And just what's your interest in his job security?"

"Can't really say." The mage shrugged back. "Just feelin'... generous. Alternatively, I can leave the same way I came, and you can sort this out yourselves."

A cool breeze rolled through the bazaar. The hyur inhaled, and eyed his employee. "Thank your lucky stars, Baba… you've got a deal, miqo'te. Get going."

The sailor and the seeker began making their way to the pier. With his boss well out of earshot, the dunesfolk spoke up. "Hey… thanks again, mister Talon. My family and I owe you one."

"Ah, don't mention it." the thaumaturge said with a wide smile. "Guy was a friggin' asshole. You've got my deepest sympathies." The pair laughed boisterously as they continued down the dock.

*********************************************

The nauseous scent of fungus and rot yawned out of the pitch-black cave now looming before Talon and Babayori. Just within its mouth were the stolen boats, with their cargo nowhere to be seen.

As the miqo'te began climbing off, the dunesfolk stopped him. "H-hey, just so we're clear, you're not expecting me to go with you, right?"

The thaumaturge gave a halfway grin, and shook his head. "Wasn't countin' on it, no. You just keep the boat here for when I come back with your boss's shit." He then hopped from the boat, conjured a flame for light, and headed in.

The sailor saluted him and nodded. "Come back safe, you hear?"

Deeper within, the pyromancer had to narrow his eyes. The damp air hampered his lightsource, and the skittering of vermin filled his ears. A chill ran down his spine as some unnatural growl echoed all around him.

Hurrying his pace, he stumbled upon a trail of webbed tracks leading to a tight passageway. The mage smelled something putrid coming from the other end, but it was interlaced with the scent of smoke.

"Found you." he said, and ducked into the passage. He anxiously whispered a prayer to Azeyma, and soon found himself in a dry, dimly-lit cavern.

Rotting fish and half-eaten rats littered the ground. Pinching his nose, the Ashen Wolf slowly moved forward until something caught his eye.

Several crates lay at the far end of the room. They smelled like charcoal, and had a faint glow. Talon hurried over and began inspecting them.

Finding nothing suspect, he carefully opened one of the crates. Inside were many densely packed orbs, emanating dry heat. He plucked one out, and gazed into its orange glow with a nostalgic smile. "Bee-youtiful…"

KSSHHHICK!

The thaumaturge screamed as something cold and steely plunged into the base of his back! He fumbled to try and pull whatever it was out, but a slimy foot planted itself on his back and kicked him to the floor!

His wand fell into the dirt beside him. Gritting his teeth, he crawled toward it, but a sudden stomp on his spine held him in place.

A pair of mucus-filled voices hissed above him. "Keep thisss one alive; fear will make its flesh tassstier for brothers!" laughed one voice. "No, no!" growled another. "Sssmoothskin is wielder of fire! Burning, burning! Too dangerousss!"

Talon jerked and wriggled to escape his attacker, but to no avail. He felt the weight shift above him, and could almost sense the sharpened steel hanging above his neck.

At just that moment, the pitter-patter of footsteps could be heard from the cavern's entrance. Babayori's voice echoed out, "You let 'im go, you big ugly whoreson!" The lalafell swung his oar wildly, only for it to thud against the scaly back of a sahagin thrice his size.

The creature let out two irritated grunts, and turned to the little man. In the faint light of the lantern on his hip, the sailor could make out a towering, violet monstrosity, armed with a trident. Most frightening to him, however, were its two hideous heads.

Both of its faces twisted into scowls, and roared at Babayori. He fell to the ground in terror, and crawled back. The abomination stomped toward him, preparing another thrust of its weapon.

FFFOOSH!

An orange flash filled the room. In an instant, a whip made of flame was coiling around the creature's waist, and slithering up its body. It let out a blood-curdling howl, and turned to see Talon propped against the crates, gripping his wand.

With growing fury, the beastman took several heavy steps toward the Ashen Wolf. "These onesss will eat your entrailsss!"

Babayori watched with awe and horror as the thaumaturge pulled out a grenade core and focused on it. When the sahagin had nearly reached him, the glow from the core dimmed into nothing, and the fire-whip burned even brighter.

With a yank of the wand, the coil tightened, searing through the creature's scales before tearing it into a pile of smoking chunks.

As the scent of charred flesh filled the room, the miqo’te fell to the ground and rolled onto his back. Through harsh breaths, he beckoned, "Good… work, Baba… n-now… c'mere…"

The lalafell rushed to his side, and began inspecting him for any visible injuries.

"W-wait. First… left pocket… yellow vial. Need it…" Talon shut his eyes, and felt a bitter liquid pour into his mouth. Swallowing it all, he sat up. "Alright… better. Now, I need your help to patch my wounds, but after that, we get those crates and get moving. Two hauls should be enough."

The dunesfolk's eyes widened as he poured a canteen over a makeshift binding. "Two hauls? After all that? Are you trying to kill yourself?"

The seeker's brow twitched, and he barked back. "I'm not sticking around for that… thing's friends to show up. And I'm definitely not leaving them their plunder!"

He then lifted his shirt, and cringed as a whiskey-soaked cloth was used to bind his wounds. "Fuckin' circus freak… what in the hells were these guys doing playing with that much firepower, anyway?"

"Nothing good, I'm sure." Babayori replied as he rummaged through the thaumaturge's pack. "But at least you helped stop 'em, huh?"

"No." The pyromancer grabbed the sailor's hand when he was offered a potion. "We helped stop 'em."

[sappho-official]

okay so YES I know the year is 2020 and I’m suddenly really into a rarepair for a dead fandom but I NEED to talk about valencock from fallout 4. which is a helluva ship name lmfao. I just love the idea that they knew each other when Hancock was in his 20s.

spoilers btw, for both of their approval conversations/The Long Winter. also this is kinda dark lol

I just. I’m losing my shit at the realization that Hancock took a one-of-a-kind-drug to turn himself into a ghoul. you know who else took a drug to turn into a ghoul, perhaps the only other character in the series? Eddie Winter.

so, headcanon that Nick was working on the Winter case, not because he thinks there’s anything to solve but because he needs some goddamn closure on his fiance’s death. and he finds out that Winter was taking a drug around the time that the bombs fell, and he starts looking into it. maybe he finds a dose, maybe just a recipe that he gets someone to replicate for him.

and John...John’s not in the best place right now. Nick confides in John that he’s not sure what the drug does, hopes it just killed Winter, but...maybe turned him into a ghoul? Nick isn’t sure, and he’d use the drug on himself but, well, that’s not an option. so John volunteers.

and Nick’s like, what the fuck, no?? i’m not letting you have this, you might die! so John shrugs, leaves town for a while. Nick doesn’t realize until a few days later that the drug is missing.

he makes the trip to goodneighbor, to the hole-in-the-wall place that john’s been living in since mayor mcdonough was elected.

