#not sure if they live in separate caves or the same cave . that was never specified

[togglesbloggle]

My boyfriend has really vivid, elaborate dreams. He’ll often wake up and talk about some grand narrative- travel, exploration, politics, performances. I’ve always been a little jealous, he can hold really good plots together for them sometimes.

But anyway, this does have a downside; vivid, elaborate dreams make for vivid, elaborate nightmares. I can usually tell when it’s one of those nights, since he grinds his teeth pretty badly.

I was never quite sure what to do when I knew he was having a bad time of it, though the grinding alone was enough to worry me and push me towards intervening. I used to just shake him gently, hope to rouse him just enough to reset the dream or something, but it wasn’t too effective and anyway waking him up all the time isn’t good for rest.

I’m rather proud of the strategy I eventually settled on: gently, so as not to wake him up, I’d lay one arm across his hands, wrapping his fingers around me so that he was holding on. Nightmares being nightmares, I can usually count on a pretty tight grip when this happens.

It may seem a little odd, but consider that holding on to something with both hands is typically a very agentic frame of mind. We hold on to things that give us power, in one way or another, and possessing objects often makes us feel powerful in some respects. That has consequences, even for a dreaming mind.

I knew it was working when he woke up rather mystified from one such dream, and told me that he’d been running through the caverns of some dungeon or cave system, pursued by monsters, but then all of a sudden he was holding a giant anime sword and fought them off instead. So I got to be a sword for him that night, I was delighted.

I don’t usually get to know exactly what happened, since even for a very vivid dreamer like Ritter, nine tenths of these things get forgotten. But I know I’ve been things like door handles, steering wheels, stuff like that. And even when I don’t know what I am to him, he doesn’t grind his teeth nearly as much- the sleep is deeper and more peaceful, so I get plenty of feedback that it’s working.

It’s such a perfect encapsulation of love in microcosm, isn’t it? No matter how much you mean to them, and how much they mean to you, the gap between two conscious lives is fundamentally separating you. But fundamental does not mean insurmountable. There’s this whole world in him, full of dreams and perspectives that I’ll never truly experience. But I will be a part of those worlds all the same, finding little ways here and there to make sure that the dreams of me make him a better, stronger, and happier person.

Or at least, so one hopes. It’s a difficult challenge, and things often go awry. But usually you get at least a little lucky.

[thepencilnerd]

hello!! i have an angsty request >:3

in the past dr robby and reader were in a relationship but as life changed they decided to separate. reason why reader broke it off with robby was because she was getting sicker and she didn’t want to burden him years later reader comes into the er in bad shape (chronicle ill) he never knew she was this sick until years after they drifted apart and maybe some fluff at the end

babes you know i LIVE FOR THE ANGST <33

warnings: depictions of chronic illness wc: 1.9k

The ER was buzzing—monitors beeping, the sharp scent of antiseptic hanging in the air, footsteps echoing against linoleum. Robby barely noticed any of it.

He’d just finished dealing with a combative overdose in Bay 5 when Dana called out to him, holding a chart.

"Room Three," she said, a little too gently. "Chronic case. Looks like heart failure. She's not doing great."

He grabbed the clipboard without a second thought. Then stopped cold.

Your name stared up at him in clean block letters.

And his world tipped sideways.

It was as though someone had sucker-punched the air out of his lungs. Four years. Four years of wondering. Of half-written texts. Unanswered calls. A full voicemail inbox, all of them from him. Of dreaming about your laugh and waking up angry in tears. Frustrated at himself. At you. Four years of pretending he didn’t still check your name in the hospital system every once in a while.

And now—now you were here.

Collapsed lungs. Oxygen saturation low. Congestive Heart Failure. Decompensated.

You were dying, and you hadn’t said a word.

The curtain around your bed was drawn, but he pushed through without knocking, hands trembling.

And there you were.

Pale. Eyes sunken. Lips tinged gray-blue despite the oxygen mask over your mouth. You were bundled in hospital blankets, shivering slightly, your hand lax around the call button.

Your eyes opened slowly, drawn by the sound of footsteps.

You saw him—and blinked, like you weren’t sure if he was real.

A choked sigh. You pulled off the mask just enough to speak. "Hey, stranger."

It wrecked him. The rasp in your voice. The half-smile you offered like this was just a casual run-in, like you weren’t hooked up to machines that were keeping you alive. 

He moved closer, too fast. "What the hell, Y/N?"

"Nice to see you too," you murmured, voice dry.

"Don’t," he said sharply, chart forgotten in his hand.

You looked away. "I didn’t plan to be here, Michael."

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing once before kneeling beside the bed. "Heart failure? You’re in advanced decomp. Jesus—why didn’t you fucking tell me? Why didn’t you call?"

You didn’t answer.

"You left," he said, voice quieter now but still shaking. 

He held your hand instantly, cradling it like it was instinct. His hands felt the same—warm, steady, familiar. Like no time had passed at all.

You swallowed hard, throat bobbing. "I didn’t want you to watch me fall apart."

He blinked. "You think I wouldn’t have stayed?"

"I know you would have," you whispered. "That’s what scared me. You would’ve put everything on hold. Your fellowship. Your life. Your chance to be more than just a caretaker for someone who—" You broke off, breath catching. "Someone who was only going to get worse."

Robby’s other hand came to rest on your arm—warm, solid, familiar. Your body leaned toward the touch before your mind could argue.

"You think I wouldn’t choose you? You really think I wouldn’t have wanted to walk through this with you?"

Tears stung your eyes. "It wasn’t fair to ask."

"You didn’t ask. You just left." His voice cracked at the end.

A long silence stretched between you, thick with everything unsaid.

He squeezed your hand tighter. His thumb brushed against your knuckles, grounding you.

"I never stopped loving you," he said quietly.

Your fingers curled around his. You felt like hell, like your body was a failing house, caving in on itself—but his touch reminded you that some parts of you still worked. Still remembered.

"I’m sorry," you whispered. "For not telling you. For walking away before you had the chance to make that choice."

Robby leaned in, forehead nearly touching yours. "I’m making it now," he breathed.

Your eyelids feel heavy, and suddenly you're back in that cramped apartment with the peeling tile and the humming radiator—the place you used to call home.

It had been raining that night. Heavy and loud against the windows. You remember how the lamplight painted long shadows across the floor, how your suitcase sat half-zipped by the door.

You remember the way Robby looked at you when he walked in from his shift—wet scrubs, messy hair, exhaustion hanging from his shoulders.

But the second he saw your face, he knew.

"You’re leaving," he said.

You nodded. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

He didn’t yell. Didn’t beg. He just stood there, breathing too quietly, like even that hurt.

"I thought we were okay," he said after a minute. "Are we not okay?"

You tried to smile, but it cracked at the edges. "I’ve been… having more episodes. Dizziness. Shortness of breath. My cardiologist says it’s progressing faster than they expected."

Robby blinked. "Okay. Then we fight it. We adjust the meds. We—"

"No," you said, cutting him off too fast. "You adjust. You take care of me. You cancel your interviews, you stay up all night researching when you should be out living your life. And then one day when you wake up next to someone who can’t even walk up a hill without needing to sit down? What then, Michael? I’m not doing that to you."

His expression twisted. "So instead, you choose to leave me? Without giving me a choice?"

Tears welled in your eyes, but you blinked them back. "I’m trying to give you a future. One that doesn’t revolve around watching me wither away in front of you."

"I don’t want a future without you."

You shook your head. "That’s what I couldn’t live with."

He crossed the room, grabbed your wrist—gentle, but desperate. "You don’t get to make this decision for both of us."

You leaned in, let your forehead rest against his. Memorized the warmth of his breath, the way his fingers trembled where they held you.

"I love you," you said. "But I need you to remember me like this. Young and alive. Not dying in a hospital bed."

"No."

"Michael—"

"No," he said again, voice cracking. "God, please. Don’t do this."

His voice broke and kept breaking. He sank down to his knees like his body couldn't hold the grief. Tears spilled fast, falling unchecked down his cheeks, and he reached for you—arms wrapping around your waist, face pressed against your stomach. A sob tore out of him, raw and guttural.

"Stay," he whispered. Then louder, more desperate: "Please—please, let me stay. Let me help you. I’ll do anything, Y/N. I’ll give you everything I have. Just don’t walk away from me. Please."

You fell with him, threading your shaking fingers into his hair, holding him close. He felt like a storm in your arms—chaotic, trembling, terrified.

"I know you would," you whispered, breaking. "That’s the problem."

You closed your eyes, voice barely audible. "You’d give everything for me. And it kills me. Because I love you too much to let you."

You kissed him one last time—slow, aching, full of everything you couldn’t say. His hand slipped into your hair, holding you like he could stop the unraveling.

When you finally pulled away, his eyes were red, lips parted like he still couldn’t believe you were really leaving. You rested your hand on his cheek for a second longer—just one more breath, one more heartbeat—before stepping back.

Neither of you spoke.

You picked up your bag. Turned toward the door. Didn’t look back.

—

Later, when the oxygen helped and your vitals stabilized and they moved you upstairs, you didn’t expect him to stay.

But hours passed.

And he did.

You opened your eyes sometime after 3 a.m. to find him sitting in the chair next to your bed, fingers still laced with yours.

You were the first to speak. "You’re not on shift anymore."

"Doesn’t matter."

"You could’ve gone home. Slept in your own bed."

He glanced at you, then looked back down at your joined hands. "I think I’ve spent enough nights in the wrong bed."

Your breath caught.

"You don't have to—"

"I know," he said, cutting you off, voice softer now. "This isn’t about having to do anything." He moved closer and brushed a kiss against your forehead, lingering. "This is about not losing you again."

You turned your face away, voice breaking. "Don’t say things like that."

"Why not?" he asked. "You think I don’t mean them?"

"I know you do," you said quietly. "And that’s what terrifies me."

His brow furrowed. "Y/N—"

"I don’t deserve this," you said, barely louder than a whisper. "I don’t deserve you. I lied to you. I pushed you away. I chose to disappear. And you’re still here, willing to throw everything away just to sit beside me while I—" You cut yourself off, tears welling. "I don’t want you wasting your life loving someone who might not even have much of one left."

Robby cupped your face in both hands, gently, like you might shatter if he held too tightly. "I’m not wasting anything. You’re the one thing I’ve ever been sure about."

You couldn’t stop the tears this time. "I don’t want to be your burden."

He leaned closer until his forehead pressed against yours. "You’re not. You never were and you never will be. Let me be here. Please."

His thumb brushed away a tear. "Let me love you."

