#shouting out into the void and hoping the void responds

[cosycafune]

SAVE YOUR TEARS

2.0k words. sylus and you are in an arranged marriage, and you’re pregnant. you pleaded for him to return your love. yet, all he gave you was hanahaki disease — distorting your timeline. all sylus has to do is say he loves you, but sylus is too afraid as destruction follows his every movement. in every timeline, he almost always loses you. masterlist.

acts: pregnancy, straddling, angst, unrequited love, mentions of sex, arranged marriage, hanahaki disease, coughing out blood and flowers, attempting comforting, fear of death, denial, slight physical abuse, pounding on sylus' chest, guilt and crying. mdni 18+.

a/n: request from @gojoskfcbox this is such a beautiful idea; I’m glad you entrusted me with it. I've written sm for sylus; help me.

‘hanahaki’s pitiful victim, can’t a soul rescue you?’

THERE wasn’t anything that you and Sylus hadn’t fulfilled. From the acts of sexual intimacy, a deep emotional connection and a rare, mutual understanding. However, it seemed as if you were completely misled — stricken with something sinister and unworthy.

Hanahaki disease.

This wasn’t what you bargained for, being subjected to an unremorseful curse. A curse that stole away the air of your lungs, leaving you frantically coughing, thick spurts of blooming flowers leaving your lips. Angst flooded you, staining you with an ache — as Sylus had denied you of his love.

Even now, anger, resentment, sombreness and aching tinted you, leaving you to turn your gaze away from Sylus. Currently, you remain before Sylus — posed before the toilet seat. Humiliated, you linger — clinging to the toilet seat and heaving up beautiful flowers. Flowers that contrast the irony of this situation, leaving you wickedly chuckling.

What also didn’t help was that you were currently four months pregnant with his baby, nurturing something he dearly cares for. Yet, when met with whether he’ll finally confess his dearest depths of love for you, Sylus inevitably refuses. Refuses swiftly, knowing that a life, no home, with him, was bound to be swarmed with destruction, devastation and aching.

Clutching your swole stomach, heaving, you refrain from glancing at Sylus — feeling rather unloved. Unloved in distasteful ways, filling your heart with a void you wouldn’t wish upon anyone. Tears, whining, and dizziness apprehended you, but all Sylus could do was hope this beautiful illness disregarded itself.

“Sy’, stop watching me,” Assertively, you clutch onto your baby bump — weakly speaking, “It’s embarrassing.” Mentally torn, you frown at him settling beside you — rubbing your back.

“I’m just…trying to help,” Unsure of what to do, Sylus gently responds — defeat lingering within his tone.

“You’ve already done enough!” Frantically coughing through your shouting, you grow terrified at the array of flowers and pooling blood in the toilet.

You were gonna die.

“Sweetie—”

“—What’s the whole point of helping me if I’m just going to die with our baby, Sylus?” Terrified, you question him — longing for him to confess and shatter this distasteful curse.

“I can’t tell you that I love you, since it’ll ruin everything,” Panicking slightly, Sylus bluntly informs you of his rushing thoughts — unsure of what to do.

“I could die, and that’s all you’re thinking about?” Desperately asking Sylus, you internally plead for him to finally spill his heart — despite the ending of the world enclosing around you two.

“I-I don’t know what to do,” Sylus truthfully tells you, strips of vulnerability flooding his tone — even as he gently rubs your back.

“Sylus! Get serious,” Heaving harder, you bellow at him — irritated at his lack of conclusiveness.

“If I ever tell you that I love you or admit my feelings, I’ll have to prepare you to kill me to save the world.” Aggravated at Sylus’ confession, you gather the courage to look at him — flowers and blood coating your lips.

“Sy’, you’ll lose your whole world if I die from this,” Tearying, fatigued and distraught, you express your heart — your fears planted in his arms.

“Y-You could get the surgery, but it’ll mean that you’ll stop loving me,” At Sylus’ suggestion, your eyes widen — your heart thundering against your rib cage.

Distraught plagued your eyes as Sylus drew nearer to a pregnant you, wiping away the tender tears that drifted from your eyes. Tenderly, the pad of his thick thumb runs across beneath your eyes — his tender forehead staining your own. In a way that makes your delicate self feel warmth, love and stability — but it’s only something fleeting.

“B-But…” Wordless, you struggle to speak — relishing the ironic sincerity within his unethical touch.

“Whenever I have you in any universe, it never ends well,” Unable to prepare himself for this heartbreak, Sylus utters, “I’d rather have you learn to not love me or destroy me to maintain yourself, sweetie.” Grasping onto you firmer, Sylus presses his nose against your own — his lips a breadth from your own.

“Our baby, Sy’,” Responding to him, you part your flower-spewing lips in shock — defeated at Sylus’ denial of fighting for you in this verse.

“Get the surgery, sweetie,” Not wanting to lose you, Sylus suggests something so heartbreaking — pressing his lips upon your own.

His attempt is so cruel. So cruel, aching your heart.

“I’m pregnant and you’d rather have me hurt than admit something crucial?” Attempting to fathom Sylus’ kiss, you question him with wide eyes — frantically crying.

“No,” Sylus painfully contradicts himself, his crimson eyes tinted with a fathomable ache and lonesomeness.

“Liar!” Mentally exhausted, you scream at him — banging your fists against his chest with an understandable amount of anger.

Glaring at Sylus, through glassy and blurred eyes, you heavily bang against his toned chest — frustrated and aching. Pain, guilt, and self-depreciation adorn you — structuring you with wounds and hardships no pregnant woman should ever endure. A lack of love and reassurance adheres to you, leaving you solitary. Solitary despite the man you love lingering.

Deeply, you knew he romantically cared somewhere — but enabled the curse through his denial. A denial that welcomes one-sided love, even with an arranged marriage and a baby on the way.

“You can’t force me to love you,” Coldness desperately clings to Sylus’ statement.

“You didn’t feel anything when you comforted me after my first time?” Pleading for him to reveal his guarded heart, you carry on.

 “You didn’t feel anything when we built the baby crib? With you watching me grow my belly? Call you so you can see how the baby’s doing?” Experiencing intense heartbreak, you stop your physical abuse – begging for Sylus to soothe your pained state.

“Of course, but not in the way you think,” Millions of weeping souls blanket you as Sylus speaks, witnessing your hanahaki disease worsening – fuller crimson-stained flower spewing from your lips.

“I can’t force you to admit anything, but you didn’t feel anything romantic when we spent nights in the snow, getting vulnerable and talking about the future?” With one last act of devotion, you question Sylus – your heart overwhelmed with the distrust that lingers.

“Sweetie, you’re getting worse,” Heavily concerned, Sylus attempts to calm you down – bringing you against his lulling heartbeat.

“S-Sylus, am I going to die?” A little calm, you look towards him for guidance – worried drastically about your warped fate.

“I’d never let you die, don’t speak like that, sweetie,” Incredibly angst, Sylus holds you impossibly closer – unwilling to fathom you departing from his arms once again.

For once, just once, Sylus wanted the carmine strings of fate to curl for him. To curl for just him and only him, keeping up the facade of unrequited love between you both.

“If you…” Coughing flowers hysterically, you try to converse with a disheartened Sylus, “Didn’t want me like that, why didn’t… you keep your distance, my sweet Sy’?” Simply wanting answers, you grow lulled by his beautiful singing – feeling mildly at peace.

“Because I don’t have the heart to be cruel to you,” Spewing a double-edged confession, Sylus cups your baby bump – kissing the top of your forehead.

“How…comes you being affectionate doesn’t break the curse?” Curious, you question Sylus – burrowing within his tender comfort.

Forbidden comfort, knowing that he’s unable to declare a love you long for.

“Because I denied your love confession, and haven’t said that I love you,” Openly, Sylus admits his loop around the unrequited love – aware that a genuine confession would heal your state.

However, it would trample the world and everything that lingers. You, his unborn baby and the world Sylus has deeply accustomed to.

“I-I’m sleepy, Sy’,” Through the strain of being pregnant, coughing out flowers and blood, tiredness finally decorates you – causing your eyelids to flutter.

“Sleep, sweetie,” Falling unconscious at Sylus’ command, you drift into a pained slumber – unsure of what your fate is bound to be. 

However, all you know is that you’re currently unloved by your husband – upholding a false persona that doesn’t truly matter. All you yearned for was for his false declarations of affection to be truthful, not something he conducts to make you happy.

“I’d rather die than let you die,” Knowing you’re asleep, Sylus sheds a few tears – whispering tenderly.

“I love you, sweetie, but you can never know,” Sylus mutters to you, knowing that it’s bound to cure you – despite not being able to hear him.

You’re deep in a webbed, conflicted slumber.

As cruel as it sounds, to him, it’s only unrequited love on your behalf if he never confesses. He’ll heal you for an eternity, but he’ll never admit to you that he cares for you romantically.

So, as time goes on, Sylus is fated to deceive you with the idea of him not loving you. A heartless cycle it is, but it’s for the better.

–

Confusion stretches upon you while you stir awake, bringing your fingers to your lips with trembling fatigue. Expecting carmine-stained flowers, you attempt to see if more fall from your lips — but only decaying residue slips from your lips.

Baffled, you softly bring yourself to sit up in your ample shared bed — furrowing your brows with conflict. Naturally, aren’t you supposed to be within the last stage? A stage so recklessly tragic and preventable? However, here you remain, tainted with the elements of the unknown.

Instinctively cradling your baby bump, you survey the room with caution — only to notice an asleep Sylus. Sylus who’s settled in a large chair by you, guaranteed to have been watching you throughout the whole excruciating nocturne.

Why did he even bother? Bother to nestle up nearby you, keeping a watchful eye on you — despite the mental storm that engulfs you?

No, why aren’t you coughing up flowers and blood anymore?

“Did he perform secret surgery on me?” Pouting, you stir your gaze towards a blanket-less Sylus, questioning yourself.

Yet, all you felt was an insatiable love — longing for him to return such a thing. However, you cast yourself into trying to suppress your romantic feelings — unwilling to relapse into Hanahaki disease.

“I’m so confused,” Turning to Sylus, you frown – unsure of why no flowers stain your lips.

“Sylus?” Nudging Sylus, you attempt to wake him up – smearing a blanket upon his peaceful state.

“Hm?” Confused, Sylus wakes up – glancing at you with slight defensiveness.

Defensiveness you truly didn’t get.

“Shouldn’t I be dead by now?” Pouting, you cup your baby bump – your lips furrowing at Sylus’ lack of concern.

.

“No, I’m just as shocked as you are, sweetie,” Sylus softly responds, shifting in his seat – tenderly smiling at your prominent baby bump.

“Sylus, be truthful,” Analytical, your tone grows more commanding – silently pleading for Sylus to open his heart.

“You being pregnant could have stopped it,” Fibbing, Sylus maintains eye contact, “After all, why would our child love me if they don’t know me?” Noticing your swelling tears, Sylus’ physique grows tense.

“That’s not possible,” Distraught, you gently mutter – uncomfortable at the mental murkiness that adheres to you.

“But–”

“Say that you don’t love me, Sy’,” Feeling the extent of Sylus’ deception, you resiliently stand before him – concealing your trembling hand.

“I refuse to trigger the disease again,” Unwavering, Sylus contradicts your statement – calculated and torn.

“Please, let me have this one thing, Sy’,” Trying to remain mentally stable, you sit your pregnant self upon Sylus’ lap – glancing down at him.

“S-Sweetie,” Mentally at a stalemate, Sylus gently rubs your back – stupidly much more smitten than he would ever let on.

“I still love you, so tell me that you don’t love me so I can finally mentally move on,” Confessing, you breathily breathe, “This is the least you owe me.” Holding back your sombreness, you maintain eye contact.

“That’s something I can’t do,” Sentimental, Sylus grips onto you tighter – irritated at the distasteful strings of fate.

A fate that bounds him. Inevitably, Sylus is a caged bird.

–

do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024. small banners credit: cafekitsune <3

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 21

part 1 | part 20 | ao3

“Right?” Steve asks, scratching his head as he glances back at the door. 

“No, I meant you, dingus! What the fuck was that with you?” 

Steve feels his face go hot. “What? What do you mean?” 

She throws her hands in the air, stomping over so she can get in his face and say, “Don’t ‘what do you mean’ me. Your faces” —she lifts her hands like she’s about to applaud, palms hovering an inch apart— “were like thiiis close to just…”

She claps them together, and Steve feels the blood drain right back out of his face, dread pooling in his gut as she twists her palms this way and that, like two people tilting their heads to kiss deeper. Oh, god. Oh, god. Were they—? 

“Mwah,” Robin says helpfully, mashing her hands more tightly together. “Mwah mwah mwah mwah—”  

Steve grabs her by the wrist. “Dude. Stop.” 

She drops her hands and stares at him — one of those Detective Buckley looks, combing over every inch of his soul for missed clues — and then her mouth does some horribly self-satisfied thing that he hates. “If I didn’t know any better,” she draws, “I’d say someone has a crush.” 

I’d say someone has a crush someone has a crush someone has a crush someone has a

Steve’s gonna pass out. The words feel like bile in his brain, acidic and sharp; like puking right after chugging a glass of orange juice. It’s not like he’s— 

Look, he knows that he’s— but—

The bell dings. Thank fucking Christ. A big family group, three generations of people talking and laughing and fussing over a baby in a stroller and carrying leftovers from the Italian place down the strip. 

Steve sags in relief. 

Robin hisses in his ear, “We are so not done talking about this.”

—

He doesn’t want to talk about it.

About Eddie, about the word Robin lobbed at him like a lit bottle rocket, about any of it.

Just thinking about it is giving him a stomach ulcer and a migraine and maybe an aneurysm, too. 

He was hoping he made that obvious enough during the last hour of their shift that Robin would just drop it, but that girl has never dropped a single thing in her life. Worse than Nancy, the little bloodhound. Steve saw this documentary once about crocodiles; remembers how they can lock their jaws shut after clamping down on their prey with up to 4000 PSI of pressure. 

That’s enough pressure to cut a person’s arm off with a jet of water. 

Damn, nature’s cool.

“Steve!” 

You know who’s not cool? 

“Steve!” Robin hollers again over the song he’s currently blasting to drown her out on the drive home. “Steve, you can’t use ABBA against me like this!”

Steve ignores her protests, responds by shout-singing “DIGGING THE DANCING QUEEN, OOH OOOOOH” at her in his most nasal falsetto because he absolutely can and will use ABBA against her like this, and it works like a charm. He’s pretty sure this song has, like, hypnotic power over her or something, because every time without fail she gives the answering “ooh-oo-oo-ooh-ooh-oooooh” as if on auto-pilot.

“HEY!” she shouts when she realizes what she’s doing. “No sir!” She reaches over and mashes the volume button. 

Silence falls over the car. Sucks the air out of Steve’s lungs in the sudden void; his ears adjust slowly, picking up the quiet thrum of the engine, the whispered whoosh of the wind outside. Is he ever going to get used to being kind-of-sort-of-deaf? This shit sucks.

“...Okay, look,” Robin says tentatively. She’s staring at the side of his head, and he keeps his eyes on the road; tightens his grip on the wheel. “We don’t have to talk about you, okay?”