Nick quietly lets himself into John’s pad. There’s a soft noise, a grumble, from the bed.

“You awake?” he asks, half expecting silence.

“Unfortunately,” rasps a voice from under the blankets. Nick’s heart sinks. It’s not how John sounded just a week ago.

“You knew what you were getting into,” Nick murmurs, taking the desk chair and dragging it over. He sits down next to him. “Did you want this?”

There’s a gravelly chuckle, and John’s head peeks up above the blankets. Nick can’t help but gasp when he sees him: skin bloody and raw, blond hair falling out in patches. His irises have expanded, color peeled away to become cloudy and grey. His nose is practically rotting, one nostril entirely gone.

“Heh,” John smirks, “the look on your face.”

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” Nick pleads, “we can bring you to the doctor, you can stop taking the injections—“

John pulls his hand from under the blankets, dried blood pilling on the sheets as he moves. He holds it up to stop him, raw skin shining in the lamplight. “This ain’t for you,” he rumbles. “I’m doing this ‘cause I want to.”

Nick’s face goes stern. “So you’re not done with it yet. Listen, you might not be past the point of no return—“

“You don’t get it, do you,” John cuts him off. “I did this for me.”

Nick blinks.

“You thought it might kill you.”

John shrugs.

“Figured it was a win-win.” He stares up at the bare bulb above his bed. “You’d get your answer and I wouldn’t have to look at the same bastard in the mirror.”

“Christ,” Nick mutters, laying his head down on the blanket. He wants a cigarette, but there’s no damn point in smoking one.

He nearly jumps when John’s hand settles on the back of his head. He strokes at the base of his neck, and it’s almost comforting. Like Nick’s the one whose skin is peeling off.

“How,” Nick mutters into the blanket, “how are you feeling?”

John laughs, and, oh, that’s going to take some getting used to. “Well, I’m ‘bout high on Med-X as a vertibird, so I’d say I feel pretty good.”

“Alright,” Nick murmurs. Decides not to call the lie.

They stay like that for a while, John’s hand on the back of Nick’s neck, only the ringing of faulty wiring to keep them company. Somewhere outside a firefight breaks out. He feels John tense in the bed.

“I’m gonna kill Vic,” he grumbles.

“Alright.”

John raises an eyebrow. Half of it’s gone. “Pretty sure murder’s a crime, mister cop.”

“From what I’ve heard,” Nick sits up, “he’d deserve it three times over.”

He expects John to make a joke, but instead he looks contemplative. “Yeah. He does.”

They’re quiet again for a moment; there’s an explosion, screams. Then, nothing.

Nick sighs. “I shouldn’t have to say this,” he says, straightening his hat. “If you go after him, don’t get yourself killed.”

“Made it this far,” John grumbles, pulling the blanket higher above his face. “What’s another couple centuries?”

Nick stands, looks down at the living corpse of his best friend.

“Do you want me to try to fix this?” Nick asks. “I won’t if you don’t want it, because this is your choice. You’re an adult. You can make choices.”

John chuckles again. “Not somethin’ I ever thought I’d hear you say, brother. But nah. I’ll tough it out. I’m a big boy.” He grins and Nick wishes it wasn’t so weak.

“If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure,” John says, face falling into something more serious. “I wouldn’t complain ‘bout some more painkillers, though.”

Nick nods. “I’ll see what I can do,” he says softly. He leans down, brushing his lips against John’s forehead. His sensors tell him that John’s skin is 102° fahrenheit. He turns to leave but something catches on the bottom of his coat.

“Don’t go.” John is staring up at him, eyes a dark August storm.

Nick stares down at him helplessly, feels like his heart is somewhere on the floor. “I have a case.”

John flops back onto the bed. “Fuck.”

“I’ll bring some water by later,” he says, “and I’ll see if I can bring a doctor with me. Just to help with the pain.”

“Thanks,” John croaks as Nick closes the door behind him.

so. anyways now i guess im gonna see if can pull together a fic that can provide the full context for this scene? i posted like the first two chapters of it, we’ll see how this goes.

[urfavfandomles]

ha, you thought it was over

more valdemar headcanons!! vaguely nsfw

they're cold when they first enter a relationship

like you asked them if they wanted to be with you and all they did was say "ok" and you were just like ????? and assumed it meant yes

so you of course being an adorable person make tons and tons of effort for them

going to spend time with them whenever possible

leaving them love letters

telling them medical facts from a book you started to read when you were interested in them

you're kinda...upset that they don't seem to appreciate your gestures, never really saying anything, and just patting your head like you were a child

you wanted them to find you sexy and amazing, dammit!

so one day you decide to dress up

and you put on the outfit that shows the most amount of skin and accentuates your figure

you put on a little makeup to make your eyes stand out and plumpen your lips to make them look irresitable

you were going to get them!!!!!!!!

so you visit them in their office, entering when they respond

they don't even look up from the document they were looking over

you brush this off "hi, valdemar! how are you doing today? i brought you some lunch...!" you had put great efforts into your appearance and all you wanted was for them to look up just once

and they finally tear those red eyes you loved so much away from the paper and stare at you, their eyes scanning your body

you shiver in anticipation for what they have to say, biting your lip

"you can put the meal on the end of my desk." is all they end up saying, before turning back to the paper littering their desk

"w-what?" you stutter

"i said, you may leave the meal that i likely won't eat at the end of my desk, and then you are dismissed."

you stare at them in shock

sure, they remained blunt throughout the entire time you had known them, but they had never used such a scathing voice on you before, or dismissed you

you feel anger boil within you, and your eyes prick with tears. you were an idiot for thinking they'd notice you just because you wore something nice. you were an idiot to think they were interested in you at all. it's obvious they were with you for some sick, twisted reason—perhaps they felt pity for a human approaching them, or they wanted to make you fall deeper and deeper in love with them only to break your heart later

you place the meal soundless on the edge of the desk, but can't help but let the words slip from your tongue.

"fine. if you're dismissing me, then i'll consider this as you saying you're done with me. goodbye, Doctor."

you close the door behind you, not waiting for a reply, though you doubt you would have gotten one

you feel a sudden wave of sadness in your veins.

it was over.

you're walking through the halls of palace, about to head back to your home, when you're suddenly pressed against by the wall. you gasp in shock.

"well, well, what a pretty thing you are," purrs a man dressed in servant robes, his nasally voice ringing in your ears. "presenting yourself for me. why don't you do that, hm? present yourself for me. get ready for what you're about to take."

he's feeling you up and you gasp in horror, trying to fight back

he was taller and heavier than you.

"leave me alone!" you let out a strangled shout.

