#should i tag this as spoilers? does anyone care?

[ijustreallylikecaptainamericaok]

Marvel's site posted the intro to Scott's book, Look Out for the Little Guy!.

Some bits of note:

- Re: CW: "I don’t want to get into the details of the conflict (and in fact I am under legal obligation not to), but let’s just say I might have been on the more “badass” side of it." (Dude's Team Cap for life and I love it so much.)

- "Including, last but not least, putting my precious Hope back together with me!" (*explodes into hearts*)

- "Clint answered, 'You, Scott. You’re the guy who got scooped up in all this pretty recently. You’ve still got one foot in their world. And you’re a guy everyone likes . . . and trusts.'" (So Scotty's Miss Congeniality? lol. No, but seriously, I love this.)

- "Maybe it’s because I didn’t get the chance to be around my daughter Cassie for so many chunks of her life, to share what I’d learned with her. I’m still working on that, but it’s hard now that she’s a grown-up herself who’s already seen and experienced so much without me to guide her. I missed the boat on that one, but believe me, you are in for an entire book of “Dad wisdom” just burning for a home." (Just punch me. I'm getting FF flashbacks.)

This makes me even more eager for my crumbs. I apologize in advance if I end up spamming everyone to hell once this book is in my hands. XD

[fuumiku]

A shadow of myself, just who am I?

… I committed to the bit

Alright everyone do we want to listen to the Shadow identity crisis song the Shadow ptsd attack song or the Shadow existential angst song. Alexa play I Am All of Me. Alexa play Rhythm and Balance. Alexa play The Chosen One.

Appealing to the tiny overlap between Dungeon Meshi and Sonic fandoms. Mithrun is also like Omega in many ways (stoic but enthusiastic about maiming). Hm sometimes team Dark just be Mithrun, Cithis and Lycion... I need Mithrun to get a voice like Shadow’s in the anime soo bad please, raspy and deep... Parched throat with 0 intent or motivation to intonate aka low and pretty flat

Okok let’s gooo assigning characters chars, Fleki Sticks, Izutsumi Sonic because she craves freedom, Kabru Knuckles because he’s all about duty and isolates himself… Laios & Falin, Surge & Kit because it'd be funky and their parents want them to be people they aren’t :) Everyone having matching Sonic phone straps would be so cute. The context in that comic was that both groups passed each other by at the grocery store and Mithrun's big flashy merch sure is big and flashy (which happens to be quite bothersome for him) Laios is a Metal fan. Reasons: 1) he’s cool and murderous and there is a causal link there. 2) He transforms into a dragon once and it’s both empowering and angsty. 3) "No one SEES who he IS!!" says Laios and I as we burst into tears. Also Fleki is a big Team Chaotix fan I know it in my heart

You know it’d be fun drawing what Shadow’s dungeon would be like if he was dungeon lord. I’d imagine something like Mithrun’s. The ARK, but with flowers growing everywhere for her, his dead sister alive and well besides him as they live isolated from the rest of the world. It’s all fake, but Shadow’s heart feels at peace for the first time in so long, he is at home. See, they’re similar

Merry Christmas! I hope Mithrun gets a Shadow plushie

[hyperrealisticblood]

i would let this guy do my top surgery

[spookberry]

The way they shoulda pulled a little tiny bit of a hans moment where phoebe as a ghost goes to kiss melody and then theyre right about to when suddenly melody pulls back and is like "im so sorry" with her single firey tear

And then had melody actually kiss her at the end as she gives her final goodbye

[natasha-in-space]

Not me waking up to a dozen messages from a friend because apparently Rika is now in the Ssum too???

I feel like they are putting in more and more mm content but uh- 😭

She is so pretty I can't even lie to ya'll... And she's smiling.... Alas, I am a creature of weakness, not strength, and smiling Rika just happens to be one of those weaknesses.

Now, I have zero context for this, but I will pretend everything's fine and happy here :) Look at her with her cute hat! I am swooning despite all my reservations

[lunarharp]

er... extreme amount of dragon age: the veilguard scribbles to soothe my heart🐦‍⬛💀

[reel-fear]

👁️👁️

You must tell 👀

*rubs my little hands together* sorry for taking a bit on answering this! My brain has not been braining lately but your ask couldn't have come at a better time bc Grant has been on the mind as of late and I am hyped at the excuse to infodump abt him- [this is gonna be long I am so sorry-]

now for quick disclaimers for anyone reading this that isnt the asker or me- we're not discussing canon Grant Cohen, we're talking my Grant, this black haired dude, that guy. Another fun disclaimer, I was HEAVILY, inspired by Grant's role/character in abomination for my Grant. Taking time to awknowledge every part of his character or story that was inspired by it would make this 10x longer so if similarities are spotted know its very likely I did that on purpose bc I just really love abomination KJHFSDGKJDHGSD-

Alright with that outta the way I'ma talk a lot abt what happens to Grant in the canon of Showtime to explain what I meant and also maybe a bit of me rambling about aus that explore Grants relationship with Sammy n Joey under a more romantic lens. Should be obvious but spoilers for It's Showtime down below~

So Grant in Showtime after he dies ends up joining the ink demon cult, becoming a lost one and earning the title of The Priest.

When the cult was all together him and Sammy worked together to run it. Sammy used his connection to the ink demon to recieve messages and learn more on how to survive in this new situation and Grant made sure the lost ones acted accordingly. [A role not so far off from the one he was forced to take when the studio started facing troubles before his death] Grant also took the job of dealing with sacrificing souls and sending them back to the dark puddles, which sometimes was members of the following chosen at random and sometimes whatever poor soul found themselves captured by them.

However when Malice rose from the puddles and made a deal with the Projectionist to seize a considerable amount of the studio as theirs, the cult was split up, Sammy and Jack forced to flee to the music department and Grant with the rest of the following being down in the area of Chapter 4. This put Grant in a very bad spot, the lost ones were very shaken by this event and since then Grant worries their faith in him has wavered.

An important thing with the ink demon cult was that it is meant to be a more realistic take on how a cult works. The Ink Demon runs the cult, he is the most powerful figure in it and yet the hardest to contact, so Grant and Sammy are little more than middlemen tasked with keeping things running or else they face the ink demon's wrath. Sammy is sadly very aware that the ink demon is not as benevolent as he or the lost ones would like the believe. Grant likes to think being the Priest will at the very least protect him if things go wrong, but he is sadly mistaken.

Grant is in a very dangerous spot, he knows the lost ones beneath him are getting angsty and worried about just how truthfully safe the cult is or if they should believe in the power of the ink demon. But he also knows if things fall apart the lost ones will come to tear him apart long before they go for the ink demon. Despite him merely being a puppet for their lord. A role Grant is not ready to acknowledge, not because he isn't smart enough to see he is just a pawn, but because he chooses not to think about it, less his paranoia eat him alive yet again... A very important thing to keep in mind with Grants character.

Grant did in fact play this role in life as well however, when things started going wrong in the studio, Joey was very quick to turn away from what was going on and continue asserting everything would be fine. Which while a lie he himself believed was a lie nonetheless. However Grant quickly became his right hand man as people like Thomas and Wally started noticing cracks forming all through out the studio. Staff going missing, the ink changing in the way it behaved and an eerie feeling the machine created in both of them.

Grant despite deep down being smart enough to know things were going poorly, parroted Joey's words, hanging off of them himself and doing whatever he could to shut down any attempts to bring to light the things going wrong. Of course, him and Joey both ended up paying the price for their lies, but so did everyone else around them. But unlike Sammy, Grant barely even seemed shaken to see that, like a conspiracy theorist seeing evidence their theory isn't true only makes them double down harder, Grant only seemed to double down on the idea that if he followed every order he was given. Surely things would turn out better this time.

So that's canon to the story of Showtime, but I do want to take a second to get some AU non canon ideas out of my brain centering around Grant and his relationship to both Joey n Sammy. In canon Grant's only romantic interest is Thomas, his literal husband and there is a lot of interesting conflict there, but I fucking love shipping so of course I have a million aus merely indulging in ships I think would also be interesting to explore in their own contexts. In this case, I'm gonna ramble a bit about Sammy x Grant and Grant x Joey and the interesting things I think there are to explore in their relationships in Showtime.

So you might've noticed that while not literally [as saying the ink demon is Joey in Showtime, while somewhat true, is not the entire truth of the situation and simplifies it quite a bit] Grant did end up following Joey to the grave... And then kept following him beyond it. Something that is objectively~ very queer of him.

There's just something so compelling about the idea of Grant yearning for Joey so much, being so close yet so far as his right hand man but not being brave enough to become his lover eventually drove Grant's love for Joey to become an outright obsession. The idea that Grant's feelings for Joey became so intense from how hard he pushed them down it blinded him from seeing the truth of the situation outside of the way Joey painted it. Then dying and his obsession turning into an outright worship of him.

The idea of Grant settling for just being Joey's favorite lackey, his most loyal pet and knowing that's his role but not caring bc at least it makes him stay by Joey's side. Ohh it's an interesting one to say the least. I even did a few sketches of them u can see-

They are doomed by the narrative to me and have been on my mind a lot lately can ya tell? KJDHSFGKJHDFSGKJHDFGSD

However when it comes to Sammy and Grant, I think there is a lot of interesting potential between them too. After all they share being the Ink Demon's henchmen in all of this and to see them both come to terms with that and try to find comfort in each other is such a fun idea to me.

An au where they both decide to ditch the cult and the ink demon and on their own try to figure out what happened to Joey and how to fix things is very compelling to me. I could see their relationship starting out as doing all these things for each other under the excuse they just need comfort until it starts to turn to actual feelings for each other. Both of them coming to terms with the fact Joey was not in fact a perfect person and maybe didn't even know how bad things were getting deep down himself but also finally letting themselves hold him accountable for the lies he told... It's a very fun healing narrative and very in line with a lot of the themes It's Showtime deals with.

Either way, I just really love what I've done with Grant's character in It's Showtime, he's for sure one of the most fascinating to me and the themes his story explores are ones that are important to the story as a whole and by extension me. Umm this turned out very long but I hope u enjoyed the read! Tysm for the excuse to infodump abt him, I was itching for one as u can see KDJHGKJDHFGKJDHFGSD.

[esleep]

the dnd movie was a fun little film to see with friends and not much else HOWEVER when i got to the end of the movie and (spoilers, kinda) saw that they didn’t force a romance between edgin and holga AND that didn’t mean their relationship was de-emphasized, but rather it was allowed to be just as meaningful and deep as any other relationship….that made me want to leap up and yell with joy ngl

[xxchumanixx]

Glimpses

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, Bucky (yes, he's a warning), reader has the ability to show other people images in their head (does that make sense?), otherwise not described, spoilers for fatws

Word count: tba

Authors note: To be honest, I've been working on this for months, bit by bit. I didn't have much time to write or post something lately, and somehow, the motivation went with it. But I love this man to no end, and I had to finish this (for my sake, too). Im not a hundred percent happy with it, but we're just gonna roll with it.

I hope you enjoy it.

It gnawed at you, gripping you with a hand made of iron, it's icy fingers sending chills down your spine.

How could she do this to you?

Someone you once envied for being related to Peggy Carter, one of the founders of SHIELD, maybe one of the coolest persons to have ever existed.

Now, you couldn't help but pity Sharon Carter.

Sam nudged your foot with his, ripping you out of your thoughts. "What's up with you?" he wanted to know, brows furrowed.

Blinking at him, you tried to grasp what he was talking about, before shaking your head with a sigh.

"When Sharon was pardoned, I heard her say something I don't know what to think of..." you mumbled, biting your cheek. Sam rose a brow in return, Bucky's furrowing.

You were sitting in a private jet, a small table in front of you, with Sam sitting diagonally to your right and Bucky to your left.

"When she came out, she dialed someone, saying something about super soldiers being off the menu, weapons and 'should be something for everyone'." you recited what you had heard her say.

You had been there to congratulate her, welcome her back. But, when she stepped out the building, immediately dialing someone, you hid back in the crowd, carefully listening.