You gave in then. Let yourself fall forward, into his arms. He wrapped himself around you instantly, warm and steady, holding you like you were something sacred. Your body fit against his like muscle memory, like no time had passed.

He smelled the same. That subtle mix of soap, sweat, and something inherently him—clean and grounding. Your nose pressed into the crook of his neck, and it hit you like a wave.

And you felt the same to him. Fragile, yes, but still familiar. Still his.

His arms tightened around you, one hand splayed between your shoulder blades, the other stroking the back of your head. You buried your face in his shoulder, clung to his shirt, and let yourself cry.

He didn’t try to stop it.

Didn’t let go.

And when the tears slowed, and you felt his lips press gently against your temple, you breathed in the quiet between you. His scent. His presence. His promise.

"I missed you," you whispered.

"I never stopped thinking about you," he murmured. "Not for a second."

You pulled back just far enough to look at him—really look. He looked tired, yes, but soft around the edges now. Open. Hopeful.

You touched his cheek. "Okay," you sniffled. "You can stay."

The way he smiled at you then—soft and disbelieving—felt like sunlight after a long winter.

He kissed your knuckles. Then your brow. Then the tip of your nose.

Then, slower, more reverent—he kissed your cheek. The corner of your mouth. And finally, your lips. It was soft, tentative, but steady. Like he needed you to feel it. Like he’d been holding it in for years.

You melted into it, a shaky laugh breaking through your tears.

"We’ll take it one breath at a time," he whispered against your lips.

You nodded, forehead resting against his. For a while, you just breathed together—quiet and close. His thumb traced slow, lazy circles against the back of your hand.

"Tell me when you’re tired," he murmured.

"I’m always tired," you whispered, a soft smile tugging at the edge of your mouth.

"I’ll be tired with you."

He shifted, carefully, until he was half-tucked into the bed beside you, mindful of your lines and monitors. You leaned into him, head on his chest, and let his heartbeat calm your own.

"I love you," you murmured into the fabric of his shirt.

His hand found yours beneath the blanket, fingers curling tight. "And I love you—more than anything."

You smiled against him, small and real. "Even now?"

"Always."

And in that quiet hospital room, tangled together and half-lit by morning, you let those words hold you—finally, fully—with nothing left to hide and everything to bare.

[frownyalfred]

Thinking about Bruce always feeling insecure about living up to his parents legacy, thinking about him feeling unworthy of using the master bedroom when he returned, thinking about him as Brucie uncounsciously taking his hookups to other rooms in the mansion, never to his (parent's), thinking about Bruce welcoming his kids in the master bedroom with open arms whenever they have nightmares, the same way his parents did to him, thinking about Clark feeling insecure about Bruce's true feelings towards him, thinking about Clark being totally oblivious to how big of a deal it is that he's alowed to sleep beside Bruce in the master bedroom.

The sanctity of the master bedroom is SO real. I grew up in a house with separate living quarters for staff (old old house) and the bedrooms for children were in a wing, and then the master suite and guest suites were in another section of the house. The implied distance between those sections is huge, even if they're only one closed door or a few feet away.

Bruce slowly accepting his place in the master suite -- now that's a fic I'd love to write. Keeping the hookups and random encounters to another equally lavish but different room or wing of the Manor, even. Somewhere that's easy to shuttle people in and out of, maybe near the laundry chutes or the servants' stairwells. Sleeping there even when he doesn't have guests, because the ghosts in the master suite are too much.

But maybe, once Dick is living with him, he can't justify it -- the master suite is near the children's rooms, and sleeping on another floor, away from a traumatized child, seems like a terrible idea. Alfred's rooms are too far away, nestled somewhere in the servants' quarters even though Bruce keeps trying to get him to take a guest suite.

So he takes over the suite, making it his own slowly but surely. Yet leaving portions of it untouched -- maybe the old floor to ceiling drapes, with their antiquated trim and beads. The double sinks in the en suite, made for a couple. He removes the four poster bed for a california king, modern enough to dispel any mental similarities. Big enough for a kid to come and hide, after a nightmare.

Clark being allowed in that room, even near that portion of the Manor? That's a huge step forward, a huge display of vulnerability and trust. It's not just Bruce's room, it's his parents' room, it's just off the children's wing, it is in many ways the heart of the residential portion of the Manor. All hallways, servant corridors, etc, lead there. And the more people that stay there, the more that suite is viewed truly as the center of the Manor itself, outside of the Cave and maybe Alfred's kitchen + butler's pantry.

[b14augrana]

Open Arms

Two players, one last name. Only one of you is suffering from the legacy attached to it

Alexia Putellas x sister!reader

masterlist

Warnings: angst and/or hurt + bit of an inconclusive ending lol not happy or sad kinda just… 🫠

A/N: more alexia angst in the place of aapa pt. 4! heavily inspired by open arms by sza, and i highly recommend that you listen to it because this will make a whole lot more sense if you do + it’s amazing. this song is so dear to my heart and honestly one of my favourites ever, so i had to write something inspired by it because the meaning is so deep and interpretable in many ways. this is just one of them :)

You thought that playing for Barcelona was your lifelong dream.

It was a picturesque scene; two players sharing the same last name stepping onto the pitch in the same jersey. It had been your dream at one point, until you realised the influence of your sister was leading you to believe that.

This set something off in you, like it triggered a chain reaction of thoughts and epiphanies that led up to the inevitable.

It was so hard to shine as your own individual self, when all you were credited for was the name on your back and the uncanny resemblance you had to Alexia. You were good, you were so good, but nobody ever noticed. You knew it would stay like this forever if you didn’t do something for yourself.

You could remember your hometown of Mollet de Vallès to be a place that was rife with FC Barcelona pride; it would’ve been the ultimate betrayal to your neighbourhood if you hadn’t elected to play for the club. It would be the ultimate betrayal to leave them, as well.

You were born and raised in Barcelona. The culture, the people, the club, all of it was surely intertwined into your soul. That wouldn’t stop you from running away from every bit of it and breaking out of the manacles this city held you in.

If it wasn’t for your sister and the fact that all your years spent at the club was deeply rooted in the love you had for her, you would’ve been gone ages ago.

At first, you thought you were just having one of those days when nothing felt like it was going your way, but the feelings persisted and you became more acutely aware of the real problem — you were staying for Alexia, and her feelings were beginning to come above your career and self-esteem.

You could only spend so much time in the dark before you started craving the light. Living in her shadow was simply not good enough. You had spent enough of your life feeling hopeless.

Being on the same team as her meant that the closest you’d ever get to being called good is comparisons to your sister. Alexia was La Reina. Alexia was everything. You? Well… you were barely anything if not Alexia’s little sister, the other less impressive Putellas.

Talks with your agent made the decision you had to make crystal clear; you could continue to be downplayed as long as you stay at Barcelona, or you could leave the club and feel what it’s like to be appreciated for the skill you possess instead of your relations to Alexia.

The hardest part of this entire thing? Telling her.

You could pack your things and book your plane tickets, call your agent and tell him to start negotiating with clubs, let the board know that you’re leaving for good and never turning back, but breaking the news to Alexia was easier said than done.

When you were in her kitchen one night, bearing a burden on your shoulders, you hesitated to speak. The knowledge of your career at Barça coming to an end after one more match was severing your tongue, preventing you from speaking, and eventually you’d cave beneath it and keep it all to yourself until Alexia found out in the worst way possible. The deal was done, you put pen to paper, and you were set to join Bayern Munich. All that was left to do was tell Alexia.

Bayern Munich, so far away from Barcelona, it was perfect. You could restart and build a name for yourself, completely separated from your family name. Even if Alexia did get angry, you would be in Germany within the next month (give or take a week), so what did it matter?

Part of you had faith that she’d understand, recognise your intentions and not take it to heart. The entirety of you hoped and prayed for that.

“Alexia,” you started, turning around in your seat at the dining table to look at her while she poured herself a glass of water. She hummed in response to you, as to indicate that she was listening.

“I’m leaving the club. I’ve signed it — the contract — and it’s done. I’m going to Bayern.”

She turned off the faucet suddenly, standing at the sink with her back to you. Her grip on the glass tightened ever so slightly, and you could hear the deep breath she took.

“What?” she mumbled, turning around to look at you with eyes narrowed in disbelief. You glared at the table, nodding your head slightly.

“I’m going to Bayern,” you repeated, looking up to meet her now widened eyes as she placed her glass down. “I’m leaving Barça.”

She glanced at you, her eyes softening for a moment, and you could tell that she was barely registering the news.

“You can’t,” she responded, “Barça is your home, we belong here, both of us–”

There went any chances of her understanding you. That other part of you that knew she wouldn’t be rational about this, had been proven right. “You belong here, Alexia. I don’t,” you shot back, pointing at her with an almost accusing finger.

“What’s wrong with the club?” Alexia snapped. You glared at her, your angered façade crumbling away to reveal the true sadness that remained behind it.

“This club is your dream, (Y/N). I mean, I don’t get it,” she laughed, her expression seeping with disbelief, “You love it here, I love you here– don’t you remember? We used to talk about retiring here together, assisting each other and scoring from each other’s passes. Remember how you’ve always wanted to score a bicycle kick off one of my corners? Why do you want to leave, when we haven’t done all this, when there’s still so much for us to achieve?”

It wasn’t her fault that everyone kept you in the dark. Alexia would never want you at Barça if she knew this was going to happen. Still, you couldn’t cave now. There was no use in regretting anything, because it was done. Maybe if you had told her about your plans to leave, you would’ve felt this regret earlier, and things would’ve been different. Empty ‘what-ifs’ only reminded you that it was too late.

But still, her plea to make you stay was solely built on whatever regarded her. Not a single thing about what you wanted to do was taken into consideration.

“Tell me what made you want to leave, and I’ll make them change it. Just don’t ruin your career by leaving,” she continued.

“You know what?” you started, standing up so you were eye-to-eye with your sister, “I thought you out of all people would understand, but no. You’re selfish, Alexia. This is what’s best for me, I can’t stay here if I want to be any good!”

You were yelling, and you never liked to yell, but it felt like the only way to properly convey your feelings to the woman.

“I’m not even second best to you. Sometimes I feel like I’m only kept at this club to make you look good, and I am so, so sick of it. For years I’ve– I have no confidence left, no sense of pride in myself, I barely ever feel happy wearing this jersey because it’s always been your dream, not mine! I’m not the Putellas that belongs here, everyone knows that, so don’t try to make me stay because this is my only chance to be great. I want to be great, Alexia, and you should know better than anyone what it’s like to want that.”

It was only normal that you began to tear up amidst your words, and they trembled on your waterline as you spoke.

Alexia looked defeated.