"shut the fuck up, you fucking whore," he snaps, and you hear the smack of skin against skin before you feel the pain on the side of your face

it was boiling warm, and you knew the skin was irritated and red

you let out a cry when the pain registers, your hands reaching up cradle the side of your face. you feel wetness of blood on your palm, and knew you were bleeding

fear fills you

you were alone in the corridor and there was a high chance this was going to end badly

"now, fucking present yourself for me unless you want me to beat the shit out of. and hurry, i want to feel your whore cunt around me."

you're about to scream at him when he shoves his hand against your mouth, effectively shutting you up. you shout under the weight of his hand, struggling.

he rips your top away from your body with his other hand, and you're horrified as you feel his hand fondling you

tears are streaming down your face and just as his hands slip under your skirt, the weight of him suddenly vanishes

you see a flask of white and black and then you hear a screech enter the hallway

valdemar had the man pinned to the floor with their foot alone, their face more livid than you'd ever seen it

you would have pissed yourself if it had been directed at you. you watch as they effectively slams their foot against various parts of his body, the sickening crunch of bones breaking loud in the hallway that suddenly seemed so quiet

"i'll fucking rip you to shreds," sneers valdemar, never once stopping their tormet on the man's body. "i'm going to break every bone in your body for touching a hair on their head."

they slam their foot against the man's face

the man is howling in pain, and valdemar lets out a humorless laugh.

"that's my mate," they hiss. "do you understand? MINE. i don't like it when people touch my mate with their filthy hands. so im going to cut yours off." their voice is ice cold.

you're horrified at their words

they were truly going to kill this man.

"fucking WHORE," the man screams, "they're a goddamn WHORE and they were asking for it—"

valdemar suddenly stops where they stand. the man's face is blood.

"asking for it," they repeat as though it was the first time they had ever heard such a phrase. their lips curl. "i'm going to gouge out your eyes for staring at them. i'm going to see your lips shut and cut off your ears. i'm going to," they hawl the man up by his collar so they're face to face, "destroy you and everything you love for saying those words to my beloved."

the man is trembling and valdemar turns to you suddenly, taking in your state. you cross your arms across your chest self consciously. their mad genius eyes zero in on the cut on your cheek, and their red eyes gleam in the light of the corridor.

"you touched them," they said softly to the man. "you cut my swan on their delicate face. you're going to regret doing such a sin."

several footsteps fill the hallways and you whirl around to see the other courtiers and palace guards and nadia herself approaching the three of you. valdemar lets the man go from their grasp, causing the man to fall back to the floor below them. never once do they take their eyes off his face.

"oh dear, what is going on?" volta says nervously.

"yes, pray tell what is going on, Quaestor?" asks Nadia, her calculating gaze taking in your state of dress, the expression on the man's face and valdemar's cold gaze.

"this disgusting creature dared to harm my mate, that's what happened," they spoke calmly as if they had not just threatened to end the man's life.

vlastomil claps his hands, "oh, goodness, should we prepare a trial?"

"no, this worthless excuse for a human does not deserve any mercy for daring to hurt MY swan." valdemar pauses. "i'd personally like to end their life."

nadia looks conflicted, "quaestor, i understand your anger but i believe it would be better fitted if he was locked up."

valdemar smiles in a totally unpleasant and quite frankly terrifying way, "i don't think you heard what i said, Countess. this man dared to lay a hand on my beloved—"

they're cut off when you tug at the sleeve of their medical robe. they immediately pause as you stare up at them.

"please just allow him to go to a prison cell," your voice trembles but you remain firm. "please. for me. i just want this man locked up so he doesn't do this to anyone else." they stare down at you, and you bring yourself to touch their face, something you had never done before, touching their cheek gently and tracing their cheekbone.

to your surprise, they lean into your touch, leaning down for your comfort. you manage a shaky smile at the action. their eyes trace every inch of your face.

finally, they pull back, but grasp your hand in their gloved one.

they turn back to the crowd. "fine," they agree. "let this man rot away for the rest of his life. for now, i must attend to (y/n)."

they pick you up, causing you to let out a surprised yelp, your front pressed against theirs, your legs wrapped around their waist. they support your back and have you tucked under their chin as they quietly and swiftly leave the scene.

they're taking you through a part of the palace you haven't been through, and they open a door to the right and step in.

it was a bedroom that looked untouched, everything in place.

they place you on the bed, and you stare up at them. "i'm sorry, valdemar, for getting into trouble, but i didn't mean for that to happen! i know i said i was done but the truth is i'm in love with you. i can't sleep, i can't eat, i can't do anything but think about you. i love you. i just, love you. and i—"

your words are cut off by a cold pair of lips pressed against your own.

you gasp in surprise and valdemar takes this chance to snake their tongue into your mouth. the feeling of their tongue gliding against yourself makes you moan deeply, and their gloved hands slide down from your face, tracing their way down your body until they rest at your waist, where they rested.

you buck your hips at how hungrily they kiss you, feeling a deep need collect in the pit of your stomach.

you hear a noise in response, somewhere between a growl and purr, and valdemar pins your body back against the bed, their lean frame pressing you against the mattress. you gasp at the action, only for your lips to caught between their again.

they kiss you over and over, until you can't breathe and have to pull back, gasping, lips bruised and cheeks flushed.

they stare down at you hungrily, like they wanted to positively devour you. you shiver, and then remember your hardened nipples were on display for them to see. you bite down on your lip and try to look everywhere but at them. however, their eyes narrow when they notice this action and cup your face in their cool hands.

"you are mine," they say, their voice as calm as ever. they don't sound breathless at all like they had just been kissing the living daylights out of you. "and if anybody tries to take you from me or harm you in any way," their voice deepens into a demonic growl, "i'll kill them."

you can't help but shiver at their words, partly in fear and partly in pleasure.

"but i thought you didn't want me," you say quietly, remembering your interaction today.

they scoff. "want you? how could i not?" their eyes greedily drink in the sight of you sprawled out in front of them, like a tiger would look at an antelope they just caught. "when you came into my office, so sweet, smelling like you did— desperate, needing me alone—i had to send you away. unless you had wanted me to slice your clothes of your body then and there and have my way with you."

heat floods your body and you buck your hips against their body again, twisting to get closer to them.

they smile, their razor sharp teeth on display. "little swan, if you don't stop, i'll ravish you."

"maybe i want you to," you say breathlessly. their red eyes darken at your words and they catch your lips in theirs.

to say you got ravished that night was an understatement.

[bowieandqueen11]

You Lied / Losers’ Club Imagine

Request: Omg girl im totally obsessed by your writing! Could i please request an IT (2019) where the reader was a loser but also died like stan, and came back somehow like stan did in his spider part, just not a spider? 💕 

I just saw It 2 again, and now I’m back to crying XD

Warning! Swearing!