Yeah, eavesdropping wasn't nice, but something urged you to do it.

And you had been right.

"Nah," Sam made, shaking his head with a chuckle. "You must have misheard her."

Licking your lip, you shook your own head. "No, I know what I've heard."

Sam's brows furrowed, eyes trained on you. "Y/N, I'm sure you just misheard her." he repeated his words softer.

Eyes widening, your mouth was agape. "Sam-" you started, but he cut you off. "No, Y/N-" "Sam!" with a yell of his name and a slam of your hand on the table, you locked eyes, letting your power whir to life.

You could see your own eyes change color in his iris, energy flowing through you, as you forced him to see what you've seen.

Sharon left the building with a smile on her face, radiating confidence. Pulling out her phone she dialed a number, slowly walking further down the steps.

"Start lining up our buyers." she spoke into the phone, seemingly not caring enough to watch her surroundings for anyone listening. "Super Soldiers might be off the menu, but we're about to have full access to government secrets, prototype weapons, you name it. Should be something for everyone."

With that, she left, leaving you speechless.

With a gasp, you let go of Sam's mind, rapidly blinking to get the dry feeling out of your eyes.

Sam stared onto the table, swallowing. His hands trembled slightly, whilst Bucky grew impatient.

"Can I see?" he wanted to know, eagerly leaning forward in his seat. It made you chuckle, despite the dread in your stomach.

Letting Bucky enter your mind, was something different.

You weren't able to control your powers a hundred percent, which would be a risk, when letting someone in. There could be emotions or flashes of memories that could seep through, something you didn't want.

Especially not with him.

You had been in love with him for a while now, but never dared to make a move on it. Not, when he was so far out of your league.

Swallowing, you nodded hesitantly.

Locking eyes with Bucky's blue ones, you let your power come to life again, heart pounding faster.

You showed him the same thing you showed Sam, trying your hardest to concentrate only on the memory of Sharon, nothing else.

Slipping back out of it, you blinked rapidly, whilst Bucky sat frozen in his chair.

Shaking your head, you felt it deep in your chest, slowly making its way up - luckily for you, you had cut the connection already.

It was a memory you cherished deep in your heart, one of your favorites. It was Bucky, smiling happily.

Most of the time his smile didn't reach his eyes, not like it should have. He wasn't as carefree, at least not until he teamed up with Sam.

He was lying on the sofa in Sarah's house, Sam's sister. The kids had been playing with the shield, whilst Bucky was still sleeping on the couch.

You had been sitting at the small coffee table, able to see him, but he wouldn't see you at first glance.

When he woke up, softly calling out to the kids with a smile and a peace, they panicked, putting the shield back into its bag.

It had you smiling into your mug, quietly chuckling, as you sipped your coffee.

His smile was real, beautiful and rare. His eyes sparkled with joy, sunlight catching in them, highlighting the blue of his iris, as he leaned back into the cushions.

It showed the Bucky he was back in the forties, slowly peeling away layer after layer of his hardened shell.

Closing your eyes, you willed the memory away, slowly shaking your head, to get rid of it.

When your eyes opened again, looking back up at Bucky and Sam, Bucky's eyes were glued to your face.

His brows were furrowed, deep in thought. His mouth opened the slightest bit, but it closed again, like a fish.

Your own eyes widened the slightest bit, belly churning, as you realized.

The faint line connecting your minds - it was still there.

Your breathing fastened, fist clenching, as you looked at Sam, trying to come up with something to pull him into a conversation - but your mind was as blank as a wall.

Seriously, now you were able to think of nothing?

Your hands began to sweat, as you tried your hardest not to burst into tears. It was exactly what you had feared to happen, not being able to control it.

Mostly the reason you never really let Bucky enter your mind, fearing what he might find.

"Do you think-" Sam started, but cut himself off with a shake of his head. "That she's the power broker?" you returned, eager to flee into this conversation, but it was over just as fast as it had begun. "Yeah."

Bucky didn't say anything, eyes fixed on his hands that were seated in his lap.

Sam sighed, one hand swiping over his face. He was tired, you could tell. Being the new Captain America wasn't easy.

"Excuse me." you mumbled, standing up, before heading out of the room and towards the bathroom, where you locked yourself in.

You choked on a breath, fighting the tears, but soon losing. How could you be so careless? You should have known it wouldn't end well, letting him enter your mind.

But it would have been suspicious not to show him, either.

You could only hope you'd get out of this unscathed.

_____

Sam cleared his throat in discomfort, fist clenching on the table.

If he hadn't known your memories were true, he would have brushed it off with a laugh. He'd worked with Sharon before, and she never seemed like someone who would turn on her own people.

How long, til she would turn on them?

Eyes lifting, they met the side of Bucky's face. He was quiet, more than usual.

"How can she do this to us, after all we went through?" Sam asked in a mumble, ripping Bucky from his thoughts with a "Huh?".

Brows furrowing, Sam tried to analyze the man he didn't want to call friend, even though he'd become exactly that over the past few weeks.

"What's up with you?" he asked, frown deepening. Sure, Bucky had his moments where his thoughts drifted off, but not like this.

Not when you just basically fled a minute ago.

Bucky shook his head, trying to clear his mind. "I don't know." he gave back, forehead wrinkling in thought.

Hell, if he could only make sense of what he'd seen.

"What happened?" Sam dug deeper, having noticed how long you two had been silent when showing him what you'd seen.

It took longer than he thought needed to.

Bucky wiped over his face.

It was like he switched bodies with you when that memory of yours slipped through. He could feel everything.

Every little emotion.

"I-" Bucky was searching for the right words as he suddenly stood. "Excuse me."

He followed into the direction you'd taken off to, causing Sam to frown even more.

He stopped in front of the bathroom door, softly knocking before the courage could have left him.

"Y/N?" he called out, heart beating unsteady. "Can we please talk?"

You flinched, perched on the toilet seat as you desperately wiped at your face. "Why?" you called out, giving your very best to sound neutral.

You could hear him hesitate, the little sounds that left his mouth that he himself didn't even notice. "Please?" he then just asked, fingers drumming on the door.

You hesitated as well, not sure if you should open the door to face your imminent death of shame.

With a heavy sigh you got up, though, shaky fingers fumbling for the lock, taking a moment longer to unlock it before it was pushed open by Bucky merging into the small bathroom, cramping the space even more.

You stumbled back, colliding with the sink.

"What was that?" Bucky wanted to know, eyes on yours, searching them for anything that gave him an answer. "What?" you gave back, deciding to act dumb.

Maybe he wouldn't notice.

Of course he would, you idiot.

His brows furrowed, a look of confusion and bewilderment crossing his features. "You know exactly what I mean, don't play dumb now, Y/N!" he shot back, not amused.

See?

Told you so.

You swallowed the lump that somehow didn't want to budge, blocking your airways. "I- I don't know." you stuttered out, mentally cursing yourself for being so reckless to let him enter your mind in the first place.

Bucky frowned even more, not sure whether to believe you or not. After all he had felt it, not sure if he really wanted to know, though.

He didn't dare to hope.

You inhaled shakily, trying to force your heart rate down, to calm yourself a little.

Easier said than done.

"Are you sure you don't know?" Bucky pressed, voice tinged with something you couldn't place. "Because I'm sure I didn't imagine what I've seen or felt."

You flinched at that.

He knew, he knew for fucks sake, and there was no way you could have made him believe that it was nothing.

To be fair, you wouldn't have believed yourself, either.

No one would feel immense happiness, content, and warmth just because of a person they saw as a friend.

Come on.

You swallowed, averting your gaze. There was no backing out now, not when Bucky literally blocked the exit with his presence and muscular body.

"You- you felt it." you mumbled, biting your cheek as your cheeks warmed up slightly, gaze glued to the floor.

Bucky huffed, searching for words for a moment. How was he to explain what he felt?

"It- it was like I was back in the forties." he began, licking his lips. "I felt content, happy. And then I saw this... this memory of yours from me. I didn't know you were there, I didn't see you. What does this mean?"

He sounded desperate, and you didn't know whether it was because he didn't want your feelings for him or if it was the exact opposite.

Your name fell from his parted lips when you didn't answer, and had you looked up into his cerulean eyes, you'd seen the desperation, too.

"I can't tell you." you eventually mumbled, biting your cheek raw. "What? Why?" Bucky gave back, eyes widening before he frowned. "Y/N, what does this mean? Please, tell me!"

You looked up at him, your own brows furrowed in a frown.

Why did he want to know so badly?

"You know what it means." you gave back, doing your best not to avoid his gaze this time. His lips parted a fraction before he shook his head. "No." he said. "I want you to say it."

You heart stumbled once more, threatening to burst from the pace it was going at.

Did he want to have something to laugh about? Did he want to make a fool of you?

Swallowing, you shook your head. "No." you breathed out. "I can't."

His gaze hardened slightly, blue irises growing darker. "Say it." he repeated himself, not going to back down.

He'd rather go back to HYDRA than let this opportunity, this chance pass.

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head again. But before you had the chance to decline once more, he said it again, this time louder. "Say it!"

"I have feelings for you!" you blurted out loudly, his agitation causing you to crack and slip up.

Suddenly, the room grew eerily silent, the ringing in your ears blocking out his harsh breathing. His heart was racing way too fast for a man his age, and he forgot how to breathe for a moment.

He had hoped to hear these words, after all they were the only logical explanation, yet he was speechless. Didn't know how to react.

It's never like it is in your dreams.

Especially not when a dream suddenly comes true.

You shrinked back mentally and physically, his lack of response unsettling. It made you more nervous than you already were, hands sweating as you desperately tried to keep your shit together.

Why didn't he say anything?

When you wanted to push past him, and out of the small bathroom, his metal hand wrapped around your wrist. Your sudden movement had broken him out of his stupor, and he simply couldn't just let you go.

Before you knew it, he had tugged you back in front of him, his lips pressing against yours in a searing kiss.

It wasn't gentle, it was hard and rushed, as he tried to somehow tell you what his vocal cords weren't able to at the moment.

You gasped for air, not prepared for being hauled back and kissed breathless like that.

Bucky greedily took the invitation that wasn't one, his tongue pushing inside your mouth, exploring it before it tangled with yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, his own around your waist as he tugged you closer.

You tasted sweeter than anything he'd ever tasted in his life.

Gasping for breath he let go of your mouth, eyes closed as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"Don't go." he breathed out shakily, arms wrapping tighter around you like he was scared you'd suddenly vanish if he let go. "Please. There's so much I need to tell you. So please, don't go. I need you, Y/N."

You watched his lashes flutter as he inhaled shakily before his eyes opened. His words had your heart beating faster again, leaving you wanting more.

"What? B-Bucky-" you started, confused because you were so sure he'd reject you.

"No." he cut you off, holding your face in his hands. "I love you."

There it was, out in the open. His most vulnerable moment since HYDRA and he delved into it headfirst. "You have no clue how much I love you, how much these words and these... glimpses mean to me, doll."

You inhaled shakily, every emotion rushing through you at once.

"I just never thought you'd feel the same, deem me worthy of someone as angelic as you."

Your heart ached at his self-deprecating words.

"Bucky," you breathed out his name, shaking your head in his grip. "You're far more worthy than you think you are. You deserve everything good and more."

He grimaced slightly, still not used to being a normal human again. "That's an argument for another time." he said, sending you a crooked smile.

He didn't want to fight right now, not when he much rather wanted to pepper your skin with kisses. And that he did. He kissed everywhere he reached, ignoring your giggles of protest before his lips met yours, silencing you.

It was a feeling that quickly got you addicted.

After a few moments, you broke the kiss, and he placed your head on his chest, inahling your familiar scent.

"Was it intenional?" Bucky wanted to know after a few moments of savoring your warmth, arms circled around you.

It felt really good to hold you like that.

You grimaced slightly. "No, of course not." you gave back. "I can't always control it. Besides, I never thought you'd want me."