More than anything, she felt unbridled amounts of guilt running rife through her. She wanted to reach out to you, hug you, tell you that everything would be alright and she never looked at you as a dim light that made hers look brighter, but she was glued to the spot, her muscles twitching and urging her to step forward with no avail.

“I love you, and I’ve stayed all this time for you. Honestly, I never even wanted to stay. You’re the only one that’s holding me down.” It was like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and in its place sat a mix of relief and guilt.

Alexia stayed silent, only a singular tear slipping down her cheek, the start of many that she would shed behind closed doors that night. It was more than just losing a teammate to her, and she wasn’t so emotional because her sister was leaving; it was the realisation that she didn’t know you very well in the first place, and the culpability of realising that she really had been holding you down.

That conversation was one of the last you had with Alexia in person. You played one last match for the Blaugrana, and then you left for Germany the following week.

Even weeks of knowing prior to your final match couldn’t soften the blow as Alexia stood on the pitch, clapping for you as you waved goodbye to the fans and teammates alike, tears brimming in your eyes that were akin to the ones rolling down her cheeks.

She walked up to you, and she embraced you like she never has before, like you were disappearing into nothingness instead of another country. You gripped her tightly, savouring the hug and trying to memorise the feeling, and when she pulled away, she had a pensive smile on her face.

“If you ever want to come back to me, I’ll always be right here with open arms. Cuídate, hermana.”

[gotmyass2marz]

WHATEVER im talking abotu the interpretations my brain made out of the vague information slop i obtained years ago . even if no one asked

im gonna talk about the terrible little semi ironic ship here because its whats on my mind the most . also i will be using the placeholder names Sandwich and Whiteboy while talking about them because .still too embarrassed to say what it is

so whiteboy is the biggest freak to ever live . filled with unending internal torment but conceals it with boyish mischief . he feels like a 1950s mad scientist typa guy to me totally the kinda dude to say YOULL SEE !!!!!!! YOULL ALL SEE !!!!!!!! annddd that Did happen to him one time i think because he brought up being “shunned by the people around me for wanting to prevent the situation from escalating” one time . also he talks about himself like he was some sort of almighty ruler at one point but i think that shit never happened and he just Reaaaaally wants to be someones object of worship . even though he knows good n well no one likes him to that degree

and sandwich . well i dont one hundred percent Know what his deal is but i know hes some sort of weird immortal force of nature that is mostly pretty chill despite the destruction he can and has caused . i think he Does wants to do some sort of good for the world but has to do fucked up shit for it to happen (eg committing multiple accounts of arson . yes that is something he actually did) . so like an antihero situation i guess . at the same time he doesnt really feel good nor bad about his cruelty because he knows itll be for the good of the world in the end .or something

AND THEIR DYNAMIC . hoo boy is that shit a slippery slope . i couldnt decide whether it would be more accurate for them to hate eachother or love eachother so i just made it a weird sticky mix of feelings of genuine affection and palpable hatred . because as we all know i eat that shit up . sandwich isnt too fond of whiteboy but he doesnt really hate him per se . he just thinks hes a huge freak (Which He Is) and just doesnt care that much for him as a result . except in certain situations where shit gets out far far of hand THEN he hates him forreal . whiteboy however is different because he does have a lot of affection for sandwich but is AAAALSO conflicted with feelings of hatred for him because of some deep seated internal beef he has with him . its related to the “””situation””” he brings up but ill explain that later .its complicated . and ON TOP OF THAT theres his weird god complex thing where he desires to be wanted and worshipped with Visceral passion . so tldr sandwich kinda just sees whiteboy as a weird little acquaintance and whiteboy constantly switches between wanting sandwich to die and wanting to know him biblically

also . unrelated but they remind me of ⬇️this image . it should be very clear who is who

remember when i brought up that roblox game (that shall remain nameless for now but only because im embarrassed) earlier . well truth is i am becoming DEEPLY autistic about it again not just the game itself but the interpretations my brain made of the characters from what i remember about all of them . also theres a semi ironic ship involved which is just plargos if they somehow got Worse

[fyotherat]

May i request headcanons of Ranpo, Dazai, Lucy and jouno with a s/o who hates being alone?

Like always afraid of being alone with their thoughts and uses other people to distract themselves from them and is afraid of them leaving and abandoning them? Could be angst or fluff or both i dont really mind!

-🥀

Abandonment Issues

Characters: Ranpo, Dazai and Jouno

Warnings: None I assume?

Note: Thank you for requesting! I wrote for Lucy but I'll share it together with Yosano and Higuchi on a second part!

Ranpo

It wasn't usual for you to be separated in the first place, you two were always clinging to each other like koalas.

Because of that, it took a while for him to catch a glimpse of how you felt and behaved when left alone.

He couldn't deny that he felt the same in some situations, you are what feels like home to him, and he never enjoyed leaving your side.

As much of a direct person he is, he wouldn't directly confront you about it, he knew you couldn't help it.. so he decided to do his part to make you feel as safe as possible even without him by your side.

Long cuddle sessions are a must before any mission, or any outing for that matter! He will subtly do his best to let you know he isn't going anywhere.

If he has to be gone for a while, he would make sure to leave some of your favorite candies around the house for you to find, I can even imagine him leaving sticky notes with random compliments and cute faces drawn on them!

"Da-daan! y/n found the hidden candy! 10 points from the world's greatest detective!(･v<)☆"

And if you need a distraction? He would be glad to leave some of Poe's newest mystery novels for you to solve, they're too easy for him anyway!

Dazai

He is similar, even if he doesn't show it to you, he always has that lingering anxiety about you leaving him behind.

He knew it was unlikely but.. what if you somehow learned about his past? Learned about the horrendous things he did without a second thought..? Or maybe you would just find someone better than him..

With those thoughts always in the back of his mind, he didn't have a problem catching onto yours either, he was sharp after all.

It would take a while for him to find a solution or something to distract you from those thoughts.. he didn't have the best ways of distraction, as his first resolute was turning to the bottle, and the fact that he sometimes disappeared for days didn't really help your case.

But he had to find a way to ease your mind and distract you from those thoughts and fears.

He started with small gestures, maybe draping his coat over your shoulders before leaving to visit a crime site would suggest to you that he will be back?

He already declares his undying love to you a hundred times a day, but that was just a part of his personality, playful and teasing.. so he decides to do something a bit more proper, at least before long missions.

Taking your hands in his, he would lean in with a promise, a promise he swore he'll never break.

"No matter what, I'll come back home to you."

Jouno

The hardest case is by far Jouno... He knows how attached you are to him, and something about it brings joy to this sadistic man. Saying words like this.. with that damned smile..

"My my, can't live without me y/n? Too bad I have to leave for work now."

His words of teasing weren't helping you at all, even a small joke about him 'maybe not coming back' from a mission made your stomach curl.

One day, after a long mission that took him away from you, he returned home just to pause at the doorstep, with his sharpened senses he could hear your silent tears.

But the question was.. why were you crying..? It couldn't be because you felt alone.. right..?

With a sigh, he opened the door, closing and locking it behind him.

That night, he finally caved in to listen to your growing fears and your displeasure about his teasing.

How could he keep hurting you for his own amusement when you clung onto him so tightly and sobbed silently in his arms..?

[miguelhugger2099]

Origins

Summary: How you and Miguel came to be the Goddess of Life and God of Death/ First meeting Part 2 from Snowfall. I caved. Next Miguel x Fem!Reader, Fluff, proofread but eh, Word Count: 1,497

Trillions of years ago, when Mother Earth had come to, she decided to birth two beings of life and death.

You were born from a pearl that had washed up on shore after a tsunami, where the sun had shone directly on you upon your birth. You woke up on the beach, the waters splashing on your feet to wake you. You looked around to see no one there except the drum of life beating under your hands. You felt Mother Earth speaking to you, whispering in your ears. Conceived from the water and delivered by the sun, you began your duty as the Goddess of Life, creating new and exciting things to occupy the area.

Miguel had been born right after you, always a loyal one. Birthed from a single stray petal of a marigold flower that had died during a volcanic eruption. He rose from the ashes and obsidian around him and some of it was sticking to his skin. He groaned as he felt the cataclysmic energy burning in his palms while Mother Earth spoke to him. Deeming him the God of Death who would oversee the afterlife and send the energy back to her to be reused again.

Rather than considering the two of you as her children, she classed you as separate entities, gods on the same level as her, tied to your duties with the powers you held. While she gave energy, you would form that energy to create life and then it would eventually be passed to Miguel who would preserve that energy in death and send it back to Mother Earth. You and Miguel still found it more comfortable to praise Mother Earth as a higher being since she had given both of you life. Thus, you two lived your life as servants of her, tending to her and eventually working with humans.

For the longest time, you and Miguel had never crossed paths. For eons, you both had been harnessing and practicing your newfound power, like baby steps for humans. While you worked on creating small insects and fruits, Miguel had been turning some of your plants into poisonous ones and accidentally creating diseases amongst animals. It's not his fault everything he touches turns for the worst!

The moment you had met was the moment neither of you would ever forget.

Humans had just started to be born, a small project Mother Earth had been conjuring up with you. A family was beginning to start with two sets of grandparents, the mother and father and their newborn baby girl. You had been overseeing this family, making sure everything was in check and that the seasons were warm enough for the babe to arrive.

Finally, the baby had been born after hours of labor, the sounds of cheers across the room while the mother was handed her baby. The mother cooed at her child and you watched next to her with soft eyes, having been keeping watch over this family for generations now. You held your hands over the baby's small body and prepared yourself to send your blessings of fertility and prosperity.

Suddenly, you felt a shift in your chest like something interrupting your ritual. You looked down at the baby with worry, wondering what could've happened. The mother and father had noticed a difference in the baby's behavior. She stood still and her little body never even began breathing after just a few seconds of being born. You took a step back, nearly crumbling at the sight. What was going to happen to her now?

Before you succumbed to madness, you saw a large hand hold the baby's head from behind you. You gasped and turned your head to see the God of Death for the first time. His eyes were neutral and unwavering even as he gently helped pull her soul out her body and cradled her in his arms. You watched with a bated breath and confusion in your eyes as the baby fell asleep in his embrace. You looked back up at his face to see he was still looking down at the child.

“Stillborn. She was never going to make it,” He explained softly. His voice was mellow and calm despite how deep it was. He turned to look at you and felt your breath being taken away. His eyes were somber and not all there in the present but they held a softness to it for a grim reaper. His eyes were red. What a beautiful color. “I'm sorry.”

He apologized for ruining this even though it wasn't his fault. He was just simply the collector. The family had begun to sob, clutching their baby and weeping for the universe to bring her back. They became angry at death, questioning why she had to die.