“There’s nothing to talk about with me.”

“Right!” she rushes to agree. Playing along like they don’t both know that’s bullshit. “Totally.”

Steve risks a glance at her. Her expression is earnest, some full-paragraph silent communication like: whatever bathroom-floor-confessional crisis you’re having, we can leave it alone for now. We can let it stay hidden in the dark corners for a little longer; I promise I’ll put my flashlight down. 

“Totally,” Steve echoes, nodding at her. 

“Okay. Cool. Cool…”

She lets out a long breath, cheeks puffing out as she sits on her hands. Oh, my god, just spit it out. “Can we please talk about him, though?”

—

part 22

tag list pt. 1 below the cut, comment if you want me to tag you tomorrow (heads up i'm not tagging any new under 21 or ageless blogs unless we’re mutuals or you dm me to verify your age. gonna purge this list when i get some free time)

@heartsong18 @hellion-child @hiimlevi @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @jaytriesstuff @littlebluejane @lololol-1234 @marklee-blackmore @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @noodle-shenaniganery @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @pending-dope-username @perseus-notjackson @ppunkpuppyy @questionablequeeries @remosdeerica @runninriot @sadcanadianwinter @shamelesspatrolshepherdcowboy @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy @steddieas-shegoes @steddie-island @stevesbipanic @steves-strapcollection @taleah-bonnick @teatimeeverybody @th30ra3k3n @thealwithnoname @thespaceantwhowrites @thestarslittleking @thesuninyaface @trensu @violetsteve @wormdebut @yourmom-isgay @zoeweee @zombiecreatures

[jiejies-corner-store]

THE AVENTURINE FIC 😭😭 OH GOSH IM CRYING 😭😭

i’m so sorry, anon! here this should make it up 😭😭 the devil knows you're dead

pairing. aventurine x reader

tags/tw: fem!reader, references to a complicated childbirth, mother!reader, father!aventurine, spoilers to aventurine's real name, spoilers in reference to 2.1 trailblaze questline, aventurine’s nihilism and depression, references to death, hurt/comfort, ooc aventurine probably, i make shit up at the end because i want a happy ending—bite me.

sfw

a/n: ouchie. i finished 2.1 and it hurt. it hurt a lot. the ost for the “all the sad tales” is genuinely so beautiful. the trumpet just feels so melancholy yet hopeful it just goes so perfectly with aventurine’s story. but i need something that feels good now. ABSOLUTELY NOT PROOF-READ pt. 1

“As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.”

It was cold. Cold and warm. Almost feverish feeling. The type of feeling you’d get when you were freezing but your skin was hot to the touch. There was this frustrating beeping noise somewhere off in the distance that you just couldn’t tune out, finally you opened your eyes to see a sea of darkness, and seemingly at an unreachable horizon, a large circle of white light that looked like a gate.

“You’re not dead, if that’s what you’re wondering,” a voice came from beside you. How you didn’t realize there was a whole person standing next to you, you had no clue.

“Well, that’s not originally what I was going for, but now I’m a bit worried I might be,” you laughed, nervous, but curious all the same. This… person you couldn’t quite make out an exact face, or even a body for that matter, but ther was this distinct feeling that it was in fact a person. Like your instinct knew, but your brain couldn’t quite fill in the details.

“This is a place beyond mortal comprehension, if I tried to explain it to you, you would only be more confused. Walk with me,” the entity said, and without even willing your body to do so, you followed. Ripples emanated from each step as you followed and soon the inky void around you melted into an unfamiliar planet.

The sky was a deep purple, streaked with red that looked like lighting that crackled along the sky. Instead of the fluid, black ground, sand now shifted as you moved foward. Inside a small hut made of rock, you saw a woman cradling a swaddled child.

“Such a lucky child, such a blessed child… Just like your name. A gift from THEM to Avgin… my boy…”

You turned to the figure beside you and hesitantly asked, “Where are we?”

“A land of rock, but not water, lightning, but not rain, blood, but not tears,” the entity responded cryptically, which only caused a crease in your brow. You went closer to the mother in the hut and sat next to her. She whispered a blessing onto her child, but none of the words made sense to your ears. Similar to the entity, it’s like your brain scrambled them from your understanding.

The mother cried. You tried to wrap your arms around her to comfort her but only phased through her like a ghost. The baby too began to cry.

Then, the scene changed again, suddenly it was a cell with iron bars. A blond young man sat next to you. The blond’s gaze was downturned, but you could recognize that voice anywhere.

“—Thirty tanba… that’s all my life is worth.”

“That’s not…” you said, but realized it was all in vain. You tried again to take Kakavasha’s hands into your own. You wantd to take the cuffs off his wrists and cradle where the skin was rubbed raw.

“It's all or nothing…”

“Kakav—agh!”

Your future never existed You█ future never existed You█ future ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er ████ted You█ fut███ █e█er ████ted Yo██ ██████ █e█er ████ted

Your mind felt clouded, a searing headache, followed by an inability to even pin down a coherent thought. The scene shifted once more.

“What’s going on!” you shouted at the figure that stood only silently next to you, crippled on the ground, clutching at your head, fingers pressing in to try to find the spot that would alleviate this awful pressure.

When your senses were no longer blinded by pain, you were back to that inky void you started in, but this time you weren’t alone. Not far away, maybe twenty feet or so, was your Kakavasha, and a woman you didn’t recognize.

“Why are we born into this world if it's just to die?”

You stumbled to your feet to try to run to him, but with each step closer he only got further away. He walked towards that gate of light. In your head, you heart was pounding faster and faster. You failed to catch up to him. He only got further and further away until he disappeared like fireflies dispersing into the night, “Kakavasha! No—!”

Utterly devastated, you sunk back onto your knees. You didn’t know why but you had this distinct feeling of loss. Tears rolled from your eyes freely. He… he wasn’t gone surely? The entity’s presence reappeared next to you.

“Why did you show me all of this,” you asked, not sure if you actually wanted an answer.

“Because you need to go back,” the entity answered and your jaw locked, gritting your teeth so hard they hurt.

You screamed into the void, “You’re the one who brought me here!”

“I never call anyone to me… you mortals believe that it is US that determine when your time to go is… but in truth it is your own doing, whether it is your body or your mind that gives up first,” the entity said, “It is only the strength of your will that will allow you to continue down your destined path… but many give up on that path and someone else must be chosen.”

“What does this have to do with me,” you snapped. “Why are you meddling in my life? What does Kakavasha have to do with this?”

“Kakavasha still has a long road ahead of him. I have supplemented his journey all his life. It was only recently he was able to live on his own will,” said the entity ”Your body is giving up. I do not have the power anymore to keep him alive. That lies with you.”

Your surroundings melted again. You were in a hospital room and on the bed was you. Eyes closed and steadily breathing, but your heartbeat was weak. The annoying beeping from before was louder and more prominent.

“You wanted to help him. During his past, you reached out each time. There is nothing you can do about that now, but the future and the present… you still have a choice.”

Laying a hand on your unmoving body, there was a slight resistance, but with just a bit more pressure you felt as if you could phase through it entirely.

“What do I need to do,” you asked the entity.

“Live.”

You furrowed your brow at that. Of course you wanted to live… right? The entity gestured for your hand, you obliged. Against your palm was an oddly soft feeling. Warm. Like a mother’s touch against your’s. Your palms pressed together, the entity spoke,

“May the goddess Gaiathra close HER eyes three times… Keep your blood eternally pulsing… Let your journey be forever peaceful… …and your schemes forever concealed."

You lifted your head and your “body” began to disappear similar to how Kakavasha disappeared. Just before you disappeared into sparks of golden light, you had the sense about you to ask:

“Who are you?” you felt like you were shouting, but your voice was quiet.

“You could call me Fenge Biyos.”

You opened your eyes with a deep gasp for air. Your surroundings were blurry, and you rubbed at your eyes, only to realize Kakavasha was up, standing next to your hospital bed with an anxious expression, hands already grasping the one that was wiping crust from your eyes.

“You’re awake,” he choked out, holding you as if you would break, “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I did this to you that I—”

“Kakavasha, slow down, what… why are you—no, don’t be sorry,” you finally found your words, sitting foward on the bed to wrap your arms around him. You racked your brain, trying to figure out what was going on. Your mind was still foggy, but finally that haze disappated and you remembered everything leading up to now.

“Kakavasha~” you hummed in a song-like tone, a small wrapped box with a blue and purple bow tied around it. You skipped over to his desk and wrapped your arms around his shoulders where he sat, and placed the gift in front of him, laying your head on his shoulder as your arms tightly hugged him. “I have a surprise.”

He smiled with a small laugh, “Doesn’t this usually work the other way around?” He pecked a kiss onto your check before pulling the bow off and opening the lid of the box, when he froze.

The smile on your face faltered bit when he didn’t say anything after a bit. The corners of it tightened into a more forced position, “Kakavasha? You’re gonna be a papa…”

The joy in his face from earlier had completely vanished. Only replaced by a stony, cold, poker face. He pushed his chair back and you stumbled into the wall behind. He gave you a tight smile and kissed your forehead before heading for the door and grabbing his hat. “I’ll be back later.”

With that, the door slammed shut behind him, leaving you at a loss as you fell into his chair, feeling suddenly so very empty in this large office alone.

He came back after that, apologetic for leaving you, but nothing felt truly right. He continued to reassure you that he did want to have this child, but it was a strenous time. The entire pregnancy was stressful. The doctors warned you that the level of stress you were under put you at risk for a premature birth, but you brushed them off. It was just the hormones, you were sure. Kakavasha still loved you. The ring on your finger should’ve been proof enough of that.

“How about the name Ilyas?” you suggested, laying your head on Kakavasha’s lap, “I was… looking at some databases about Avgin names and I thought that one was nice. What do you think?”

Aventurine hummed, but his mind seemed elsewhere. You let it go.

The next few months continued on in similar fashion.

But it all came to a head.

The two of you were standing in the kitchen. It had started off small. The hormones and the stress were getting to you. It was an off hand comment about him not fixing dinner, and you were tired and hungry from carrying around his child.

From there it had escalated. It turned into you were tired of feeling like you were walking on eggshells when you talked about the pregnancy. About how he was barely around for the appointments, and when he was he seemd emotionally distant… finally he exploded

“I never asked for this!” he shouted. “When did I ever say I wanted to be a father? Did you even ask me? Did you think about what I felt about this whole thing at all?”

You paused, feeling tears well up in your throat as a white-hot fear flashed through your body. You laughed, a hollow sound, “I’m sorry, Aventurine, I thought it took two people to make a baby? And you certainly made no attempt to use protection.”

He didn’t have anything to say about that. Even though the argument seemed over, you felt a nauseous feeling crawling up in your throat. Your tears felt like acid burning through your skin. Then a pain in your stomach. Your knees gave out and the last thing you remember was the scared expression on Kakavasha’s face before it all went dark.

“I was scared…. I was so scared that bringing another Avgin into this world would only bring misfortune onto you… that Gaiathra Triclops would take you from our child, just like my mother was taken from me,” he openly cried into your shoulder. “I took it out on you. I made something that should’ve been a beautiful experience something that was awful, and I understand… if you never forgive me for that but please…. please don’t leave.”

Now you were crying with him, one hand tangled in his blond locks and the other rubbing his back. Quietly, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, “I can’t lose you too.”

You thought for a long time. In front of you wasn’t one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC. Not a calculating or cunning man, who’s only interest was in things that benefited the IPC’s bank accounts. In front of you was a broken man, who’d had everything stripped away from him when he was only a child. Who was shattered and forced to put his life back together with nothing but fear and anxiety as glue.

Did it excuse what he'd broken?

No.

“I’m here… I won’t leave Kakavasha,”

But maybe with time and effort, you could help re-glue each other with something a little more beautiful.

“Ilyas! Don’t run so far!” you called after a small blond haired child who was already ahead of you by a longshot, you turned exasperatedly to your husband, “Honey, can you go after him please? I don’t want him to get trampled by some idiot who’s not paying attention…”

The man only smiled at you, one hand firmly wrapped around your ever expanding waist, “It’s okay. There’s some of my squad that’s following him incognito. He won’t get out of our sights without them dragging him back. We can let him get his energy out. He’ll be cooped up in a hospital soon.”

You huffed conceded. Already tired from just getting through the theme park’s entrance. You were due in about two weeks, but Kakavasha was insistent that a week before you’d be under hospital supervision until you brought your second child into the world. It had taken about five years before the two of you had healed enough and there were roadbumps along the way… but you were both ready to give Ilyas a little sister.

But for now, the two of you wanted to let Ilyas have one more day as an only child. The reconstructed Penacony was nothing like the Dreamscape of the past. Fear and secrets no longer were trapped in the gilded cage of the former prison planet. With the help of the IPC and the Harmony, New Penacony was entirely real. No more dreams, just reality. They’d kept many of their old franchises and built a true theme park.

“Mama!! Picture! Let’s get a picture here before we go in!” Ilyas screeched, pointing at Clockie statue in front of the Clock Studios main attraction. You set a hand on Kakavasha’s arm, glancing up at him to try to get a read on what he was feeling. He’d let you in on the parts of his past that he’d kept a secret. The scheme behind Penacony, his proposed “death” and his encounter with his Past and Future.

He took a breathe and looked back down at you, giving you a smile that said “I’m okay” and relief flooded your bones. After walking you over in front of the camera, he crouched down and scooped Ilyas into his arms.

“Ready?” the cameraman asked and you nodded. After a brief countdown the camera flashed, and for a moment in that bright light, you saw the hopeful future that lied ahead.

[catawonkus]

The titanic discourse has been interesting and reminded me of something I already knew: on the internet, you’re not talking to the same person you’re arguing with.

It’s like: Person A posts “what a crazy thing but i feel sorry for them”; Person B replies “I don’t! I hate billionaires. I hope they die terribly and are banging on the sides of the metal begging as they die in agony” (a paraphrase of a comment I saw)

Person C sees this, thinks, holy shit, that’s a terrible thing to take joy out of imagining, but doesn’t respond.

Then person D makes a sort of tasteless meme, or whatever. Person E makes an actual funny meme.

Person C is still thinking about B and so makes a post being like “some of you need to be more compassionate; these are real people”

Person F is super into the critiquing of the lack of safety and cares deeply for the preservation of the titanic. They see D, E, and then C’s post but not B’s comment. They make a post. “No one is saying we want them to die!! We’re just pointing out the irony and critiquing it!”

And it just kind of spirals until people who are seeing news articles like “explorers and heroes are mourned” are making posts like “anyone calling for sympathy is a bootlicker and are ignoring the other tragedies like the Greek boat!!” In response to the articles. But it’s seen by people who are calling for kindness because they’ve seen horrible comments.

And people who are perfectly fine with critique but not with ghoulish comments wishing horrible death on people are offended because they’ve been called a traitor to the working class. And people who posted a funny meme are offended because they’ve been called a monster. Or at least they both think so.

Because in your head, you are arguing with one person, but it’s being seen by everyone; and some of those people have seen stupid or horrible things in the opposite direction and they are arguing with that. But it looks like they’re arguing with you.