"Why?" he asked, confusion lacing his voice as he pulled back slightly to look down at you. "Because I'm weird." you explained, blushing as you averted your gaze. Bucky huffed, using his finger to tilt your chin back up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Baby, weird is my second name." he gave back softly. "Maybe I need a little extra weird."

You wanted to respond something, how you would love to be his extra portion weird, as it suddenly knocked on the door loudly.

"Hurry up, I need to pee!"

Tag List:

@ava @sapphirebarnes @skywalker0809 @freyathehuntress @queenslandlover-93 @judig92

[error-please-stand-by]

My favorite part of Ant Man and the Wasp: Quantumania was when younger girl Ant Man told modok to “stop being a dick” and he suddenly decided that he was good A+ character development I can only hope my writing will be even a fraction as good as that one day

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 48!

hello loves i'm so sorry for the delay!! life has been kicking my ass lately BUT i've been reading some good fics still and i'm happy to share them <3

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

any way the wind blows | notathingtoseehere | 10.1k | M

A post s08e08 look into how Buck could backslide into his season 1 habits when his best friend leaves him. hmmm tis the season of speculation for many more months... may i recommend this one to start off with? i love a return to buck 1.0 so much!! also op i need you to know i did in fact say good job out loud lol

can i be close to you? | myemergence | 4.2k | T

“Woah, woah,” Chim laughs, “please, Buck, do not tell us what or who it is you’ve been dreaming about.” A fic written for a prompt on the Buddie discord, about forehead kisses. Fluff ensues. yes i have in fact been going through the entire buddie forehead kisses tag this past week. no i do not wat to talk about it. but i DO want to talk about this lovely little fic!!

cool | LovelyLittleGrim | 5.6k | T

Buck keeps kissing Eddie on the forehead. Eddie has some THOUGHTS about it. eddie has thoughts and so i do and those thoughts are that buck should keep doing this forever and ever <3 so cute!!

eddie diaz can't have sex | notathingtoseehere | 11.9k | M

Eddie Diaz would like to say that the 118 needs a more involved HR department, or maybe he just needs friends who do less meddling. i love firefam shenanigans and i love demi eddie and i love buddie so basically i love this fic <3

eddie diaz vs the buck's boyfriend agenda | songbvrd/@songbvrd | 23.4k | M

Eddie starts gathering information about why no one trusts Tommy. As he grows to hate their relationship more, he learns more about himself and what he wants. eddie's agenda 🤝 my agenda. all of this author's works are a delight and this is no exception <3

feels like falling in love | justhockey | 5.2k | not rated

five times Eddie doesn’t mean to kiss Buck, and the one time he does. delicious delicious 5+1 fic <3

home is not a place | ithilien22/@ithilien-writes | 9.7k | T

In which Eddie has a series of long overdue conversations - with Chris, with his parents, and also with Buck. eddie and chris having heartfelt conversations at the lake!! this is brilliant and captures their dynamic so well <3

howling all night | clytemnestra/@clytemnestraaa | 3.3k | E

Buck helps him pack. Of course he does. Buck’s helpful like that. Eddie leaves for Texas. this hurt in the best way possible <3 so gorgeous!

i've lost my mind | evenatraitormaymend | 9.4k | T

Buck doesn’t tell anyone about his insomnia for six months. Eddie notices anyway, but neither of them talk about it until it’s nearly six am and he wakes up to Buck climbing in his bed—not having slept since before their 24-hour shift started yesterday. Eddie gets to show Buck how much he’s loved. okay two things i LOVE are eddie taking care of buck but also buck researching and setting up routines and taking care of himself, so basically this is the perfect fic for me <3

the aftermath of liberation and love confessions | ElvenSorceress | 17.3k | T

In which Eddie comes out, sexuality is complicated but coffee is not, Buck makes an excessive salad and is also roasted, everyone has a love confession, and December is the most dramatic time of year. this was a lovely lovely morning read a few days ago!! i love me some good idiots in love <3

the missing children's parents club | notathingtoseehere | 34.5k | T

With Christopher in El Paso and Mara pulled out of custody, there's a lot of parents around the 118 that are missing their kids, and a lot of comfort that can be found with each other. not me realising as i'm putting this together that i keep reccing the same author... i had no idea but i promise they're all brilliant brilliant fics!! think i might have to check out their other works lol this must be a sign

'til my lungs give out | time_leigh | 1.1k | G

Buck wakes slowly, gently. He lays still, breathing slowly, enveloped in the soft embrace of a duvet. He is not awake enough to open his eyes and shifts, slowly turning his head deeper into his pillow, feeling the drag of the cotton, smelling home. There is an arm laced over his chest. Slowly, an ear-splitting grin grows across his face. soft and sweet and absolutely tooth-rotting fluff in the best way possible <3

transduce the mind | detectivemeer/@buick118 | 2.4k | E

Buck’s talking about how nearly a third of US gymnasts are in the southeast and how Maddie did rhythmic dance—not dance, Eddie—and he’s reaching for the remote to find their next binge when all the bad ideas Eddie’s ever successfully obliterated resurrect themselves. And Eddie figures, in a cold empty echo, that his life is already ruined. What's one more grenade launched at the rubble? this is STUNNING and so so so well-written, i loved every second of it!!

trying to be cool about it | jukoist | 6.1k | G

Buck and Eddie have always tried too hard to force themselves to like the people they're dating (to varying degrees of success). They have very different responses to realizing how easy it has been to be in love all along. this is the most brilliant most buddie premise ever and it's executed so so well and i love it!! such a good time <3

when everything's on fire | beartowns/@glowingyears | 15.4k | T

Eddie and Chris move in with Buck after a fire. Buck breaks up with his boyfriend, buys a house with Eddie, and realizes he's in love. In precisely that order. oh the buddie house hunting always hits so good <3 this is a beautiful take on that trope and it's just such a wonderful fic!!

[v-anrouge]

Verryyy long ranting under this about vil and how this fandom treats him for absolutely no reason pls excuse any mistakes and feel free to correct me with any accidental misinfo i passed <3

Mentions of racism, fatphobia, eating disorders, elitism & ableism and also SPOILERS for Vil's character story (eng only)

Ever since this game started getting super famous in tiktok and twitter it seems that people just love to butcher literally every character in Twst and sometimes it's genuinely baffling how wrong some of the takes are, it really does make me wonder if some people just don't read the story and just skip every character who isn't their fave, and if they really do that, what makes them think they know enough about the rest of the cast to post in the character's main tag the most rancid read on a character, often accompanied by some accusations of literal crimes of bigotry that really should be taken more seriously instead of being terms thrown around.

I'm gonna be talking about Vil specifically but characters like Leona, Jamil, Sebek and a few others have it exceptionally bad as well (especially Leo and Jamil who's haters can even be quite racist)

I've been playing for a very long time (in eng) i remember being there to watch the Heartslabyul final release and the release of Savanaclaw's chapter and through these years ive seen the most horrific takes on Vil's characters, ranging from the accusations of racism (which have been debunked again and again especially by JP players) to accusations of supporting eds, fatphobia, elitism and ableism. The funny thing is that even with a very quick read of any of Vil's story you'll find out there is no support for any of such claims. They like to use the incident with Epel's accent when for years JP players have pointed out how this was strictly an error of localization since they couldn't find a situation similar to the one that is portrayed in the original game to put in eng twst, they went with the one we have where Vil asks Epel to "hide his accent" (he really doesn't he was talking about the way Epel is rude and disrespectful which would definitely end with him being beat up and then expelled bringing a bad fame to Pomefiore and also making Vil look bad for not properly guiding his dorm students) which is a terrible choice but alas it seems people prefer to ignore facts to stick with their claim that Vil is some sort of monster when this man is literally a teen. He's 18 years old and has to constantly look out for his image in and out of school since he grew up in front of the cameras.

Vil's character is all about beauty and self care and self acceptance yet for some people this seems to translate to "starve yourself if you don't want to be a disgusting fat pig" which is very weird to say the least considering all mentions Vil makes about diets he is talking about keeping a balanced diet to nurture your body and even has a voice line pointing out the importance of eating. Vil himself may be coded to have an ED in his overblot and Lab vignette but he has never and would never encourage one, he literally goes out of his way to annoy students to take care of themselves what makes anyone think he'd encourage them anyways? It's such a weird thing to assume of a character.

A lot of people seem to think that Vil is also the "beauty standart" king which doesn't even make sense considering vil is a gnc man, he already doesn't follow beauty standards and would definitely be against it, Vil's vision of beauty for himself may be twisted due to his traumas and troubles yet his vision of beauty for others is always exclusively on the person being their best version, this includes dressing how they want to and feel comfortable in, using whatever makeup they want (or just not using it at all) etc.

The way Vil speaks is often misunderstood as he tends to be strict and can be read as mean (I've already shared my theory on what may have caused this behavior here before so i won't be getting into too many details) but Vil is a famous and respected housewarden because if you actually stop and think about his advice the end result is always an effort to make the person's desires come true. (a good example is how Vil made Epel clean the windows and although Epel was displeased with the hard labor in the end he notices how the task may help with muscle growth and gets happy)

Vil's way of caring for others is often misunderstood and obviously that's understandable, not everybody may get his "rougher" way of handling advice, but also it's a bit weird how people react to it when in game all of the characters seem to be okay with it, Pomefiore has a lot of students and if they considered Vil to be a bad leader he would've been voted out a long time ago, no? And if i remember correctly wasn't it said in game they had very few transfers? (as in characters moving out of Pomefiore and into other dorms) That wouldn't make sense if Vil was really the cruel leader some people make him out to be. The truth is Vil is a nice caring person and his students recognize that which is why he is respected all across the school and not simply on his dorm (because ive seen people say Vil has brainwashed the Pomefiore students into thinking he is a good housewarden 💀)

Vil surely has issues he needs to work through, after all this game is literally about that, dealing with troubled teenagers and their internal struggles and the importance of asking for help (omg friendship is magic...) but Vil is also a teenager, and he is one of the characters that show the most desire to get better, immediately showing regret and apologizing to Yuu and his classmates for the danger he put them in, that is because Vil genuinely does care for them.

Another accusation people make is ableism, i remember seeing many posts saying Vil wouldn't respect disabled people and/or mentally ill people which is 1- extremely fucking rude to say? 2- absolutely wrong. Again just a quick read on Vil's character will tell you everything you need to know about how he'd feel about disabled people, he'd treat them like everyone else, and would adjust his handling accordingly to their needs, i really don't get where this claim comes from but it's quite ironic because a lot of Vil haters tend to be ableist themselves by claiming that Vil is a bad person mentioning traits that are often caused by mental illness and the effect of traumas, failing to analyze how their treatment of a character that displays common mental illness symptoms may affect people in real life who displays the same symptoms, and often being ableist themselves by judging these actions irredeemable and inherently evil/heartless, once again dehumanizing people with mental illness in real life who deal with the same symptoms.

Another common thing is the constant invalidation of Vil's trauma. A lot of people seem to read book 5 with their eyes closed and take away from the story that the reason Vil "got pissy and almost killed a guy" (wording of a terrible post i saw a few days ago<333) is because he's a "spoiled brat who couldn't handle getting the paper he wanted in a movie boo hoo" which is kind of funny with how terribly wrong it is, i really don't know what your thought process has to be to get his backstory this wrong but sure, let's start; The start of Vil's problems with being cast as a villain starts from when he was very very young, he was just a child when after being cast as a villain for a movie he was almost beat up by a group of boys for being an "evil guy" and by his reaction it wouldn't be impossible that this wasn't his first time dealing with that kind of thing. Vil also tells jack (who scared away the group) that he had trained so he would be able to deal with them on his own which again, could be a hint that this wasn't that uncommon in his life. In Vil's overblot dialogue is all we really need to know to debunk this claim.

