#when he told Ed he wouldn’t kill him

[chibi-scone]

Still can’t wrap my head around how Izzy shooting Ed was supposed to symbolize him “breaking up with Blackbeard” and have them go through that whole thing at the beginning of the season, to have Izzy be the one who tells Ed to follow what makes him happy, and have Izzy’s whole arc be about who he is without Blackbeard just for the finale to turn around and say that Izzy had to die because he was half of Blackbeard and that Ed couldn’t fully let go of Blackbeard otherwise.

[httpsserene]

𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 “𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤”𝐞𝐝 - 𝐨𝐩. 𝟖𝟏

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar’s girlfriend is feral on main. 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: crack. this is a shitpost, you have been warned. uh this is completely unrealistic, it’s pure vibes okay. this is not an accurate representation of those mentioned. 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: smau.

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: i wouldn’t consider myself an oscar girlie but then,,, i opened tumblr and saw the photos of oscar from when he went karting and um…now have another op 81 mess of a smau! this is completely unserious and it’s inspired by the nefarious actions i would do to oscar’s biceps. inspired by @dwarvenchords and @hookhausenschips ‘s reblog lol. it’s short but, enjoy, loves xxx.

insp. 1 | insp. 2 | taglist | feedback & requests | table of contents ↻

instagram

yninstagram • february 28th

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oscarpiastri: love…you couldn’t even save this for the close friends stories? you had to post it on main yninstagram: did you like my joke? oscar “jack”ed piastri LOL im so clever oscarpiastri: ijbol 😐 yninstagram: i’d be pressed but ur muscles are distracting me oscarpiastri: u should cmere and give them a kiss :)

lilymhe: he let u tie a bow around his bicep?!!! omfg i have to do this with alex yninstagram: i don’t think alex has enough muscles to meet the requirement for the bow :/

landonorris: he’s such a simp landonorris: i would never let my girlfriend tie a bow on me 🥱 yninstagram: step 1: have a girlfriend

logansargeant: your freak out on twitter had a slight mentally-ill aura yninstagram: shut the fuck up and get on a podium before you talk to me yninstagram: gangly bitch + not funny didn’t laugh + L

instagram

yninstagram • february 28th • in between my boyfriends tiddies ⚑

liked by, oscarpiastri, mclaren, logansargeant, markwebber, and 1,223,458 others

yninstagram: things to do with your boyfriends muscles; listed in the comments below (a huge thanks to the toto user on twt for FINALLY sending me the photo)

tagged oscarpiastri

view comments

yninstagram 1. tie a bow around them (completed)

➥ user thx for sharing the photo

➥ user FUCK! I CAN’T FIND A PIECE OF PAPER TO WRITE THIS ON

yninstagram 2. kiss them (completed)

➥ user awh how cute! going to nap on the interstate rq

➥ user wait for me!

➥ user omg slumberpartyyyyy

yninstagram 3. touch them (completed)

➥ markwebber there’s a time i thought you were a normal girl

➥ yninstagram who told you to think that??

user i know those arms are rock solid 🥴🤤

user i’m the toto user on twitter !!! she did not kill me y’all !!!

➥ user u were flirting with death babes

➥ user i would not have admitted to this under her post

➥ user you should seek witness protection 🙏🏾

yninstagram 4. have him suffocate you with them (he said no)

➥ oscarpiastri WHY DID YOU INCLUDE THIS ONE

➥ logansargeant i think you’re proving the mentally-ill part y/n

➥ yninstagram u sound jealous logan

➥ user personally, i think if you didn’t want her to say that, you shouldn’t have muscles @/oscarpiastri

➥ oscarpiastri oh! yeah! why didn’t i think of that—lemme just take them off rq 😐 WTH

yninstagram 5. wall sex (?)

➥ oscarpiastri i specifically said not to say #4 and #5 in public

➥ user the question mark is SENDING MEEEEE

➥ yninstagram i mean, i can tell you that he didn’t say no to this one 😈 @/user

➥ landonorris i did not want to see this when i opened ig

➥ yninstagram do us all a favor then and delete ur account x

➥ oscarpiastri what she said^

➥ landonorris :o -> :(

yninstagram 6. draw on them (in progress)

➥ user wait this one is actually cute 🤭

➥ oscarpiastri watching the pure concentration on her face is adorable

➥ user omg she’s so 👉🏼👈🏼 coded

➥ oscarpiastri it tickles lol

➥ yninstagram ur moving around too much

➥ yninstagram might have to tie you to the headboard 😏

➥ user and she’s back on her bs

yninstagram 7. watch him flex for you (ongoing indefinitely)

➥ mclaren do we have your permission to post oscar thirst traps now?