Mike slammed on the door, his palm trying to crack the splintered wood with every desperate thump and sloppy hit, but Richie couldn’t hear it.

Eddie couldn’t hear it.

Hell, even Bill couldn’t hear it.

All they could see was this fridge. This grotty little refrigerator that hummed as loud as a small truck warming on a wintry morning that they swore they could see it vibrate. The stickiness, the tangy yellow colour, the little bits of black mould that begin to sprout out of the door like little reaching tendrils was enough to make Eddie gag. He had had enough; this wasn’t happening, whatever was in there, he wasn’t doing it.

‘Guys, we have to go. If Pennywise- if he comes out, I can’t do it. Not again.’

‘No....not Pennywise.... much worse...’

Richie slides his torch over the rusting metal, his eyebrows rising in surprise as his brain racks to try and place that voice he knew in his heart, not even realising his fingers had begun to shake lightly against the black metal.

‘All you’re.... regrets...all your lies....your failures...’

 Given the state of the outside, Bill prepared to hold his breath as he slowly inched forward to open it, creaking along the tilting floorboards with each step.

‘I-I k-know that voice. I know you. I know you-’

There would no doubt be nothing but disgust when Bill swung open the door, the old seals giving up the door with ease. Yet there was something else too. A small brown parcel, sitting on top of a bubbling pile of goo that splattered against the inside like a rupturing volcano, the spit and boil making Eddie gag into his elbow as he realises it’s the same liquid the leper had thrown up onto his face just a few hours earlier. To his surprise, he let in a gasp of the putrid air; it was every bit as bad as he had expected, but still he leaned in for the parcel, the label half torn away.

‘Belonging to Y/N- For use of the Losers only.’

Bill’s fingers shake as he slowly unwraps the sticky tape from the corners of the brown, crinkly paper. A muscle twitched involuntarily at the corner of his right eye, his mouth forming a rigid grimace as it crumples open in his hand. He clenches his fists tightly, until his nails dig into the palm of his hand, but he barely notices. The only thing he is really aware of is the sound of his heart throbbing against the cage of his chest. It's not until Richie points it out, that he realises his lip is bleeding.

‘Bill-Bill what is it?’

‘It’s her shoe-it’s her f-fucking shoe.’

‘He’s fucking with us, he’s fucking with us guys!’, Eddie shouts, his back slamming against the wall with a sick thud as he covers his eyes with his trembling fingers.

‘I want to go home, I can’t do this.’

‘Neither could I, and look where I ended up.’

The house had seemed to become aware of itself, of the history that echoed within the walls, the bodies that lay underneath its structure like a plague, or a deadly moss. Somewhere within, the walls had become one with the rats who crawled and the sticky spider webs.

As Bill slowly turned around slowly, not wanting to believe the warm voice that filled the cold air behind Eddie’s raven curls. The house shivered again, but in a different way. This time there was a small fragment of warmth, a tiny brave smile in the walls, a small spark of hope.

As Richie swung his torch over your face, his mouth blubbering open and shut as he watched Eddie slowly, slowly, as if his life depended on it, inch away from you with his hands on the wall with wide eyes, no one could look away from you. There was a tense moment of silence, your eyes trained on some invisible spectre, your heavy eyelids a fraction too slow to blink, your irises too stationary. It was as if your brain was suffering a massive short circuit and was struggling to compute. 

Bill slowly moved into your line of sight, your head tilting upward to his face, his eyes sliding into focus, but not really noticing the tears that brimmed at their crinkles. He raises his hands, not building the courage to touch your shoulder as Richie runs behind you to Eddie, the sick crunches of your bones as you shift your skeleton forward making them all grimace.

‘You...you left me...’

‘W-we’re here, y/n, we’re h-here now and w-we’re not leaving, w-w-we promise.’

‘Dude’, Eddie mumbles, his breathe starting to catch in his throat as he wraps his fingers around his neck, choking on his own air as he stutters out, ‘where’s her leg? Where’s her fucking leg?’

The way your eyes squint at Big Bill when you glared at him reminded him of a pit viper's slit-like pupils. He gulped nervously. A burning animosity was developing in your orbs, and he could tell the person you once were, his best friend, the person he cried on when Georgie died was gone. He’d done it. He’d killed you as well.

‘I would still be alive, if it weren’t for you.’

The grief surged with every expelled breath as Bill stumbled back, tears beginning to spill from his helpless eyes.

‘Guys..’, Richie starts, ‘I don’t know what the fuck that is, but it’s not y/n. We need to get the absolute fuck out of here.’

‘At least you came back for me, huh Bill? Because it was your fault I died. Or was it big liar liar pants on fire Trashmouth Tozier? Or scaredy cat Kaspbrak who left me to rot with the weeds. You’re not leaving. Not this time. You’re going to stay, and rot with me, just like it should have been.’

Suddenly raising the knife hidden in your knobbly knuckles up high, twisting it in the stray daylight as if it could slice up the sun-rays, your expression was exaggerated by the dark shadows around your eyes, your face split into a grin that arced in a sickly way, never making it to her almost sunken eyes. Bill could barely hear the helpless scream that escaped from Eddie’s lips as he started banging against the door, the helpless ‘holy fuck’ that tumbled from the Trashmouth’s mouth as you and Bill tumbled to the floor, his knees hitting harshly against his stomach as you landed on his lap, the knife skidding away from your grasp.

Your feet kick against his, the floorboards creaking underneath your doubled weight as the tears streak dirty down his cheeks.

‘P-please y/n, please, it’s me.’

He nearly doesn’t notice the small hindrance in your fingers as they wrap around his throat.

‘B-bill? Everything seems so far away Bill. Everything seems so numb.’

Tears rolled down, wetting every part of your cheek before splattering like blood onto his forehead, his fingers digging into and rubbing against yours as he stares into your eyes with a pleading passion.

But all you felt was your own suffocating. In the pain of abandonment you almost forgot how to feel, forgot your life, forgot who you were before Pennywise took you. But this love, this bond, it could never be forgotten.

Before you can speak again however, you feel an unbearable throbbing in the back of your head, tilting down into Bill’s chest as he grips at your shoulders, falling still into his arms as he looks up, dazed and confused, at a shaking Richie, the knife in his hand a second ago now planted firmly in the back of your head.

[irwinkitten]

i know you know | c.h

pairing: reader x calum prompts: “That is the dumbest thing you have ever said.”, “You’re so cute when  you’re drunk.” and “You drove all the way here just to bring me soup?” notes: we are on day 2 of the birthday countdown of fic week! i’ve honestly been having so much fun writing these. this one is just sweet sweet fluff that will rot your teeth. Small masterlist of the fic week can be found here. warnings: none word count: 1.7k!