He had heard their insults and knitted his eyebrows together with a purse of his lips. He took a small breath before walking out of the home to send the child to the afterlife. You took another look at the family, deciding you had done what you could and left to follow the God of Death.

“Wait!” You called out, stopping just a few steps behind him. His back faced you but he paused when he heard your voice. His black silk robe fluttered in the breeze as he waited for you to insult and berate him.

“Thank you.” You sighed. He turned to look at you over his shoulder with disbelief. You walked up to him and raised your hand to place it on his arm when he faced you completely. He flinched back before you could and became defensive.

“For what?” His tone was on guard, not trusting you quite yet. You approached him again regardless, placing one hand on his bicep and the other to caress the baby's cheek. You looked down at her sleeping form, peacefully resting in his arms.

“For caring about her.”

He could've very well just ripped her soul painfully out her body, dragging whatever it was to the afterlife with little regard, but he held her as if she was still alive. He continued to hold her and lead her soul somewhere with someone at her side rather than doing it alone.

His mouth had slightly parted in surprise. He had never thought that the Goddess of Life would ever appreciate his efforts. It's why he's always avoided you. He thought you would think of him soiling your creations, ruining all things good by touching them. So he just watched you create from afar, admiring your work and your smile. Doing the dirty work while you weren't looking to protect your lack of knowledge about the afterlife.

You looked up to face him with that same smile and if he had a heart, it would skip a beat. For the first time, he got to see the way your eyelashes batted up at him and that there were a few sparkles in the rim of your eye color. You were more beautiful up close than he thought. He took the time to drink in your features, darting from the dip of your nose to the shape of your eyebrows and the curve of your lips.

He felt warmer and that alone was strange. His eyes glanced down at your hand on his arm where he figured out it was you making him warmer. It was comfortable and he…liked it. He saw the sun set behind you, giving you a soft glow on the curves of your cheeks and hair, the breeze gently flowing through. He took a step back, almost fearful of the power your beauty was gaining over him. He knew he'd soon crave your warmth again but his job came first.

“You're… you're welcome,” He muttered bashfully. “I have to…take her now.” Gesturing to the baby and you nodded, looking at him with amusement.

“Okay.” You giggled and he turned and looked away to hide his cheeks despite not being able to blush.

“Take care.” He looked at you behind his shoulder. Your heart swelled at the shy look on his face and you waved goodbye, feeling good about this interaction.

“I hope to see you again, my lord.”

“…Likewise, my lady.”

That night, you could not get his charming eyes out of your mind. Your hands dug into the damp soil, humming your power into the ground to come up with a new creation.

You carefully began sculpting your project, stretching out the stem and creating a bountiful amount of petals to create a new flower.

You had the image of the petals being the same color as his eyes–a gorgeous ruby red, with the stems being covered in tiny thorns much like his guarded personality. When you were done, the piece had been turned into a proper flower brimming with life and ready to be planted into Mother Earth. You decided to call it a rose–a flower humans would eventually associate with love and romance.

A/N: im not AS proud of this as the first one but i still wanted to write this little au anyway just to post something teehee

[the-daydreaming-show]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 — 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A brief return to what happened on the day of Jason Todd's death.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫(𝐬): Bruce Wayne X ScarletWitch!Reader; Clark Kent x ScarletWitch!Reader (platonic); Jason Todd x Batmom!ScarletWitch!Reader.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: This is a lot of anguish and does not contribute at all to the plot of the main story, but I love how it ends up, and I didn't put it in All For Us for reasons.

So, I hope you enjoy the suffering.

Beta Reader by @igotmessymind (Our savior and goddess, whom we must appreciate so… APPRECIATE HER!!)

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐔𝐬 / Next Part.

Bruce always prided himself in the fact that you had always said that his mind was very well protected for somebody who was just a human man.

In the first years, when the both of you pretended to hate each other, that was the only thing that gave him some sense of security while being around you.

Of course, if you actually wanted to read his mind and explore his subcontinents that would have stopped you — but something was something, and he used to cling to that thought at that time.

Now it was just a curious fact. 

Dick has learned to protect his mind from magic under your teaching, and he liked to say that he was better at it than Bruce, just to joke around.

In fact, that becomes a part of the training that your husband gives your children. An immovable condition for going out with him to patrol.

Jason has received that training too, but you have confessed to Bruce that your boy had had the same natural protection to his mind before he got to you.

These points are important for two reasons.

One. 

Shortly after his fifteenth birthday, Bruce decided that Jason was beginning to be too neglected and angry for his own safety. That and the hormones make it inevitable that your husband took that decision, with Jason obviously in discord — and, in his rage for the decision, your boy ends up wandering all alone to the city one-day. He found himself in his old house and a box of memories that revealed that, in fact, Catherine Todd was not his biological mother.

It was the natural protection of his mind that allowed Jason to hide from you his guilt. 

He feels bad for lying to you and going after a stranger that just gave him life.

You have taken care of him, and you are his mom. But he needed to know. 

So, without you or Bruce's knowledge, he stole the Robin suit and went to find his mother once and for all.

Two.

When Bruce found the note that Jason had left explaining where he was going. His natural protection makes sure that his emotions will leak out of his head and to you.

He didn't tell you right away how Jason was looking when he left.

Bruce told you that he went behind the Joker on his own.

He should have told you the truth right away. But he knew how much you loved Jason and how heartbreaking it would be for you knew that he was looking for his mother, as if you were not enough.

When he told you the truth was when the Joker in fact was there. But, now you don't care about Jason looking for his mother, you care for his safety.

It was night when Bruce got home. 

Alfred. 

Oh, sweet and kind Alfred. 

He was the one who told you that he had arrived. And you ignore how he looked at you with tears in his eyes and pain when you immediately whispered the name of your son before leaving him alone in the room, almost running to get to the bat-cave. 

Where you thought that you would find your husband and son waiting for you.

But Bruce stopped you. He appeared without his cape or mask, but with the Batman suit still on. 

That was the first signal of something wrong. 

Bruce never went up to the mansion in this Batman gear. Never. Not before you marry and not after. At the start for security, and now to separate his lives.

“Bruce” you greet him smiling and hug him relieved because he was safe, ignoring the silent hassle in your heart “In so glad you two are safe” you wish as you hide your face in his chest. But he didn't return the gesture, he just watched the top of your head, his arms like dead weight at every side of him. You pulled out when you felt how tense he was, and smiled at him understanding, like you can not grasp the idea of him not being able to bring Jason home, and not thinking much of his acting was for the stress of your son running through the world without supervision for several days. “¿Where's Jason?” you asked quietly, calm as you can't be. Your baby was for sure in the cave, making a fit after Bruce scolded him all the way back to the continent. Yes, that was it.

“Love” Bruce started, the tone in his voice was not the one he used with you. Your Bruce was kind and loving while talking with you, but he sounded empty. “I-” he cuts himself when you move with the intention of passing him, and walks to the cave. “You can't go there” he says as he holds you in front of him with firm hands. You look at him, confused. He had never done something like that.

“¿Why?” you ask, “¿What happened?” your mind never went there. 

The thing is, a parent never actually thinks of the worst situation for their children when something actually happens. You spend your whole life worrying about them, but when something happens, it is like your brain is taken by surprise. Or at least that's what happened to you. 

When Bruce told you that you can't go to the cave your mind stopped for a second. A million reasons passed through your mind, but the truth was not one of them. You didn't visualize your baby Jay, dead in a metal table cover by a sheet. And you didn't sit, either.

“I will talk to him, I'm sure his anger is gonna pass soon enough” you said, trying again to pass him on.

“Is not that” Bruce says, his voice as dead as before. This time you tried to take him away from him, which caused him to trade to hold your wrists for you to look at him, but you didn't. You were looking to the hall behind him, the one that while taking you to the secret door to the bat-cave and to Jason. He was physically stronger than you, but you didn't stop, and you will find the mark of his fingerprints in your skin the next day. “He is not mad” he says, his voice breaking out as he saw you fight him.

“Bruce, let me go” you said while fighting still, outraged by his triad of getting away from you boy. “Bruce, stop” your voice crack at the despair.

“Love” he says, as you tried to kick him in desperation, and he took advantage of it. Bruce turns you around facing the other side of the hall, holding your hands over your chest and hugging you in your place. Didn't stop you from trying desperately to get away from him.

He needed to let you go, so you could see Jason. You have to see him. 

“He's gone” Bruce finally whispers to you to hear, with his eyes full of tears, but you didn’t see it, you just keep struggling.

“¿What?. Bruce, what – JASON!!” you couldn't process it. So you call for him. “Bruce, stop. ¡¡Jason!!” you call while mange to take one of your wrists out of his hold and turn around to watch the end of the hall. Empty. No son of yours was there. Jason wasn't listening to you. “Bruce, let me go” you beg, almost trying to climb over him, but Bruce held you again.

“He's gone, the Joker-” Bruce was thankful and heartbroken when you didn't let him finish the explanation. Thankful because he didn't know how to tell this to you. 

¿How will he explain that your son was dead because of him?

¿How does he say that Jason was not coming back because his choice of leaving him and Sheila alone, all open to danger, and that It cost them both their life?. 

And heartbroken, because your mind finally fell into the right conclusion of what was happening.

“STOP IT. LET ME GO, BRUCE” you scream, finally breaking. You start to cry and shake into awful sobs, “JASON” you called him.

Bruce had to hold you until you stopped fighting. You scratched him, begged him, screamed and kicked. But he didn't let you go, and Jason never came up from the cave that night. It Felt like hours, but Alfred told him it had been less than ten minutes before you fell into his arms just crying, all the fight out of your body. The crying didn't stop, though.

You cry for your son all night. Bruce cries with you in silence. All night you rolled in your shared bed, like a wounded animal, crying and calling for your son. Every so often, you sleep and wake up. You would ask for Jason and when he didn't show up he would cry again. You didn't do anything else.

Likewise, you don't know when Bruce left or when Clark showed up. But your friend couldn't help but watch with the same impotence as your husband. 

You understood, later, that it was Alfred who called him, to see if the word of Superman, the only other man who also knew you as Bruce did, could finally convince your husband. 

“Bruce, please” Alfred begged him. The three men stood behind the closed door of the room where you had fallen asleep again after being comforted by Clark, as best he could. Alfred didn't want to be too harsh to Bruce, how waste better that you. “You have to let her see him” the butler repeat himself  “Is the only thing to do” 

Clark looked at both of them in silence. 