➥ yninstagram i’m sure we could work out something mutually beneficial

oscarpiastri • february 28th • my girl’s basement ⚑

liked by yninstagram, danielricciardo, logansargeant, landonorris, and 1,478,539 others

oscarpiastri she knocked out on my chest halfway through drawing on me. didn’t know this was part of the boyfriend job description, felt like there was some false adverting. overall: 12/10 experience, will be doing this again.

view comments

danielricciardo didn’t know where this was going for a sec but fuck you guys are so cute 🥹

➥ oscarpiastri thank you? i guess

➥ user oh to have my relationship praised by danny ric

➥ user girl ur man responds to your texts two days late

➥ user DAMN u didn’t have to air out my business like thatttt

user WHAT DID SHE USE TO DRAW ON YOU OSCAR??? HELP A GIRL OUT

➥ oscarpiastri its liquid eyeliner 🫡

➥ oscarpiastri she used an eyeshadow palette when she wanted to add colors

➥ user why did i never think of that, she’s so smarttttt

user oscar piastri the MAN that u AREEEE

logansargeant so,,,,are we still getting dinner later orrrrr

➥ user LOL

➥ user omg y/n was right logan IS jealous

➥ logansargeant im not jealous !!!!

➥ user 💀

➥ user okayyyy….we believe you LMAOOOOO

➥ oscarpiastri ijbol 😂

➥ logansargeant stop using ijbol it’s not funny

➥ user this will be the only time that i say i agree with logan on something

➥ logansargeant ur literally a fan account FOR ME?? @/user

➥ user yeah man u didn’t have to bring that up 😒

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35 @iloveyou3000morgan @smartstupyd @spideybv28 @loomiscorpse @hiireadstuff

© httpsserene2023

[poisonofthepaint]

lucky you

jack calls you in on your day off, which leads to hooking up in the on-call room, which leads to him finding your tattoo.

wc: 2.5k

cw: MDNI, semi-public sex, f!reader, age gap, pinv, oral, lmk if i'm missing anything!

The date you were heading toward was less than exciting. You knew you needed a life outside of the hospital, Dana had given you a wake up call last week. You had been working doubles like it was nothing, but this was your first day off in a while, so you figured you’d download a dating app, get a free dinner on a Friday night. Not that you couldn’t afford dinner, this was more like dinner and a show. Max was a kind guy, but you could tell he didn’t take you seriously— that he underestimated you. So this was your chance to show up a man, and have him pay for your dinner. Win win.

Then, your phone rings. The ringtone that you have set for hospital staff interrupts your music and blares through the speakers. You groan, checking to see who it was. You were surprised to see that it was Jack, you figured since he was agreeing so hard with Dana last week that he would be the last person calling you.

“It’s my day off,” you answer

“I need you here.” Jack sounds out of breath. 

“Are you kidding?”

“You know I’m not. Ellis is sick, I thought we could manage but we cannot. I need you here.”

“You’re buying me dinner.” you say, exasperated.

“Gladly,” Jack ends the call. 

You know he wouldn’t call you unless it was actually an emergency, Jack wasn’t like that. He wanted to be able to manage. He wanted to be able to handle it by himself. So when he calls you, it’s important. You take off the blue dress you had on, switching it out for a plain white t-shirt before throwing your scrubs on top. You grab the bookbag full of your supplies for shifts and head out of your apartment.

The hospital is only a few blocks from your apartment, so you walk. It’s a bit chilly out; the springtime air blowing through the trees. It looks like it’s gonna storm, and you get to the hospital right before it starts, ducking your head as you walk into the entrance. 

The patients are grouchy in the waiting room, all groaning and yelling. The seats must’ve been taken up hours ago, there’s more people standing than sitting. You push your way through the front door.

“Good, you’re here.” Abbot was waiting at the doors like he had timed you. “You’re not supposed to wear perfume here.” he chastises.

“Had already sprayed it when you called me, figured I didn’t have time to shower.” 

“Right,” his eyes catch yours and he refuses to look away. “We have a lot of injuries from a car crash. A bunch of guys were speeding on the highway and about six of them were sitting in the open truck bed. A semi driver didn’t see them swerving around and knocked them off the road.”

Jack finally breaks eye contact and walks away, you follow him back into Trauma 1. There’s a young guy, probably around twenty-three, screaming in pain. His hand is holding on by a string, like, literally. It’s barely connected. 

“Noah, this is my best resident, she’s gonna take a look at you.” Jack tells him, yelling over the boy’s own screeching.

“I don’t care who she is, fix my fucking hand! I’m on a baseball scholarship!”