---

You knew that Calum wouldn’t be mad at you. It was a rare time in LA when the temperature had dropped enough to be considered cold and it was your bad luck that you got sick.

You knew he’d planned something special but with every part of your body hurting, you knew you wouldn’t be able to make it off your bed, let alone out of your house.

‘I know you had something planned but I can’t move without hurting. Sorry :(‘

Your eyes had tiredly watched the grey bubble appear, focusing on the movement. You didn’t even notice your eyes were slipping closed.

Your phone dropped to the mattress just as Calum’s reply came through, a soft snore escaping your lips as his text lit up the screen.

‘I’ll drop by after practice and look after you. That way you might actually eat something.’

When Calum had finished up at practise for the day and shown up at yours, he let himself in with the key you’d given him six months after you’d gotten together. He’d done the same a month later, gifting you with a key to his place.

As he manoeuvred through your place, he dropped the carrier bag containing the various soups he’d picked up for you, leaving them on the side for the moment before he continued his search for you.

Cracking open your bedroom door, his heart melted at the sight of you curled on your side, your phone in the empty space where he’d usually be. Moving slowly and carefully, he moved your phone from the bed before sinking down into it, feeling amusement flood him as you turned towards him, your arms seemingly searching for him.

“Hey princess.” He murmured when your arm had wrapped around his waist. It took you a solid moment to realise that Calum was actually sat there.

“What’re you doin’ here?” Your words were half slurred, exhaustion evident as you pressed yourself into his side. He smiled.

“You’re so cute when you’re drunk.” He teased as you fought to keep your eyes open. You groaned at him as your face buried into the pillow, making him chuckle.

“M’not drunk, asshole. M’sick.” You grumbled softly and he let his fingers trace against your cheek slowly, his eyes crinkled in amusement. “Why’re you here? Don’t want you gettin’ sick.” Despite your words, you leaned into his touch.

It was always like this with him, unable to resist the smaller touches the two of you shared. It was a side that he showed only for you, and it was a side of him that you cherished. Many of your favourite nights had been just lay together, hands skimming over the other as you watched a sitcom or had soft music playing as you quietly talked about your days.

“My favourite girl is sick. The guys can survive without me for a few days.” He whispered, lips lips pressing against your forehead.

“You’re gonna get sick.” You groaned and he snorted before shaking his head.

“Even if I do, it just means we can be sick together.” His words made you blink for a second, trying to process what he actually said. He raised an eyebrow at you before you lifted your hand, placing the back of it against his forehead, before moving to his cheeks.

He laughed before his arms circled around you, pulling you closer to him and you groaned in protest.

“That is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, Hood. I thought I’d gotten delirious from fever for a second because it sounded like you’re trying to get sick just for an excuse to stay with me.”

Calum grinned as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple and you tried to pull away, determined to not get him sick.

“C’mon princess, is it not the best idea in the world? It means we can both cuddle together, although I’m going to cuddle you regardless.” His grip tightened around you and you knew in that moment that any argument you had was lost.

Especially when he pushed his lips out into a pout and you whined in return.

“You can’t do that to me Hood. You know I’m a weak ass bitch for that pout.” You muttered and you could see that he was fighting the smile, his lips twitching before he gave in, a laugh escaping his lips seconds later.

“It’s only fair, considering I can never say no to you, love.” He murmured. This time, you didn’t fight him as his lips met the skin of your forehead and you sighed in response.

“Get out of those jeans, no, nothing like that.” You added on hastily at the smirk that rapidly spread across his lips. “You’re in skinny jeans, dumbass. If you want to snuggle, get changed into something comfy and I might consider cuddling.”

Calum finally let go of you, pushing himself off the bed before rummaging through the drawer of stuff he left at yours. Whilst he was getting changed, you half dragged yourself from bed, your body protesting the movement as you shuffled through to the kitchen.

Getting yourself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as you tried to gain your breath, you felt somewhat ridiculous.

You could feel the few beads of sweat and you felt like you’d run a mile. Your body was protesting, your joints aching as you downed half the glass. You suddenly realised why Calum had been so insistent on staying with you and when he appeared at the kitchen doorway, with a raised eyebrow and his arms crossed over his chest, you could only give him a sheepish smile in response.

“I was thirsty?” You tried, your tone quiet. The unimpressed looked you received in return had you glancing down at your feet.

A sigh followed before fingers were tucked under your chin, tilting your head up. Your eyes met his and he gave you the briefest of smiles.

“Let me look after you, princess. You’re not well. I already warned the guys after I got your text, so they know I’m skipping out on practice for the rest of the week. If I get sick because I’m looking after you, then it just means more days in bed with you.” He murmured and you sighed, your body relaxing into his.

“Sorry, I just feel bad that you’re looking after me.”

“Does it look like I’m not okay with it? Princess, I’m wounded you’d even think that. I even brought you soup.” He teased playfully. “I’m fine with looking after you and it means more time with you. Who wouldn’t say no to that?” Calum hummed quietly and your eyebrows rose up slightly in amusement.

“So you drove all the way here just to bring me soup?” He groaned, resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re impossible. Here I am, trying to tell you that I want to look after you and all you can pick up on is that I brought soup over. Is there a receipt around somewhere so I can take you back to the store?” You giggled, your hands resting on his chest as you tilted your head a small fraction, your lips meeting his. It was a short, sweet kiss, causing his lips to break out into a shy smile and his arms moved so that they were wrapped around you, pulling your body flush against his.

“I love you so much, you know that right?” He murmured. Your heart skipped a beat every time he told you. Whether it was during or after sex, on quiet drives around the city at night, on hikes up the local hills with Duke in tow, it never failed to make your heart flutter.

It was the soft moments you shared when he murmured those words to you that you loved. It was just you two, and a love that you held so carefully because the heart in your hands had been hurt before. And so when he first said those words after a night spent at his and you’d been trying to cook breakfast for the two of you, you dropped nearly dropped the pan because you’d been so caught off guard.

He’d laughed seconds later when you muttered “I love you too, but we’re going to have issues if you don’t help me clean the mess you helped cause.”

But in this moment, full of a cold and he was still saying those words that made your heart swell.

“I do know it. And I know that you know I love you just as much.” You murmured in return and his lips curved up into a cheeky grin.

“Someone’s been watching too much FRIENDS.” You snorted at that.

“No, I’m just feeling delirious and exhausted. Wait---Cal!” You protested as he picked you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist so the two of you wouldn’t tumble to the floor.

“Princess, you looked like you were going to pass out when I got to the kitchen. I wasn’t about to make you walk back to your room.”