What Vil wanted wasn't just to be a hero in a movie, he wanted to be seen, to be heard and cherished, he wanted to be more than a pretty prop they could put on the front to get attention only to be taken out of stage when he was no longer necessary in the next scene, do you get it? He wanted to be able to see his hard work pay off, to see his efforts of years being rewarded, to for once not be exchangeable for someone more favorable. Vil wanted to feel like all his pain was worth it in the end because finally he could shine in the stage, being himself instead of just another persona to attract people. In his overblot it's shown clearer than ever that Vil does not have a stable view of his own image unlike what he has trained himself to show, even calling himself ugly and begging them to not look at him. I don't think Vil is used to be being vulnerable, which would explain why he was so freaked out when the overblot happened, and why he cried when his beauty (the one thing about himself that was always recognized by others and therefore the thing he'd always been the most desperate to nurture) was taken away by aging in book 6 (note; the fact Vil sacrificed it for his classmates also just debunks the people saying he only cares for himself, if he did he wouldn't be who he is.)

I said i wouldn't give my thoughts again but i will, just briefly, i believe an easy explanation to Vil's behavior (the tough love he gives and his strictness) might be because of the industries he grew up in, we can't know for sure how similar twst's version of the movie and modeling industry is when compared to the real life one but considering the way Vil is, my guess it's that it's pretty similar, especially in the regard of their treatment towards children, in Vil's overblot he hears two staff members talking about how he'd never be able to pull off a relatable role because he is too perfect, and sure those may not look like insults, but to Vil who's only dream his entire life was to be seen in good light, those words stuck to him so deeply they'd come back to him during his overblot. (note; i have not seen a jp translation of the overblot scenes so i don't know if they also suffered from localization issues, if anyone has a link to one i could see id really like to see what the staff said to Vil)

The general point of Vil's overblot was how his efforts and hard work were always overlooked and ignored in favor of someone else, this happens with quite a lot of characters and happens as well with another overblot (Leona, who happens to be quite similar to Vil in many ways) and although i don't expect anyone to read it and think of analysing it more deeply even with a shallow vision of his overblot it's still incredibly insensitive to call it a "non-problem" especially considering the fact this is Vil's ENTIRE life, he's been working hard and failing for years again and again and that does get to you. I remember when i posted my first rant on Vil quite a lot of people who reported to be skilled at something (say for example music or dancing) as a child that any failures absolutely destroyed you inside, and that people who haven't passed through the same tend to call them dramatic and say they're overreacting to situations that can be classified as trauma depending on how much it mentally impacted said child. (and in Vil's case it's clear it had a massive one, after all he wouldn't have overblotted if he didn't have issues that had been bottled up until they finally exploded)

Mentioning Leona again, he and Vil share the same sentiment of anguish for being discarded and having their hard work be thrown away, the difference in them is the way they reacted to it, while Leona ended up not seeing any value in attempting to do anything because he assumes the outcome is always going to be the same, Vil overworks himself and forces himself to do things he might hate clinging to the hope that this time it'll work out.

Since we're talking about trauma ill already answer some things that may or may not come with this post (because in my first one i got this response a lot) "Vil's a fictional character it doesn't matter" and sure if you think like that cool, personally, when im talking about a fictional character that tackles real life traumas and issues, i talk about it as if referring to a real person because the character has been written with one (or multiple) in mind.

Twst may have issues but the character writing is undeniably about real life traumas and experiences, and the characters are quite accurate and good representation of the issues they tackle, so when you invalidate them, you are by result invalidating real life issues. Of course this won't stop anyone and i know that a few people will probably scoff at this and brush it off as being too sensitive but personally if you wouldn't dare invalidate say for example Riddle's traumas because you know it's a representation of mommy issues, which is a very real problem, to not go against your own morals you should also respect the issues of all the other characters, even if you personally think some are more "serious" than the other.

[kurosstuff]

Lute x fallen angel! Reader: Fallen

Short fic- tell me what you think! Hope you all enjoy it-!

Summary" lute SHOULD hate you. But. How can she?

HEAVY SPOILERS MENTIONED LIKE AKL OVER(in this like one?) IDK PLEASE. ALL HAZBIN FICS I WRITE ARENT SPOILER FREE UNLESS I STATE THAT IT IS. YOUVE BEEN WARNED

Warning(s): blood/fights, love at first sight, maybe ooc lute? Idk yoy tell me I never wrote her, heartbreak, also from my knowledge? Wing movements(from birds please correct me on the info if I do it wrong I do not own birds) in denial, Adam and his vulgur language

Ngl I love lute-

Lute a cruel sadistic woman. Odd place for a woman in heaven. But given her status as the leader of the executioners. The one who leads the battles against those vile sinners. Who trains the angels picked to fight herself. The woman second in command to Adam himself.

It's a fitting role.

Never in a million years(and she HAS been around for that long. Or so she lost track of such a useless thing) would she? A ruthless exterminator encounter this thing other fully pure angels speak of.

Love

Why would she? Lute is a fighter. A warrior. The one who Adam HIMSELF entrusts his life too. Why would she fall for anyone? She doesn't even know if she CAN feel such a thing.

But as always- Life(or afterlife?) Is full of surprises. She was well aware of a new angel coming in. Recently passed in some horrific accident she doesn't care for the details just knows- need to pick them apart see if their ruthless enough to fight. But the second she went into the room her eyes widden- an odd feeling in her chest as If her heart- her cold heart was heating up.

"Hello~ are you uh Lute?" You asked shyly- which given the situation even the most outgoing would be just as shy. She blinked, glad for the mask to hide the flushed expression - the confusion on it.

Clearing her throat, she nods slowly, ensuring you saw "I am. Welcome to Heaven, " she greeted uncharacteristically polite- gentle. If you were to be mistaken, she ignored the odd look Adam gave her, looking at the name tag, even your name is pretty- she blinked.

What?

She did NOT just think that. She did NOT Find you pretty. Gorgeous. She does NOT notice how your eyes sparkle how friendly your smile is as you both talked. She most certainly doesn't notice how your wings are the single most gorgeous pair she's ever seen. How white it is- signaling how pure you are. How the gold etched into it- putting to shame her grey and black wings- smiling soft behind her mask. How how she wishes to touch the- she stops she will NOT think that

-

It became as clear as day to her and anyone else. Lute? Is inlove. And not just anyone. The new angel- the kind soul who? Adam states follows her around like a lost puppy or in Adam's kind words "Hey look. It's lutes bitch!" Oh how she wishes to punch him everytime- hit that smug look off. But she won't. Not yet.

A common tradition in heaven- like the birds in the human realm(maybe a odd similarity she presumed. She doesn't care for the human realm after all) finding a mate, a lover with the most gorgeous wings. It was no surprise you gained such attention

Much to her displeasure.

Grumbling watching as how you yet again were surrounded by angels around you- and ad always rejecting them before that smile she oh so adored. Yet would never state aloud was sent her way- making her scowl darkly(but on the inside? She was warm) quickly making your way to her she noticed how you fidgeted. How red you were "out with it. What is it?" She grumbled out no matter how warm and soft she was on the inside? Her words on the outside could never match. No matter how she wished it

White cleared her vision making her back up scrunching her nose before finally realizing what it was- a feather. Not just any old feather. Your feather "i.. i want you to have it.. I know the meaning bur when I was preening my wings u couldn't help it.. I want you to have my feather" they whispered watching as she gently took the feather.

Silently accepting them courting her with a soft smile. Maybe she can make it a necklace?

-

As great as it was up there. There were rules. Easy to forget. Easy to break. But rules nonetheless. Once Adam instructed her to strip a betrayers wings, Lute sighed. Grumbling loudly going to the room. Ignoring the odd almost somber pitiful look Adam gave her. Hiding the feather in her shirt tucked safe near her heart, she hummed, stepping inside fixing her helmet before freezing

"No-"

Her heart dropped paling more then she was already at the bloodied sight

"NO WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!"

She roared storming to your bloodied frame she couldn't help but break her never-ending composure for the first time, kneeling to your side "do you HAVE ANY FUCKING IDEA WHAT THIS MEANS?" She snarled ripping her mask off showing her teary face. Knowing her counter was now a sinner. Her angel was a traitor. A million emotions went through her head glaring down at you with every emotion but the one she should feel.

It wasn't hate.

She ignored her feelings, swallowing it down she ignored the reasoning of what you did. Of what you SAID. putting her mask on, she steeled herself. She was an executioner. A peacemaker. She takes care of the issue. So she pushed you down with her foot grabbing your once gorgeous wings now bloodied gold- in her one hand grabbing her spear she sliced. Ignoring how she was covered in your blood. The deafening screams of pain. Of agony. How you begged for her. She took a sigh taking her mask off giving you the chance to se her one last time. Without the mask. How she stared cold at you.

Before the ground opened up, "lute. Before I go- please I lo-" she cut you off, kicking you in. Closing her eyes as the ground closed. For the first time ever. She fell to her knees, holding the now broken wings sobbing out for a sinner. How was she not a sinner to for showing the regret. Showing the selfishness in this?

~~

It wasn't long before she saw you again. Traveling down with Adam to meet with Charlie and her girlfriend- to Lute it was a vile relationship. Not because of the sex- no- because of the liar Vaggie is. How that bitch betrayed her kind and then fell for the ruler of hells daughter. She could almost laugh.

Blinking, ignoring the yelling match of Adam and Charlie. Looking out the window, she froze mouth wide open- even though the demons back was turned. No wings but a tail and horns. She knew that laugh. She knew that smell. No matter how different you looked. Eyes soft watching you turn. Even as a demon. You truly are a beautiful creature. She softened her gaze behind her mask before looking away in disgust. Not with you.

But herself.

Lute a angel? Finds a demon attractive. Sure it's you but. Your a demon. A angel and demon together is vile. Disgusting in all sense of the worse.

But even now. She can't help but still long for you. Long for the almost relationship. Frowning, she looked back at Adam, who watched her with a frown. She knew they'd have a talk. Sighing, she followed after him with a deep sigh

She truly wished this outcome was different. How she longs to see you once more. Touching the feather on her chest she sighs

The only way she would be with you. Is if she was fallen as well. What a cruel irony.

[https-furina]

okay okay so, since im already on the angst train and i want to hurt myself today, hear me out:

you and your lover are out doing wtv and you're ambushed and then, naturally, you guys fight the enemies right?

okay so you get hurt and youre losing a lot of blood and your lover realizes this and is completely heartbroken bc you dont have much time, the wound is deep

so um yeah the reader dies in their lover's arms basically, with albedo, heizou, kazuha, wanderer, xiao and kaeya

theres so many characters im curious abt so please take your time mwah

(ps: i will not pay anyone's therapy okay i need it myself, my condolaences for hurting you)

✎ i wasn't ready to say goodbye [various men - part one]

ft. albedo, aether, heizou, kazuha, wanderer, xiao & kaeya x fem!reader

content: do i need to say angst? i'm so sorry. major death + blood warnings. implied that reader can handle a weapon in most of them - unspecified if reader is a vision holder. hurt with absolutely no comfort. semi-spoilers for scaramouche/wanderer's story (end of the sumeru archon quests.)

notes: we added aether last second in the discord bc we summoned aki ( @kazumist - aly wanted you tagged ) some of them are awful and ooc i'm so sorry - officially managed this in just over 24 hours!

albedo treasures you more than he cares to admit verbally. it shows in all of his acts of love through physical means, lingering touches and making sure you're warm whenever you visit him on dragonspine. he hates you visiting him as much as he loves you - it's merely because it puts you in extreme danger every time. there's the temperatures, the wildlife, the lack of oxygen and of course, there's the monsters lurking around every corner of the inhabited mountain.

as the chief alchemist for the knights of favonius, there's always a warrant for albedo's life one way or another. the fatui are eager to stop his research - or steal it, maybe both.

there's a silence except for the howling winds that circle the snowy mountain. you're struggling to breathe, to get the sharp air into your lungs as you lowered your sword slowly. not far away, your boyfriend is finishing off the final fatui soldier, blood splattering onto his sleeve before he turns to face you. is it just you or does albedo look even more beautiful right now? you furrow your brows in confusion. albedo looks like he's seen a ghost, colour flushing from his face when he rushes forward. your knees give way under you and he barely manages to catch you in his arms, kneeling as he lets you lay against him. "bedo, love?" you mumble, unsure as to what's happening. you can hear the roar of your blood in your ears, your heart is beating whilst the adrenaline still pumps through your body. albedo hushes you softly, pupils dilated when he looks at your wound. "h-how do you feel?" his voice cracks when he asks the question, a gloved hand applying pressure to your side. you wince, the adrenaline is starting to fade and you feel faint. there's a cold sweat glistening on your forehead when you look down at where albedo's hand is, seeing the blood seep through your clothing. it's albedo's turn to watch your expression drop, your world starting to spin and mix together when the adrenaline is gone and you're aware of what happened. it feels as if there's a lump in your throat but when you try to cough it up, only blood spills in a small trickle out of your mouth. "love-" there's another cough, the blood is running down your jaw as albedo's hands start to shake. he has no means of saving you out here, you're nowhere near camp and he can't leave you here while he gets help, "i want to go home..." your voice is weak, trailing off and albedo isn't sure if he should let the tears brinking his ocean coloured eyes fall as your breaths become raspy. chapped lips open and close, trying to find the words to reply to you but all he can muster is a weak "we're going home, dear" when your chest ceases to rise again. his breathing is jagged, clutching you close to him as if you’ll disappear for good when he lets go.

aether clings to you like ivy to a brick building. you give him hope in this search for his twin sister - one he's beginning to think is failing, day by day. you reassure him, that bright smile and sparkling eyes setting him on the right path. he's certain he would have gave up ages ago if it wasn't for you. but aether realises that he is constantly in danger. you love to adventure with, crossing the rolling hills of mondstadt and gawking at the grand mountain peaks of liyue that pierce through clouds.

it was only so long before he faced the repercussions for so willingly letting you travel with him, tearing his hope away in the blink of an eye.