Especially on tumblr, where most arguments are shouted into the void.

Anyway this was such a ramble. But I always have to remind myself of this.

[tiredsmashbros]

Memories : part one

2k words ; tsb fanfic

the battle was intense. that's all smg4 could think about. chest tightens while engulfed in fear as he dodges the attacks of a giant mallet aiming at him. barely escaping the impact by an inch. the mallet belonging to non other than the person who has been impacting smg4's life into a spiral of endless stress. the suspicious behavior pattern, lack of consideration of others, unrealistic cartoon language and logic, and even his mysterious background are what made smg4 legs shake. yet the fellow still showed acts of kindness, thoughtfulness, a sense of genuine... nothing made sense! what's worse, smg4 never expected anything weird coming from this guy from their first introduction, he genuinely was quite excited for a new friend who seemed so silly, and intrigued by the memes he shared. yet... here he was now. fighting what felt like for his life. he didn't know what to do but be on the defensive side as he grew tired and weak. doing his best to sustain stamina as the yellow, blue maniac wasn't even breaking a sweat.

"stop this man! this isn't like you!" smg3 shouted, in the hope of verbally knocking some sense into the propeller-wearing individual, despite already countless efforts beforehand. striking a punch on tsb's face, losing his grip on his mallet.

"you don't know him." the body of tsb responded, his voice giving an unusual echo, eyes narrowed exposing his brown iris, accompanied by an uncanny smile that spread across his face. letting out a childish chuckle, tsb pulls his head back and strikes onto smg3 with a head-butt move. receiving a pained groan in response to the quick attack. smg4 rushed over to aid smg3 from falling over, standing beside his guardian partner, yearning to protect him but fueled with caution of the maniac man in front of them.

"let's try our meme powers again!" smg4 suggested to smg3, catching his breath in between.

"that method is futile." tsb spoke, almost monotone, his head dripping from the side of his shoulder, "you are too tired. you don't have enough energy to input something effective." he added.

smg3 clicked his tongue, eyes filled with anger yet with a touch of sorrow. seeing tsb talk and act this way made smg3 feel uneasy. something felt off by the way he spoke and the usage of vocabulary. his mind clouded with memories, being reminded of the silly obnoxious man that would bounce out of nowhere, someone he'd spent having long talks of comfort, a bro to always be there to help... to now him aiming to beat him down till he couldn't stand on either foot. "he's right," smg3 softly spoke, "nothing we do will work. we can't beat him..." smg3 added in a defeated tone.

"finally that's progress into your head!" tsb exclaimed, adding in a child-like giggling, giving the two guardians chills down their spines. till suddenly a lightbulb sparked inside smg4.

"wait that's it!" smg4 said. "into your head!"

"what in the hell are you-" smg3 spoke, but he was interrupted by his hand being pulled away by his blue counterpart.

puzzled yet intrigued, tsb grins and starts the chase after the smg's. staying somewhat close behind, but far enough to make the chase more of a game instead. dragging his body unnaturally on purpose.

smg3 got a hold of his stance, running behind smg4 but flustered by the sudden hand grab turned into holding. "b-baka! w-where are we-"

"while i was locked up by tsb and by that weird pink sand time guy," smg4 interjected, "right before you guys found me i was starting my escape when i accidentally stumbled upon watching him put a weird helmet device onto tsb's head." the two running out of the dark void they were formally at, to a slim hallway of the same black stardust material on the walls, floor, and ceiling. "and that is relevant how?" smg3 queried, puzzled, taking a mental note of tsb following them behind. yet tsb wasn't close enough to listen to the smg's conversation.

"that helmet device is the key! i overheard that sand guy its used to go into memories of mortals!"

"so why did he put one on tsb? to manipulate and control him or some shit?"

"m-maybe? i don't know yet! but it's our ticket to hopefully stopping this rampage of his before that cartoon legit kills us! you're close with him, maybe you can try punching his chaotic shit out of his mind?" smg4 quizzed.

"pfftha! that i can do!" smg3 cheered, a smirk blooming across his face. becoming aware of the possibility of potentially saving his friend who may be mind-controlled, it just made sense! the tsb he knew would never act this strange or dangerous. an observation thought the purple guardian kept to himself, fully aware of what his partner may have opinionated if spoken aloud. smg3 may love his guardian partner, but he knows for a fact from the small crescent of his emo heart who tsb truly is as an individual. even if smg3 lacks personal background and proof to support his belief, he would curse smg4's name for believing it. he only hopes that one day smg4 could realize for himself, how wrong he is about the silly looney toon. only time could tell as smg4 continued to lead them to what seemed like an endless dream space. seeing the same black void tingled confusion in his mind, it felt like an illusion even seeing the same thing repeatedly. his eyes giving a sense of lost in reality.

finally, smg4 jerked into an open room of an iron door, a space surrounded by chalkboards, paper, technology equipment, and science shenanigans smg3 took note of. smg4 immediately began searching for one of the helmet devices he mentioned, successfully within seconds smg4 found it and held it high in accomplishment. it was shaped and looked like a thick, solid helmet made for riding bicycles, painted all white accompanied by a red, yellow, and blue stripe down the center of the headwear. immediately, smg4 began searching for a second one to complete the mind transaction process. just as he does, tsb creepily walks in announcing his entrance, "back by popular demand...ME!" the 'me' delivered in an almost demonic-like vocal expression.

smg3 let out a small cry in surprise, retreating to smg4's side, praying now that smg4 was right about this plan. "alright 3, you grab ahold of him as best you can in a still position so i can input this on top of his stupid head!" smg4 ordered, moving to the side cautiously eyeing tsb.

smg3 nodded, "got it." he spoke not as enthusiastic as before, as he began to mentally prepare to hold that crazy cartoon maniac down after already a long fighting session as his life seriously depended on it. he prepped his stance, knees bent down at a 90-degree angle, spreading his legs for a wider range. "come on now then, big boy! show daddy how much you love him!" smg3 shouted, fanning his hands as a motion to invite tsb to come at him.

tsb manically laughed, full sprinting and pouncing at smg3 letting out a fnaf 2 foxy jumpscare scream. immediately the two began wrestling hitting and smacking down tables and chairs that flooded the room, papers flying above as cords being detached were heard. smg3 attempts to land punches to only then be received with a bite on his arm instead. smg3 bit his lip in an attempt to hold in his screams of pain and instead used it as the perfect opportunity to flip their positions with smg3 now on top of him. pressing his arm further back into tsb's mouth to stabilize him with his head in an upward locked position, despite the bottom half of his body being twisted the other way due to his unnatural body physics. using his other hand to aggressively stabilize tsb's hands, whereas his foot locked down tsb's legs.

smg4 stood on the sidelines, patiently and anxiously waiting for smg3 to hold the cartoon still, and just as his partner did smg4 rushed in without a second thought placing the device on top of tsb's head. swiftly removing tsb's propeller hat to prevent it from getting in the way. remembering how the pink sand man did it on him by pressing a black button on the side to activate it. after it was finally set on tsb's head, smg4 took a step back watching as the man pinned on the ground attempted to remove the helmet to no avail.

"now what!?" smg3 yelled with a struggled tone, growing anxiously impatient and mentally screaming in agonizing pain, grinding his teeth hard as tsb only dug his teeth deeper into the purple guardian's arm urgently attempt for freedom.

"okay, okay, i just need you to hold your head still and i'll place the second helmet on you so you can mind travel into his crazy brains or whatever!" smg4 hurriedly said, just as panicked as his guardian partner. swiftly grabbing the second helmet he had behind him and rushing towards back to smg3.

however, tsb did not like the plan these partnered guardians were cooking up. this time, putting all his energy into brute force to twist smg3 down to the opposite side of smg4's path to prevent him from putting the helmet on.

the purple meme guardian screamed in agony as his head harshly hit the floor, his body positioned awkwardly to be kept down by tsb. smg4 jolted from the sudden change of control and stood frozen in fear. to tsb's misfortune, smg3 was still holding onto tsb's hands enough to continue to prevent him from manually removing the helmet. yet the catch was there was no safe possible way to input the helmet onto smg3's head without tsb interfering.

"smg3! i-i can't find a safe spot to put the helmet on you!" smg4 said worriedly, fearful of his plan coming to a defeat. it couldn't end like this, he needed to think of something! tsb only laughed to himself, concluding by default victorious without the consideration of smg3 coming to a concluded thought. a thought that not only would help them win on top but a thought that may finally answer his prayers for the person he cared most to finally understand.

"s-smg4," the purple counterpart started, "YOU have to put the helmet on!" this suggestion surprised both his partner and the animated cartoon. "you can't put it on me, but it's not impossible for you to put it on yourself. YOU got to go inside this dumb dr. pepper loving asshole's brains and fix him!"

"i-i can't do that!" smg4 stuttered, shaking anxiously realizing the aim smg3 was getting at.

"yes you can! you can do it for me or for hell's sake do it for tari! she needs out help! we can't waste anymore time smg4!" smg3 exclaimed impatiently.

"i don't know how-"

"NEITHER DO I!" smg3 bursted, "but you trust and believe in me enough to do it anyways from the start! i trust and believe right back at you man." smg4 stood idly shocked, and to his surprise so did tsb. catching himself staring into tsb's eyes, they were still narrowed like before but... this time he could see a white arrow-shape glimmer in them. it almost felt like he was pleading for him to do so, to put on the helmet... but why? as if lost time on a timer, tsb's eyes reeled back to maniac mode, and resumed his attempt to freed himself from smg3's bearable grasp. "DO IT NOW FOUR!" smg3 yelled as he pushed in all his remaining energy to hold tsb down.

in a hesitant instance, smg4 removed his hat and put the helmet on. "NOOO!" screamed tsb in a higher echoed pitch, an unrecognized voice that didn't belong to tsb. with one more glance at his best friend, the two meme guardians gave each other an agreeable nod as smg4 pushed the button. with one final physical motion as smg4 could hear the technology within the helmet activate, smg4 raised his arm up, and gave a thumbs up.

to be continued...

...

...

...

fri: “watchman” was an outworldly entity, one could even label a god, but they were much more than that. an entity by physical appearance built up by particles of pink fluidity sand. as if a piece had its own consciousness. watchman was a playful being, understood empathy, sympathized with others, and yearned to nurture those suffering in pain. romantical pain even. always watching love play… always… watching… tick tock. 

[dancingtotuyo]

5. sleep the hours that i can't weep

Woman | Joel Miller

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You have a rough day

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (Reader is 42, Joel is 56). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: Grief, depression, sadness,

Notes: huge shout out to my beta readers @fhatbhabie and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin I love you both so much! and I appreciate the time you've taken to help me with this story.

Words: 2711

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

Two Months Later 

It wakes up with you, the heavy weight that dulls your senses making you feel removed from the world. The bed feels colder, and emptier, like you’re staring into a void. You miss Gabe and his warm smile waking you up. You miss the laughter ever present in his eyes. 

Your hand reaches out, fingers spreading over the pillow, his scent long gone. You sigh, eyes closing with the few tears that escape. You pull the covers up, tucking it under your chin. The grief washes over you. 

Your bedroom door clicks open. There is a soft patter of little feet on hardwood. Carter’s small hands clutch the sheets as he pulls himself up, slipping into the vacant space. Warm palms touch your cheeks. You open your eyes to be greeted by the same eyes you miss. Only, they’re smaller. 

“Morning, Mommy!” He smacks a wet kiss on your cheek. 

“Good morning, Baby Boy,” A smile reaches your lips. Your arms wrap around his small frame, pulling him into your arms. You pepper his face with kisses as he giggles, covering his eyes with his hands. “Did you sleep well?”

Carter nods, snuggling further into you. He provides you with a warmth your body can’t seem to produce and the July morning doesn’t chase away. You inhale deeply as the grief settles in again. Double this time, as Carter’s namesake floats through your brain. You know the date well. The birthday of both your brothers. Blake and Carter. The day you spend thinking about Carter. His lifeless body flashes before your eyes. The day you were left alone in the world. 

It’s the day you spend wondering if Blake might still be out there, and your parents. Most of the time, you accept that they’re all gone. Today is the exception. It got harder when Tommy showed up. It gave you hope for maybe. 

“I think we’re gonna stay in bed for a little bit. How does that sound?” 

He doesn’t respond, but you don’t expect him to. He’s content in your arms. You don’t have to go to the clinic today. You won’t. They’ll come get you if you’re needed so the two of you stay snuggled under the covers late into the afternoon. 

Joel’s voice pulls you out of your hazy nap. Your limbs feel warm and stiff in a good way. Carter shifts beside you, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead as it always does when he sleeps. Your eyes blink open, Joel’s solid frame slowly coming into focus as he leans against the door frame. 

“Hey…” Your limbs extend as you stretch your muscles. 

He smiled softly, drawing to the edge of the bed. “You weren’t at the clinic. I was worried something happened.”

“We just needed a day in bed.” Your hand brushes over Carter’s head. 

The mattress dips with Joel’s weight. He smiles at Carter’s sleeping form. “Everything okay?” He notes your puffy eyes, red from your previous tears. 

You’re tempted to shrug it off and keep the information to yourself, but this is Joel. You’re working on opening yourself up to him. 

“It’s Blake and Carter’s birthday today. It just makes me think about my family.”

Joel nods, hand running up and down your covered calf. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

You pull yourself into a seated position. Joel smiles, running a hand over your cheek where tears had run hours earlier, though it felt like they’d hardly stopped. “I must look like a mess.” 

You wipe your nose with the back of your hand. The heaviness still rests on your shoulders, but some of the weight has lifted. It doesn’t feel as close as it did this morning. 

“Maybe just a little bit,” Joel chuckles, holding up a small space between his thumb and pointer finger. You smack his bicep. 

“Rude.” but a smile pushes its way onto your face. 

His deep chuckle fills the room. “I’d like to stay if that’s okay. Maybe make you dinner?” 

You nod. “I’d like that.”

He kisses your forehead softly, thumb caressing your cheek. The afternoon sun pours through your bedroom window flickering off floating dust particles. Carter’s head is heavy in your lap. You know he’s going to stay up all night. You have no idea how he’s stayed in bed with you all day. 

“Good.” He hums.

Your stomach rumbles, loud enough for Joel to hear. He tilts his head your way. Carter shoots up, looking at you through narrow eyes. “Hungry Mommy.”

“We might need to eat dinner at 3 pm.”

Joel chuckles. “I can make that happen.” He eases off the bed. Carter follows his lead stringing sounds together in the process. You get the impression he would like to help. “I agree, bud. Mom could definitely use a shower.” 

You scowl. 

“And her teeth brushed.” 

You cross your arms in protest but the body odor fills your nostrils. Crinkling your nose, you try to ignore it, but can’t. “That’s not very flattering of you.”

“No- but it’s honest.” Joel winks. “You take a shower. You’ll feel better, and Carter and I will make food.”

Carter nods, crossing his arms over his chest. You can’t help but giggle at your toddler. “Okay, okay.” You throw your hands up, and another wave of body odor. “But I expect dinner to be on the table when I’m done.”

“Aye, aye.” Joel salutes you. Carter copies, making you laugh more. 