You groaned, but didn’t protest any further as he dropped you on the bed, ditching the shirt he was wearing and despite the beautiful sight before you, a groan escaped your lips.

“I swear to god, if you even utter anything along the lines of sex is good when you’re not well, I will take your soup cans and shove them where the sun doesn’t shine.” You warned him and he laughed as he tossed his shirt onto his pile of clothes before crawling into bed beside you.

“I promise you, I won’t try anything unless you want it. But I know you like tracing my tattoos, even when you can’t see them. So I figured it’d be a small thing to make you feel somewhat human.” If your heart wasn’t melted already, it certainly was now.

As you settled yourself into his side, you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I really do love you.” You murmured softly as his arm wrapped around you, fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

“I love you too, princess.”

---

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[airanke]

“And I know exactly what I’m for, to hurt and destroy and nothing more.” and/or “Does it ever get lonely?” for Shionne ^^

Shion x Jeanne“And I know exactly what I’m for, to hurt and destroy and nothing more.”“Does it ever get lonely?”

UMM I SUFFERED.

@druidickats

The room was entirely trashed: desk broken in half, chairs laying in pieces, and the bed slumped to one side. Covers had been shredded, and curtains had been torn down from their rack.

Jeanne stood in the doorway, stunned - and a yelp escaped her when she heard the mirror in the bathroom shatter, followed by an animalistic snarl.

A vase that had been in the bathroom came flying out next, where it broke against the wall. The pieces tinkled down to the floor, and the noble thought that perhaps it would be in her best interest to leave Shion be.

After all, he stalked out of the bathroom, eyes red with rage, mouth twisted in a snarl. He wore his dark armor, accented by bright blues, and his hands shook with undiluted anger.

But something kept Jeanne tethered there, at the door, and when Shion noticed that someone was there and snapped his furious gaze to her, she wondered if it wasn’t perhaps because of the tears streaming down his face.

It had been a long while since Jeanne had seen Shion snap like this, ever since the war of the thorns occurred. He’d fallen off, and though she’d done what she could to track him, even enlisting her brother’s help, Shion had proven to be a difficult person to pin down.

Until Ammon had narrowed down his location to this run down, clearly abandoned inn, right in the heart of Drustvar.

“What do you want,” Shion snapped, tone flat despite his choice of language.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she replied, digging her fingers into the doorframe, “what happened?”

“None of your fucking business,” he spat, stalking over to the bed, “leave.”

“After I just found you again? I don’t think so,” Jeanne hissed, stepping into the room, and closing the door behind her. Ammon had insisted he stay downstairs, just in case. He had first hand experience with how dangerous Shion could be, and he’d be damned if he let anything happen to his sister.

A pillow smacked against the wall next to her head. She froze.

Sure, pillows were soft, and mostly harmless, but Shion had thrown it with enough force that if he had intended to hit her with it, it surely would have made her lose her balance.

“Leave, Jeanne.”

“Make me, Shion.”

Some taunts were truly meant to be reserved for other situations. Shion’s foot slammed against the door, splintering the wood, and his hand wrapped around Jeanne’s throat. His eyes were wide, and feral, and reminded her too much of a worgen gone utterly mad.

“How does your brother like spiders?”

Jeanne shook, wrapping both hands around Shion’s wrist.

“How ‘bout ones that are on fire?”

“Shion,” she managed, fighting tooth and nail against shifting into a worgen, because that would get her nowhere, “please. This isn’t you.”

“This is me,” he snarled, and his grip around her neck fluctuated between being tight and loose.

“Berserking like this isn’t healthy for you, and you know it,” Jeanne countered. She moved her hands from his wrist to cup  his face, and apparently, his tears weren’t stopping either, “you’re going to get sick.”

Shion’s expression was twisted between rage and despair. Jeanne wished she’d known what had caused this shift in him. She wished there was something she could have done to stop whatever had happened.

She didn’t like seeing him like this.

Jeanne’s sensitive ears picked up on a racket downstairs, and Shion’s eyes only shimmered more brightly with that sick red. The despair in his expression was entirely quashed by the rage.

He shifted his hand from her neck to her collar, and threw her roughly away from the door.

Shion proceeded to draw his leg back and kick it open, and Erasmus came charging through along the ceiling, hissing and spitting. The massive lava spider dragged someone along with him.

“Ammon!” Jeanne cried, and Shion snapped various commands so rapidly in Zandali that she didn’t catch what he was saying.

Erasmas, however, deposited Ammon on the bed. He ‘oomphed’, and promptly rolled off the bed and onto the floor.

“Ammon,” Jeanne hurried over to the bed while Erasmus scurried over to Shion. He climbed up onto Shion’s back, where he perched on the hunter’s shoulder.

Jeanne helped Ammon to his feet, “I’m ‘aight! Didn’ bite me or nothin’, jus’ didn’t seem ta like me tryna’ get away from ‘im.”

“This is why I told you, you shouldn’t stay,” Jeanne hissed. Ammon raised a brow at her, obviously confused that she was speaking in Darnassian. Shion was muttering under his breath, and when Jeanne looked back at him, he had his hand up to Erasmus’ mouth. The spider was gnawing on said hand.

“Shion– hey!”

The hunter had turned on his heel and started down the stairs, muttering furiously in demonic now. Ammon grabbed Jeanne’s shoulder.

“Jeanne, maybe you should–”

“NO!” she cut him off, and stormed in the direction Shion had gone, “after how long it took us ta find ‘im? No. No, I’m not leaving him, no’ again.”

Ammon frowned, but he followed her - and then both moved more quickly when the sounds of scuffling reached their ears. Erasmus was skittering about on the ceiling while Shion was grappling with a forsaken assassin.

Jeanne would have gone to help, but Ammon pulled her back. Frustrated, she yelled, “what do you think you’re for, Shion!?”

“I know exactly what I’m for!” he snarled. He pulled out his gun while the assassin struggled to get out of his grip.

“To hurt, and destroy, and nothing, MORE!”

He shoved his gun down the Forsaken’s throat and - to Jeanne’s horror - pulled the trigger. He threw both gun and body away from himself, and the assassin hit the wall with a sickening thud before dropping to the floor, lifeless.

Shion turned his attention to the twins next, and Ammon clutched Jeanne to his person as the troll stalked over–

And shoved both of them to the side roughly, before another assassin charged into them. Jeanne couldn’t stop the cry of fear that escaped her when she saw the woman’s blade go right through Shion.

In turn, Shion grabbed the woman’s face - he’d kept his stance firmly, and hadn’t moved an inch from where he’d stopped after shoving the twins to the side - and dug his fingers into her eyes, and mouth.

Jeanne could only watch, mortified, as Shion tore the assassin’s jaw clean off. It dropped to the floor with a metallic clatter, and Shion slammed what remained of her face against the nearest table.