"a-aether?" your voice is wavering, aether is confused. you've been travelling with him for so long now, what could possibly have scared you about some hilichurls? but he turns to face you, blade at the ready - ready to protect you. his eyes fall on the arrow lodged in your chest, your eyes wide in fear as you stare at him in panic. it was already too late to protect you, he'd failed himself. aether drops the sword in his hand, paying no mind to how it clutters on the gravel below you both when he's rushing forward to ease you to the ground. you're stable - awake but for how long? you're in shock, it's going to fade and you'll succumb to the blood reddening your attire. aether swears lightly under his breath, unable to look you in the eyes out of pure guilt; this was his fault, he hadn't protected you. now not only had he lost his sister, he'd lost his partner too. "it hurts to breathe," you mumble, your eyelashes are fluttering gently. the sun behind aether is starting to burn at your eyes, "aether why are you crying?" the blond isn't even aware of the salty tears that glisten in the sunlight when they roll down his cheeks, dripping off his jaw and onto your shoulder where aether has laid your head onto his lap. it's comfortable, just as it always is. on days where you needed a break from walking, aether would often let you lay like this under a nearby tree. the thought makes aether choke out a sob. you smile sadly. "you can't leave me too," your hand cups his cheek, thumb weakly stroking at the tearstained skin when he hiccups, "no, this isn't fair." there isn't civilisation for days and he can't keep the arrow lodged in your chest nor does he have the means of stopping the blood if he pulls it out. aether is at a loss, unable to do anything while he watches the damage done to you internally take you from him beneath his own hands. "hey, you'll find her." you sound so certain, just as you always do and aether watches that positive spark die from your eyes when your breaths turn to rasps and he finds himself yelling at your body - at the sky, at anybody! he yells and yells, hoping someone listens to his cries for you to wake up. wake up, please.

heizou believes that of all the cases he's cracked, you're his favourite. he's read every line written into your skin as you age, the blemishes that litter your body and tell tales untold. you were his favourite mystery but now he had you like a stained glass window, beautiful and on display. although as a detective, heizou has destroyed many more lives than he is keen to admit. his suspects have families - lives, presumably before he has them in jail or worse, life sentence.

their families are hurt, angrily in denial that their own blood could commit such vile atrocities. heizou took something precious from them, what was stopping them from doing the same to him in an act of revenge?

heizou is more than used to his routine of coming home to you, being able to drown in the comfort of your arms after a long day of work. he's disturbed by the front door being open but albeit it's the peak of summer in inazuma, the humidity is drowning you, especially if you're not native to the islands. you're not quick to greet them when he steps in however, in fact he can't even see you. the house is untouched but the silence is deafening. "i'm home," heizou calls out, brows knitting together when he doesn't hear you chime his name back excitedly, "love?" the silence is killing heizou, it's unlike you at all but then he hears it, the meek sound of you calling his name out back. it sounds like you're in the bedroom and with a relieved smile, heizou finds himself heading to find you. but verdant eyes fall on the red smeared on the walls, staining the bedsheets and pooling around you. the relief is gone and his body is tense with dread as he drops the case files he'd been holding, quick to kneel with you and hug you close when you reach for him. "what happened?" his voice is panicked, he's barely breathing when he feels your blood soak through his clothes. he's searching you for your wound, shaking, "love, answer me." your chapped lips open but nothing seems to come out, you feel cold to the touch and all you can do is stare up at heizou. you knew the moment you was attacked that this was it for you but your biggest fear wasn't death, it was heizou. it was your witty detective, keen and full of intuition that he prides himself in; it was whether you'd see him one last time before your heart put in its final beat. heizou doesn't take your inability to speak lightly, letting out a flurry of curses that makes your brows furrow in distaste. you wasn't fond of him swearing when he got stressed but as you watch a tear fall down his cheek, you know you can't argue about his tongue anymore. he has every right to be mad when your bloody hand reaches up for him, the warm palm of his hand quick to grab your hand and coat his fingers. "i love you," you mumble, raspy and heizou is quick to shake his head - conserve your energy, "don't cry please." "you're not allowed to leave me," he chokes out, his lower lip tugged between his lips as his spare hand presses on your wound to try stop the bleeding. you wince but heizou doesn't lighten the pressure in fear, "i'll find who did this." your lips curl up at his words and heizou leans to press a kiss to your forehead, which is clammy and covered in a light sheen. by the time he pulls away, he's the only one left breathing in the room. heizou's shaking hands cup your cheeks, eyes darting around the room when he doesn't quite know what to do. he's used to this - the blood, the smell, the touch of a lifeless body but not when it's you. not when it's the love of his life. he wails in anguish, the taste in his mouth bitter when he swears revenge on whoever took you from him.

kazuha took his time warming up to you when you first met. you didn't blame him, you'd heard the tale of his late friend from captain beidou when you first came onboard the alcor. but your patience with him warmed his heart quicker than expected, leaving you inseparable as you travelled with the crew. even on land, kazuha was joined to your hip. he claimed he was there to protect you and that excuse expanded tenfold when you started dating.

he should have never taken his eyes off you, simply searching for firewood shouldn't have consequences like this.

when the last treasure hoarder falls limp to the dusty ground, kazuha finds himself enveloping you in his arms, eyes frantically scanning your face for signs of pain. you're unresponsive, eyelashes shut but your breathing is shallow while your body fights the unexpected blood loss. "fuck," he whispers, much out of his comfort zone when he's trying to find exactly where your wound is. your blood is staining his skin, getting under his nails where it'll haunt and remind him of what happened for weeks, "y/n? love?" your brows knit as if you can hear him but he's unsure if you're just reacting to the pain. your body is most likely in shock and kazuha is running out of time before the shock fades and you're left in excruciating pain until your last breath. the thought makes kazuha feel sick. he was gone for at least ten minutes, how did he lose you so quickly? he shouldn't have told you to stay at camp by yourself. you'd offered to go with him but kazuha trusted you'd be safe without him, even just for a few minutes. his face turns sour at his own thoughts. how foolish had he been to think you'd have been safe without him? "i-i love you," he stutters out, voice cracking as he presses a kiss to your head, burying his nose in your hair when he tries to blanket himself in your scent - begging to the archons that he'll wake up in bed, "come on, let's go back to the alcor, beidou will get help." he's speaking to you in the softest of tones, his voice hushed as to not disturb the silence of the countryside - or attract more unwanted attention. carefully, kazuha raises himself to his feet with you in his arms. he sees tomo in you for a moment, forcing himself to swallow when there's a suffocating lump in his throat. by the time kazuha has stumbled back to the alcor, beidou rushing over with her face void of colour, your heart is no longer thudding against your ribcage. kazuha will never again hear your heartbeat when he lays his head on your chest or feel your pulse in your wrist when he grabs hold of you.

wanderer figured it was foolish to fall in love after all he'd gone through. what was love when you've been betrayed so many times before? when the archons have so harshly ripped the ones you love away from you? he likes to scowl and shun the premise of love until he met you, an adventurer from the guild assisting in vahumana darshan commissions. you would stubbornly strike conversations up with him, following him as he walked away until he finally caved and would reply.

was it foolish to fall in love or rather was it foolish to place his fragile trust back in the hands of the archons?

his ears are ringing, was mawtiyima forest always this loud? no, it's not even loud - it's silent. the silence is buzzing in his ears, driving him insane as he watches you cough blood onto the dirt. you'd been tasked with clearing out the treasure hoarder camp within the glowing forest - but wanderer isn't stupid. to let you do that alone? he'd be a mad man. but now he isn't too sure if he should have tagged along. would it have hurt him less to find out you'd passed away out on a commission through the guild? or is it hurting less to watch as you splatter that precious red that you humans rely on all over the ground? wanderer finds himself barely able to utter a word. that's rare, he usually has something to say in that stark, rude tone he never explicitly dropped. it made him cold, it stopped people approaching and getting close. why didn't it work against you? "w-why are you looking at me like that?" you croak out, pupils dilated and staring at him in concern. he's as pale as the snow on dragonspine but the tip of his nose is a pink hue as tears well up and sting at his widened eyes. he's not crying, he refuses to cry - he puts it down to not having blinked for a while. so he blinks but you're still hunched over, impaled by a polearm before him. he finally moves forward, kneeling carefully to the side of you as you let out a choked sob, your hands gripping his cold ones tight in yours. he's confused, what did he do to deserve it this time? he didn't ask for this existence in the first place. cursing under his breath, his eyes land on your sword on the floor. it's worn, getting dull and wanderer questions if you was unable to protect yourself properly. no. he didn't protect you properly and the archons saw an opportunity, another jab at his curse of an existence. his eyes dart between you and the blade, then the polearm that isn't welcome where it is. you wince, hiccuping as you wail into the silence of mawtiyima forest. your vision is falling hazy in between the blur of your tears and you're struggling to keep your eyes on your boyfriend's familiar face. "no, no, no - don't go," wanderer panics. it's the first thing he's said since he offered to join you on this commission, "don't leave me, not you too." you let out a sad laugh, coughing blood once more as your breaths get shorter with every one you take. wanderer feels sick, the tears are falling down his cheeks and he can't deny them anymore. there's a last breath, raspy and suffocating before your body falls forward into his arms, limp like a doll. wanderer screams out into the night, hands clutching at the guild's uniform you would proudly wear. how many more times was he going to witness someone getting hastily robbed from him?

xiao keeps his distance, even as your beloved boyfriend that you struggle to be away from for extended periods. you were stubborn, believing he didn't have to succumb to his karma as an adeptus. no matter how much he would shuffle away, he could guarantee you would shuffle after him until he no longer moved away. you still gave him his space - you knew you could find him at wangshu inn.

or if you really needed him, in the midst of the night for a multitude of reasons, you could say his name.