He couldn't believe it either. Jason was dead. That boy so full of life and attitude, gone forever, leaving two parents totally inconsolable. He could see that nobody else with Bruce was doing what he was doing at that moment. Something that didn't happen often, but he was thankful for years of having been able to read Bruce so easily that day. When he most needs him. The man he had seen take down opponents stronger, more powerful than him, and even some otherworldly, all with no power of his own other than his stubbornness. Now he was lying against one of the walls of the mansion hall, with red eyes and leaning forward. As if it was difficult for him to breathe. Unable to stand upright under the weight of his child's life, the one he had and the one he would never live now.

He understood. 

So, Clark spoke before Alfred could say more.

“I'll take her.” he said, and it was like everything froze in time for a second “I'll take her, you don't have to do it Bruce. She will not resent you for not doing it, but she will never believe it if she doesn't see him” he made sure to not make any sudden movement to raise his voice too much. Bruce didn't look at him. He stood there in silence for just a minute. Then he nodded his head.

You wake up with the movement. It was Clark. He passed his arms under your knees and around your back, picking you up from the bed. He didn't trust that you would be able to walk all the way to the elevator on your feet. 

“¿Where are we going?” you ask, your voice scratchy from so much shouting and crying.

“To see Jason” he responded gently, as he stood at his full height with you in his arms, you felt like a broken doll. You were a dead weight that wasn't really a weight, but you felt like dead in his arms. Selfishly, Clark thought that he prayed to the universe never to find himself in that situation, and immediately felt bad, so he settled closer to him.

“Really?” you asked, out of breath. Your voice trembled, filled with a mixture of hope and fear. A part of you still didn't believe it, he saw it crystal clear, and he knew he never fully would. There was no going back, he would do this. For you, who was like his sister. And for Bruce, who was his best friend and partner.

“Yes, really” he confirmed. 

You let your head fall over his chest as you two leave the room. Your body felt too heavy and your conscience too light. You didn't notice when they went out into the hallway or got into the elevator. 

The sound it made when it reached the cave floor was what brought you back. Your first instinct was to grab onto Clark, wanting to start asking him back. You have changed your mind. You wanted to stay upstairs, where there was still a chance your son would come back. But you wanted to see your baby and if you came back you would never see him again. You would wait forever for Jason, and you would never leave that place. You knew it.

Not only that, but you couldn't do that to Bruce. Neither to Alfred. Or to your sweet Dick.

Clark takes you up the stairs to the platform at the edge of the cave, where there was a metal table where Bruce used to carry any artifact or mysterious substance, where he usually stayed until he finished identifying or disarming them. He put you down slowly. Resting your legs on the ground first and holding you until you felt strong enough to let go of his shirt. He looked at you, wondering if he wanted him to leave, but you didn't look at him. You could only see that table.

The sheet had no blood. Jason had stopped bleeding hours ago. Behind you, Clark felt the need to throw up or run, whichever came first. The thought of having to see that boy — his nephew, now dead on a table, horrified him, but he kept himself firm behind you. And when he saw that you didn't move, he delicately pushed your sword without lifting his hand until you took the first step on your own towards the body.

People said that the dead seem asleep. But he didn't. When you pulled out the sheet, your son seemed dead. 

Jason Todd was dead. Your son. Gone forever.

“My baby” you whispered, starting to cry, while you touched her cold face and broke by the blows “My baby” you repeated over and over again “My baby. My baby. My baby” you didn't scream, you just clung to his body until Bruce appeared again and pulled you out of him.

You whispered crying, while you touched her cold face. Clark would remember that cry for the rest of his life. Bruce would never recover if he hadn't been the one to take you to see Jason one last time.

And Alfred thus saw the start of a series of events that would end with you breaking yourself, leading everyone to a safe place where Jason had come back from the cave that night. In the end, that was what it took so that they could all end that dark chapter in everyone's life once and for all.

Or at least that's what they thought until Red Hood appeared on the scene, to which Bruce thanked again for that natural protection of the mind that both he and Jason possessed. It was keeping you safe.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @some-lovely-day @simonsbluee @yuki-chan23 @miyakana @myst3batz @otchae @d3m0n8ch1ld @marsenbie @mynameisnotlaura @andieperrie18 @totallynotme420 @igotmessymind @amarawayne @calsjack @kodzukenmaaa @mellowdiy @noah-uhhh-what @blarba-girl @dead-sane-stuff @huhuhhuhh

[hikakuriyyu]

Tension. (part 4)

⁎ warnings: romantic slasher ? mentions of death, mentions of blood, mentions of AND !murder!, manipulation, kissing, female!reader.

⁎ summary: you fell for him. hard. the murders started, and you knew it was him. billy lured you into his dark and twisted intentions. it was so wrong. but it doesn't feel wrong... there was something stopping you. or someone.

⁎ author note: i hope your guys been enjoying the last few parts cuz thinking of a plot is pretty hard 😭. and its my birthday :D so nice, lol. here you go nena :).

You stood there, frozen, your mind racing. Everything felt like it was crashing down all at once. Billy was already outside, waiting for you, the clock ticking faster with every second. You knew what he expected, what he needed you to do to prove you were really in this with him. But killing Dewey? It wasn’t supposed to come to this. You didn't wanna do this.

You swallowed hard, staring at your ghostface costume lying on the bed, the mask staring right back at you. This was it. You knew that if you backed out now, Billy would never look at you the same. This was the moment. You had to show him you were serious. That you loved him.

With shaky hands, you grabbed the costume and slipped it on, the mask feeling heavier than it ever had before. Every step you took downstairs felt like the floor might cave in beneath you, but you kept going, gripping the knife tightly in your hand. Your heart pounded in your chest, but all you could think about was Billy.

This was for him. You were doing this for him.

You hide in a closet and wait for the right moment to come. ''You can do this...'' you thought to yourself. You were so nervous for the first time, maybe you still had sympathy in your heart. You hear a few footsteps coming and prepare yourself. The footsteps inch closer towards the closet. At the right moment you jump out and stab Dewey's neck, hoping that would kill him instantly. Dewey placed his hand on his neck, trying to stop it from bleeding out. You watched the scene unfold, instantly regretting what you had done. Dewey lets out a few chokes before he takes his last breath, body going rigid. You stayed there and looked at his lifeless body. He didn't deserve this...

You snapped yourself out of it and quickly ran to a near window and climbed out before anyone could see you. You ran to the fountain where Billy wanted to meet, hoping he'd be waiting for you there. You see his distressed face, thinking you maybe had gotten caught. He notices you and quickly walks up to you. ''Did you do it ? Is he dead ?'' he asked you eagerly. You look around, making sure no one was in sight before taking of the mask, nodding at his question. ''Yeah...'' you say with obvious guilt on your face. Billy cups your face and presses a soft kiss on your lips. ''Hey... don't worry. You did the right thing. If you didn't kill him we would've been caught by now. But we're free. Together.'' he says softly, brushing a few strands of hair out your face. You relax under his touch right away, thinking about it from a postive perspective. He's right. If you got caught, you wouldn't be able to be with Billy anymore. You couldn't bear separation.

You smile at his words softly before nodding. ''Yeah. I guess you're right.'' you say before looking at the ground. ''What now ?'' you ask, thinking about what's about to happen next. Billy smiled, taking your hand. ''Let's run away together. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.'' he said as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Were you dreaming ? ''Oh my God...'' you exclaimed, not taking your eyes off him. ''Let's go.'' he said as started walking, still hand-in-hand with you. This is the best and worst day of your life.

He walks you to his house, since he lived alone. You walk into Billy’s dimly lit home, the atmosphere heavy with a mix of fear, excitement and uncertainty. The house is eerily silent, as if it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Billy locks the door behind you, his movements calm and collected, while you stand in the living room, fidgeting, unsure of what comes next.

Billy leans on the wall, crossing his arms, watching you closely. He could tell you were a little on edge. ''Relax. We're safe here.'' his voice is smooth, confident, as if the events of the night didn’t affect him at all. He pushes off the wall and walks over to you. You look at him, the guilt evident in your voice and body language. ''I actually killed Dewey... he didn't deserve it. He was so sweet. I took his life away.'' you say as you take off the ghostface costume, setting it down somewhere before you take a seat on his couch. His eyes narrowed as he followed you, sitting down next to you.

Billy smirks softly before putting his hand on your thigh. "And you did it for us. That’s what matters." He scoots closer, his tone shifting to something softer, almost affectionate. "Don’t you see it now ? You’re free. Free from all those people holding you back." he added. you nod slightly, still unsure, your mind swirling with conflicting emotions. Part of you is relieved to be with Billy, but the weight of your actions lingers in the back of you mind. You look away hesitantly. "Why did it have to be him, though ?'' you say, your voice breaking slightly.

Billy grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him, his expression darkening. "Deserve ? None of them deserve anything. They were all just in the way. You need to understand that. They were part of the game. Just like Sidney." his voice is low, almost a growl, but then his grip softens, his tone changing to something gentler, more... manipulative. "But now, there’s no one left to tear us apart. You and me… we can start over. Together."

Billy wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. You can feel the warmth of his body, the intensity in his touch, and despite the chaos inside you, you find yourrself melting into his embrace. There’s a strange comfort in his possessiveness, in the way he makes you feel like the center of his world. You lay your head on his shoulder softly. "And what now ? What do we do next ?" Billy smiles, stroking your hair as if soothing a child. "Now ? We disappear. We leave Woodsboro behind and go somewhere no one can find us. Just you and me. Doesn’t that sound perfect ?" he said.

There’s a pause, the idea of running away together sounding both thrilling and terrifying. You know what they’ve done can’t be undone, and there’s no turning back. But there’s still a nagging doubt, a hint of hesitation. "And what about... everything we’ve done ? What if they find us ?" you ask him. Billy pulls back slightly, looking down at you with that same smirk. "They won’t. We’ll be ghosts. And even if they do... we’ve come this far, haven’t we ? You trust me, don’t you ?"

His gaze locks onto yours, challenging you, daring you to question him. You hesitates but then nods, feeling the intensity of his control over her. Your trapped, but willingly so, tangled in your obsession with him. "I do. I trust you."

Billy leans in, pressing a slow, possessive kiss to your lips. It’s not just affection—it’s a claim, a reminder that he owns you now.

To Be Continued...

[blasphemousclaw]

Okay, so at some point (or like during the Shattering in general) the only one in Rykard's immediate family that hadn't either fucked off or lost their mind (yet) was Radahn. Ngl that makes me emo because I feel like during the war these two could only trust each other out of the demigods. Just...brothers 😭

aaaand then Radahn gets rotted and Rykard's all alone (or who knows maybe Rykard fed himself to the snake first, leaving Radahn alone)

Also, does Radahn even know about Ranni? Does he think she's dead or is he like "yea she lives there somewhere in sort of hiding but also never answers my letters i think shes mad at me"? Cue Rykard sweating any time Radahn mentions her?