“I’m really glad I cancelled my date to be here.” you say, examining his arm.

“You were going on a date?” he says, you think you hear a tinge of jealousy in his voice, but you brush it off.

“Aren’t you the one who told me to go have fun?” Jack doesn’t answer, just goes back to the patient, and you do too.

There are a lot of injuries, some superficial, some very serious. Noah will lose his hand, because he was stupid. You learn that he was the driver of the truck, and that he was drinking. You try to have empathy for all of your patients, but it’s hard when they’re being willingly stupid, and killing their friends. Noah heads up into surgery, and everything is rather stable now. The ED returns to its normal business, waiting for beds upstairs, triaging emergencies from the ambulances. 

You sit at your station and chart your patients, trying to remember all that happened in the whirlwind of your arrival. Jack stands right in front of you, charting as well. He looks back once, twice.

“You need something?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“Nah, just making sure you’re good.”

“I am just peachy, although I could use some dinner.” you smile up at him brightly.

He makes a noise that’s somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, “Guess I did promise.”

Jack pulls out his phone, opening DoorDash before handing it over to you. You swipe through the restaurants before you find some Chinese place that catches your eye. You put what you want in the cart before handing his phone back to him.

  “Thank you, Dr. Abbot!” you get up from your seat and go to do a round of checkups.

You briefly see him shake his head as he looks down at his phone. 

It’s  a while before the food gets there, and even longer for the driver to argue with the nurse at triage. Jack finally sees the commotion and goes out and grabs it, apologizing to the nurse.

He calls you over and you grab the food, heading into the breakroom. You sit down and open up the paper brown bag. You think about how your night worked out, you got free dinner and a show anyway. And this was actually a show you quite enjoyed. You did love your job, maybe an unhealthy amount. But you had worked so hard to get here, and you were good at it. You were Abbot’s best resident. You were fast at assessing and scoping out which treatment would be best. You flew around the ED like it was nothing to you. 

After a few minutes of eating alone, Jack came to join you, taking what he ordered out of the bag.

“So, what’s wrong with Ellis?” you pry.

“She thinks she has the flu, super high fever and throwing up.”

“Got it, just wanted to make sure this wasn’t all a ploy to get me here on my day off.”

“And if it was?” Jack asks. 

You’re stunned for a second before you regain yourself, “Then I would say you’re very unprofessional, and that you’re interfering with my personal life.”

He shrugs– smirks, “You don’t want a healthy work life balance. Plus, we have fun together, don’t we?”

You try not to think about how he can read you; how he’s got you memorized like you’re the back of his hand. “We do.”

You finish your food and throw the empty container in the trash, excusing yourself. You swoop into the on-call room, trying to calm yourself. You rest your back against the door and swipe a hand down your face. 

The truth is, you’ve had a crush on Jack since your first day at The Pitt. it was a schoolgirl one at first, you thought he was cute. It was fun to be attracted to your boss; to have a little work crush that you could be excited about. But then, it started getting deeper, Jack paid extra attention to you, he could tell that you actually enjoyed the ED. You were always with him on cases, he picked you for his ‘team’ during busy mass casualties. He got to know you, you got to know him. He was no longer a mysterious crush who you just thought was cute. You liked him, in a way you didn’t want to. It was distracting some days. It was even more distracting when you had a feeling you weren’t being delusional. When you wondered why he called you, a second year resident, instead of one of the seniors, or another attending. 

There’s a knock at the door, and you open it, shocked to see Jack standing outside. He walks in and you allow him, moving out of the way so he can lock the door behind him. You can feel your heart in your throat. You sit down on the bed, hoping it’ll stabilize you. 

There’s silence; tension you could cut with a knife. He stands with his hands resting on a countertop. The storm rages outside the window, a big crack of thunder rings throughout the room. Jack is just looking, trying to scope you out. He pushes off and approaches you. You swallow, and look down at your feet, trying to avoid eye contact, but Jack isn’t having any of it. He grabs your chin and tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him. He leans down, presses his forehead against yours. He lets his lips ghost yours— just barely.

“Tell me to stop.” he begs, out of breath, just like when he called you.

You place a hand on his neck, fingers threading lightly through the hair at the bottom, “What if I don’t want you to?” He groans, burrows his head into your neck. “I want it, Jack, of course I want it.” 

That’s all it takes. His lips are on yours without another beat. The kiss is rough— needy. Your teeth clash against each other, and his tongue explores your mouth. He lays you back onto the bed and your legs open, making room for him. He settles himself and gets to work on your neck, his hand slowly slides up your shirt, resting on your stomach.

He’s still being cautious, you think. You push his hand up and he cups your breast. He makes a strained noise when he feels the lace on your bra.