The two of them leave you to prepare a meal. Your stomach growls again as you pull yourself out of bed. 

Once you’re in the shower, the tears spill again, mingling with the scalding water of your shower. It’s one of those days when you wonder, why you? Why did you get to live? Why did you have to lose so many people? Blake, Gabe, Carter, your parents, their faces all flash in your minds, some more blurry than others. There are more faces and names still. The people you’ve lost since the outbreak, the people you couldn’t save. The weight compounds, threatening to break you, yet you’re still here. You’re still standing. 

 Eventually, the hot water dries up and so do the tears. 

Joel is right. The shower helps. Despite the bloodshot eyes staring back at you in the mirror, you feel like a new person, your body scrubbed clean from all the sweat and tears. Steam still drifts through the bathroom as you pull on your clean clothes. Your breath smells like mint and your skin like lavender. 

Dinner is almost ready when you make your way downstairs, but the warm smells drift through your home. Ellie’s voice joins Joel and Carter’s as Carter shows Ellie where to find the correct dishes. It pulls a tired smile to your lips. She comes and goes these past few months, not sure where she belongs as you and Joel settle into whatever you are. You always make space at your table for her. 

“Looks like I should’ve taken longer.” You tease. 

Joel smiles, handing you a cup of water. It’s cool on your tongue, feeding your dehydrated body. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” 

You refill the cup, taking your time with the second glass. 

“Nurse Lady,” Ellie says. “I’ve got a question for you.”

“She’s got a name,” Joel glances Ellie’s way.

She looks at you with an eyebrow raised. You shake your head, winking at her. “Hopefully I’ve got an answer for you,” Joel mutters under his breath. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering…” Ellie chews on her lip, her frame showing less confidence than it did seconds ago. “Do you think- Never mind.” She shakes her head. “Forget I said anything.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Well hold on. Now you’ve got my curiosity piqued. What is it?”

Ellie’s eyes dart from you to Joel, back to you, and then to the floorboards. Her boot scuffs at the hardwood. 

“Ellie,” Joel says. 

She sighs. “I know you don’t have a lot of equipment or anything, but…” She stops for a second, seeming to weigh the words in her head. “But I was wondering if you could look at my blood. Just to see if you can find anything in it.”

“Ellie… I-” You say.

“I know it’s a long shot.”

You search for the right words. There are none. There wasn’t a cure for fungus before- and even if there were- you didn’t have the tools or even the abilities, but she looks at you with so much hope and need. 

“The fireflies said there wasn’t a cure,” Joel says, shortly. “And they had a bunch more resources than Jackson.”

“I know but-”

“There’s no cure, Ellie. Let it be.” Joel snaps. 

Ellie looks at you, her stubborn streak kicking in even as the hope in her eyes dwindles. You can’t tell her no. You won’t give her false hope, but you won’t tell her no. 

“Look…” You glance at Joel and then back to her. “There was no cure for this kind of infection before. I don’t have the tools or the knowledge or training or any of the shit you need to create any kind of cure.” Ellie’s shoulders fall as she waits for the inevitable. “But if you come to the clinic tomorrow- I’ll take some blood.”

“Really?” A spark returns to her eyes. You feel Joel’s mood shift behind you, gathering the impression that he is not a fan of this idea. 

“Yes, but please don’t expect anything. Okay? About all I can do is look at it under the microscope.”

Ellie nods, but you see the excitement growing in her small frame despite your warning. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Joel says, pulling a pan off the stove. 

You look at him, but he’s focused on transferring the food to a serving bowl.  Deep lines set in his forehead. You don’t even have to ask to know that he doesn’t like this. You just hope it won’t hurt Ellie more when it doesn’t work out.  

Joel loosens up throughout your early dinner, and by the time you finish up, he’s laughing. You feel warm and fuzzy like you’re riding a nice buzz. It’s a welcome change from this morning and the weight this day carries. In some ways, it reminds you of the family dinners growing up as you celebrated your twin brothers’ birthday, laughter and smiles filling the room until it spills into the outdoors. 

Eventually, Carter pulls Ellie off to his room, blabbering on about cars and space. Their playing echoes off the wall of your home as you help Joel with the dishes. It’s a welcome change. It reminds you of all your stolen plans. Two kids- three if biology would allow it- and a house so contagious with love and laughter it infected the whole street. The old dream is like a siren's call lulling you out further and further in until you drown. Oddly enough, you don’t care. The slight spike in your anxiety is quickly overridden by Joel’s easy presence. 

He hands you another dish to dry. “You gonna tell me why you’re upset I agreed to look at Ellie’s blood?”

“I’m not upset.” Joel bristles slightly, but you keep your eyes trained on him. You know he’ll tell you. He cares too much about Ellie not to. “Don’t want to get her hopes up is all.”

“Bull shit.”

He sighs, rinsing another plate before handing it to you. “You didn’t have to tell her last time it didn’t work.” He pauses. He won’t meet your eyes as he shifts from foot. You feel like he’s withholding something, trying to decide what he should tell you. “She looked like there wasn't a reason for her to be here anymore. She’s been off since we got back because of it, and you just ignited that spark again.”

“And what if it works, Joel?” You don’t believe it will, not for a second, but Joel’s attitude makes you defensive.

“And when I have to deal with the fallout again?”

“I set beyond reasonable expectations.”

“And she brushed them aside.” Joel’s words start to rise in volume. 

You match it. “She said It herself. She knows it’s a long shot.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“What’s this really about? This feels like a lot more than protectiveness.” You cross your arms. 

Joel sighs, rubbing his temples with sudsy hands. “I don’t remember you being this stubborn 20 years ago.”

The words set off a wildfire inside you. Heat spreads inside your chest, eyes growing wide with rage. “A lot changes in 20 years.” You throw the dish towel down. It smacks against the counter with a solid thwack.  

You storm out of the house, seeking the calming effects of the outdoors. The ups and downs of the day hit you like a semi-truck. Your knees buckle, sending you to the stairs. You don’t feel like crying, but you sit there with your head in your hands, reeling. 

You’re not sure what exactly about Joel’s words set you off. The expectation of being the same person you were before the world ended? Or the disregard for everything you’d been through in the past two decades? Or maybe it was the fact that it was just an asshole thing to say. 

After a few minutes, when your heart rate returns to normal and the angry heat has begun to seep out of your body, Joel eases next to you. You keep your eyes pinned straight ahead. 

Neither of you speak. A breeze sneaks around you, raising goosebumps. A couple of kids play in the street a few houses down. A bird chirps, hopping across the ground in search of grubs. It chirps and flits up to its nest where you know 3 baby birds lay. 

Joel inhales deeply, rubbing his hands together. “I’m sorry… for what I said.”

“I can’t live with expectations of being who I was 20 years ago, Joel.”

“I know, and that’s not fair of me.”

You nod, unsure of your next words. You’re going to forgive him, you already know that. His warm hand settles over your knee. He squeezes it softly and you can’t help but lean into him a little bit more. “I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Joel stiffens a little bit. He tries to hide it, but you’re starting to pick up on his mannerisms again. They’ve hardly changed in 20 years. 

You place a hand over his. “You don’t have to tell me what it is if you don’t want to.” You finally look at him, gathering his strong profile. 

His Adam's apple bobs slowly. He’s told you a lot these past couple of months as you lay in bed. Sometimes, you stayed quiet as he talked about what he did to survive, and things inside the QZ, sometimes you joined in, but you know there’s more to his story. There’s more to your own story. 

“One day.” He says. “Not now.”

It’s enough for now. It’s more than enough really. He’s already further than you thought you would let someone in again. 

“Okay.” 

He leans over, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Wanna go for a walk?”

You shake your head. “Not tonight.” 

He furrows his brow. You stand up, holding your hand out. Taking it, he rises to his feet following you back inside. Bare feet pad against the hardwood floor. Ellie and Carter’s conversation drifts down the stairs filling you with a sense of comfort you’ve never felt before. You turn on the old record player and a warped copy of Rumours, skipping to the second track. It was one of the few things you brought with you from your grandparent’s house when you moved into this pocket of remaining civilization. The volume is up just enough to set the atmosphere. 

Joel sits on your couch and you ease beside him, feet tucked under you with your head on his shoulder. His fingers brush along your shoulder. The grief you woke up with still lingers. Between the low hum of Dreams, Ellie and Carter’s faint noise, and Joel’s breathing, your eyes droop. For the first time next to Joel, slumber calls your name, and you answer. 

[icarusdescending7]

Aquamarine - Chapter 3

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Your fiancé died seven years ago, and you joined the military in his wake to fill the void his death put on you. Now, you work with the 141 for an assignment, hunting associates of their enemies.

Their Lieutenant, however, given you an uneasy feeling. You have a vague sense of familiarity with him, but from where?

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

You sighed as you stared up at the ceiling, replaying the day's events over and over. What a… stressful first day. First, the other Lieutenant doesn’t like you, then the gift your fiancé gave you breaks, and you get the shards in your hand and have to have Soap help you pull them out. What a mess. You clenched your hand a little, sighing at the feeling of the wounds splitting open. These are the days you wish he were still- you need to stop thinking about him. He’s dead and gone. In the past. If only it were that simple. But it is that simple. It really isn’t. It is. It’s not.

You rolled over, glancing at the clock, and sighed— 1 am. You buried your face into the pillows and immediately relaxed. Your brow furrowed for only a moment before you fell asleep. The smell of citrus and cedar lulled you away to the best sleep you’d known in years.

~~

You were lying on the ground, a thick dust clouding up around you as you struggled to regain your senses, the sound of thundering boots approaching you, grabbing you by your vest, and attempting to pull you up. Keyword: attempting. You were quickly dropped as a red mist hit your cheek, the hulking man before you with a newfound hole in his head. He collapsed on top of you, and you were quick to shove his corpse off, the drop shaking you back to reality.

“Too close, Ghost.” You grumbled into your earpiece, wiping the blood off your face with the back of your hand. You recovered your rifle and shouldered it, moving to take cover.

“You’re getting sloppy. Did you eat when we told you to?” He asked, another gunshot coming over his mic. “I have a feeling you didn’t. I can see it, in the way you’re shaking.” He said, a hint of annoyance in his voice— which wasn’t lost on you.

“I meant that you almost got me too with that shot. Did you eat?” You asked, annoyed, “Why do you care? Christ, you sound like my fiancé. Always on my ass about eating…” You mumbled, turning to move forward, finally hitting the door you were trying to get to and shooting the lock off. You swapped to your sidearm, dropping low as you entered, waiting for Soap to catch up.

“What, we can’t be concerned for our teammate's health?” Soap’s voice came in over the comms, breathless like he’d been running. “We cannae do a ton with you operatin’ at fifty percent, can we?” He slipped in through the door, giving Ghost an indirect thumbs-up as he did.

“Right, because me being a little hungry is so much worse than you dodging bullets at every opportunity you get.” You rolled your eyes, looking at him. “Look at you, you’re covered in scrapes and gashes… Ghost, you got our six while we’re in here?” You asked, poking your head out and looking for the glint of his scope.

It takes him a minute to respond, then a raspy “Yeah, got an eye out.” rung in your ears.

~

“Soap! You done planting those C4 yet? We got to get the fuck outta here!” You shouted, ripping the hard drives and USB sticks from the computers you found, hoping something might be useful beyond what you were sent after. You quickly shoved it all in your pack, running down the hall and dipping into the room he sat in.

“Yeah, lass! Let’s go!” He said, grabbing your arm and dragging you along as fast as possible to get out. At some point, you ended up in a fireman carry over his shoulder, being shaken about as he ran like a bat out of hell. You let it happen, not trying to run when you could barely see straight.

He dropped you on the ground face down, a puff of dirt kicking up around you. You got up on your knees, shrugging your pack off your shoulders, and flopped onto your back, trying to cool your pulse. You were shaking like a leaf. No, you didn’t eat. Before you could fully recover, your pack was snatched off the ground by Soap and you were quickly picked up by Ghost, who carried you much more delicately if not a bit tight— bridal style. The three of you booked it, the sound of trucks rumbling on the dirt path, getting closer with each second.

After an hour of running, the three of you finally settled in a dense patch of woods, taking a moment to breathe. Before you could think, they both shoved energy bars in your face, their expressions mildly annoyed.

“Eat.” Ghost nearly demanded, opening the bar and shoving it in your mouth when you went to protest. “I’m done carryin’ your ass around.” He huffed, leaning back against a tree and closing his eyes.

Soap closed his eyes, also leaning against a tree. “Where are we, now? We must’ve missed evac by a mile by now.” He sighed, pulling a satellite GPS out of his bag. “Sorry, two miles.”

You finished eating the bar that Ghost gave you, swallowing the last bite. You took Soaps GPS, fiddling with it for a moment before locking it on a clearing about 4 miles north of you. “We could make our way there, send the coords to Watcher?” You offered, handing it over to him and plucking the other energy bar from his hand.

He showed Ghost the suggested route, shrugging. “Could work.” Ghost only nodded, sighing a bit.

~

The car ride was quiet except for the grumble of the vehicle and the occasional bump making stuff roll across the steel floors. Soap had fallen asleep at some point and was snoring loudly, and you were fighting to stay awake.

“You should sleep.” Ghost's voice broke through the silence, making you jump a little.

“Don’t want to.” You said, looking at what you could see of him. It was dark in the cabin, so all but that creepy mask of his was in shadows. “You’re creepy.”

“So I’ve heard. You gonna fight sleep the whole way or…?” He questioned, turning to look at you. “If you don’t sleep now you won't get any until we get back to base.”

“I’ll sleep when I want to. Are you gonna sleep, or do you have the whole ‘I don’t sleep mehmehmeh’ vibe going on?” You asked, your joke making him huff in amusement.

“I don’t sleep. Not when I’m in the field.” He said, “Just sleep. You’re clearly fighting it, there's no use.” His hand came up to make you lean back to rest. You could only grumble before succumbing to sleep, your head lolling from the back of the seat over to his shoulder, despite the awkward distance between you two.

~~

He watched you as you raked the leaves from your yard into a pile, your focus waning slightly as you hit the same spot for the third time now. Simon went out, taking the rake from your hands and making you take a break.

“Did you eat, sweetheart? You look dizzy.” He asked, making you look up at him. Your eyes were unconcentrated, making him frown. “That’s a no. Go inside, love. I’ll finish up.” He kissed your forehead, sending you on your way.

“Was gonna finish this then do that, but sure, okay.” You grumbled, gently touching the spot where he kissed you. “Are there leftovers from breakfast?”

“Yeah. Go eat those. I’ll be in after a bit.” He called over his shoulder.

You went in and heated up the breakfast you made, taking the plate to the couch and watching him from the window. He’s so kind that you find it hard to believe that he’s a soldier. But then again, it was easy to believe he was a soldier. The scars across his arms and neck and face told all kinds of stories. Not ones you knew, of course, he would never in a million years tell you his tales of war. You were too precious to him, and he feared that you’d fear him instead of love him if you knew the horrors he witnessed and contributed to. But you knew. Even if they were vague hints and words of the ghosts that haunt him. You’d had to ground him from PTSD flashbacks on more than one occasion, and they were never pretty. After each and every one, he’d apologize, hold you close, call you his “pretty girl” and “love of my life”. He’d worry about making you go through that with him, even though you never minded.