RIGHTTTT I think there was absolutely a degree of trust between Rykard and Radahn that endured even after the Shattering… even though they both seemed to be pursuing their own ends during the war, I don’t think they would have ever taken up arms against each other, regardless if Radahn knew of Rykard’s treason or not.

Rykard’s fondness for Radahn is evident, and I’m sure Radahn was fond of Rykard too, since he at least keeps the one abductor virgin guarding his castle (which is also a unique model with one of each weapon!). Even though they weren’t working towards one common goal, I like to think they would have at least trusted their bond as brothers.

Rykard also shared a closeness and trust with Ranni, but I think there was also always a degree of separation between her and her brothers because she was the only empyrean, and because she also had the special responsibility of being her mother’s heir… it must have been isolating to have these duties on her shoulders while her brothers did not. Rykard and Radahn on the other hand occupy essentially the same position in their family, and they’re both older than Ranni, so there was once a time when it was just them. These things would have certainly drawn them together when they were younger.

Which is why I think Radahn’s fate would have really affected Rykard. We can’t be sure if he even knew because we don’t know the precise time he decided to go snake mode, but if he was indeed still human when Radahn and Malenia fought, and the news spread to him, then I can see him being really upset and unstable. Especially because Leyndell’s assault on Volcano Manor prevents Rykard from leaving Mt Gelmir; he’s essentially stuck there unable to do anything about it. And if he did gift Radahn the abductor virgin army in the abandoned cave, it must have really hurt to know that he tried to protect him and failed.

re: Ranni and Radahn, I don’t really get the sense that they really collaborated in any way… there’s not a shred of a personal connection between the two of them, positive or negative, except for the fact we have to kill him to release the stars for Ranni’s plans. Radahn seems like an obstacle to her plans, but not even because he did it on purpose; I think he did it for his own reasons and it just happened to inconvenience Ranni: if the two were actively feuding, then surely Radahn would weigh heavily on her team’s minds, but the fact that Radahn’s actions hinder Ranni is literally a total afterthought to Iji. Blaidd seems to call him a traitor after the boss fight though, perhaps he means it in the sense that Radahn’s actions hindered his family as a whole, which Ranni represents as the heir.

Anyway, Ranni and Radahn’s non-relationship seems like it could be a combination of Radahn being older and moving away to Caelid, them having vastly different roles in the family like I mentioned earlier, and thus growing up to have different priorities. I kind of don’t think Radahn knows what she’s up to, but maybe he just doesn’t ask because that isn’t his business lmao

[fordtato]

I watched the new Ford vid and I wanted to share some thoughts I had on some of the points in your video. Before anything else, I want to say how much I absolutely fucking love everything you do and that, in my opinion, this video is especially spectacular. My intention here is to show my appreciation for your work by demonstrating how I’ve paid attention to it and thought about it, because I wouldn’t do that if I didn’t care, but I’m definitely not trying to criticize or anything. So, keeping that in mind, I’d like to add some thoughts to a couple points that I feel could’ve been expanded upon, even though the video was already five hours long.

First off, when it comes to the science fair thing, the only point where I do kind of blame Ford is that perpetual motion machines are physically impossible and also delicate. I just think he should’ve made something else and, at the very least, checked on it the morning of the fair and I actually think it’s a little ooc that he put all that effort into making it and was so invested in the fair but then didn’t bother to even look at it before the fair itself. There’s also never any recognition of the fact that something like a perpetual motion machine could literally stop at any point for any number of reasons that wouldn’t require external interference. I don’t think it’s a sin or moral failing like some of the other things people said on the topic of the science fair, but I do think there is some responsibility there on Ford’s end that doesn’t get discussed as much.

The second thing is that I just think that the Book of Bill is pretty openly interpretable in terms of whether it’s fully accurate and canon or not, since it’s made by such a flagrant liar. I respect and appreciate that you view the lost journal pages as canon material that, in universe, was written by Ford, but I also feel like it’s important to acknowledge that we don’t really know for sure one way or another unlike with Journal 3.

My next point is that, on the topic of Ford wanting his house back, it’s everything you said and I would add that Stan staying in the house would require their reconciliation. At the time Ford said that, they were actively in conflict with each other after being in separation for 30 years, so it makes sense that he wouldn’t want Stan to keep living with him given all the tension and unresolved resentment. Especially in tandem with the other things you pointed out, I think it makes complete sense that Ford wouldn’t want Stan to keep living there.

So then, when it comes to Ford being upset with Stan because of how Stan ignored all his warnings and opened the portal anyway, my biggest issue has always been Ford’s hypocrisy here. I can appreciate that, even though everything turned out alright, Stan’s choice to open the portal was objectively bad and Ford is valid for being upset, but he’s the one who ignored all the warnings when he summoned Bill in the first place. While I’d never blame him for being a victim of Bill’s abuse, I do 100% blame him for blowing past all the warnings and reading that incantation in the cave, and it’s hypocritical for him to be mad at Stan for doing the same thing.

Next is the “bumbling leech” quote, and my thought here is just that it makes sense for Ford to tell himself that as like a coping mechanism. When he and Stan were in separation, I imagine it would’ve been easier to tell himself stuff like that and try to believe it and try to stay mad to keep his distance, especially once he was on the other side of the portal. After all, keeping a grudge is easier than reconciliation, especially when you and the other person have no emotional intelligence and limited communication skills.

Lastly, when it comes to pathologizing, I think it’s potentially relevant that Stan and Ford are twins so stuff like autism that’s autistic would be a shared trait that both of them have. I just think it could be interesting to get into the genetic components of some of the different diagnoses that have been proposed for Ford, especially NPD since it does have a genetic factor. If people want to act like Ford is a villain because he potentially has NPD, then those same people have to accept that that would mean Stan does to and tbh I’d love to explore how a cluster b disorder like that could potentially make sense with Stan’s character as well. Maybe then we could actually have a nuanced discussion about such things the way you suggested instead of continuing to demonize these disorders, their symptoms, and the people who have them.

Anyway, sorry this was so long but I just wanted to share and I look forward to seeing what else you come out with in the future 🩷

Well, thank you for sharing, though I do think we disagree on a couple of things. As far as a perpetual motion machine being impossible, like, I think that's the point? Like, the idea is "this is an impossible thing, and Ford, being brilliant, figured it out." The idea of "blaming" a 17-year-old for his physics-defying incredible demonstration of a principle that breaks the laws of physics being... not earthquake stable? Or not sturdy enough to survive a punch on the table? I don't know, guys. Like. Lots of marvels of scientific accomplishment are delicate instruments. I think the logic there is faulty. The science fair project falling apart is not Ford's fault. It WAS stable, then something broke. You can't blame him for making an easy-to-break machine. I've seen this argument floating around a lot recently, and I will be honest, it really annoys me. Would it have been smart for him to check under the sheet that Stan put there to hide it? Yeah, maybe. But it feels silly to say that makes him partly "responsible." I dunno. It's all semantics at some point, and it barely makes a difference, but that isn't how I would describe it.

As far as the Lost Journal pages being written by a liar, I did address this in my ATOTS video, and did not repeat myself in the Ford Defense video, but to summarize : I acknowledge that Bill could have lied in these pages, but for the sake of easily having a discussion about it, I do treat it at face value, simply because it would be annoying to need to add that caveat after every point.

(I also am not a personal fan of the theory that it was forged by Bill, but that's a separate topic altogether. No comment beyond that.)

As far as Ford's "hypocrisy" in warning Stan, I think we have different opinions here as well. Like, Ford does not think that Stan ignoring warnings is wrong, but HIM ignoring warnings is okay. He thinks him ignoring the warnings is the biggest mistake of his life and he's deeply angry at himself. If I burned myself on the stove, and then told someone else not to touch the stove because it is hot, I am not being a hypocrite. I am someone who learned something was dangerous.

Even if we disagree here, however, I appreciate you watching, and you taking the time to share your thoughts with me.

[violetren]

PJO!Show Medusa is a very special kind of tragic that feels much deeper than I remember it in the original book.

In the very first episode of the series we see Sally taking little Percy to a museum to learn a little about ancient Greece to help set him up for his inevitable future, but also planting the seeds of independent thought and a strong moral compass that will make Percy simultaneously an excellent hero and th BIGGEST headache for every Olympian, Titan, and otherwise supernatural being in the world. And she does this by prompting Percy to question his preconceived ideas of the monster Medusa. A woman who was tossed around by the whims of the gods and ultimately killed by them too.

The memory of this lesson carries over and is a major driving force in Percy's decision to follow Medusa inside her home even as his companions AND his enemy react to her as a straight up monster even before she has actually arrived on the scene. Annabeth sees a couple of statues and the "Aunty Em's" sign and is ready to GTFO immediately.

However it's not the only lesson in play.

In this same episode we are introduced to the concept of how monsters hunt. Not all of them are mindless beasts chasing down the scent of the most powerful demigod they can find. Some are drawn in by the demigods desire for glory, or feelings or inadequacy, their fear, or dissatisfaction with their relationship with the gods, and will use those same criteria to manipulate and tear down their prey. Something interesting about this explanation is that it still implies monsters are out there actively tracking down demigods to kill regardless of what is attracting them.

Medusa doesn't really fit with this proactive predator model creating a degree of separation between her and other monsters we learned about and seen so far. However they are very careful to never let us forget that she is a threat. As our heroes arrive there are petrified monsters everywhere and Alecto doesn't come closer than the driveway even after Medusa retreats inside because she knows that Medusa is 1. Powerful, and 2. Doesn't like her personally. Her personal distaste for another monster in the moment helps further distance her from the classic monster model we have been taught to recognise.

Inside the house we learn Medusa's version of the tale. How devout she was with nothing in return. How intoxicating it was to finally feel seen even if not by the god she had spent her life dedicated to. How she was shamed and punished for how eagerly she accepted that attention. She took her cursed punishment and turned it into a gift, a way to protect herself. It's a sympathetic tale. Percy is primed to be sympathetic. Grover who lived in the mythical world first then the mundane unlike both Percy and Annabeth even shows hesitation instead of being able to treat her as an out and out monster even if only for a moment. Annabeth is the only one who identifies her as a monster and sticks to it all the way through.

Everything is set up to make us question whether this iconic monster of Greek Myth, who we know from the books will attack, really is a villain this time around. This is especially effective in the current era of Medusa retellings as a tragic heroine, a protector of those who have been assaulted and abused, who was beloved by Athena not reviled.