“You were gonna wear that for him?” Jack asks, right into your ear.

“No, I was wearing it for myself.” an honest answer. 

Jack rips your pants off and sees, what he assumes, is the matching thong. The underwear shifts down a bit, and you think Jack is gonna pass out.

Your small tattoo, a mistake from undergrad. A scripture on your hip that reads, ‘lucky you.’

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, kid.” he brushes his thumb over the words. Thinks about them. Doesn’t move for a minute. 

“Good thing we’re in an emergency department.” 

The nickname sends a wave of arousal through you, just like it always does. It’s how he usually referred to you during emergencies, when you’d catch something that no one else saw. It was how he praised you. You never imagined you’d hear it in this context.

Jack stands up and you whine. He quickly strips off his clothes and is back on you in a second. He rests on his stomach and kisses your tattoo sloppily.

He rips off your underwear with ferocity. You’d be smart to feel a tinge of embarrassment. He is your boss. But you don’t. This feels right, this feels good. He swipes a finger through your folds and you keen. 

“So wet for me.” he mumbles.

Jack wastes no more time. His tongue makes quick work on your clit. He moves like he knows you. Like he’s done this a million times, like there’s no room for error. And there isn’t. You both knew this needed to be quick. There were patients outside of the door, and the nurses and other doctors will be wondering where you two went. He works at your clit and you try your hardest to not make any noise. He looks up at you while his tongue is buried in you, and you let out a cry. He reaches a free hand up and covers your mouth. You bite down on it and let your head fall back on the lumpy pillow.

Then, Jack pulls away. “The fuck?” you say it into his hand, so it’s a bit muffled.

“We’ve only got time for one thing. You’re gonna come when I do. Just had to get you ready.” He says.

You want to salute. You want to scream. You don’t really know how this is happening. 

Jack pulls off his boxers and you gulp. You see why he needed to get you ready. The length alone was bigger than anything you’ve taken, but he was girthy too. 

He pulls a condom out of a drawer in the room. “Did you stash that in here?” you laugh.

“No, they keep them in here. I always wondered why, but now I see.”

He rolls it on quickly and comes back to the bed. He rests on his heels, taking you in. “Are you sure?” Jack asks again.

“I’m positive. I’ve wanted this since I met you.”

He nods slowly, small smile coming to his lips. He moves so his hands are right next to your head. Jack lines himself up with your entrance and sinks in deep. 

“Shit,” he mumbles. “So fucking tight.”

“You feel so good,” you cry.

“Yeah? This good for you?” He sets a brutalizing pace, hips never faltering. His head falls into your neck again. “Your perfume is driving me fucking crazy, sweetheart. Could smell you whipping around this hospital. Every time you passed me, I thought I was going to have to take you right there.”

He’s rambling now, you realize. Pussydrunk from how you feel. 

“Maybe I’ll have to wear it more, break the rules a bit, if it leads to this.” you say, resisting the urge to moan in the middle of your sentences.

He pants, stifles his own noises. “You’re close,” you say.

“It’s been a while, every time I went on a date, I would just think of you.” 

“Is that true?”

“I’m already in your pants, no reason to lie.” his hips start to stutter. “Y’gonna come with me?”

You scope out the feeling in your stomach and focus in on it, Jack brings a hand down between your bodies and starts rubbing your clit. “Fuck, God, yes. Yes, I am.”

The room is filled with heavy breaths, the air has gone thick. You spot a bolt of lightning run through the sky and grab Jack’s head, bringing his ear down to your mouth. “Now,” you whisper.

The thunder hits right as you both finish. It’s loud enough to mask the noises neither of you could hold back. He continues the pace until you come down. You both gasp into each other. Jack slowly pulls out, taking the condom over to the trash can and burying it under some paper towels. 

He comes back to the bed and sits on the edge, massaging your shin. “I’m gonna make an assumption and say that was the best sex of your life,” you scoff, but don’t deny it. “But, we have to get back.”

“I know,” you say, wishing you could stay in this room forever. “God, this is really gonna fuck with my work life balance.”

Jack laughs and stands up, placing a kiss on your forehead. “C’mon, lucky girl. We’ll figure it out.”

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Ichigo and Grimmjow learning that their s/o managed to survive a dangerous situation without a single scratch?

Ichigo watched the great stone wall collapse under its own weight, once the beam from the Sternritter had pierced it’s hull. It would have been pretty cool, if it didn’t mean that their defenses were down and last he knew [Y/N] was standing right there!

“[Y/N]!” He called out, even though he was all the way on the other side of the battlefield.