You broke out of your trance when he sat his hand on your shoulder, making you turn up to look at him. His cheeks were rosy from the chill of the autumn air, and his hair was messy from his stocking cap. You sat up on the couch, pulling him to eye level and examining his face. You ran your fingers over scars you’d memorized, then found a new one.

“You have a new scar. How’d you get this one?” You asked, knowing you wouldn’t get a straight answer. You ran your fingers over it, bringing him closer to kiss it.

“A battle. Like most of the other scars. Nothin’ you need to worry about” He answered quietly. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to fuss over every new scar, you know.”

“Maybe not, but is that going to stop me? No. I need you to know that I love you, even with all your battle wounds.” You hummed, closing your eyes.

[arsenal-womens-1]

I see you in my reflection

Tw: self-harm guns shooting school death blood can’t think of anything else but please tell me if there is any more

“The most agonizing part of loving someone is not just missing them, but grappling with the void where they once filled your world.” - Unknown

6 months ago, you made the decision to move 3,459 miles away from home. You still haven't decided if it was the correct decision or not. You miss home, but at the same time, I will never step foot inside that country again.

Walking into the locker room, the room is filled with chatter. You're the youngest on the team, having just turned 15. You signed with Arsenal at 14, which makes you the youngest person in the WSL to sign a contract. Because of your age, you had to stay with a teammate or teammates. Beth and Viv had offered to let you stay with them; they were the best. You have nightmares at night a lot. Viv helped with the panic attacks that would happen after waking up. They didn't know about them for the first 4 months, then one night they found out.

“Come on, Lilly, keep your eyes open for me, keep them open.” Blood was everywhere; no matter the pressure you put on the wounds, it wouldn't stop. “Y/N, it’s okay, it’s okay. Go be a superstar, win all the trophies. Don’t give up on your dream.” The sound rings out again. You shoot up. It was just a dream; you know that it's not happening again, but the tightness in your chest won't go away. It feels like someone is sitting on your chest. Stumbling out of bed, holding onto the wall, the feeling gets worse. Somehow managing to get to the kitchen, grabbing a glass, filling it with water, you go to take a drink out of it. “Y/N, what are you doing up?” Beth's voice startles you, dropping the glass. A warm liquid runs down your shoulder. You look over to Lucy; she had been shot in the shoulder. Looking back down at Lilly, her eye held no life or color. “Breathe, kid. I need you to copy my breathing for me.” Viv's voice fills your ears. It feels like you're there: the coldness of the floor, the shouting, the sound of bullets being fired, the sound of people crying, people begging to be saved, the feeling of Lilly's body, the coldness of Lucy’s face, the smell of blood, the metallic taste in the air. “Come on, kid, copy my breathing.” The feeling of being moved into someone's lap brings you sort of back to reality. The sound of a heartbeat fills your ears; slowly your breathing slows down.

After the night, both of the women had asked you what had made you react like that. You hadn't told them; you hadn't told anyone. They had become protective of you a lot more after that night. It's February 2023. You stayed over at Leah's place with a few other people. You had a nightmare, which luckily wasn't that bad. You tried to get back to sleep after you woke up but couldn’t, so you went outside. That’s where you are now: headphones on, kicking the ball around as the sun rises. The feeling of something hitting you on the back startles you. Turning around, you spot Leah and Katie watching you. “Why did you throw something at me?” Walking up the steps into the house, you see everyone who stayed the night awake. “We tried to get your attention, but you didn’t hear us.” Sliding over the back of the couch, your shirt rolls up, which in turn shows your scars. Few look self-inflicted with how neat they are. There were 6 in total that you could see. One is circular. You pull the shirt down quickly, hoping nobody saw. Unaffectionately for you, most of the people saw. “What are we doing today?” You try to make them forget, but the people who saw just looked at each other. Leah was the first to respond. “We have media all day, kid.” By the time Leah had stopped talking, it seemed the people who saw decided not to bring it up just yet. “I’m sick, sorry, can’t do it today.” One thing everyone knows is that you hate media days. “You’re still going, kid. If Beth or Viv found out you didn’t go, we would all be dead.” She wasn’t wrong, but still. “Get ready; we need to leave in 30 minutes.” You just grumble as you walk up the stairs with the bag Beth had given you last night. Opening it, it was the Arsenal kit with an Arsenal jumper as well. The rest of the team get changed at the training ground, but you always get dressed at home. You go to the bathroom; there is a big mirror on the wall. You rarely look at yourself in the mirror or in pictures. You look up into the mirror, and all you see is Lucy. It may have been 5 years since that day, but all you see is her. The sound of the ambulance bangs against your head. Apparently, you had been shot 3 times: one time in the stomach and two times in the shoulder. The heart monitor sound fills your head. You were next to Lucy. The sound of the shocks fills your head. 3 minutes then, “Time of death 14:25 PM.” You stare at yourself in the mirror, trying to shake off the lingering images and sounds. The scars on your body are a constant reminder of what happened that day and for 4 years after. You try to focus on your reflection, to see the athlete you’ve become, but Lucy’s face keeps haunting you. You grip the edge of the sink, taking deep breaths, trying to get the images out of your head. Looking back in the mirror, you whisper, “I wish you were here. I like to think you're proud.” Pulling the clothes out, you get changed, looking at the scars on your body: your stomach, thighs, hips, and arms. You’re 5 months, 21 days self-harm free. There's always a voice in the back of your head that tells you to relapse. You have been close a few times, but you haven’t yet.

You button up your Arsenal kit, the familiar red and white fabric offering a small measure of comfort. You take one last look in the mirror, swallowing hard as you remind yourself why you’re here: to fulfill a dream that Lucy never got to see come true. A knock on your door snaps you out of your reverie. It’s Katie, her concern evident despite her attempts to keep a cheerful facade.

“Ready to go?” she asks, giving you a reassuring smile.

You nod, forcing a smile of your own. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

Walking out the door to the car, you put your AirPods in and put a random playlist on.

[cheynovak]

Between Power and Freedom

Part 5

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Shurley Female character     

Summary: Y/N, the ambitious daughter of a powerful CEO, grapples with her father's choices, while she secretly takes a job with Dean Winchester, the rugged CEO of a rival company. Sparks fly between Y/N and Dean as they navigate their growing attraction amid corporate rivalry and family pressure.

Warnings: This story will contain parts that are 18+!

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

I knew I had to come up with something soon before my dad lost his shit. It was only a matter of time before he started demanding answers about my progress with Dean and Winchester industries.

During our last phone call, I had explained how unstable Dean's life was with Jo—how their fights seemed to escalate and how much tension hung over him whenever she was around. I also casually mentioned how Dean had taken me to dinner with the investors and Chuck seemed pleased with the arrangement.

“Good work on that,” my dad had said, his voice cold and calculating. “Get more into Dean’s life. Manipulate him. Let him fall in love with you.”

“Yeah, right, like that’s something I’m capable of,” I shot back, rolling my eyes even though he couldn’t see me. “I have a master’s degree; I’m not Cupid.”

“Doesn’t matter. Figure it out, break it down from the inside ” he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I sighed, feeling the weight of his expectations pressing down on me. But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to agree, if only to keep the peace. So I decided to focus on my work like I used to, putting my energy into my job rather than dwelling on the complexities of my feelings for Dean.

Weeks passed, and it became painfully clear that Dean was intentionally putting distance between us. Whenever Jo was around, he acted as if I were air, completely ignoring me while plastering on a smile for her.

I tried to joke or get his attention, hoping to draw out the true Dean I had come to know, but nothing worked. It was like I was shouting into a void, and the more he shut me out, the more frustrated I became.

At work, I kept my head down, throwing myself into projects and trying to prove my worth to Bobby and the rest of the team. I hoped that maybe, just maybe, if I became indispensable enough, Dean would realize he needed me in his life—not just for work, but for something more personal.

But as the days turned into weeks, my attempts felt futile. Whenever Dean and Jo entered the office together, the atmosphere shifted. Jo had a way of commanding attention, her loud laughter and brash comments cutting through the air like a knife. Dean would respond to her every whim, and I was left on the sidelines, watching as the connection I thought we had faded into nothing.

One afternoon, I found myself alone in the break room, pouring a cup of coffee, when Sam walked in. He looked at me with concern, and I knew he could sense the tension in the air.

“Hey, Y/N, everything okay?” he asked, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, just peachy,” I replied, forcing a smile. Sam raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You sure? You’ve been quieter than usual. Is it about Dean?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “It’s never mind." Sam frowned, looking thoughtful. “You know, Dean has a lot going on with Jo. He’s dealing with... his own issues. Sometimes he just needs space.”

Space? I thought, the frustration bubbling over. What kind of space? I’m not trying to invade his life; I just want to be friendly. But it feels like I’m competing with her every single day.

But all I said was "sure".

Sam his voice calm. “He’ll come around when he’s ready. He's a good boss, but his personal life just mingles with work I guess.” I nodded, appreciating his advice but still feeling the sting of rejection. “Thanks, Sam."

As I stood there, staring into my coffee cup, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my situation was only going to get messier. I had a job to do, but my heart was tangled in a web of emotions that seemed impossible to untangle.

That evening, as I sat at my desk, I noticed Jo laughing in the hallway. It was a familiar scene, but tonight it hit harder. I clenched my jaw, feeling a mix of anger and sadness. I didn’t want to be this pawn in my father’s game, nor did I want to be the other woman, vying for Dean’s attention while Jo played the part of the doting girlfriend.

With a deep breath, I decided to focus on my work and push the feelings aside. I had to remind myself that I was capable, that I was more than just a pawn in someone else’s game. But as I glanced at Dean, I couldn’t help but wonder how long I could keep this up without losing myself in the process.

--

Another dinner at Bobby's made it painfully clear why Dean had changed.

Jo announced to everyone, with a beaming smile, that she was pregnant. I almost choked on my food, a mix of shock and disbelief flooding through me. I forced a congratulatory smile, clapping along with everyone else, but my heart sank.

Dean, on the other hand, seemed anything but pleased. He sat quietly, his expression unreadable, and I could feel the tension radiating off him like heat waves.

--

The next night, I found myself working late. I had thrown myself into my projects, trying to escape the reality of Dean’s new situation, but my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts.

Bobby asked Sam the come back but part time, he wanted me by his side. To share the same title. Sam thought it was a great idea, this way Bobby could train me until his retirement and I would get promoted earlier.

When I decided to leave my office, I noticed a light still on in Dean's office.

I hesitated for a moment before knocking softly on the door. “Hi,” I said, stepping inside. Dean looked up from his paperwork, his brows furrowing as he saw me.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice lacking its usual warmth. He looked downcast, his tie a little lose, his hair messy. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was spiraling. “What are you still doing here?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same thing. Did you have dinner yet?” I inquired, trying to keep my tone light. He sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “No, I tried to work through it, but I can’t seem to focus.”

“Is it Jo?” I ventured, surprised by my own boldness. Dean looked at me, surprise flickering across his face. “You noticed, huh?” I nodded slowly. “It’s just... I’ve seen... You don’t seem really thrilled about everything.”

He leaned back in his chair, the weight of his thoughts evident. “Just between you and me?” he asked, lowering his voice as if the walls themselves could hear.

“Of course,” I replied, stepping closer and closing the door behind me for privacy, even though we were probably the only two people in the building at this hour.

Dean took a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I don’t think I’m ready for kids,” he finally admitted, his voice strained. “I never pictured myself being a father, start a family, let alone with Jo. I just... I feel trapped.”

My heart ached at his words. I wanted to reach out and comfort him, to let him know he wasn’t alone in this turmoil. “Does she know?” I asked softly, afraid of his answer but needing to know.

He shook his head, frustration mingling with confusion. “No. I mean, how could I tell her? She’s so excited about it. I can’t just crush her like that.”

I took a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. “Dean, it’s not just about her. You have to think about what you want too. This is your life, and it’s a huge decision.”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I just… I don’t want to let anyone down."

I could see the conflict etched on his face, the struggle between duty and desire. I stepped closer to him, my heart pounding.

He locked eyes with me, and for a brief moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.

I felt a surge of hope as his gaze softened. “Still maybe you need to talk to Jo. She deserves to know how you feel, and you deserve to be honest with yourself.”

Dean sighed, his shoulders slumping. “You’re right. I just don’t know how to start that conversation. It’s going to break her heart.”

“I know it’s tough,” I said, my voice steady. He nodded slowly, the weight of my words settling over him. “Thanks, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I felt a warmth spread through me at his words, but I pushed it aside, reminding myself of the boundaries I needed to maintain. “You can always talk to me. I’m here for you,” I assured him.

We stood in silence for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words. I could feel the tension between us, a mix of comfort and longing, but I knew this wasn’t the right time to explore those feelings.

“How about I order some pizza, and I’ll help you with this?” I suggested, hoping to lighten the mood. Dean’s face brightened, and he nodded gratefully.

“Yeah, that would be great,” he said, pulling out his phone. I quickly ordered a couple of pizzas and settled back into the rhythm of work.

We tackled spreadsheets, analyzed figures, and brainstormed ideas for the upcoming projects. The hours flew by, and soon enough, we were both feeling the effects of long hours and stress.

After we wrapped up, I leaned back in the seat in the corner of his office, taking a deep breath to unwind. I kicked off my shoes, letting my bare feet rest on the table in front of me. Dean looked over with an amused smirk as he walked back with two glasses of bourbon in hand.

“Nice footrest you’ve got there,” he teased, handing me a glass. “Try to wear heels all damn day, you'd do the same,” I replied, laughing softly.

Dean took a seat on the table in front of me, his posture relaxed as he placed my feet gently on his lap. "You know, you don't need to wear heels in this company, right?"

Just as I wanted to answer he started to massage them, his fingers digging into the arches of my feet. Ah soft "hm" left my lips. “Is this okay?” he asked, looking up at me with an expression that was both playful and sincere.

“It’s more than okay,” I replied whispering, feeling the tension melt away with each movement of his hands. “I might need to keep you around for personal massage therapy session.”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. “I charge by the hour,” he quipped, and we both laughed, the sound filling the otherwise quiet office.

The atmosphere felt easy and cozy, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift. But just as we settled into our little bubble, the door swung open, and Bobby walked in.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Dean and me in such an intimate position.

“No, not at all!” I exclaimed, pulling my feet back into a more appropriate position.

Bobby chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, I hope I’m not stepping on any toes here. I’ve got the latest numbers on the project you two were working on.”

Dean straightened up and regaining his composure. “We were just wrapping things up, anyway. What do you have for us?”

Bobby pulled out a folder and laid it on the table, glancing between us with a knowing smile. “Just wanted to make sure you two had everything you needed before the meeting next week. I’ll leave you to it.”

I couldn’t help but feel a mix of warmth and embarrassment. Dean had dropped the playful facade, returning to his professional demeanor, but I could still sense the underlying tension from earlier.

“Thanks for that,” Dean said to me, leaning back against the table, his expression softening. “I really needed it. You know, you’re pretty amazing at keeping my head straight.”