there's a lump in xiao's throat, what the fuck happened? one moment he knows he hears your hurried screams of his name, there's a shrill panic in your tone and he's alert in seconds. he thought you was perhaps in danger but when golden eyes see how you're leaning back on a tree, blood soaking your shirt - and your blade, he realises the danger is gone. and in all of your stubbornness, you had defeated the danger alone but put your life on the line as a result. you smile at him weakly, his footsteps silent as he rushes over to your side. "i got it, don't worry, love." you sigh, tilting your head back on the bark. xiao scowls, you're losing consciousness from the blood now, it's starting to pool beneath you and run down the cracks of the bark behind you. this isn't a minor injury and yet you hadn't called for him sooner? "we need to get you out of here - morax- zhongli- he can help," he barely breathes in between his words, swallowing at the tight feeling in his throat when your eyes are closing, "keep your eyes open, please." his beg falls short of no one's ears other than his own and the stars above. xiao stops breathing himself, holding his breath when he hurries to press the pads of his fingers to your neck, your wrist, anywhere he can try find a pulse. but there's nothing, your body is still warm and xiao pulls you flush to his chest when tears begin to fall down his cheeks. "keep.. them open. please." he repeats in a whisper, nudging his nose against your head as he buries his face into your hair. he's begging in hushed whispers, words disappearing into the strands of your hair in silent prayers.

kaeya was the one who chased you first, lisa's darling library assistant. he'd never spent so much time in the library in his life, other than crepus' own library at the winery but he wasn't much fond of that collection. he isn't much fond of the knights' collection either, reading the same book every day. jean occasionally entrusts you to handle matters in the valleys of mondstadt, to which kaeya is quick to always interfere and say that he'll go with you.

history will always repeat itself until the lesson is learned and an innocent soul has to face the reality.

thunder booms over head, followed by a distant crack of lightning that illuminates the dark sky above mondstadt. kaeya is stood, motionless as he looks at you. his eyes are distant, there's a vacant look about him when the blood is running down your bare legs and mixing with the rain. you're both soaked but your clothes are staining red where a mitachurl's axe caught you in the side. the blood is coming quick and heavy, there isn't time for kaeya to get you back to the city. this scene is familiar when you fall to your knees in the mud, hands holding at your side for pressure. suddenly, your hair is a bright shade of red. is kaeya about to stand and do nothing for a second time, when history is repeating himself right in front of his very own eyes? he swallows but it's difficult, rushing to your side. you're losing consciousness but your eyes are scanning his face. the sun kissed skin, the worn leather eyepatch and his messy blue ponytail that now looks like waterfalls cascading around his face. you smile at the thought. you should visit the waterfalls of mondstadt when the weather picks up so you can gawk at them. "baby?" it comes out of his mouth, barely audible above the rain, "say something - are you okay?" you almost throw back a playful retort but your vision is darkening around the edges and you're grasping to what sight you have left to look at kaeya. your vision blurs when tears threaten to spill - are you scared? you open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. kaeya's gloved hands cup your face, pressing his forehead against yours. "stay with me, love, i can't lose you," kaeya's frantic and his words are jumbling when he panics, "we'll stop the bleeding and take you to sister barbara-" kaeya pauses when he notices you haven't blinked despite the rain falling onto your face when he pulls his forehead away. there's a distant look in your eyes, the light has faded and he can't feel the hot, struggled breaths you was taking against his skin anymore. a flurry of angered swears leave his lips and he's careful when he carries you bridal style to the dawn winery. it's the first place he thinks to take you, back to his brother who can't bear to see kaeya stood in the rain again with blood drenching his clothes from the long walk to the winery's front door.

© https-heizou 2023.

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 6 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 25k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: hello! it's been a second but i promise tdag is still my favorite child so this is continuing slowly but surely (i'm currently just distracted by pedro pascal as slutty gladiator).

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 6 – The Ceremony Part 1

‘I didn't exactly miss it or want to live there again- I just wondered where it had gone.’

— Alice Munro, Dear Life

What the fuck does he think he’s doing?

If there is one person in Jackson who is least equipped to handle a grieving person who’s just lost someone to suicide, it’s him. Joel is sure of that. He should just tell you that he can’t do this, hand you over to Tommy or Maria or anyone else who doesn’t mess up whatever or whoever they touch.

It would be better for you, to have someone who actually knows how to work through grief. Not someone who sneaks out of bed before dawn to get a glass of whiskey and sit in their dark living room to ponder over things years and years past. The way he currently is.

But Joel is also sure that he can’t let you go. He can’t recall how or why but he does understand that you have found a way to get under his skin, one no one else has quite figured out, carved a path that only you may tread, that causes something to tug at his heart every time he sees you curled up in his bed or smells the soap that sits on his bathroom shelf. Somewhere along the road, he has started to care.

Not that anything good ever happens to the people he cares about.

A small groan leaves his throat as he leans back into the cushions, his free hand reaching over to produce a small notebook from below the couch table. He stares down at it for a few moments, weighing it in his hand. Then, he downs his whiskey in one go, sets the glass down onto the table and begins flipping through the small pages, seemingly endless notes, many of them jotted down rather hurriedly, a few written with much more care.

A thud upstairs makes his head jerk up. He freezes, listening intently. And then, he hears the unmistakable sound of someone running over the wooden floor upstairs. He’s up in an instant, cursing under his breath as he moves through the dimly lit room, using his foot to nudge a box aside that’s still sitting in the hallway, blocking his path towards the sound of bare feet thundering down the stairs.

***

For a split moment, you think it’s morning. The warmth beside you is gone. Maybe Joel has gotten another early start, doing whatever he does in the mornings while he lets you sleep.

And then, while you’re still floating in the comfortable state between dreaming and reality, you think you hear a door close somewhere downstairs.

Your body moves before your brain has a chance to catch up. Your legs, still tangled in the sheets, get caught in them and send you flying off the bed and onto the hard floor with a thud. It doesn’t slow you down. You force your trembling legs to push your body back onto your feet and rush through the bedroom door, taking the stairs three steps at a time. You have half a mind that you should shout, alert someone to what is happening, but your throat feels like it’s closed up.

Someone needs to stop him. To keep him from going out into the woods, to some hidden cabin. He always has the revolver on him. At that thought, you jump down the last few steps.

For the second time, your run towards the front door is interrupted and you collide with something solid just as you reach the corner that turns toward the front door. Again, it sends you stumbling and you prepare yourself for another hard fall. But it never comes. Instead, two strong arms catch you and Joel’s face above you finally comes into focus.

“You—” Again, your throat fails you. You simply press yourself into Joel’s chest, seemingly the only place that will swallow your sobs these days.

“Hey, it’s okay. Calm down, I’m right here,” Joel coos above you, his chest vibrating as he hums and brings one hand up to the back of your head, stroking your still slightly damp hair.

It takes him a solid five minutes to get you over onto the couch and calm you enough for him to let go for a moment. “I’ll be right here, hold on. Give me one second.”

He steps back into the hallway, shuffling something around. And as your panic recedes, the tide sinking, you glance around. A single glass sits on the coffee table in front of you, holding a few leftover drops of what you’re quite sure is whiskey. Beside it is a small notebook, the pages already slightly rippled.

You suddenly realize you’re not the only one in the old house who seems to have trouble sleeping.

Eventually, Joel returns with a woolen blanket that he drapes over your form, nodding to himself. “There we are.”

He doesn’t sit down, instead stepping over to the window and casting a glance outside. As if there is anything worth seeing on a street that never changes, one that hasn’t had cars passing on it in over twenty years.

“I’m sorry, I just—I panicked,” you whisper, keeping your head just low enough that you can still see Joel’s outline against the dim light of the street lamp outside. His shoulders seem to hang a tad lower than usual, still broad but not as intimidating as they once seemed, especially with him dressed in his usual pajamas consisting of soft plaid pants and a worn shirt.

“Don’t apologize. You’re bound to have some triggers after everything. It’s good if we figure them out as early as possible.” He pauses for a moment, turning around to study your face. “Was it being by yourself?”

You gently shake your head. “No. Not really. It was more—I thought I heard a door close. Like you were leaving.”

You can see the exact moment he understands what you are implying and his face falls slightly. “Oh, darlin’, you know I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t leave you. You know that, right?” 

The only response you can manage is a shaky nod.

Joel sighs as he sits down next to you, rubbing his thumb over the small bald spot in his beard. To both your surprise, it’s you who starts the conversation back up.

“What about you?”

A frown appears between Joel's brows at the question and he turns towards you, studying your face as if the answers to whatever questions he has are written there. “What about me?”

“You were up too, weren’t you?” you ask quietly, turning your body towards him and leaning into the couch, the plush cushions and the blanket comfortable against your skin.

“Yeah but I was just—I wanted to get some things done for tomorrow—”

“Joel,” you stop him, raising your brow a tiny bit. It’s not meant to be hurtful, you’re sure of that. But if he believes you will swallow such a blatantly obvious lie, he may not be as good at this as you thought he was. “It’s not fair if you’re not honest with me.”

You can see his facade crumble as his expression falters and he nods quietly. “Yeah, I reckon you’re right about that.” Still, he seems to consider his words very carefully. “I don’t sleep well, sometimes. So I figured I may as well do some work. Didn’t wanna wake you with my tossing ‘n turning.”

Your heart aches at how casually he mentions this. It makes sense that he’d have nightmares. And you’re sure you barely know half of what they’re about. Joel cares so much when it comes to you that it genuinely baffles you how easily he brushes it off when he is the one suffering.

And then, a very quiet voice reminds you that this may be, like so many things, your fault. That you are so messed up that even big bad Joel Miller begins to struggle if he keeps you around for too long.

“Was it about—” You pause for a moment, trying to find the right words. It suddenly appears to you how difficult that is and you silently vow to thank Joel for having found them all throughout the last few days. “Was it about what we were talking about earlier?”

You have to be a horrible person. Because you know that deep inside, you want him to say yes. To assure you that this is about the things from his past that still haunt him and not about Lane—or about you. You don’t want to be the cause for his sleepless nights.

He doesn’t respond, but you have a feeling he doesn’t need to. It’s written all over him. The way he holds his body, the eyes that won’t meet yours. You don’t know what to do. You want to help. Maybe the same way he wants to help you. Cooking dinner, making coffee, getting an extra blanket. Because this is something he can’t fix. Only mend.

7 months earlier

“There is absolutely no way I’m going in there,” you proclaimed, dipping your toe into the water below you. “That is freezing!”

“It’s better once you’re in there. We can’t have hiked all this way for nothing,” a voice mused next to you. “Besides, it was your idea to come up here.”

“Well, I haven’t been before and I sure as hell wouldn’t have if I'd known it would involve freezing to death,” you groaned, lifting your foot back to the safety of solid ground below you and taking a few steps along the water of Flat Creek Lake.

It was crystal clear, allowing you to see the small rocks littering the bottom of the lake and the little fish zooming back and forth between them. It was still enough that you could see the reflection of the sky, blue with a few clouds scattered in between. The first warm day of the year.

You took in the scenery for a few more moments, letting your gaze wander further over the water and the trees on the other side of the lake and the mountains behind them, before turning back towards Lane—only to find that she’d thrown her clothes over a nearby trunk and was sporting a striped bathing suit. A small whistle escaped your throat.

“Haven’t seen that one before,” you commented off-handedly, causing a faint blush to appear on her cheeks. “That’s ‘cause it’s not mine.”

You raised a brow as you watched her wade into the water, sending small rippling waves out into the lake. “Wait, you’re not saying—”

A tiny smirk had appeared on Lane’s face. “Cat was nice enough to lend it to me when I told her we were gonna hike up here.”

“I see how it is.” You grinned, pushing your shirt over your head and throwing it next to Lane's pile of clothes. Unlike her, you opted for some of your more covered up underwear. Swimsuits weren’t exactly a clothing priority and you hadn’t found yourself in need of any until now. “I’m not enough for you anymore,” you said dramatically, throwing a hand towards your temple. “How will I ever get over you leaving me?”

“Oh shut up. Besides, if you are allowed to have your boyfriend over for dinner every other month, I am definitely good to borrow a bathing suit.”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” You groaned exasperatedly. “Joel is not my boyfriend. He’s just–” You raised a hand and waved it through the air, trying to find the right word. It wouldn’t come.

“I don’t know. We’re just friends.” You weakly kicked at a small rock below you before stepping into the water for the second time that day, getting your feet used to the temperature of the mountain lake.

“Even Tommy says Joel doesn’t have friends,” Lane pointed out with a lopsided grin.