Ichigo cut through his opponent and sprinted over to the scene where the dust was settling. Frantically scanning the rumble for some sign of his partner, but woefully optimistic in hoping he wouldn’t find anything. “Phew! That was close!”

The Shinigami turned and saw [Y/N] a few yards away from him. Unscathed, perfectly fine, and examining the rumble like him with a much less panicked look. “[Y/N]! You’re alright! How did you avoid the attack??”

“Oh. Well for one I was more over there,” they pointed towards the spot that they had moved to in the fighting, “plus once I saw the wall start to come down I shunpo-ed it out of there.”

“Shunpo….”

“Yeah, Yoruichi has been training me. She said I’ve been getting pretty good. I thought I mentioned that?”

Ichigo wasn’t sure if they had or hadn’t right now. All he knew was that he was relieved they were ok.

He came up to them and gave them a hug. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” He told them. Before he let go and they went back to the fighting.

Grimmjow howled with laughter and glee as he cut through another one of these goons. Their bodies splitting open like they were made of paper. Or one of those pinata things from the human world with how they sprayed open when broke. What a time to be alive.

At first, he thought it had to be some kind of joke. Him? Fight for the shitty Shinigami? No way!

But apparently they had lost their idiotic minds, and rolled out the red carpet for him when he came to the Seireitei door. One he was all too happy to paint even redder with blood.

He’d do this little chore for them, then finally kill Kurosaki, and go back home to Hueco Mundo with [Y/N] as champions. This was the best day of his life.

In his hacking and slashing, Grimmjow looked up when he saw one of the buildings fall. Not uncommon in a fight. He thought it was stupid to have buildings that tall anyway. He grinned as he watched on of the Shinigami monuments fall, but then panned down and saw [Y/N] standing near where the rubble would fall. “Shit! [Y/N]!”

There was nothing to be done though. He was too far away. The building was falling to fast. Then by the time be got over there all that was left was rumble and dust. Grimmjow felt his heart stop, then come back to life beating furiously as he was now going to destroy now only these Quincy but everything here for taking his [Y/N] away.

The Arrancar turned to begin his killing spree, when suddenly a large piece of the rumble was dislodged and flew through the air. It barely missed him as he watched [Y/N] climb out of the hole they created. Dusting off their outfit while muttering, “this was brand new…”

Grimmjow watched in amazement but then grinned wildly as he saw that they were ok. Of course they were ok. How stupid of him to thinking a grubby old building would take out his [Y/N].

He scooped them up with one arm to pull them close, still with that grin. “I thought I lost you there for a second.”

“Who? Me?” They asked in amusement.

Grimmjow gave them a kiss before he let go and they both went back to the fighting. His spree might be on hold, but his ‘chore’ still wasn’t done. And Kurosaki was still out there somewhere.

[syntheticsymp]

OK, I’ve been obsessed with that man for YEARS and that post about Nikto is one of my biggest headcanons (although there are also other drugs that do the same thing but do the opposite by increasing libido… so I’m sure if he/they knew they’d switch him off immediately, just so he could have his precious little thing shaking and screaming desperately for him, lol). So, figuring he still has dysfunction issues and is a very proud man, I think he’d be pretty good with his hands… I mean, he doesn’t need his dick to make you cum and he’ll prove it… (although I wouldn’t mind using it as a pacifier… ehh… just saying…).

*forehead kiss* Babes, I love the way your brain works. I am obsessed with this. Just thinking about this scenario gave me so many ideas. Nikto is one of the characters I love writing most for because his personality/personalities are so complex. I'd love to hear more of your headcannons because this man deserves more in-depth analysis.

-

If Nikto’s libido was high, god save his girl. He's not a kind man in the slightest, meaning you'd practically be a living sex toy for him. Round after round, not caring if you passed out on him, which you did many times.

Luckily, his medication was switched back about a week later after he got on it. But not before you were thoroughly molded to fit his stupidly thick cock. You sported a small limp for about a month, but Nikto didn't seem to mind carrying you room to room. It was the closest he could get to apologizing to you.

However, going back on his regular meds came with another problem. His ED was far worse than before. He went to KorTac’s doctor for it, but after being told there wasn't a good solution unless he wanted to go off meds altogether, he put that doctor’s head through a wall. His poor girl would stay empty for a long time. That's what truly irked him, the idea that you would forget how he feels inside you. That you would see him as inadequate. It didn't matter how many times you assured him otherwise, the voices in the back of his head were loud enough to speak over you.

Nikto was never good with affection. The two ways he knew how to show it was either physically doing something for you, or sex. Now that the latter was off the table, he was trying something more… your speed. It wasn’t really working. He wasn’t exactly one for change.