I smiled, feeling a blush creep onto my cheeks. “Just doing what I can. Besides, you’d do the same for me, right?”

He nodded, a hint of seriousness creeping back into his eyes. “Yeah, I would.”

The air was charged with an unspoken understanding. I knew we were both still navigating our complicated feelings, but in this moment, sitting together in the glow of the office light with the smell of pizza in the air, it felt like we were on the verge of something new.

--

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[mostlymarvelsstuff]

Please, please write a hurt/comfort of bringing Natasha back after the events of endgame. Reader had gotten blipped, came back, was completely broken, but they manage to bring Nat back and it’s just a tearful happy reunion. Please alleviate the pain tomorrow 😭 The pain now is too much to handle

Back to You

Warnings: hurt/comfort, slight angst(happy end)

Authors note: thank you for this idea, I hope I did it justice 💖

Word count: 1799 Nat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

   You lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling with a void expression on your face. Part of you still hadn’t come to terms with what you were told yesterday. I mean, how the hell had you been gone for five years? All you did was blink. And Natasha, she….she couldn’t be gone. She just couldn’t be. You had been right next to her. And Nat, she's the god damned Black Widow, she can’t just die. That's…that's impossible. Or, it should be. But here you are now, without her by your side. All because a stupid stone needed a sacrifice, and of course Clint couldn’t beat her in a fight. How ironic, you think. This is the only time you've ever wished for her to lose a fight. But of course, it's the most important one she's won. 

   “Y/n?” Clint's voice calls out, cutting through your thoughts, but you don’t spare him a glance, you can’t. “Look, I know you're angry with me, and believe me, I’m angry too, but dinner is ready and you need to eat. You haven't had a proper meal, and Nat wouldn’t want that.”

   “Well, Nats not here, is she?”

   His face twists in agony, not that you see it though, your eyes are still glued to the ceiling, “No, she isn’t. But that doesn’t mean you can just give up”

  “Why not? She was my world, Clint. My whole damn world, and now she's not here and I’m just expected to carry on?” you angrily ask as tears once again cloud your vision

   “I know she was, and of course you're allowed to grieve and process all that we- that you lost. But, you can’t just sit here and rot away, not when she always wanted so much for you. And not when Yelena is out there somewhere desperately trying to get in touch with a sister who will never respond. She needs closure.” 

   “And I don’t?!” you shout, finally looking at him, “You think knowing what she died for, knowing I missed out on five years with her, and knowing that I’ll never be able to see her face again, hear her laugh, be the cause of her smile, or get to fucking say goodbye and I love her gives me closure?!”

   “I’m sorry”

   “No, you don’t get to be sorry, Clint! You don’t get to, because she deemed you important enough to die for, and your fucking family is all here, waiting for you at home! Mines gone! At the bottom of some damned magical cliff in space!” you shout, gaining the attention of some of the other heroes

   “Y/n” Sam says, brushing past Clint in your doorway to offer you support

   “He doesn’t get to be sorry, Sam! He's here, and she's not!”

   “I know sweetheart, I know” he soothes, grabbing ahold of your shoulders 

   “He won’t even go home to the family he so desperately wanted back! Instead he just mopes around here feeling guilty while he continuously talks to me and tries to give me care that I don't want or need!”

   Deep down, you knew it was unfair to be saying these things about Clint, and to him. After all, he had lost Nat too and had even had to witness it. And he was only trying to care for you because he knew how much you mattered to his best friend and that she would want you looked out for. But right now, you can't think that rationally. Because all you see when you look at him, is her. They were a matching set, so when you see him alone, all you feel is anger at the unfairness of it all. Which unfortunately, has you lashing out at the already guilt ridden archer

   “Y/n, he's just trying to do what he can” Sam interjects, trying to calm your misplaced rage, but Clint lifts his hands up

   “It’s fine Sam. She has every right to be angry, and she's right. I should go home. She doesn’t need me as a constant reminder looming over her.” the defeated man admits before sulking off to his room, likely to begin packing 

   You stand there a moment next to Sam, letting him rub your shoulder to offer what little comfort he can. He doesn’t say anything, partially because what could he possibly say that could take this pain from you, and partially because he knows that you regret how you just treated Clint

   “She admired you, you know” you say, breaking the silence

  “Who? Me?”

   You can’t help but smile at his state of surprise, “Yes, you. Right from the start you showed your bravery and you were always her ally. Even during the accords when everyone didn’t see eye to eye, everyone was still her family”

   “She was mine too. I regret not telling her how much I looked up to her, not just Steve.”

   “She knew” you admit, smiling at him sadly, “She never felt deserving of it, but she knew”

   Before the two of you can reminisce any further, there's a knock on your doorframe, and the super soldiers body comes into view “Hey guys”

   “Hey Bucky” you reply, giving him a halfhearted smile. The poor guy looks almost as bad off as you

   “Steves just about ready to leave if you guys want to, you know, say goodbye”

   You both nod and your stomach tightens in knots. How unfair that you were given a chance to say goodbye to a teammate but not the woman you loved. Fate really was cruel. Before you knew it, you were out at the time travel pad with Bruce, Steve, Sam and Bucky. Bruce gives you a look of sorrow, and you hate it. You hate that he knows exactly how you're feeling because at one point he cared about her too even if she didn’t return the feelings

   “You know, I tried” he says, “When I had the gauntlet, the stones, I really tried to bring her back”

   You nod in appreciation as your eyes fill with tears, and you try your best to blink them away, not wanting to once again break down in front of them. Eventually after some rather short but sweet words between Steve Bucky and Sam, he picks up the briefcase with the stones and heads for the pad. Bruce gives him specific instructions for returning them as Steve gets in the center of the pad next to Mojlnir and activates his quantum suit.

   “How long is this gonna take?” Sam asks, glancing over to Bruce

   “For him, as long as he needs. For us, five seconds” The machine powers up, the hammer, “Ready Cap? Okay, we’ll meet you back here, alright?”

   “You bet”

   “Three….Two…One” he counts down and the four of you watch Steve disappear into the past, “Returning in, five…four…three…two…one”

   Nothing happens and Bruce frantically checks over the equipment. You nervously shift on your feet as Sam looks over at the scientist, “Where is he?”

   Bruce can only shake his head, “I don’t know. He should be here”

   “Well get him back!” 

   “I’m trying!” 

   “Get him the hell back!” Sam shouts even louder this time, losing what little calm he had

   “Hey, I said I’m trying!” he replies, pressing a few buttons

   But as they argue, Bucky notices an old man on a bench nearby, and in his heart of hearts, he knows it's Steve, “Hey Sam!”

   Both men walk in that direction, leaving both you and the big green guy alone at the pad. You think you realize what's happening, and you're about to tell Bruce not to bother with the machine, that there's no one to bring back, when suddenly it proves you wrong by humming to life

   Someone appears in the middle of it then, and they stumble forward. You can tell by the size of the figure that it's definitely not Steve, which you knew, but the helmet of the quantum suit stops you from being able to tell who it actually is. Whoever it is then reaches up to take off the helmet, and when long red tresses fall out, you can practically feel your heart stop. The woman looks up then, to see where she was, and is met with your distraught tear stained face. A face she's longed to see, hold and kiss for five years now.

   “Y/n?” she asks, barley above a whisper as her own tears fall down her cheeks

   Your bottom lip trembles, “Natty?”

   “Oh, moya lyubov'(my love)” she exclaims, rushing over to envelope you in her arms. You don't even care that they’re almost crushing you, “I missed you so much. I never thought I’d see you again”

   You sob against her, clutching onto her suit with all your strength, “You never thought you’d see me?! Tasha, I never thought I’d see you! I came back after what only felt like five seconds and the whole world was different and you…you were gone”

   “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t let Clint-  ”

   “Why? God, Nat, I don’t want the man dead either, but if there was ever a time for you to be selfish, that would have been it!” you exclaim, slightly frustrated with her, “I mean did you even think of me? Of Yelena? What we’d do without you? How your absence would kill us?”

   “Of course I did detka(baby), but someone had to go”

   You sigh, “And why must that someone always be you? Why can’t you see that you are just as important as anyone else, that you matter to someone too?”

   “I just….the things I've done…”

    “Don’t matter anymore, Natasha! You wiped your ledger clean years ago, either in the Battle of New York or the Battle of Sokovia. You have nothing to atone for, and your family needs you, I need you. So please, I am begging you, never ever do something like that again.” you plead, cupping her face, “Because, while I’m sure five years without me was terrible, I can’t do forever without you. I can’t. Please don’t ask me to” 

   She surges forward, unable to stop herself from kissing the lips she's longed for, for so long. You happily indulge her in this, kissing back with a ferocity that conveyed all your emotions, from love to anger and sorrow. Eventually she pulls away from your lips, but keeps you close

   “You're right, I could stand to be a bit more selfish at times. I’m sorry I put you through that, Y/n. It won’t happen again, I promise. And I'm here now, ok? I’m right here”

   You nod, and hug her again, silently thanking all the gods in existence that somehow, someway, the woman you loved had been able to find her way back to you.

Taglist:@wandaromamoff69 @mmmmokdok @nataliasknife @natashasilverfox @when-wolves-howl @danveration @naomi-m3ndez @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @readings-stuff @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @xchaiix @iaminluvwithnat @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories @imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastormm  @zoomdeathknight @rayeofmoonlight @aeroae @sashawalker2

[universe-friday]

EXCERPT #26:

Hello. I hope somebody is listening.

[…]

Thalia has been very friendly lately, old sport.

And I mean literally friendly…

Call me crazy, but how can someone kiss me and listen to me speak so highly of them just to go back to calling me ‘bro’ and ‘dude’... Huh? That’s not normal, right?

I wouldn’t know! I… haven’t really done this before…

Old sport, I know she likes me. You’d expect me to start doubting it now, right?

But I know... Have you ever just known? The way they act around you, maybe even by the way they initiated a kiss… I am many things, old sport, but I am not oblivious.

Why are they trying to push it away… push me away? Am I dangerous? Repulsive? Do the times we spent together mean nothing to her, despite meaning everything to me?

I just can’t think straight right now, old sport. Maybe I’ll just have to wait for this rollercoaster to inevitably stop.

I want to fight for it - I’m willing to fight for it. But I don’t even know who my enemy is yet. Is it her? Or is it myself…?

[…]

I was wondering around late last night, February. I found myself at the mouth of this tunnel. The entrance is illuminated by street lamps, yet, look any further and complete darkness stares right back at you. I was always afraid of the dark.

I was looking for that light, the one they always talk about, at the end of the tunnel. You were always that light, February. I even tried to call out to you.

For a moment, I could’ve sworn I heard you call back.

Perhaps, you, February, finally answer, but how can one be sure it's not just an echo? The voice responds, copying and mocking your own words and pleas. If you're shouting back, February, you have to be louder than that.

The definition of love is so old-fashioned. In every language, I'll shout from the mountain tops how much I am in love with you, truly. If only people would know what I really meant by it. If only you really knew what I meant by it.

If you're shouting back, February, don't let it be dismissive. I am being clearer than I ever have been. You have to understand that I'm serious. I need you to understand.

I need you to understand this is why I do everything I do. I do it for you. The calls, these letters… At this point, I know there’s no escaping the City. But you’re my escape from reality, February. If you ever do answer, I’m free. But for now, I am restricted to merely shouting to a void and calling it by your name.

You must wonder too what to do with that information. I know. But you could at least show me you’re listening. That you hear my pleas. If you are trying to move on with your life, tell me, because I will remain here until I do. How could I ever move on if I didn’t find out if it was you in that tunnel?

Besides, how could I know it was you? After all, we are in Universe City. The sound could have easily been another one of those dreaded cyborgs.

If it’s you, February, I am willing to hear you out, always. But you must emerge from the shadows and take a step into my light. You have to show me.

Perhaps if I cannot see you, I should stop trying to contact you. Am I latching onto a rotting idea that I should just let die? Is that what we are?

How am I ever supposed to get over this if I continue talking to you? I wake up in dread and heartache every day, knowing you’re not here. And, although the City is not a great alternative, I either live my life here or continue to do so with that ache… That dread.

This is no way to live. Any level-headed person would agree… If I can’t hear from you, February, perhaps you shouldn’t hear from me.

[...]

[aylish91]

Just wanted to say i rlly love the way you write leviathan nightmare sans, i keep going back to reread ur writing about him 😍

Thank you so much Anon!!! This really means a lot to me! Sorry it took me so long to respond. I had a blip in the works I finished just for you! It might be a bit rough though, haha.

There's been intrigued Nightmare and supportive Nightmare. But now we have:

A Protective Nightmare!

TW for very brief mentions of someone being trapped/strapped down.

~ ~ ~

The ocean was becoming more restless, waves crashing hard against the sides of the Ship. You could faintly hear their raging through the hanger’s door. It caused your water to slosh in your tank as you lay on the bottom. 

Tired. 

You stared across the walkway into Cross’s tank, understanding now the reason for several of his scars. You wanted to weep. He had been forced on his back, almost completely paralyzed while they transported the both of you. Straps held him in place so he couldn’t turn over, sockets void but aware.  

So terribly aware. 

You shouldn’t have gone out so far on your own. You shouldn’t have gotten so close to the lagoon. You definitely shouldn’t have ignored Cross when he eventually found you. You didn’t understand the danger.  

He knew better...  

Things shifted as the boat tipped dangerously to the side. Soon after, alarms blared from behind reflective glass when a deep and angry vibration cut through the ship and the water of your tank.  

You lifted your head as much as you could, hope building within your chest. Cross twitched, faint eyelights reigniting to peer down at the large metal door. You both ignored the shouts that could be heard through the walls. 

The vibration came again, stronger and louder until the boat was slammed with a great force. Machinery and tools flew from their spots. You could feel when the vessel lifted, anything not bolted down rolling and tumbling with a crash.  

Water spilled from both tanks to follow the carnage. However, you could finally hear the words rising from the thundering snarled vibrations. 

“You dare to take what belongs to me!! Dare touch what is mine!” Everything jostled, metal folding under pressure. “For your insolence, you shall all face OBLIVION!!! 

You had to cover your ears from all the noise and chaos around you. Metal tore from blackened claws, bent and broke from massive tentacles. The heavy metal door into your prison was ripped away, revealing Nightmare’s constricted eyelight. Rushing water followed.  

 As movement slowed, you gave a weakened cry of joy at the sight of the boys hastily entering around tightening tentacles. Horror was quick to break both tanks, Killer and Dust releasing Cross to drag him back into open water. Horror carried you out, dodging Nightmare's clawed hand when it rent metal. Your last wakeful moments were of the sinking ship being pulled down into the darkness by a raging leviathan. 

~ ~ ~ 

It was warm and heavy when you woke, a soothing thrum trying to pull you back. If it wasn’t for the subtle shifting around you, you would have. Curling into yourself, you carefully stretched in preparation for waking. 

The world around you constricted, quiet words reaching through your haze. 

“My Pearl. I had thought I’d lost you. My light… My treasure.” 

Your soul leapt for joy, eyes opening to the one you had waited for. The one you had hoped for, voice breaking. 