You shrugged. You yourself weren’t sure what to call your relationship with Joel, and even though you’d tried not to think on it too hard, the question had forced itself to the forefront of your mind more than once. And with every passing month, it seemed to become more persistent and difficult to push away.

“Are you gonna get over here or think about that old man all day?”

Lane paid for her comment (and, you silently vowed, for daring to call Joel old) by receiving a big splash of cold water aimed directly at her. She squealed, jumping the few steps over to you and pulling you further into the lake. It didn’t seem quite as cold as you splashed around in it together, only coming back out when you saw that Lane’s lips began to match the shade of her hair and pointed out that her freezing to death would really ruin the early summer day.

You headed over to one of the log cabins at the foot of the small lake, a place so far from civilization that it had barely been touched since the outbreak. It had taken you close to six hours to make the hike up the dirt road into the mountains. But, upon seeing the view in front of you, you both had agreed that getting up early had been worth it.

“Who told you about this again?” Lane asked, her mouth slightly open as she stared around the cabin that seemed almost completely intact. Bits and pieces were missing but the furniture was still properly arranged, mugs and plates were lined up neatly on a shelf over the sink and even a few items of clothing were still dangling from some hooks near the door.

“Joel did,” you admitted quietly. She just wiggled her eyebrows at you before heading further into the cabin, peeking into the small bathroom and the adjacent bedroom.

“Hey, there’s some towels here,” she called over her shoulder and came back a few moments later holding some cream-colored towels that had probably once been white. Even in the more remote areas around Jackson, finding housing that was this intact was rather rare.

“Maybe we should take a look around,” you offered, your mind already wandering to which treasures could be hidden in the cabin. Anything from practical items like medicine to more recreational ones—possibly a nice bottle of whiskey, stored away just for you to find. As if she could read your thoughts, Lane pursed her lips a little, one hand smoothing over the towels in her hands.

You stared at her. “What?”

“I don’t think we should take anything;” she said softly. “At least not back to Jackson.”

You felt a small frown appear on your forehead as you mulled her words over in your mind. “What do you mean? It’s not like anyone’ll come back for this.” You gently tapped the wood of the cupboard next to you. “Judging by the amount of dust these have not been touched in at least a decade.”

She shrugged, stepping back towards the front door. “I just mean, if it’s been very peaceful here for so long… We shouldn’t be the ones to make it less so.”

You stared after Lane as she stepped outside, watching her descend down the few wooden steps that led up to the cabin and the way the sun hit her blue hair, the ends still dripping slightly.

It took you a moment to gather your thoughts and follow her back to the lake, carefully closing the cabin door behind you. You both had secured a towel each from the cabin and were drying off when Lane caught you off-guard for the second time that day.

“Do you remember any of it? Before, I mean?”

You sighed softly. The question that had become as recurring as ‘and what do you do for a living?’ had once been. In hindsight, you were surprised you hadn’t discussed it earlier–at least not in detail.

“I do. Not much, not anything–I don’t remember how the world was. Just how it seemed to me as a kid,” you answered truthfully.

You could see Lane nod out of the corner of your eye as she leaned back and wrung out her hair.

“I miss it sometimes.” A few seconds of quiet passed. “It’s silly, really. You can’t miss something you don’t remember.”

“I think you can,” you said softly, turning your head towards her. She had paused in her movements and was gazing out onto the lake, though her eyes seemed much more distant than usual.

Your own stayed trained on her as she spoke, her tone a tad lower. “Do you ever think about leaving?”

If it had been anyone else with you, you probably would’ve lied, claimed that of course your heart never wavered, that you knew you were exactly where you needed to be. But this was Lane. Lane was safe.

“Sometimes,” you answered, your voice equally quiet even though you were sure there was no one around to listen except the small fish and possibly a fawn hiding in the undergrowth. “But then, I suppose it wouldn’t make much of a difference. We’d suffer through the day anywhere. But here, we at least have something to come home to when the suffering is done.”

It wasn’t exactly as positive as you may have wanted to sound. You’d always felt a tad protective over Lane, with her being a few years younger and less experienced. You knew she looked up to you and you wanted to set a good example, more than anything.

But that included being honest.

“When I came—When I headed to Wyoming, I was looking for something better than a QZ or Fedra,” you said softly. “I think I could’ve ended up in a lot of places much worse than Jackson.”

“But Jackson isn’t what you were looking for.”

You shook your head. “No. I suppose it’s not. But it’s what I found.”

You gave a bittersweet smile and she returned it, even though hers still seemed slightly broader than yours. It was an odd moment that passed between you, almost an unspoken agreement not to dwell on the topic too long. To not speak of the loss.

“What about you?” you asked, shifting the conversation away from yourself. “Do you remember anything from before?”

Lane gave a small snort at that. “Yeah, now that you ask, I remember pooping my pants.” She shook her head weakly, leaning back and staring out at the water again. “I was a baby.” A sigh escaped her lips as her body faltered slightly, her shoulders dropping a tiny bit. “Sometimes I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I’d been born ten years earlier. If it had been—I don’t know. Better.”

“Well, for the record, I’m glad you ended up in Jackson at the same time I did,” you said softly, nudging her shoulder.

She nodded and smiled, returning the small gesture. It doesn’t dawn on you until much later that she talks about her life in past tense.

“Okay, a tiny bit to the left,” Lane waved her hand as if she could position you like a puppet. “My left or yours?”

“Yours—Yeah, like that.”

A few seconds passed where you showed the lens your best smile and saw Lane fumbling with the buttons before the noise of the camera shutter announced that she’d found a frame she was content with. The giggle that followed, however, took you by surprise. “What?” You asked, looking past the lens and trying to catch a glimpse of her face. “What's so funny?!”

“Oh, I just thought about whether or not to slip this into the slideshow at the town hall next week. Maybe that would finally get Joel to ask you out.”

“You, Eleanor, are a pervert,” you commented drily, letting yourself fall back onto your comfortable towel and reaching for your book, trying to ignore the small wave of heat that had suddenly spread through your body at the thought of Joel seeing you like this.

“You know, I do think you two would fit together pretty well,” Lane hummed with her eyes closed half an hour later when both of you had stretched out on your towels and were bathing in the sun, waiting for the warmth to dry you. Content to ignore the world around you for just another hour.

You put your book down for a moment, squinting as you glanced over at her. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you but nothing is happening between Joel and me. Not ever.”

***

His knock on the bathroom door is tentative, two gentle raps that travel through the wood towards you.

“Are you almost done?”

You stare at your reflection. A woman in black stares back. You know she is about to attend a funeral, the dark outfit and the sadness hiding behind concealer that doesn’t quite match her skin tone giving away what awaits her just as much as what’s behind.

You long to wish her something, to give her hope. But you don’t have any left to give.

You wish you could stay in the comforting bathroom forever, retire the black clothes, bundle them up and hide them at the very back of the cupboard below the sink, next to long expired cleaning supplies and a broken hairdryer. Close the door on all of them and run a hot bath to curl up in, one that never runs cold and that you never have to leave.

“Are you alright in there?”

Joel’s tone has turned slightly worried, no doubt owing to the fact that you are too busy keeping yourself from having a panic attack to respond properly.

“I’m done,” you call out, your voice trembling a little but at least it’s loud enough for him to hear. You can practically see him nod outside the door, even before you’ve moved over to it and turned the knob. Facing Joel Miller is the easy part. Facing the rest of the world is the hard one.

His gaze flies over you very briefly, taking in the clothes he retrieved from your house for the occasion, but you barely notice. What you do notice is that Joel has shaved while you were getting ready, his beard a little more neat than usual, even if still streaked with the small hints of gray that make your eyes linger. What makes your breath hitch in your throat however are his clothes.

He’s dressed accordingly, in a black suit that’s been patched up in a few places and is half a size too small on his broad frame. You’re alarmingly aware you have never seen him in a suit before—you’re certain you'd remember if you did if this is what he looks like.

It doesn’t quite fit the Joel who’s been following you around the house like an anxious guard dog, the man who wears plaid shirts and jeans so much that you remember being surprised when you first found out he does not, in fact, sleep in them. He always looks comfortable, in his worn shirts and slightly stained clothes, like he’s been wearing them for years, like he’ll never change. Like he’ll never leave. A constant that nothing could take from you, like the peaks of the mountains you can see from Jackson on a clear day.

But now he looks—there is no other way to put it—sexy. The suit, tight in all the right places, momentarily manages to take your mind off the why and you very briefly allow yourself to just stare at him.

“Hey, you’re not gonna pass out on me, are you?” Joel muses, bringing a hand to your shoulder to steady you. He looks worried, the crease on his forehead that never seems to leave it these days a little deeper than usual. Of course he’d think that your behavior can be attributed to your distress. Which it can, technically, just a completely different kind of distress.

“Sorry, no, I'm fine,” you reassure him, pushing your way further into the bedroom and taking a deep breath. He doesn’t move quite in time, causing your side to brush over his and you can actually feel the smooth fabric of his blazer against the skin of your hand where they meet. You catch a whiff of his aftershave—or whatever the hell makes him smell so good—just as you step past him into the bedroom and towards the door, completely missing that the slight scowl on Joel's face has changed ever so slightly.

“Come on, Texas. I don’t wanna be late,” you mumble, trying to lighten the mood—or at least distract from the fact that your brain is ready to head down a wildly inappropriate path. It must be the shock causing it to go haywire, or at least that is what you silently vow to believe.

Still, you’re careful to not turn around far enough to actually see him, keeping him safely out of sight.

Because you really must be the worst person in the world to stand here, about to attend you best friends funeral, and leer over some fucking man.

Just that it's Lane's funeral and a small voice in the back of your head that sounds oddly like her pipes up to say that he does look good and that, if nothing else, this may be the one good thing to come out of today. Joel Miller in a fucking suit.

notes: thank you for reading! i have a few more chapters done but opening this fic is somehow both my therapy and mentally very taxing so bear with me please <3

[bigassmoonchild]

Happy

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Simon finally comes home, and he meets his two little angels. You’re finally happy, and things seem perfect. A little too perfect.

Content Tags: Comfort, Twins (name reveal), Death, Canonical death, SPOILERS FOR MW3, Family Moments, Good Father Simon, Simon Finally Realizes How to Deal With His Emotions, Mentions of Pumping, More Original Characters (no name mentioned), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, Omega! Reader, No Use of Y/N

A/N: This is the end. Maple Syrup is done, it has been finished. Feel free to keep sending asks about Doc and Simon! I am more than happy to keep answering prompts about their life together and their family <3. It is insane. I am so proud of how far this has come, and I am so happy that you all have enjoyed it. Don’t worry, I have another fic lined up!!

Part 1 | Previous | Headcannons, Masterlist

Price isn’t entirely sure the last time he could smell something like this on Simon. He isn’t entirely sure if he’s ever smelled him like this. Not in the however long he’s known the Lieutenant. There’s words that he should find, something to get his other alpha, his Lieutenant, to feel better, yet there’s nothing. No matter how much he wants to say something, the words are lost to Price.

He knows the feeling coursing through Simon. Price himself missed his middle pups birth, and yet this all feels different.t He isn’t even sure there are words to convey what he wants to say, if he could just transmit the feeling he needs to he would. But he can’t do that, that just isn’t a thing that’s possible. Maybe in the far, far future but right now? All he needs to find are the words to help make his other Alpha hurt just a little less.

The tangy scent that fills the air of the heli almost burns his nose. It’s not something he’s ever smelled before, not on Simon. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley didn’t smell hurt, or sad. Hell, he never even really smelled anguished even when he probably should have. Price knows the pup- the pups- are here, and he knows Simon should be feeling a sense of joy. Excitement, even. But there’s nothing. No joy, no happiness, just fear and a tang of pain.

While Price knows the feeling- he missed his own middle pups birth- he can’t find the words to express to Simon that it’ll all turn out okay. That everything will be figured out, that you won’t just abandon him. Simon isn’t a bad Alpha, he might be rough around the edges but he truly does mean well. Maybe his words were a little harsh, maybe his tone wasn’t always what he wanted to convey, but Simon never meant real harm to those on his side.