You, on the other hand, were growing used to him. His violent mood swings, what to do during his episodes, everything. The life you had before him was fading the longer you stayed locked inside with him. You started minding this less and less. After all, he claimed he loved you.

Though, he could only give you the closest thing to love he was capable of, if he was capable of love at all.

His hand lazily pet your head as he read some book in Russian. You were perched between his legs, cheek resting against his thigh, lazily pressing kisses to his soft cock. You alternated between that, licking fat stripes down his shaft, and sucking on his one remaining ball. He had lost the other during Mr. Z’s torture, that much he had told you. Occasionally, he'd give you a grunt of recognition, communicating that he appreciated your actions. Though, his lips stayed shut.

This wasn't for sexual reasons. He got nothing out of this, no pleasure aside from the knowledge that he had you wrapped around his finger. Which, oh, he loved seeing you so desperate that you'd suck so diligently on his cock, soft or not. But you knew the truth. You knew this was a tactic to keep you close and quiet while he read his book. You didn't mind, not really.

At least whatever medicine he was on now kept his libido at a dismal. Keeping up with him otherwise would be a nightmare.

Most of your nights with him, when he wasn't disassociating or trying to kill you, were like this. Quiet. Content. Nikto and his little pet. No brutality bleeding over from his job, no voices convincing him to choke you out, just silent affection. He was trying so hard to prove he wasn't rotted on the inside, that he loved you.

Then, Krueger decided to make a comment at work. That man was single-handedly the reason for most of Nikto’s bad moods. Usually, Nikto could block out his partner’s constant dirty jokes and babbling about old war stories, but some things he took a little too personally.

“How’s that little birdy of yours doing?”

That was enough to stop Nikto in his tracks. How had Krueger known about you? It wasn’t like Nikto had told him, or anyone for that matter. You were his, his to keep, his to protect. If your name got out at work, you could get hurt. Nikto knew the consequences of loose lips all too well.

So, Nikto didn’t answer. A glare would do.

He greatly underestimated his teammate’s need to harass whoever was closest. Most people assumed Nikto was the cruelest of the duo, when in reality, it was Krueger. He may hide it behind his signature toothy grin, but Krueger was downright evil, if evil truly existed. The only reason he hadn’t been fired was because he was a valuable asset. KorTac needed its monsters. No sane person would go on the missions Krueger and Nikto did so willingly.

“She’s cute,” Krueger continued. “If she ever needs a proper fuck, send her to me. Poor thing deserves someone who can actually make her come.”

It had been a joke. Nikto knew that. He worked with Krueger for long enough to know how the Austrian messed around. Still, that didn’t stop the comment from replaying in Nikto’s mind over and over. The voices whispered it to him over and over.

Even two days later, when he finally arrived home from deployment, it was still on his mind.

He could make you come. He had done so before, on the rare occasion that the medicine didn’t betray him. Sure, it hadn’t been recent, but he could. Besides, you cared about him anyway. You promised him you did. You wouldn’t lie to him.

Right?

He willed his brain to shut up as he took off his muddy boots, puttng them in their place by the door. It was late. You were probably asleep by now. He could simply get your reassurnce in the morning.

But, then again, why should he have to wait? He had been patient enough when finding you, carefully stalking you, bidding his time before bringing you here. Now that you were his, he shouldn’t have to wait.

Nikto didn’t care to use his stealth training when he moved through his house. He lived there, after all.

He pushed the door to his bedroom open, only to find it empty. Once again, the voices started whispering their honeyed poison.

She must have left us!

You were foolish to leave her.

Krueger was right. You couldn’t please her. You’re the reason we are alone.

Using the heel of his palm, he hit his temple. Did it help? Not really. But it gave him a reprieve, the feeling of physically beating the voices in his head back helping in its own way.

“Nikto?”

He snapped out of his daze. The voices receded. They weren’t far, just at his fingertips, but quieted enough that he could hear you through the fog.

“Yes.” His words were detached, like always. “It is us.”

You were sleeping on the couch, the pink blanket he had purchased for you when you first ‘moved in’ wrapped around your shoulders. You must have stayed up late watching one of your silly TV programs again.

“Are you…” It was important you choose your next words carefully. Nikto was never ‘ok’ and if you brought that up, it would cause a conversaion you did not feel like having at three in the morning. Asking about his deployment would only lead to reliving the memories, and then send his mind right back to that mindset. “Are you my Nikto?”

He nodded. Yes, of course, he was yours. Not the violent alter ego, not the one that wanted to watch you squirm and cry. No, he was the closest personality to sane that existed in his mind.

