#there's supposed to be a smear frame on that gif and I can't seem to get it to show up in a GIF export I'm very annoyed about it

[amomentsescape]

Love that you write for Eric Draven! If you're doing things outside the prompt list right now could you write something where reader helps Eric unwind after a night on the streets, like taking his makeup off for him drying him off from the rain and such

Cold for You

Eric Draven x Reader

Summary: Eric relishes in a night spent with you taking care of him.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 820

A/N: Eric is soo underrated, it honestly makes me sad. I'm thankful to be one of the few blogs who write for him on here!

The city has only ever been ruthless to Eric, and tonight was no exception.

The cold rain soaked him straight to the bone, his makeup already beginning to smear.

Luckily, this sort of thing doesn't phase Eric anymore since he barely considered himself alive. But if anything made him feel closer to living, it was you.

The only reason he didn't choose to stay out all night and let the city devour him is because you were at home waiting for him, likely snuggled up under the covers with Gabriel by your side.

He stepped in through the door quietly, just in case you happened to be asleep. But like most nights, you were awake with a book in hand, offering a wide smile.

"You're home early," you spoke softly, clearly a bit groggy from the lack of sleep.

"I missed you," he responded.

Your smile widened as you outstretched your arms.

"I'm all wet, dear."

You shook your head at this. "I don't give a damn."

He let a low chuckle slip out from his lips as he walked over and pulled you into him, your warmth immediately enveloping him.

He could have stayed in that moment for an eternity, but he was well aware just how quickly you were becoming soaked from his clothing.

With reluctance, Eric slowly pulled away and looked at you with a gentle gaze.

"I'm gonna go get cleaned up," he whispered, leaving a kiss on your cheek.

As he stood up fully, he felt your soft hand grip onto his wrist lightly. He turned back to you.

"Sit down," you smiled.

"But-"

"No buts, love. It's late, and I can tell you're tired. Let me help. Please?"

When you asked so nicely, how could he refuse?

He began to feel his wet frame soaking into the bed after sitting down, but this wasn't the first time he'd left rain puddles in the sheets. And you always seemed happy to sleep in the cold dampness of the bed even after him asking you to switch sides.

Your hands traced down his shoulders and back gently as you helped him shrug off his coat. You dropped it by the floor beside you as you reached back up and helped him slip out of his torn shirt.

The garment joined its companion on the floor as you did your best to work out any tension in his muscles. Unfortunately for Eric, his whole body seemed to be tense every day.

He let out a few sighs and closed his eyes, letting you pamper him.

He couldn't believe that he had someone like you, someone so selfless and giving to him even after all the blood on his hands. You were truly too good to be true.

His eyes only opened once he felt you pull away.

He watched you shuffle into the bathroom as the water began to run. Within a few moments, you were back with a washcloth and a small bowl of warm water.

You sat down next to him and began to dip the cloth into the bowl.

However, Eric was quick to pull you towards him as he adjusted you onto his lap, being mindful of the water.

Close was never close enough when it came to you, but he supposed this was as good as he could get it right now.

You giggled softly at the new position, planting a kiss on his nose.

You then got back to work and used the warm cloth to wipe off the residual makeup that the rain didn't remove.

This was one of your favorite parts of nights like these. There was something so special with "unmasking" Eric, getting to see a side of him that no one else got to see.

You love the city's infamous vigilante, but you love Eric Draven more.

You can't help but take a few moments to yourself to glance over his features, relishing in the way his eyes stared into yours lovingly. Only he could make you feel like this.

You began to wiggle out of his lap and head back to the bathroom, only for him to stop you and take the bowl away, setting it on the nightstand.

"We can do that later, come here."

He adjusted himself on the bed, opening up his arm for you to come snuggle in.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but you couldn't resist. You would never miss the chance for a moment like this.

You close your eyes as he began to hum a soft tune, his chest vibrating beneath your ear.

It's enough to bring back that tired haze you pushed off earlier in the night, ultimately soothing you into a gentle sleep.

Eric only stops when he hears your breathing slow and looks down at your peaceful face.

If he could have this moment every night of his life, then he'd happily face the rain forever.

[kintatsujo]

LoZ AU- The Courage of Running Away Part TWENTY-EIGHT

Previous Post!!

This post is more like the second half of the previous post so there’s only a bit of art with mostly prose

#AU August

#LoZ AU: The Courage of Running Away

Link thinks about Safee, patting his back and telling him it was brave to leave. He thinks about the mogma grandmother who told him to go to Hyrule Castle and speak for himself. He thinks about Queen Zelda, never asking what he was afraid she'd ask of him, and about Princess Zelda, currently unconscious in the sacristy, and how she gave him a hug. He thinks about Tonbo putting flowers in his hair. He thinks about his father's apology.

Most of all he thinks about Marla, plying him with food because he was subsisting too much on health potions alone, and the conversation they had in the Shrine of the Furious God, at the feet of the statue built in the same image as the Nightmare he's now fighting.

"I'll bet he was afraid too," Marla had said. And it seems hard to believe that, seeing the face of the Fierce Deity, but Link knows this is a copy built from his image of the Furious God.

Legend had it he came in the form of a child with the soul of an adult, and that he'd used the gratitude of Termina to take his true form.

But why come as a child at all? Surely that made things harder, surely-

When his blade finally strikes true, Fierce Deity acts as though he made a fencing point despite the fact that there's black blood staining his chest.

He puts his right hand to the wound, left hand still on his sword, and he smiles that gentle, gentle, unnerving smile.

"Well done, little one," he says. "Can you manage it twice?"

[Image Description: Fierce Deity Link is smiling, resting one hand on his chest and the other on his sword.  Black blood is trickling from the center of his armor down his chest.  End ID.]

Link realizes that leaving his father was actually harder than this. That leaving the Sky Commune was actually harder than everything he's done since.

Because sometimes he hated Astramorus, sometimes he hated him more than it felt like he could contain, but he loves him so much more that it aches.

And if he gets through this, they can work on making things better.

He takes a deep breath.

"Yeah," he says. "I can manage it twice."

Astramorus, meanwhile, is thinking about all the ways he's failed Link, the ways HE thought he was failing Link versus the ways maybe he was ACTUALLY failing him.

He's thinking about how Link used to be afraid of the dark and how he showed him to use the same trick he's using now, the fairy bobbing merrily at his side and sharing her light with him.

He's thinking about how when Link found his mother's sword at six he hadn't taken it away when he probably should have swapped it for something the boy could actually lift.

He's thinking about Serenumbra bringing him books about previous heroes and previous trials they'd faced, calling Link a soft child and worrying over his abilities, and how Astramorus himself would later use those words like a weapon.

And about how Serenumbra probably knew exactly what he was doing, stoking fear for his son in his heart, encouraging every worst impulse, winding him up and letting him go, just like he confessed he'd been doing for years up in the Sanctuary.

And he thinks about Link telling him that fixing things wasn't going to take some grand sacrifice. About how Link wants him to keep living, to keep trying.

Astramorus sees a blue glow in the dark, outlining Serenumbra's back.

He lifts the book of magic still in his hands. He's ready to start trying.

[image description: A grayscale animatic.  Astramorus WHACKS the asshole. End ID.]