“Nightmare!” 

Unfurling from your living cocoon you allowed the guardian to cup you in his hands, clutching you to his chest. For the first time, his stoic face distorted from emotion as he whispered your name. Tears pooled at the corner of your eyes, as you finally allowed yourself to let go, curling and pressing into his warmth. 

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, to, and Cross!” 

Nightmare held you tighter, safe from all the terrors around you. “Shhhh. All is well. You both are home now. Just, stay with me. I will keep you safe.” 

You clung tighter. “Please. Don’t let go.” 

He sank down into his own tentacles, barricading you from the outside. “Never… Not again…” 

Leviathan Master List Grand Master Post

[anothertimdrakestan]

Death Wont Do - Jason Todd x Reader

TW: blood & gore & angst

a little more dramatic and descriptive than my usual style, let me know what you think

~~~

It's like a 6th sense. The quietest feeling that something's wrong. The feeling in your stomach that keeps you up just a little later than normal.

You were sat on the couch of your apartment, mindlessly checking your phone as some song hummed softly in the background, a glass of something bubbly on the side table next to you to fill the void of Jason being out on patrol. You knew he'd come back later than you usually stayed up, but you felt like waiting for a goodnight kiss.

And suddenly you got the text:

It's Tim on J's phone, get to cave asap if you're reading this.

A pit formed in your stomach as you rushed to grab your keys. A few minutes drive and 10 missed calls as you frantically dialed Tim and Jason before realizing it was serious enough neither was responding.

You braced yourself for what you'd walk into: blood, pain, panic, but the cave was empty. Confusion bubbled up against the fear, hoping between clenched teeth for a prank or a lighthearted surprise. Nonetheless, your instincts urged you to prepare for the worst.

You pulled out the medbay: stitching supplies at the ready, stretcher wheels unlocked, bandages organized just the way Alfred had taught you- where was Alfred? Where was Bruce or Damian- even Jon or Conner who were frequently watching some sort of cartoon on the giant screen in the cave at this time.

Cass was the first in the cave, you recognized the rev of her bike, rushing to the entrance. Her suit was torn, deep gashes that stung you just by looking at them. She pulled off her mask with a wince, an expression you weren't used to seeing on her typical stoic face. You were her shadow as she sat herself down at your faux-medbay and began cleaning and stitching her own wounds, she wouldn't want to be touched right now and from your assessment she was more than capable in her condition.

You broke the steady silence: "is it- is everyone? What happened out there Cass?" knowing she wouldn't really respond you took her shaking her head as a gutwrenching response.

And for what might've been the first time in your life, you saw her whipser "bad" as she locked eyes with you.

Before you could process just what that meant, the quiet hum of the batmobile ripped you from your dread and into action. You heard an echoing shout as Damian lept from the passenger seat of the still moving car, almost flying towards you as the batmobile came to a screeching halt.

"It's Todd, it's not good. Quickly." were the few words the boy wonder could mutter as he started pulling the stretcher towards the car. You followed silently, blood already pounding in your ears.

The door of the car opened and you saw Jason draped across the backseat, muttering and groaning as Damian began to drag him onto the stretcher.

You froze at the sight, bones jutted up out of his skin like a brutal landscape of fractures. His skin, paler than ever before, appeared as if it had lost all its color, like it had bled out completely. Like a corpse in a movie, where CGI created almost inhumane wounds, Jason bore them right in front of you.

Tim's car door slamming ripped you from your shock. He rounded the car instantly and began helping Damian gently move Jason to the cot. While Cass and Damian were silent in a panic, Tim couldn't help but talk through his terror:

"It's all over, well pretty much over. Bruce and the rest are out cleaning it up but he told us to get Jay home because well, I mean he hasn't look worse since probably his first death. And I really don't want to be here for his second. Dames, pull I'll push, God he's heavy, alright, Y/N lock the wheels Damian grab start cleaning wounds on his legs I'll take torso- Y/N? Lock the damn wheels."

Again you snapped into reality, realizing you'd trailed behind the bloody precession. You lowered yourself to secure the wheels, the cool air providing a momentary relief as the weight of the situation settled in. You thought about staying down there, curling up beneath the cot and waiting until the nightmare was over. Tim and Damian were a well oiled triage machine above you- calling out stitching plans, applying bandages, preparing casts for the breaks.

And for the first time, Jason called out softly for you, "Y/N?" You shot up, immediately at his side, pushing the sweat and blood matted hair away from his eyes. They were closed, furrowed in agony but he still called for you, "where's Y/N? I need to see-"

"I'm here, I'm right here Jace." your voice wavering, but he got more frantic, shaking and groaning as Tim and Damian began to restrain him. "No! I need to see her! Stop, take me home! She lives at-"

"Jace I'm right here, I'm here, can you look at me?" your voice was pitchy and raw as you cupped his cheek in your hand. As you lightly pressed your finger to his temple his eyes shot open and wildly took in his surroundings before landing on you. Like an exhale he sunk back into the stretcher, eyes fluttering shut once again.

Beneath his closed eyelids, the pain etched deep lines on his face, but Tim soldiered on, having forced Damian to go tend to his own wounds. The silence was painful, but you had to ask, "he's gonna be okay right?"

Tim's eyes flashed up to meet yours with a kind of smile, "this big guy's been dipped in the Lazarus pit. It's gonna take more than some broken bones and a few lost pints of blood to kill him. Here, come bandage his arms, it's better than staring at his ugly face." you felt a small smile bubble up, Jason's face was bruised and his nose slightly crooked, but you appreciated the quip.

"Here, clean, apply gauze, and wrap. These are all superficial so I promise you can't mess anything up." he pushed bandaging materials into your shaking hands. At first you could barely move, but soon it felt soothing to lend a helping hand. Tim was focused and quiet, and you slowly worked your way up each of Jason's arms, carely wrapping any tear in his skin you could find.

Tim suddenly stepped back with a deep and satified sigh, heading towards the medicine pantry. He came back with an IV and softly nudged your shoulder, "he'll be okay, gonna give him fluids and enough of a sedative to knock him out for a few hours. Go wash off, eat something, and come on back to trade my shift watching him."

You nodded, looking down to realize you were also now covered in a layer of sweat and blood. "Tim, he would've died without you, you're incredible. I'll be right back." you couldn't exactly find the words for the gratitude, but Tim shook it off nonetheless.

"I had to stay in the 'zero Jason deaths' club, Bruce and Dick would've had a field day." you shook your head, beelining for a shower.

When you came back down to the cave Tim was in a tshirt and sweatpants, his own bandages peeking from the sleeves of the shirt. "Ready for a shift change?" you called, causing him to swivel around in the batcave chair and stand up with a stretch.

"You were fast! He'll probably wake up in a few hours, text me whenever for whatever." with a yawn he shuffled out of the cave and you planted yourself in the chair next to Jason.

You nearly screamed as Jason suddenly whispered "is he gone?" Like a cartoon he opened one squinting eye before deciding to fully lock his emerald eyes with your own. "Coast is clear, how are you love?"

You were stunned, "I- you were- how are you? I mean I'm fine, clearly. But what in the-" Jason laughed into a wince but answered:

"Had a couple crazy dreams, I woke up when I heard you call for Tim but wanted the shift change so Tim didn't spend 20 minutes calling me an idiot and a careless maniac.

You shook your head, "and if I call you an idiot and a careless maniac?" but Jason just hummed and attempted to shrug. "Jason Peter Todd you almost died!"

"Keyword there is 'almost' sweetheart."

"And what if Tim and Damian weren't there? What if you'd actually died?" you cupped his cheek again, letting the weight of his head rest into your palm.

"Not even death would stop me from crawling home to you." he vowed. At that, you sunk down, resting your head on his shoulder and lightly running your hand across his chest.

"I believe you, I do. But tell me you'll never let it get to that. This was too much for me Jace I almost thought you were dead when they pulled you out of the car."

He tensed, "you were here for all that? I'm sorry, I don't want to scare you like that." You couldn't believe the man on his deathbed was apologizing to you, but somehow it all felt very Jason Todd.

"It's okay Jay, I'm just glad you're here."

"Always, now scoot me over so I can hold you," he murmered, groaning as he pushed himself over enough to make room for you to slip in next to him. He went to raise his arm and looked annoyed saying, "damn Tim bandaged my whole damn arms. I look like a mummy the hell was he doing" and you stiffened against him.

"Okay asshole that's my bandaging work there, and I'll have you know I stopped a whole lot of your blood from pouring out of your arms." you gave him a childish glare while Jason looked at you with a smirk.

"Remind me never to get a papercut around you, I might lose circulation." he teased, draped a mummy-arm around you as you relaxed into his embrace.

You retorted: "At least I didn't get wheeled into the cave looking like casper the ghost"

"Alright alright, no more near death experiences, scout's honor." he chuckled, and you decided it was a good enough promise for now.

"Deal" you replied, slowly letting the soft sound of Jason's breathing lull you to sleep as your adrenaline had finally dissipated, finally allowing yourself to believe your boy would live to see another night.

Tomorrow? Or the day after that? Well, that would have to be future Y/N's problem :)

~

Hope you enjoyed, let me know if you caught the song reference. xoxo

[saphirered]

Because i like pain, can i get basically the sunken tomb/those who walk away (tlovm) but it's reader who dies, not vex? She jumps in front of vex as the blast goes off. Can be either Vax or percy x reader.

Turned out to a percy x reader and hope you like the result. Angsty but with a happy ending. 😘

He can’t move. He can’t breathe. His heart has stopped in his chest. Life has ceased to be linear, or perhaps even moving at all. He is stuck in that one doomed moment. He is trapped within his own body with is own bloody mind. He can’t. He can’t. Percy can’t even think or process. He’s stuck in that single image of you. That damned sarcophagus. It looked fine. Everything was fine. Vex gave it a once over. The three of you pushed the top off and there was the deathwalker’s ward still on the corpse of the previous owner. You’d stepped to the end, with Vex. You’d taken to observing the intricate runes on the inside. Vex warned him not to touch but it was too late. He’d reached in and set off a trap. It would have hit her if you hadn’t pushed her aside and in doing so, knocked yourself off balance and into the full force of whatever damned thing hit you. 

Some kind of magic struck out, hit you square in the chest and sent you flying like some rag doll. You hit the ground with a sickening smack and crack. That breath, that single exhale that left your body unmoving, that’s where Percy got stuck, watching as the light in your eyes dimmed, those eyes that kept staring at him. They all ran to you but he was stuck. You weren’t moving. You weren’t responding to their calls nor pleas. There was nothing left of you to respond. Once that dawned on him, once it hit him what he had done, had caused, he was left broken. Somehow his legs carried him to your side, where Vax held you in his arms, Vex clutched your hand unable to speak, Pike rushed to heal you but there’s nothing to heal, nothing to be done. You were gone. You are gone. You’re gone. 

Things move quickly after. Percy doesn’t know what grace kept him on his feet when he found it within him to join the others. He could not look away from you. Kash had already started whatever ritual he was performing. A resurrection rite. Everything moved so fast. Questions were asked, what happened how did this happen, who was with you? He was but he couldn’t answer. He couldn’t break away from your cold dead eyes. They’ll forever haunt him. They were so full of life just mere moments before when you cracked a joke and smiled, calling him out on his lack of divine worship. He’d retorted with some clever witty remark. Those were the last words he’d spoken to you. He couldn’t even bloody remember them. He can’t even remember your last words. 

But then reason hits. It’s not working. The ritual it’s not working. It has to work. It has to work! The Raven Queen, she resides over death and apparently resurrections do not sit well with her or her domain. The others try to suggest things, solutions, but they are not that. Percy finds it within himself to speak some desperate sense; they’re under a lake, where are they going to go? They’re losing time. This has to work now. They can’t give up! He’s begging them, begging anyone, everyone. This can’t be happening! The spell breaks and you’re not moving. Percy’s ears are ringing. He wants to shout and scream and cry but inside him a void begins to grow and leaves him terrified of himself. 

Several breaths pass and then, by some miracle, the light returns to your eyes, you shoot up and you’re gasping for air. You’re awake. He’s riddled with guilt once more. You turn to him and stare at him with those damned eyes and while he sees the life in them now, he’s haunted with that blank stare of your corpse. 

“What happened?” How is he supposed to answer that question? He was an idiot and should have listened. This is all his fault. He got reckless and greedy and stupid and it cost you your life! 

“I touched the armour and you… you were…” He can’t speak the words. The others speak but he does not hear them. “It was an accident.” Why do you keep looking at him. Your eyes should be filled with hatred and anger but you’re not. You’re relieved. You look at him as if this is not all on him. Accident or not, he is still to blame. Luckily distraction comes quickly. The armour is procured and in Vax’s possession for some reason. 

You’re back on your feet and a bit wobbly but insist you want to get out of here as much as the others do. Pike has you at first but whether out of habit or sheer guilt, Percy find himself next to you and you lean on him whenever you stumble slightly. He catches you every time you don’t reach for him. It’s definitely a force of habit because each touch is torture. With each touch that scene keeps replaying. Outside on the banks of the lake Vox Machina decides it’s time to take a rest. Everyone’s exhausted and hurt from the fight to get out. Goodbyes are exchanged Zahra and Kash and upon the sunset Percy wanders off on his own. He had the intention of finding Vax, and apologise for what he caused. He did and got punched in the face. Seems that your best friend gave him a smidge of what he deserves. He deserves so much worse but it’s something. But then you have to find him, alone, ass in the snow, processing the pain in his jaw and contemplating every single mistake in his life that could have spared you this fate. 

“Percy?” You come up to him. There’s still a slight tremble in your step despite your self-assured expression. No matter how well you might be at hiding your feelings, you always have a tell. You may pretend this doesn’t affect you but he sees it does. That just makes it worse. Still you find it within yourself to try and make him feel better. He wishes you wouldn’t. It’d be easier if you were angry with him, even better if you too decided to take your pound of flesh. Instead you kneel down next to him and look at what must be the mark of his preview to punishment. 

“I fell…” He tries a poor excuse but you don’t buy it. Especially not with the extra set of footprints leading away. You place your palm against his cheek. Your touch is cold, he assumes because of the snow but for some reason he cannot help but imagine the worst. Still he leans into your touch. 

“Must have been a strange fall. How does one fall on their ass and face simultaneously?” You joke and normally you’d have earned a chuckle or a retort. ��With great difficulty’ is what you expected him to say or something along those lines but instead you just get silence and downcast eyes that refuse to meet yours. You settle on your knees and bring your other palm to cup his face and lift his gaze to meet yours. Percy bites the inside of his cheek. 

“How can you pretend this doesn’t affect you? How can you take this so lightly?” You pull back and fold your hands together to preserve some warmth. Your skin feels wrong, your body feels wrong. Every breath you take you’re suddenly aware of. The blood pumping through your veins, it’s as if you can feel it and it hurts. Everything hurts and you feel as if you’re going to burst any second as if someone could prick you with a needle and suddenly you’d explode. You feel vulnerable and have become so incredibly aware of your mortality, in anything you do, anything you have done; every choice you’ve ever made. It haunts you past, present and future. You don’t know what to do with yourself. You thought of going out into the trees just so scream but that wouldn’t help. You’d just be left with the pain. You thought of ignoring it but that turned on you quickly. You noticed the silence when Percy was around. When you’re near him you feel alive and not some dead person walking. You feel like you can take on this life without being afraid of what happened and what you might face. You feel as if as long as he’s near you’ll be alright. That’w why you came to find him in the first place, didn’t you. You hoped he’d help you see things as they had been before your accident, but that didn’t seem possible. 