Then the turn comes. She offers a deal to Percy, she'll help make sure no one can stand in the way of his goal, she'll petrify Grover and Annabeth if he asks. From there everything spirals out. We go down to her basement storage reminiscent of both a temple and her history as a shrine maiden, and the cave she lived in as a monster until Perseus came to claim her head. We get her villain monologue. Paraphrasing: "You could have taught the gods a lesson by taking a path other than obedience to them and their teachings. Now I will send you as examples and reminders of what their actions have wrought. I will make them see me."

Medusa in this show very much is a monster, despite all of the misdirects, but unlike all of the other monsters we have seen and all those we have been taught to expect even as she is stalking the kids in her basement she doesn't feel like some overblown mythical monster. She feels like a woman who has been driven to madness. Like she is trapped in a cycle and doesn't know how to exit it, so she pushes the onus of breaking the cycle on others and then punishes them when they can't.

If that wasn't tragic enough I have a theory on what she preys on as a monster and why.

She hunts on loneliness or at least a sense of being isolated, because that is the feeling at the heart of her creation as a myth and a monster.

She went a lifetime ignored by the figure she loved the most. Her curse isolated her. It was supposed to drive people away from her/prevent her from getting close to anyone. She was killed without being acknowledged as ever having been human. Then by the rules the dictate monsters in the PJO universe she came back, probably a few dozen times at least before we met her in canon. She set up her shop in the middle of nowhere, harkening back to her life after being cursed in her original myth. Most importantly she sets up on a saytr path in the middle of a new jersey Forest where she'll likely only be stumbled across by other singular lonesome beings.

To really nail down that feeling of tragedy, even though a lot of her victims clearly never got past being terrified of her, someone did. Grover's uncle Ferdinand did. He looked at her with solemn understanding, at peace with his fate, maybe even a touch pitying. He couldn't make her feel seen, or make her realise that she didn't need the gods attention after all this time. And if he couldn't then there was no way in hell that a couple of 12 year olds and barely working age saytr could, and so once again the cycle repeated and she had to die.

[dekkiidan]

hiii you've mentioned before that mohs lives with tuff, and in your sketchbook doodles post, you said "TUFF MY BELOVED". do you have any specific headcanons or character traits in mind for tuff? ::0 and are they roommates with mohs just out of necessity, or did they Want to share a place?

Ooh, this was such a fun ask to wake up to! I've left a little ramble above the cut to do with my canon musings; and anything to do with OC interaction I have popped below. I will also maybe compile a list of headcanons to post separately if this gets too long.

I've always loved Tuff, I think since I saw them in my first ever loop, I was curious as to why they would choose to work in the mines so close to something (The Zero-G Cave) that gives them so much anxiety. I ended up thinking on it for a little while as I was helplessly spinning around the "broken satellite" and it made me think they're actually pretty brave to be willing to work in such close proximity to something that makes them feel physically sick. I'm a sucker for that "hard-work and determination can overcome anything" attitude (even if, in Tuff's case, it may not come across as enthusiastically as other characters who follow this trope), so I was immediately intrigued, haha! Because of this, I wonder if maybe they were a tutor to Riebeck for a little while whilst our archaeologist was in training. It's cute to imagine the pair sat at the gaping maw of the entrance to the Zero-G pit, legs dangling over the edge (it's scary!), as Tuff talks to Riebeck about how it's okay to feel afraid, and sometimes even feel physically sick. But if you love something and want to pursue it, you shouldn't let that fear get in the way.

I also think they look really visually interesting. What happened to their ear? Heck, what happened to both of their ears? They have way more tears than your standard hearthian. They also have a really unique facial model - with their ear placement putting them at around the same age as Hatchy or Marl - but they certainly look a lot older. I never really came up with a reason for this, perhaps they just look a bit older because they're always so worried, or they don't get enough sun because they're working a lot of the time, haha! To be honest, I think they are a bit older, but I'm not sure by how much. I'd like for them to be able to tutor Riebeck a little as aforementioned, so they would have to at least have a few years on them I suppose!

Also, look at their eyes! They're so pretty.

Anyhow, in regard to their situation with Mohs - this came about thanks to a conversation with my good friend Merry. Mohs needed a place to live, and they couldn't just live in the museum, haha! So, I had a think.

The village is relatively small and I think that most hearthians likely cabin share due to the communal nature of their species anyway. Some folks hop from cabin to cabin depending on how they feel, whilst others prefer to have a more settled and firm "home" - and Mohs is one of those folks. They enjoy having roots in the ground and somewhere they can return to after a hard day's work, so to speak.

Their living situation is, I guess the best way to describe it would be "professional"? Like two working professionals sharing a home together. They get on well with each other, are polite and courteous, occasionally have dinner together and chat about how their days have been - but due to the nature of their work, it's not uncommon for one to be home and the other away. Basically, I sat down and had a think about the kind of hearthian Mohs would appreciate in their life when they were ready to make a little space for themself in a cabin, and I thought - someone who is a little older than them, someone who is knowledgeable about geology, and someone that Mohs feels safe and comfortable around. Hornfels and Gossan ticked those boxes, but as Mohs already works closely with Hornfels at the museum for the Outer Wilds Geological Survey stuff, it felt a bit odd to have them also living together. I like Gossan, and so does Mohs, but honestly the likelihood of Mohs willingly hanging out with Gossan, even as a hatchling, is low due to their fear of flying.

So! I settled on Tuff, hehe! I just think they're neat. They're gentle and kind, have a sensible head on their shoulders and are well versed in earth sciences, so it just made sense!

Man, this answer got long, if you read all the way to the end, thank you! I'm sorry my brain has so many thoughts about these funky little blue aliens, haha! Thank you for your ask! >w<

This got too long, LMAO. I'll compile a list of Tuff headcanons and post it separately because Tuff needs more appreciation and love!

[approved-trash-fics]

Hawks x Reader

Summary: You and Hawks never got along. After he saved your life on a mission, you decide its time to try and get along.

Warning NSFW Below the cut. Oral f!receiving, teasing, wing kink and more

It was supposed to be an easy rescue mission. Similar to the ones you remember taking at UA when you were a student there a few years ago. It was a simple mission until you spotted a certain winged hero on the rooftop you were told to meet on. Of course they sent him out here on this mission.

Thanks to his feathers, he could easily pull civilians out of the rubble and into safety. Kamui Woods and Rumi Usagiyama were also dispatched for similar reasons. Kamui Woods is good at supporting falling structures due to the branches he creates and Rumi is a skilled fighter. Based on their offense defense paring, you guessed you were expected to work with Hawks. You being the offense to his defense with your mana manipulation quirk. A quirk that had many different abilities that you were still learning.

As someone who took their work seriously, Keigo's laid back nature seriously clashed with yours. That's not to say you haven't learned how to tease him over the years after he teased you so much.

His back was to you and you took the opportunity to tease him as you always did. While approaching, you ran your fingers along the top of his wing until you were standing beside him.

"Don't touch my wings." He grumbled as he grabbed your wrist to stop you.

"Fine," you grumbled back, snatching your hand away from him.

"So what's going on here?" He questioned, casually hovering next to you with his hands in his pockets. His voice returned to its usual lax tone.

"Didn't you listen to the reports?" He looked down at you with a quirked brow and a slight smirk, giving you the chance to rethink your question. Of course he wasn't paying attention.

"Nomu are in the building. They are either trying to take the building down with everyone inside." You pointed down to the lower levels to direct his attention.

"Kamui Woods and Rumi Usagiyama are working on the lower levels. We're focusing on civilians in the upper level."

"Got it." He flew in ahead of you through a window on the upper floor. With your quirk, you create small platforms to step on until you reached the same window.

You were inside a large office building, with desk and work spaces scattered around the room, separated by low cubicle walls. Parts of the ceiling were already falling apart and threatening to crush anyone who was trapped inside. You used mana to create a protective layer across the ceiling to prevent it from caving in any more than it already has.

Hawks began using his feathers to get everyone out of the building. Everything was going fine until a nomu showed up. It was escaping from the other team and left destruction in its wake.

The winged beast broke straight through the floor underneath you, causing it and all the others below to cave in. Immediately you were sent into a freefall. Sure, you could try to catch yourself, but that would mean shifting your focus and risking the lives of others. Keeping the structure up and buying what little time you could, that was more important.

While you were freefalling, you could not help but think how grateful you now were for Hawks being here and being fast enough to get everyone to safety before it collapsed. You saw what feathers he could spare fly around to rescue civilians that remained in the building.

Maybe he was useful after all.

"(y/n)!" Hawk's yell reached your ears. Did he actually sound panicked? You never heard that man lose his cool. He caught you in his arms and slowed the fall before gently bringing you to the ground.

"(y/n)! Can you hear me?" Your eyes fluttered open to see him worriedly looking down at you. His wings were unfolded around you protectively and left you feeling safe.

"Is that actual concern I hear?" You joked through a cough. He let out a sigh of relief and smiled down at you.

A week later you decided to properly thank Hawks by bringing him a homemade cake to his apartment. It was not often someone needed to save your life, and maybe it was time to try and get along with him.

You tried to go at a time he wouldn't be there, you weren't ready to face him yet, but of course even that he had to ruin. He flung open the door the moment you were outside it. You must have approached louder than you thought.

"Hey I uh-- I just wanted to thank you for saving me on our last mission. I was hoping we could try to get along more."

"Awww look how cute you look." He teased which only made you angry. Did he not get any of what you were just saying? Didn't he understand how hard this was for you to do?

"Can you take anything seriously?"

"I don't think anyone can take you seriously sweetheart." Oh did that send you fuming.

You began ranting back at him, but it all washed over him as he zoned out just staring at the cute faces you made when you were mad. You began poking at his chest and he took the opening to cup your cheek in his hand and guide your lips to his.

Being the confident person he was, he went all in for the kiss. Your hands went to his chest as he guided you back into his apartment and shut the door. The cake being long forgotten on the floor.

Never breaking the kiss, he guided you through the room and to his couch. You sat on his lap and adjusted yourself to have your legs on both sides of his hips. You brush against his wings in the process, causing him to moan sharply into the kiss. He slowly pulled away, leaving you in a blissful haze.

"K--keigo? What's wrong?" You questioned, worrying he was regretting his actions.

"My wings are sensitive--I just need a second." He tried to cover up his weakened state with a cough and remain cool, but you saw right through it. You thought back to how you always liked to tease him by poking them.

"That's why you didn't like me touching your wings?"

"Y-yeah," He stuttered with a blush rising to his cheeks. Your shocked expression quickly turned to a devious one.