The sounds of shrieking, wails and snarls coming from the other end of the phone almost haunted Price. He’d never heard his own Omega, the perfect parent to their pups, scream in such a way. Maybe it was just because it hurt, maybe because you had to push two pups out of you, but maybe it was because it was so unexpected. His omega had gone to a few classes to prepare for it all.

Christ. You’d had two pups, and Simon wasn’t there to help at all. Your own pack, the one you were born in, wasn’t even there to help you with this moment. Price knew that there was very little anyone could do to fix this, but by all the gods who knew of the green Earth he wanted to find a way.

While your relationship with Simon had definitely been through worse, he knew that it was torment. Price had been given the opportunity to slowly court his own omega, make them fall in love with him each time that they were together. He knew what it took to get an omega, at least his own, to fall in love. But neither of you were given that chance. You were just some Doctor that had been assigned to their base, just a Doctor who was sent out by your own leaders and Captains to figure out what was happening.

You were just a Doctor, tossed into a world of hurt all because of Simon. And Simon wasn’t sure if he could forgive himself for any of it. You were alone, to care for two newly born pups, all alone to give birth to them. He’d heard you snarl at one of the doctors who had come in. Just Price’s Omega was allowed in, they were the only person who was allowed near you.

Simon shouldn’t have just ran off to the mission without at least having gone and seen you first. Maybe then, just maybe, he would have had the balls to stay behind and try and fix his mistakes. Maybe then, you wouldn’t have been left alone to birth your children. God, he felt so fucking stupid. He’d missed the birth of his pups.

Maybe, hopefully, you’d forgive him. You had before, so hopefully this wouldn’t be that much different. He had to stop doing this, stop making these situations occur where he hurt you so much and had to hope to whatever god would listen that you would accept him back into your arms. He could see Price, Gaz and Soap glancing at him every now and again. Soaps nose was scrunched up, his eyes slightly narrowed while looking at him.

“You alright, L.T.?” Soap asked in the silent helo. The tension was so strong Simon thought he could cut it in half. His eyes slowly moved from staring out of the window to looking right at him. Soaps eyes didn’t move, matching his stare.

Swallowing thickly, Simon broke eye contact. “Worried, s’all,” he responded, voice slightly hoarse. A hum came from Soap, and he watched him turn to look back away where he’d been prior to it. No one else spoke for the remainder of the flight back, and Simon found himself glancing back out the window he was near and watching the ground pass by quickly.

Sometimes he wondered what other people were up to, how simple their lives might be. How they might be having a nice dinner with their pack, watching as their pups grow up with ease. He felt a pang deep in his chest, and he almost felt his eyes burn for a moment. He craved such normalcy. He wanted to curl up in your nest next to you, hold you close as you slept against him.

Take care of his pups and help you out after the birth. He barely noticed the helo land and was half conscious as he walked into the compound. People were glancing at him, their eyes following him as he walked. Simon barely noticed, though, and he felt as though he had tunnel vision on his walk to your shared room.

From a few halls down, he could smell something. It was sweet, mixed in with your own scent. Milky, almost, and slightly powdery. He swallowed thickly, as just another hall down he could hear shuffling coming from your shared room. Christ, when had his hearing become so sensitive? He heard you humming faintly, some cooing and whining from two other sources.

And he opened the door, sliding the key out of the lock as he walked in. Your eyes found him, widening just a little and the faintest scent of fear coursed through your scent. Two wails suddenly screeched through the room, your eyes darting back to the closet nest and you moved without hesitation. He heard little purrs and coos coming from you, the wails slowly dying down into soft whimpers.

His heart shatters into pieces. He feels a pain he hadn’t thought possible, the thoughts whirling through his head. His pups don’t know him, they hate him and he can’t be here. Simons muscles are tensed, ready to make a run for it. He can almost feel tears pooling in his eyes, his throat closing up as a small whine comes from deep within him.

There’s nothing he can do. Absolutely nothing. He wasn’t here when they came into this Earth, he wouldn’t be here when they left. And he hated himself so deeply. But the purrs that you gave, little coos bringing him from his thoughts. His head almost cleared, listening to you whisper soothing words to the little things. God, they’d be tiny. They had to only be a few days or weeks old at this point, but everything felt like it had ground to a halt when he’d heard you were in labor.

And he shouldn’t he absolutely should leave until he can talk to you alone but he can’t. He can’t run away again when things get difficult, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you. He had to make things right, but he wasn’t sure how.

Simon didn’t feel like he could move. He slid his boots off, sliding them in their spot in the corner. He moved slowly, cautiously as he inched closer to the closet. He was barely peeking around the corner when you spun and growled at him. Growled. Deeply, from so far in your chest he hadn’t thought an Omega could make that noise.

Your eyes had shifted from being you, shifting into a deeper and more primal look. They softened, slowly, as your snarl faded carefully. You had remained crouched next to the two pups, your hands still gently laid on each of them.

When you growled, you could smell fear coming from Simon. You aren’t entirely sure if that’s what pulled you out of this weird and deeply defensive spot. The father of your pups, your Alpha was standing above you and looking down at you with wide eyes. You watched as he carefully slid the balaclava off, his eyes dropping down to take a look at your pups. You shifted a little, no longer crouching down in front of them.

His eyes became softer, his brows no longer furrowed so deep into his eyes that he almost looked awed. You knew they had his eyes, although a little lighter because of how young they were. They looked so similar, although your little Lily had more of your features than her fathers. Finley, on the other hand, had his stronger features but he had your hair. Maybe he had your nose, but you were partial to your pups.

You said nothing as you handed one of them to their father. Lily shifted, her nose scrunching up as she inhaled his scent up close but it slowly disappeared as she became comfortable. Her little hand grabbed at his shirt, and one of his hands moved to stroke against her hair. He held her closer to him, and you could see his nose twitch a little as he inhaled her scent.

“I want to retire,” he whispered, not looking away from the little pup in your arms. You could feel your heart stop, your eyes almost welling with tears as the realization slowly sunk in. Your pups would have their father, and you would have your alpha.

“Do you know their names?” You whispered softly, watching as he looked up at you. He shook his head and you gave him a weak smile. You still hurt, not just physically, but emotionally. He had abandoned you. And yet he was here now, holding Lily in his arm and his eyes felt so gentle while he looked at you. “You’re holding Lily,” and he nodded, his nose twitching a little bit. “Finley is down here,”

“How do you differentiate them?” You gave a little laugh, picking up Finley and letting Simon grab onto the two of them. Your big, scary looking alpha was standing there with his head ducked down looking at his pups. He seemed so gentle, his jaw was relaxed and his brows weren’t furrowed. He seemed almost happy.

You glanced away from the three of them, swallowing thickly. “Lily’s scent is a little stronger, kind of like yours. Finley isn’t as shifty and he’s a little quieter. Mostly it’s just their scent, though, but also. Other things,” you glanced away and heard Simon laugh from deep in his chest. His eyes were scrunched up, and his head was tossed back.

Genuinely, you don’t remember if you’d ever seen him laugh as hard as that. You’re not sure that you have, and it made you feel warm. Your chest hurt, but in a good way this time. You could feel your cheeks aching from the smile you had on your face, watching your little pack enjoy themselves.

For some time, the two of your stood there basking in the little family you had. Simon finally sat himself in your nest, and you showed him how to change their diapers. The two of you sat there for what felt like minutes, but had to be hours. He helped you to the toilet when the pain relievers finally stopped working as well, helping to prepare your new pad and helping you get back up.

The first night you were able to spend with him, you hadn’t woken up once. You’d stashed away some pumped milk in a little mini fridge they’d let you keep in the room just for this, and when you woke up and added some more that you’d packaged you noticed a few missing. You smiled a little, glancing at him snoring away in the bed you shared.

It didn’t take long for his retirement to become official. The two of you found a little place not too far from the compound, and he’d gotten a new job. It was pretty decent, but he also received an alright amount of money from the government for his service. You were still working in the medical field, but you found yourself leaning more towards finding an office job, one where you could actually have decent hours to be able to help care for the pups.

Raising two pups at once was difficult. Sure, Simon helped when and where he could, but it was just difficult in general. When one pup wasn’t crying, it was the other. When one needed a diaper change, the other suddenly needed one as well. You were just happy to have your mate and your pups healthy, happy and not at risk to die.

Until Simon got a phone call.

“They think Makarov survived,” he whispered to you in bed after you came back from finishing your pumping. You could feel your blood run cold, and you turned over to look at him.

“What?”

He sighed deeply, shifting his head to look at you. “They have some,” he paused and swallowed. “Evidence. They think he’s still alive, and we need to find him. Kill him,” and your heart was suddenly pounding.

“We?”

You watched as his eyes closed, his scent changing to one that confused you. “They need me to help them,” he whispered, his hand finding yours carefully. He squeezed it, and you squeezed back. You sighed deeply, closing your eyes and feeling your heart begin to slow down.

Opening your eyes, you looked carefully at Simon. Even in the dark, you could see his brow furrowed. “I’m coming with,” you whispered. He sat up straight, elbow locked as he held himself up.

“Absolutely not,” his voice was stern, almost a growl. “You will not be going anywhere near this mission,”

You scoffed, rolling back over onto your back. Your eyes gazed across the dark ceiling. “I’m coming with you,” you whispered once more. Simon shook his head, his free hand sliding across his face.

It was a week long argument. Tempers were short, and things weren’t very happy within the house. The two of you still worked together with the pups, but it was silent. He still took care of the pups at night, even though he was sleeping in your guest bedroom. You stayed quiet, listening faintly in on his phone calls. He was trying to stay quiet, you could tell.

It was mostly arguing, at least from his end. Anger about not wanting you to go with, and whoever he was talking with appeared to be arguing for your help. He was always a little angrier after finishing the call, but he stowed away with the pups while they took their naps and seemed to just stew with the thoughts for a while.

After a week, probably just a little longer, he finally came up to you with his head down. He wasn’t making eye contact, but his brows were still furrowed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered after a moment. You nodded, continuing to package the breastmilk you’d just finished pumping. “Price wants you to join, he’s worried there might be issues with medical care while we’re on the mission,” you nodded again but paused after finally registering what he was saying.

“Price said what?”

And the mission was horrible. Absolutely horrible.

The only part you truly remember about it was watching as Soap took a gunshot to the head. You watched the blood pour out of him, heard the shouts and ensuing chaos.

Makarov got away. You did what you could, but at the end of the day you had no way of saving Soap. Simon had grown silent, and the return to the compound was horrible. Price’s omega was taking care of the pups, as their own were almost finished with their last years of school. And you left the 141 alone as they spread his ashes, holding Simon close as he sobbed into your body.

His grip on you those next few weeks were incredibly strong, his arms not letting you out of bed when you needed to use the bathroom, and he was just a little withdrawn for some time.

You named your next pup after Soap. And Simon slowly grew better about the passing, the 141 was often around to see their pack-pups. Everything felt wrong without Johnny, though. No longer just Soap, it was Johnny. Even your youngest had become Johnny, and Simon was able to keep himself from being especially partial to the young one.

They grew up so fast, but it took so long. And maybe it should have felt good, but Christ were they some difficult pups at times. Lily had her first rut, as did Finley. Johnny hadn’t yet presented, so you were just assuming he was a Beta until he would present. Maybe he wouldn’t, but you loved your little pups more than you had ever thought possible.

It wasn’t all too bad. The 141 stuck around, and you found yourselves living in the same neighborhood as the other two. Gaz had found himself a mate, and they had a few pups of their own. You helped with the birth of the first, just as Price’s Omega had done for you. They were there as well, and Simon was holding Gaz back even with the shrieks.

Gaz had tried throwing the two of you out of the room, as his omega had ended up in a similar situation to you. In the middle of birth suddenly, and unable to make it to a hospital in time. Lucky bastard, the birth took twenty minutes.

But you were happy. And that’s all that mattered.

TAGLIST (finished for Maple Syrup, please let me know if you’d eventually like to be added to a general Ghost x Reader taglist, or just no longer be tagged 🫶)

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