“Because if I don’t I’ll just be terrified. I’ll break down until there’s nothing left of me and I don’t think I’ll be able to cope. This is all that’s keeping me together. You’re keeping me together.” Those words are harder to speak out loud than you thought, as if speaking them makes them real and undeniable. You suppose that’s true. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat along with your breathing. It just won’t go away and the more you try to ignore it, the worse it gets. 

“You died because of me. You shouldn’t even be able to look at me!” There’s so many things running through your head that want to respond to Percy. You manage to stop some of the more irrational ones, the ones you know you’ll regret the moment you speak them. 

“Is that what you think you deserve? My anger? My hatred? You won’t get it. Yes, you caused this but it was an accident. That doesn’t make it right but if you are in such desperate need to repent for a mistake, you can do so! I need you, Percy! I need you right now because without you I fear I will fall apart! So please, I’m begging you; do not abandon me now.” You plead. He’s unmoving. You reach out. He doesn’t flinch or turn away. He doesn’t respond so you halt and repeat once more. “Please, Percy. I’m begging you…” You place your hand on his cheek and this time he leans into your palm, even if hesitantly so. You’re about to pull away, seeing that reluctance but before you can his hand clasps over yours and holds it in place. 

“I will not ask for your forgiveness-“ You got to speak but he’s not finished yet. “I will not accept it should you offer it to me because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself. But you’re right. If this is what you want, I’ll do it. I’d hand you the stars on a silver platter if you asked. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make this right.” 

“Percy…” You sigh. That’s not what you meant. You don’t mean to ask for his compliance or service. You ask him to be your friend, your confidant, your rock when the tides get too much in the same way he has always been for you. You’re asking him to be himself, nothing more, nothing less but here he is offering you the world. 

“I won’t ask you to accept or turn me away. I will be at your whims for however long you wish me to be-“ Percy keeps going. He has to make this right. You give him a chance to prove himself worthy of you and all you’ve given him. You’ve given him the chance to truly earn your forgiveness in your eyes and his. But you interrupt him by literally placing his palm over his mouth to silence him. Once you make eye contact and you give him a silent ‘are you done’ and he nods you let go. 

“Then I order you to stop now.” His heart skips a beat. He cannot breathe. “I don’t need a knight in shining armour or some servant at my beck and call. I just need you. I just need you to be here, now. I don’t need the moon on a string, or you begging on your knees. I don’t need you to fetch me some drink or write me my correspondence. I need you to just be you.” That punch hits far harder than anyone could have dealt. It’s the sheer realisation that his life is more valuable than his actions and choices and deeds. His life exceeds a purpose. It’s a terrifying reality but then he looks at you and sees through you, into your own fear and doubt and he sees, that’s what you need. You need someone who understands fear and pain and he does. Gods he knows he does. That’s why you need him to be here and to be him. That’s why you can look him in the eye. You feel like he’s the only one that truly understands right now because he too, albeit a long time ago came to realise how fragile mortality truly is and all the thoughts that accompany that revelation. 

“I know.” He whispers nodding to himself. He reaches out. He wraps his arms around you and holds you close. You allow yourself to twist and mould into his side, tuck under his arm and curl against his chest. This feels real. This is real. You can hear his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest with every breath; something you had previously not been aware of nor ever focussed truly focussed on unless it was out of the ordinary. You take a deep ragged breath yourself. You feel cold trail down your cheeks from your eyes and only truly process you’re crying when gloved fingers wipe them away. Percy whispers words of comfort; meaningless he might say but these are the words he had wished he heard when he was alone and suffering. You pull yourself closer to him until the tears subside. 

There’s still a long way to go. This does not resolve the issue nor Percy’s guilt. This doesn’t make anything right or change anything. It’s the beginning of a road to a better future you carve out together. Wherever it leads, he will be at your side as long as this world allows. He’ll fight tooth to nail to have it be so. He’ll make this right. But most of all, he’ll be there for you. 

[sixeyesgojo]

Yoru, my beloved 💕 In honor of Gojo being unsealed, what’s the first thing you do when you see him?

home in your arms

☾ Summary: A bittersweet reunion between two lovers, after Gojo breaks free from the Prison Realm. ☾ Characters: Gojo Satoru x reader ☾ Word count: 1.4k ☾ Content warning: HEAVY manga spoilers underneath the cut, mentions of character death, hurt but more comfort (imo)

“Jacob’s Ladder!!” Kurusu chanted. Just for an instant, a brilliant gleam brightened the sky and hit the Back of the Prison Realm. Then silence followed. The anticipation seemed to electrify the air. With each second, your heart grew heavier with anxiety. “Gojo-sensei? Can we come closer?” Yuuji’s voice boomed as the dust spread all around the area.

However, there was no reply. How could there be one, when no one was there to respond? He wasn’t there. And despite knowing that he wasn’t, your body was desperately searching for any trace of him. It didn’t work, you thought. It didn’t work…

“Did he disappear with the Prison Realm?” Yuuji asked and your body froze. Had Angel destroyed him along with the Back of the Prison Realm? But this would only be possible if he had become evil in his time away… There was no way that happened to him, right? Your knuckles turned white and the bones in your hand cracked from how hard you were clenching your fists. If he was truly gone, you didn’t know what to do with your life.

“Satoru… where are you? I can’t feel you…” you muttered and fell to your knees in defeat. Satoru being sealed, Nobara’s critical condition, Nanami’s passing, Yuuji and Megumi having to fend for their lives on their own… With how the circumstances were in the last few days, the thought of losing another loved one was too much to bear. It was scary and there was no one you could turn to. At least, that was what you thought until a hand soothingly rubbed your back. It was Yuuta, the student Satoru had personally entrusted to you when the former had just joined the Jujutsu world. The emotion in his eyes spoke more than a thousand words: Don’t give up yet, they conveyed.

Without warning, the earth started shaking. Reflexively, Yuuta’s body shielded you from any potential harm. “An earthquake?! This can’t be a coincidence!” someone shouted but your brain didn’t register where it came from or who it was. Your body started moving on its own, breaking out of the boy’s protective embrace and stumbling away, seemingly without any destination. Yet, it was your heart that guided you. I need to hurry, you thought, he is out there somewhere and he needs me. Your mind was void of anything else as your legs moved as fast as possible for your body.

It felt like years passed by until you felt a warm sensation in your chest; your heart knew that it felt Satoru’s energy somewhere. He had to be close. Hurry, it told you.

And then… you stopped. In fact, everything around you seemed to stop. Your eyes darted across the distance, locking onto his silhouette. Standing in front of you was the person you were longing for; his back turned to you. A sense of relief, safety and familiarity washed over you. However, there was a dark spot creeping around in your heart: a primal fear of losing something that was precious to you again. You pushed it back to the depths of your heart, hoping it wouldn’t resurface for the time being. Instead, you let the overwhelming joy push you forward.

Slowly, you started walking towards him. A thousand questions buzzed in your head: Was he okay? How did he feel? What happened in the Prison Realm? Was he aware of what had happened in the outside world? Was he hurt? Was he going to leave again? Were you dreaming?

Something in your core snapped and you ran towards him, heart racing. Right before you touched him, for a split second only, something invisible blocked you from closing the distance. Although it only lasted an instant, it told you stories about the man that was in front of you. Stories about the feelings of defeat he suffered during his confinement. Stories about the pain of blaming himself. He looked at you, something forlorn hid deep inside his glossy gaze. The person in front of him seemed familiar, yet foreign to his dulled senses. Were his senses clouded because he spent so much time confined? Was he shaken up from his discovery? Everything seemed hazy and muffled. The world was indistinct and everything was jumbled together – colors, feelings, senses and thoughts.

Then, as you pulled him in for a hug, a lever was moved inside him – and the world began to become more vibrant, filled with intense colors. “Satoru, you’re back!!” you cried into his chest. Upon hearing your familiar voice, a burst of beauty bloomed within him, as if Satoru’s heart was blessed by Hotei of the Shichi Fukujin personally. His sight suddenly became clear.

“It’s me,” you assured him, hugging him to you even tighter. Inhaling his scent, you noticed that it was mixed with other smells too. “I thought I wouldn’t see you again,” you confessed, “but I am so relieved. I feel like I’m dreaming. Don’t tell me this is a dream. Are you hurt? How do you feel?”

“Definitely not a dream. I’m home,” Satoru uttered softly. “Welcome home,” you greeted him back, eyes glazed with tears of relief. His deep-set blue eyes locked on you and he gingerly stroked your back. Something in his eyes told you that he had witnessed something deeply unsettling – and you had a hunch that it was about Megumi. And yet, he didn’t talk about it. Maybe it was for the better, as you didn’t want to shake him up even more.

“You idiot made me worry so much! I didn’t know what to do; I missed you so much,” you wailed. He chuckled, “I’m sorry. I’m here now, so you don’t need to worry anymore.” I’m here now, hearing those words put you at ease and calmed the storm in your heart a little. “I’m sure you did well in my absence, didn’t you?” His large palm rested on the top of your head. He was the one who was shaken up, so why was it him who was comforting you now?

“If you do that again, I will throw away your stupid custom Cutler and Gross sunglasses. And your Gentle Monster ones. And your Goomba plushy. I swear,” you threatened with a pouty undertone, but obviously he knew that you would never pull through with that. Of course you knew that he didn’t intend to get sealed. Nevertheless, he played along. “Now, now. That would hurt me. You know those are my favorites,” Satoru laughed and hugged you tightly. You buried your face in his chest and murmured, “Seriously… I missed you.”

“I missed you more,” Satoru whispered and planted a tender kiss on the crown of your head. “Don’t turn this into a contest now, Satoru,” you berated him half-heartedly. You broke the hug, but his hands held you steady in his embrace. Your hands moved up to cup his face, eyes searching his tired ones. Slowly, you pulled his face closer to yours. “Then we might have a problem,” you stated warmly. “I don’t see how,” he responded puzzled.

“It’s simple,” you began to explain, “I miss you. I miss your hugs, I miss your kisses and your warmth every second we’re apart. And those 19 days have only reaffirmed that belief. I never want to see you injured or suffering. More than anything, I wish to see a happy ending for you. Therefore I win.” There was hope that your feelings reached him and could help him feel the sense of stability he desperately needed at the moment.

As if a dam in his heart started to break, Satoru laughed. Not because he didn’t take your confession seriously – he very much did – but in realization that he was truly powerless against you and your way with words. The feeling of love was about to engulf him. It was overwhelming and all-encompassing. He was happy that you loved a madman like him, but maybe doing so required a certain level of craziness itself.

Touching his forehead to yours, he grinned, “Jeez, that was cheesy. I’ll do you one better: Wherever you are is where my heart calls home and where my soul is at peace.”

You couldn’t even answer fast enough as his lips captured yours in a searing kiss.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

I'd like to request "Are you hurt?" and "Don't touch me." with walter marshall. Thank you!

oooh this one was harder to write, but I hope I did it justice!

Walter furrowed his brows, giving you a disapproving stare. You didn't fight often, it was a rare occurrence when you did anything more than disagree politely. In fact, it was so rare for you to fight, that when you did, you were caught completely off guard. You'd gotten into an argument over Walter's attitude the past couple of days. He'd been withdrawn - more so than usual, and miserable. You knew he was never the most cheerful or bubbly person out there, but this was odd, even for him. He was normally very gentle with you - stoic and reserved, sure, but never temperamental with you. He often found comfort in you - your presence a calming beacon for him when his work as a homicide detective became too much to handle some days. "What is your problem, Walter? It's like I can't even fucking talk to you," you shouted, shaking your head.

"I don't have a problem, darling."

The way he said darling stung, dripping with condescending sarcasm, a cold hostility added to the nickname he so often used with deep affection towards you. Your eyes narrowed as you set the dish you were drying down on the counter, throwing the tea towel down beside it.

"Then will you please stop being such an asshole?"

Walter's blue eyes widened in disbelief at your boldness. He frowned further, eyes glaring at her. He refused to respond, instead stomping away, storming off to the living room in brooding silence. You sighed in frustration, shaking your head with an exasperated sigh. Walter's ignorance towards you was almost painful. You craved his touch, his attention, and being starved of it because of whatever had triggered his bad mood was making your night almost unbearable.

A couple of hours of not speaking to one another had passed by, the deafening silence beginning to choke out the room, making it harder and harder to avoid it. You tried watching tv in the bedroom, avoiding Walter entirely. You'd tried scrolling social media on your phone, praying some silly little animal video would drag a giggle out of you, you'd even attempted to listen to a podcast to try and fill the void with something, anything that distracted from the quiet. Finally, unable to find anything mind-numbing to distract you, you resorted to trying to take care of a few household tasks that were overdue, neglected because of your demanding careers.

As you stood on a step ladder, hammering a nail into the wall to hang a photo, you listened for footsteps to see if Walter would come to investigate what you were doing, curious about the sounds coming from the bedroom. Unfortunately for you, he couldn't seem to be less bothered. You took a swing at the nail again, but foolishly forgot to slide your thumb two millimeters to the left, bringing the face of the hammer down directly onto your unsuspecting finger. You let out a yelp along with a string of curse words. Stepping down off of the step ladder, you turned to head to the kitchen to fetch some ice but instead walked directly into Walter's broad shouldered frame.

"Are you hurt?" He said softly, frowning at her.

"I'm fine."

"You yelled."

"So?"

"So, are you hurt? Why are you holding your hand like that?"

His brows knit together in concern for you, shaking his head. He offered his hand out to you, reaching to take your injured hand in his to check it over, trying to gauge how badly you'd managed to hurt yourself. As his hand brushed against yours, you yanked it back, reacting to his touch as if you'd just stuck your hand into a fire, scorched from the heat.

"Don't touch me."

Walter frowned at your reaction, dropping his hand to his side. He shook his head as he walked off, disappearing once again. You were just about to start yelling at him, demanding to know why he refused to speak to you, when he returned holding a sandwich bag filled with ice cubes. He held it out to you, his eyes soft and pleading, as if he was making an offering of peace to you, waving his white flag of surrender.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, his blue eyes looking down at your hand, watching as you placed the ice over your throbbing thumb, "I've had a rough few days and nights with work, this case is driving me mad, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"You really shouldn't have," you began before letting out a sigh, "I'm sorry. I should have probably been a little bit more compassionate towards you."

"It's fine, darling," he said softly, his chestnut brown curls shaking as he gave a nod of his head, "Am I forgiven?"

"I suppose. But only if you go finish hanging that picture I wanted in the bedroom. Clearly I can't wield hand tools when I'm upset."

"You can't wield hand tools when you're happy either, to be fair," he smirked, the first smirk you'd seen on his face in the last week.