Again, and again, and again, until Jeanne’s shift into a worgen allowed her to tear free of her brother’s grip.

She grabbed Shion’s wrist tightly, and the bicep of his other arm.

“BY THE LIGHT SHION STOP!” she howled in his face. He didn’t falter. The only thing between them for a moment was ragged breathing, and still, that sickening red hue in his eyes refused to go away.

“Shion please,” Jeanne begged, unintentionally shifting back to her human form, “please, you aren’t meant for causing pain a-and hurt ‘n’ destruction, this isn’t you.”

He yanked himself out of her grip, and Erasmus reared up threateningly. Black ichor dripped from his mouth, and Jeanne could only assume that the spider had been dealing with some forsaken outside the building.

‘Did they follow us? Did we lead them to Shion? Oh gods,’ Jeanne wiped shakily at her eyes. She had started crying, ‘oh gods, oh gods.’

Shion merely stormed out of the building, and half-way past the threshold of the building he deposited the assassin’s dagger on the ground. Ammon was by the weapon in an instant, and Jeanne collected herself as best she could. She hurried after Shion, and her heart sunk when she saw Erasmus nowhere to be seen.

“Jeanne.”

She stopped mid-stride at her brother’s voice, watching as Shion rapidly disappeared into the dense thicket of Drustvar.

“Yes?” she asked shakily.

“Just wait a minute.”

“Ammon, we can’t–”

“I need ya ta wait,” he interrupted, face red with frustration. He held the dagger out for her to see, and between smears of Shion’s blood, she saw the swirling poison that made the red bubble and rot, “so tha’ I c’n make an antidote for this, real quick. With your help. He’s poisoned.”

Jeanne sunk to her knees, face pale - but with her expertise, and her brother’s infinite knowledge of rogue poisons, they formed an antidote within minutes. Jeanne was grateful for all that she had spent so much time under the tutelage of Boralus’ most talented potion master.

Following Shion’s trail was easier than it should have been. His blood made a bright red trail against the dreary background of Drustvar’s forest floor.

They found him lying on his back a good distance away from the inn.

“Shion!” Jeanne sprinted toward him; Ammon sighed, but he followed faithfully after his sister.

The troll didn’t make a sound when Jeanne dropped down next to him. She immediately pulled down the collar of cloth on his armor and pressed her fingers to his pulse, ‘please, oh gods, please–’

A shaky breath of relief left her. His heart was still beating, and with that worry out of the way, Jeanne watched his chest intently. It rose and fell with a shallow breath.

She brushed her fingers along Shion’s cheek; his eyes flicked to her. Jeanne gave him the best smile she could manage, and he closed his eyes tightly before looking away.

“Don’t you get lonely?” she asked, wiping away a spec of blood from the corner of Shion’s mouth. She didn’t know if she should be happy, or sad, that her question made his lips quirk up at one side.

“Yeah.”

“Come back t’ Gilneas with me,” Jeanne said; she didn’t miss how Ammon’s brow furrowed at this, “I c’n hide ya in th’ old mansion.”

Shion inhaled raggedly, and Ammon reached into his pouch for the antidote.

“Jus’ drop a fuckin’ rock on my head and let it be done,” Shion sputtered. The red had finally faded from his kind brown eyes, “‘m tired.”

Jeanne accepted the vial when Ammon handed it to her, and she attempted to bring the object to Shion’s lips, “here.”

He turned his head away, and she supposed she should have expected that. Her hand shook.

“Shion, please,” she begged softly, tears gathering in her eyes. She fumbled for the words to say, while her brother clenched both hands into fists.

Before Jeanne could try once more to put the antidote to Shion’s lips, he wrapped his large hand around hers entirely.

And, to her comfort, Shion pulled her hand and the vial to his lips. He downed the whole thing, and sat up, coughing. She realized that some of her tears had dripped onto his face, ‘I wonder if that’s what spurred him.’

“I feel like I’mma cough up half m’ lung,” Shion wheezed. Ammon snorted out a chuckle, and Jeanne couldn’t stop a smile from crossing her lips.

The brief happiness was short lived.

As Ammon helped Shion to his feet, the hunter fixed his eyes on Jeanne. For whatever reason, he chose to speak Darnassian again, “I can’t come with you.”

Jeanne frowned, “why not?”

“Because this isn’t about keeping me safe. This is about keeping everyone I care about safe. I’m not safe. Sylvanas’ assassins follow me everywhere, and the S1:7 agents are no better,” he shook his head when Jeanne made to argue, “don’t argue with me, Jeanne. Being around me puts a target on your back too. I already had to have this conversation with someone else.”

“Shion, just let your friends help you!” she snapped, “because we care about your safety too!”

“Oh yeah? So you’re going to fight Nathanos when he finds me again? You’re going to fight Shaw?”

That made Jeanne falter, and Shion continued, “because Shaw is after my head too. If it’s any consolation to you, I’m safest in Anyport. I’m out here because there were too many assassins lurking around there for me to be comfortable.”

“But the guards–”

“Yeah, sure, woulda’ helped, but it’s my problem. I care ‘bout the people in Anyport. I don’t want them to suffer because of my presence.”

Jeanne was determined, “can we compromise? There’s a place where I can take you, they don’t mind who’s there,” she held up her hand when Ammon made to protest, “and they’re not weak people either. They can handle themselves. Stay with me for two weeks, until you’re well, and then you can leave.”

Shion sighed, and Jeanne continued, “you’re in no position to continue, Shion. And your fatigue is going to catch up with you eventually. You can’t berserk that long and face no backlash. You of all people should know that.”

He sighed again, but thankfully, stopped trying to argue with her.

[ohmyuqi]

Ｗｈｅｎ Ｉ ｗａｓ ｙｏｕｒ ｍａｎ

 When I was you man (Lucas x Reader)

genre: Angst, sad fluff

summary: “I was fool with the delusion of deserving a love like yours.”

an: im so sorry.

playlist: “when I was your man” - bruno mars

“y si fuera ella?” - alejandro sanz

“it will rain” - bruno mars

“talking to the moon” - bruno mars 

“photograph” - ed sheeran 

“chasing cars” - snow patrol

“cuando me enamoro” - enrique iglesias y juan luis guerra

“just give me a reason” - pink 

(order doesn’t matter)

________________________________________________________________

While lucas is moving out your shared apartment he finds a polaroid of you two and decides to write you a letter.

________________________________________________________________

Empty, desolate, different.

Lucas couldn’t believe his eyes, once an apartment full of life, love and a promising future turned into well, this. 

He started wistfully at the leather couch he would have to call Mark to help him move. The same couch where you guys had you first kiss.

The same couch you guys would spend hours cuddling and watching tv together, enjoying life for what it was. What you made it to be. 