Sitting up a little straighter, you scooted over to the side of the couch, then pat the spot beside you. Oh, to think six months ago you were doing whatever you could to escape him.

Instead of joining you, Nikto took off his mask. You no longer stared at his scars, they had become more familiar to you than any normal facial structure. The chunk of missing flesh where his cheek once was, exposing his teeth, and the chemical burns that singed off most of his ear and molded part of his eye shut was simply the only face you knew. His short hair was messy with sweat from being hidden in that mask for so long.

Then, he placed his hand on the back of your neck, leaning down to meet you. He pressed his lips to yours forcefully, parting his lips to allow his tongue to slip through. He didn’t waste time when it came to tasting you, he never did.

The sleepy moan that escaped your parted lips was the closest thing a monster like him could get to heaven. Your mouth was warm in a way he was always chasing, hoping that it could somehow thaw the cold that had taken over his heart.

With your half-closed eyes and sleepy state, he quickly had you pinned to the couch, his hands shoving the blankets to the side.

You pulled back for just a moment to breathe before he pulled your back in. He needed to forget about the battlefield, about Krueger, about the voices constantly reminding him of himself. He breathed you in, lungs rattling, the long, scarred-over slit on the side of his nose causing a familiar whistle,

He kept you caged, pressing his crotch against yours. Only to find, once again, that he was soft.

He pulled back, hissing beneath his breath. Your eyes were wide, your eyelashes fluttering in a way that was so delectable. He wanted to fuck you, he knew he did. So why couldn’t he?

Maybe Krueger was right. What kind of man was Nikto if he couldn’t even fill you with his seed? Not that he wanted any of those snot-filled brats, but with you, he still wanted the option. He wanted you all round and pretty for him.

Instead, you were stuck with something broken. A damaged man who had thought he was worthy of you. You were his, he made sure of it. Yet there was always that doubt.

Seeing he had stopped, you started to scoot out from under him. Only for his hand to find it’s natural place on your throat, squeezng enough to keep you still. You had been in this position enough times to know that the worst possible thing to do was to fight him.

“You have been good for us while we were gone, yes?” He hummed, his Russian accent always seeming stronger after he had been gone for so long.

With the pressure on your windpipe, you could only get out a few words. “Yes. I-I have.”

The corners of his lips twitched up and his scars twisted in a way that looked painful. “Then a reward is overdue.”

Your eyes widened as his hand went to push up the shirt you had stolen from him to wear. Like always, you weren’t wearing pants. He never allowed you to, and always threw a fit if you did. Another one of his strange rules. Even if he couldn’t use your pussy the way he wanted to, he still wanted access.

He swiped his finger agonizingly slow up your slit, not entering, simply collecting your slick.

You shuttered underneath him, an action so innocent he couldn’t help finding so beautiful all on its own. All your little reactions, he had them committed to memory.

“Nik-“ You squeaked, nearly going cross-eyed. He hadn’t been intimate with you in a way that stimulated you in a long time. It had only made you that much more desperate.

“Needy thing,” he tutted. “Did you miss us that much?”

The words falling from his lips did nothing to distract you from the way he pressed his thumb against your clit, rolling the bundle of nerves between his fingers. The scars and ridges embedded into his skin rubbed against you in a way that was impossibly perfect.

“Yes!” You blurted out, “I missed you, all of you, so much!”

Tears began to form behind your eyes, and for once, they weren’t caused by pain. He inserted his pointer finger, slowly sinking it into the joint as your walls clenched around him. It wasn't as thick as his cock, but it wasn't bad. With his thumb, he kept stimulating pressure on your clit.

Back, years ago, when Nikto was still ‘Andre,’ he had been a bit of a playboy. His face was handsome in all the right ways, with a sharp jawline and nice facial harmony. Girls, and a few guys, often had interest in him, but he rarely reciprocated any genuine feelings. Nobody ever said he was a good man before he became a monster. He had left many girls crying after breaking up with them, not so much as batting an eye at their tears. But that experience gave him something. The man knew how to use his hands.

Granted, he hadn��t had to in some time, but he certainly remembered. Besides, it wasn't too hard to please you.

He curled his finger inside of you, causing you to squirm beneath him. Then, he started pumping.

Each motion was slow and deliberate. When he was having sex with you, the few times he could, they were all rapid and frenzied, like he was more animal than human. Whatever he was giving to you now was different. Soft, but causing stars in your eyes.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, clinging desperately. It wasn't like you to get worked up so easily, but something about his languid touch, how his finger fit inside you, was other-worldly. The fabric of his hoodie was bunched in your palms as you moaned beneath him.

Warmth pooled in your stomach.

Then, Nikto suddenly pulled his hand away, leaving you as empty as you were before.