"What about this?" You gently combed your fingers through his wings. His held tilted back as he bit back a moan. Due to where you were sitting you could even feel his reaction. Oh the things you could do to this boy, you thought grinding against him and going in for another kiss.

This time you were in control. You kept his head tilted back and placed your hand against his throat to press him against the couch's backrest and keep him steady. You applied more pressure as you ground your core against his bulge. He broke away to gather his breath, taken off guard by your sudden forwardness.

"Oh god-- (y/n)." He moaned out between breaths and for a moment, you could not believe it was your name he was moaning out.

You continued to tease him and leave him breathless as he gathered himself. You bit and licked a path down the side of his neck and towards the front of his chest, guiding his shirt off and he helped you with yours.

You traveled to the bedroom as your make out session quickly turned into something more intimate. Standing infront of the bed, you palmed him through his underwear only for him to grab your wrist.

"Okay. You had your fun. Now it's my turn." He said in a devilish tone while he looked you in the eye with a mischievous gaze that made you feel weak. Boy was he going to have his way with you.

In true Hawks fashion, he was teasing and slow to the lead up. You sat at the edge of the bed while he sat at your knees, slowly peeling your panties down your legs while never breaking eye contact. He wanted to see you squirm, loving the way you press your thighs together in a futile attempt to create some type of friction.

"Keigo." You whined in a drawn out tone. Once your underwear was off, he pushed your knees apart with his bare hands and took a good look at you. Everything about you was beautiful.

He took a teasing lick up your core and it took everything in you to resist clenching your knees around him. Instead, you settled for burying your fingers in his hair. He continued to be slow and teasing, letting out a chuckle at one longing moan you let out knowing he caused it. It made him proud to make someone who was usually so serious towards him so weak.

He pinned you to the mattress with one hand and used his wings to cage you in. Without warning he inserted two of his fingers into you, causing you to gasp and jolt with excitement.

"You like that?" He teased. You tried to respond, but he cut you off by slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. "What's wrong baby bird?"

"You ready?" You looked down to see him teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock. You took a deep breath and nodded. He kissed you hard, snapping his hips forward and forcing you to take all of him in at once.

You yelled his name, gripping onto his wings at his shoulder blades as you rested flush against him. He didn't hold back, pounding his hips into yours again and again. You both reached your climax together and fell apart next to each other. Kiego immediately began laughing and you joined him. This was such a ridiculous situation you never expected. He turned and smiled at you, playing with a lock of your hair.

"I'd say that thank you beats the cake." He joked.

[castlebyersafterdark]

some StevexWill headcannons please? 🥺

I'm not sure that I have many firm HCs but I'll riff now and brainstorm a little on the duo!! I love that one fic I rec'd the other day and it hit all the marks for me. And the two wips I have ft. Steve and Will are more SteveWillMike but I'll just detail a few things here that are more SteveWill solo. Hmmmmm:

Will having a little crush on Steve. Plays into the whole repressed, shy gay boy having a crush on an older guy who he thinks would never ever look his way. How if they do get together and fool around - it's Will reeling over the King of Hawkins high there with him, wanting him, when every girl in town wants to get with Steve. But Steve chose Will.

Steve feeling a little curious and Will just came out to those in the "inner circle" and Steve's totally supportive - but he's confused. It was one thing with Robin, that's chicks with chicks, right? Makes sense. He likes chicks. Of course some gals are gonna be into women as well, women are great. But gay guys? He's made jokes like the rest but he's never allowed himself to consider the reality of it being a real thing. And now he knows this about Will and can't stop thinking about it. Steve's slept around. A lot. But he's never even considered a guy. Maybe once or twice. Felt weird to think about. He's not gay. But... Will Byers. Will Byers has a pretty nice body. He's cute - for a guy. Right? Totally neutral statement. But Steve can't shake the thoughts from his brain.

Will being so nervous around him because he hasn't really gotten much alone time with Steve and he knows how guys like that view guys like him. But he finds when Steve's a staple in the group now, that Steve's super curious about him. Maybe lacks tact at times and they have so little in common, but it just clicks and they talk a lot and Steve seems... weirdly extra curious. Steve asking Will questions about gay guys and Will's exhausted and frustrated and doesn't have the answers and is a horny teenager and basically tells Steve if he wants to find out for himself, Will would basically let him do anything he wanted to him. For real. And well... how is Steve gonna pass up the offer?

A scenario where Steve teaches Will how to kiss because Will lets slip he's never kissed someone before and he's insecure about it. Steve considers himself the master of makeouts, the king of kissing - and they sneak away for Will to practice. Steve discovering he has a bit of a kink for inexperience. Starts fantasizing. If Will's never kissed before, he thinks of all the other things Will hasn't done before. He wants to be the one to experience his discoveries, take them for himself...

Maybe a concept where the characters all split and go separate ways. Couple years down the road, Will and Steve run into each other living in the same city. They weren't close before but a little older, it's a flashback, a relief at a friendly face in a still new location. They get coffee, which turns into getting drinks, which turns into learning about each other's lives. Steve now knows that Will's gay and Will mentions meeting people at one of his regular spots and Steve kinda invites himself along. Will's like "Steve... it's a gay bar." And Steve's fine with it, he just wants to tag along. Why not! "I'm not exactly raking in the cash, Will. Guys can hit on me if they want as long as they're giving me free drinks. Win-win, bud." And well. It's a little more than that. Free drinks lead to tipsy Steve, leads to him flirting back with these guys, leads to jealous Will, leads to Will being brave and dragging Steve to the dancefloor, leads to shy little Will Byers being this bold new creature in the big city, leads to a heated kiss outside waiting for a taxi, leads to Will going home with Steve, leads to them drunkenly hooking up at Steve's place, leads to them waking up together, having a crisis, leads to avoiding each other, leads to Steve caving and finding Will and asking him out for real.

Another idea. Steve noticing that Will has been down and he gets him out of wherever the Byers fam is all cooped up, in living situation limbo. Give the boy a break from sitting sadly with his headphones on. Lets Will play whatever he wants on the radio. Total opposite music taste, so Will has a little fun joking about music and movies with Steve, who turns out to be great company, opening up to this older guy who never really paid him any mind before. They take their little drives, one day Will blurts out his secret. Steve takes it in stride, parks them somewhere, comforts the boy. The next time they drive together it's kind of tense. They park again to talk but Will kind of snaps - he's sixteen and pent up and frustrated about everything - and he swings over onto Steve's lap and kisses him. He doesn't even have feelings for Steve but he can't take life anymore. There's danger on the horizon and he wants to experience things in case the worst should happen. They hook up in the backseat of the car, trading really heated kisses and handjobs. This starts to be their thing. Long drives that end up with them parked somewhere, getting off because the world might be ending and nothing else in their life makes sense. And neither does their bizarre relationship that's not a relationship, but it's all they have to hold onto.

That's what I got for now. I'm sure my brain will spark more. They're such different characters and I think they'd be really interesting and hot together. Byler endgame. Imagination and fic diversions, however. 😘😘😘

[mierstaer]

thoughts and headcanons about what happened to the og mystery incorporated after they left Crystal Cove

[ to clarify the situation, in my hc they all have loving parents (with the exception of Ricky and Brad’s fathers), that weren’t perfect and had some issues (ex : Judy’s dad has trouble showing that he cares about his kids, Cassidy’s parents who can be overprotective etc)

so yes, leaving them was absolutely horrible for the kids ]

The gang : they stayed together a few weeks after leaving Crystal Cove, sleeping in motels or in the Enigma Machine. But after one big fight they separated. I think they couldn’t stay together because of how hurt they all were and because they were lost and didn’t know how to react to what happened. (a bit like mystery incorporated at the end of season 1)

Cassidy : I think that Cassidy would be the one to suffer the most, because of how much she loves and cares about her family. So when she leaves Crystal Cove, I think there’s immediately something that changed in herself and in her relationship with her friends, especially Ricky. I do believe that they broke up relatively quickly after leaving the town. She felt numb and not capable of loving after what she went through, and needed to start a new life (ex : she changed her name)

Ricky : after his breakup with Cassidy, he completely disappeared and came back to Crystal Cove 5 years after leaving the town, to start Destroido. I see him missing his parents in the beginning, but also simply giving up on that feeling after a few years (the one he’s really missing (and he doesn’t want to admit it) is Pericles, even after what happened). His parents were the first to leave the town after their son’s disappearance. But he definitely tried to contact his mom a few times, before completely giving up.

Brad & Judy : Brad definitely blames himself for what happened in the church and later on in the cave. As the leader of mystery incorporated, he blames himself for bringing them there in the first place, and wanting to investigate. Regret turned into anger and bitterness over time, and was a reason for their fight after leaving the town. Judy definitely missed her family a lot and never recovered from loosing them.

Now regarding what happened with Fred, here’s what I think happened :

Something that always intrigued me is that Brad came to Crystal Cove with Fred alone. Mayor Jones specifically stated that Judy wasn’t there and that’s something very interesting. My hypothesis is that they clearly didn’t planed on having a kid two years after leaving Crystal Cove, since they were hella young and surely didn’t had the money to take care of a kid. Brad then took Fred to the only place where someone could possibly help them, Crystal Cove, where both of their family lived, in a desperate way of asking their parents for help (maybe for money, or simply advice on how to raise up a kid). But once he got there, he realised that both of their families left Crystal Cove. At that moment I can imagine that he felt some kind of mixed feelings, like a mix of sadness and betrayal.

At the same time, the freak realised that Brad is back in town, he panicked and tried to find a way to make him leave the town. And the only idea he had to make that happen (since both of their families already left the town and can’t be use to blackmail them) is taking Fred. We know that after that Jones decides to raise up Fred and the rest is history.

I think that such an event definitely traumatised both of them (and specifically Brad since he’s the one that brought Fred with him to Crystal Cove, blaming himself even more), and that they never healed from that. Explaining why they are acting so weird as adults later on. Brad and Judy only had each other to get trough life and they knew that as long as they stayed together, they could make it. And because the idea of loosing another person they loved after loosing their families, their friends and their son was surely terrifying.

(again, that’s before they all come back in Crystal Cove, before the curse takes the best away from them etc etc… just a bunch of hc I have about happened before the main story :))

Side note : I would give anything just to have Jones as Fred’s godfather in the pre nibiru timeline, and I mean ANYTHING. He could have been a positive influence in the og gang’s life and he therefore in Brad and Judy’s life. MAKING HIM A PART OF FRED’S LIFE WAS STILL POSSIBLE. (yes I’m a big fan of the Brad-Judy-Jones dynamic)