The same couch where you would discuss how you guys would spend the rest of your lives together. Where you lay when your future kids frolicked in your future house. 

What you and Lucas had was ethereal, special. Unlike anything either of you had felt before. 

His love felt new and exciting but comforting and familiar. 

He felt different and new, albeit it also felt you knew him all your life. 

You both used to spend every living moment with each other. You could never get tired of him just like he could never get tired of you. At least that’s what you thought up until a couple months ago. 

When you realized that his smile didn’t light up when he saw you like it used to. He didn’t hold you like he used to, things were shifting. 

The dawn would flow into your room through your windows and he wasn’t there. 

When you talked you didn’t talk, just reassurances of love. 

Friday nights you would end up all alone, talking to the moon and your bedroom walls. The ones where you hung pictures of both of you actually in love. 

Friday nights where Lucas was hanging out with his “friends”, then later coming home smelling like a French Whore. 

You felt like were going mad without him, life felt so dull and different. You were alone. At times it felt like Lucas was all you had, now even he was slipping through your frail hands. 

You would spend nights on end wondering what you were doing wrong. 

You tried so hard to satisfy him. You loved him unconditionally, you tried to make him feel better on the days when life would beat him up. You supported him through all his decisions, whether you agreed or not. You even dressed yourself up to try to impress him. 

After a while you knew it was useless, in the beginning you could be in a stained hoodie with your hair a mess and he wouldn’t care. All he could see was that blinding smile and those charming eyes. 

One day you decided to let all trust out the window and test him, to this day a little part of you wishes you hadn’t. 

You shoved your keys in your purse making sure everything you needed was there. Your eyes trailed to Lucas, standing at the door. A juicebox and a pb and j sandwich in a paper bag securely held by his sure hands. 

You walked over to him and gave him a big great hug. It was painful, you knew this would be the last one. You stayed in his comforting arms for longer than usual, relishing its bitter sweetness. 

He handed you the small bag and took your crumbling face in his hands. “Don’t cry, princess. Your interview will be fine. If they reject you they don’t deserve the little jem they let slip through their hands.” He placed a light kiss on your head. 

How hypocritical of you, Lucas. 

You told him the interview would be very tedious process and you would probably be home very late. Late enough for him to speak his truths.

You waited a couple hours, oh how long those hours. Waited ‘till it felt right. 

You left your car as quietly as possible, opening the door knob, fingers trembling. 

All you could hear were your painful heart beats and lingering doubts troubling your heart. 

You looked around in the messy apartment, its appearance reflecting your peace of mind. 

You kept looking, nothing seemed out of place. Not a sound was heard either. 

A little bud of hope flourished in your tearing heart, just waiting to put you back together. 

You walked to the room that you and Lucas shared, once a place of love corrupted by ignorance. 

You stopped, fingers inches away at the knob. You were itching to know the truth, but at the same time you knew your ignorance was bliss. 

But you couldn’t live on like this, your heart wouldn’t be able to take it. 

You pulled open the door and their it was, the truth was staring blankly back at you. Yet, for some reason, you couldn’t believe it. You didn’t want to. 

In that second in time, Lucas didn’t break your heart. He took it, crushed it, stepped on it and spit on it. 

Dark oceans of regret stared back you, not a word. 

The silence was deafening, you wished he said something. Anything, any excuse to keep you. 

The part that truly broke you was the fact that he didn’t even try. He didn’t try to keep you, he didn’t do anything. 

Your eyes brimming with tears, you yelled at the top of your lungs. 

“SAY SOMETHING, ANYTHING.”  You grabbed him by his broad shoulders, waking up the woman laying soundly next to him. 

You yelled at him until your voice broke and your throat burned with all the truths you wished you spoken earlier. You pushed and slapped him weakly. 

You went crazy, you quite literally snapped. 

You stared at the woman next to him, she watched you both with guilty eyes. You didn’t know who she was and you didn’t care. 

“Get out of my house.” 

She stared at you for a second, clearing her throat and her eyes trailing to her bare body covered by sin and a thin, white sheet. 

“I said get out of my house.” This time you made sure you put all the pain and hatred in your command. Poison seething through your trembling lips. 

She took the sheet and made sure she was covered. Taking her purse and her last sliver of dignity out the door. 

You picked a red thong from the floor. Making sure you didn’t actually touch the filthy garment. 

“Is this some kind of cruel joke?” Unlike the unknown mistress, he had no dignity to spare. There was quite literally nothing he could say to fix this. 

He couldn’t lie his way out of this one, he couldn’t kiss it and make it better. 

You threw the dirty thing at him. “You’re a piece of literal dog shit, rot in hell.” 

That’s when he burst at the seams, all this wrongdoing and guilt getting to his decrepit mind. 

He watched as you rushed out the door, hair trailing like the fiery burning in your heart. 

He knew in him what he did was wrong, but he was blinded by lust and lies. 

How utterly cruel of you to blame him for his big heart. How absolutely wicked of you to hate him for blaming him for something he can’t control. How terrible of you for leaving him and not accepting that he is human and makes mistakes.

Anything, he clawed for reasons to hate you. He had all these ‘reasons’, yet he couldn’t find it in him to hate you. 

Walking into the room everything came back to him. It wreaked of alcohol and regret. 

The bed was bare and the old bed sheets were ashes in a near by forest. 

He looked around in the vacant shell of a home. He looked to his left and there it was, just like he remembered. It was a Polaroid of your first date at the amusement park. Even if it was your first date both of you knew it was love. But just like anything, love dies in negligence. 

He had a big cheesy smile, oozing with love. While you were lightly pecking his sun kissed cheek. A small droplet landed on the picture, rubbing salt in the wound. 

He picked a pen of your coffee table and took out a sheet of paper.  

 Same bed but it feels just a little bit bigger now.

When our friends talk about you, all it does is just tear me down

'Cause my heart breaks a little when I hear your name 

Mm, too young, too dumb to realize That I should have bought you flowers And held your hand Should have gave you all my hours When I had the chance Caused a good strong woman like you to walk out my life Now I never, never get to clean up the mess I made.  And it haunts me every time I close my eyes. Although it hurts

I'll be the first to say that I was wrong. 

I know I'm probably much too late

To try and apologize for my mistakes But I just want you to know, 

hope he buys you flowers I hope he holds your hand Give you all his hours When he has the chance Take you to every party 'Cause I remember how much you loved to dance Do all the things I should have done When I was your man Do all the things I should have done When I was your man. 

Ps. I don’t deserve you, don’t come back to me. 

Attaching the picture to the letter after snapping a picture of it on his phone, signing off the past to you. Letting go and accepting his mistakes. 

“I was fool with the delusion of deserving a love like yours.”