“Hey!” You squeaked out, sitting straight up, only for him to push you back down.

The look in his blue eyes was familiar. Dangerous.

At that moment, you realized something. This wasn’t truly for you. Nikto wasn't trying to get you off just to make you happy, even if it was some twisted type of ‘reward.’ He was doing this for himself.

“You do not come until we say so.” He bit out the words like they owe him money, his R’s rolled in a way that was simply delectable.

You nodded quickly, doing whatever it took to get him to continue.

And, after a moment, he did. He resumed toying with your clit, his easy thrusts, he even threw in a second finger once he thought you could handle it. You picked up on his rhythm, practically humping his hand. Perhaps you truly did miss him.

Your first orgasm came easy. Hot, thick spurts of cum slid down his hand, wetting the cuff of his hoodie, leaving you breathless. You expected him to pull his fingers back out after that.

He did not.

He picked up right back where he left off, the aftershocks of your orgasm leaving you even more sensitive.

“Hang on, wait,” you tried to say and move away.

Only to once again find his free hand on your throat, holding you down. This time, he was not as kind to your pussy. His thrusts got deeper, harsher. And those damned baby-blue eyes were fixated on the way you took him. The way your cunt swallowed his fingers, the cum sqeulching as he pushed in, made him swallow.

“No.”

Making you cum once was not enough. He had so much lost time to make up for. Curling his fingers in, thrusting so deep he swore he could feel your womb, sloppily making out to swallow your moans, it was all he ever needed.

You lost count of how many times you came. He did not. A chorus of your screams and his rough, Russian words filled his home. Luckily for him, the two of you were far enough away from society that nobody would walk in. He didn't have to hold back or muffled your pretty voice.

The night dragged on for hours, his hands never seeming to get tired. Nikto had the training of a soldier and the endurance of one as well. Not even the devil himself could pull him off of you. All he could do was stare at you, never growing tired of your expressions, the ratio of pleasure to pain finally at a balance.

It was around seven in the morning when Nikto decided he was done with your reward. You had passed out around twenty minutes earlier and couldn't take another round, not even unconscious. So he scooped you up and finally, finally took you to bed. While he didn't need sleep, you did.

He brushed your hair out of your face as you lay in his lap. You were just awake enough to tug gently at the elastic of his pants.

With a small twitch of his lips, Nikto did as you wanted, and pulled down his pants just enough to free himself. Even after everything he did to you, every mind-numbingly hot face you made, he was still soft.

But, for whatever reason, he no longer felt guilty about it. How could he, when you sleepily slipped the thing into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip, just wanting to have him there.

This was probably his favorite ‘welcome home’ he had ever received after a deployment. His fears had been wiped away so easily.

Nikto had no clue why Krueger’s words had gotten to him. Clearly, Nikto could make his precious little thing cum as many times as you needed, as many as he wanted. And you seemed more than happy to fall asleep on his lap, face buried in his crotch, using his cock as a pacifier. He was wrong to ever doubt that.

You were made for him just as he was made for you. Forever and always, you were his.

[eddiernunson]

I Can Do it With a Broken Heart | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+ | PREVIEW

NOW POSTED

Summary: You and Eddie have both had crap luck on dates lately, nothing that can't be fixed with a strawberry milkshake. However, he gets asked out on a date and it goes well...until it turns your life on its head and he forgets how to pick up the phone. You don't even care that he's dating someone else you just want your best friend back.

Warnings: idiots in love, best friends to lovers, ANGST, brief EddiexChrissy, ooc Chrissy, attempted SA, bestfriend!Steve, and needy, desperate smut that makes it all worth it.

Excerpt here:

The puff of smoke that leaves his lips as you approach him should not be this gorgeous, it’s practically unfair. “Hey, Eds.” 

He dusts the filter, killing it on the cement table he sits at as he blows out one more puff. “Hey, sweetheart.” 

Just from that particular look in his eye, you can tell something is on his mind. “You okay, there, Munson?” 

He smirks, effortlessly standing up. “I suppose. I’m not sure how to react. Or how you’ll react.” 

Your brows meet your hairline, watching his mind move at a million miles per hour. “Ok, Eddie this better be about a new class of creatures in DnD, or something, because you’re scaring me.”

He smiles, nodding his head over to the halls that lead toward the front door of the campus. “Someone asked me out on a date, earlier, today.” 

Your brows furrow, biting back the jealousy that eats at your chest. Every little part of you holds back the monster that threatens to class its way out, to snarl and hiss at every girl that even so much as looks at him wrong. It’s hard to bite it back, to choke on it purposely, but if you must, you will. 

It tastes like venom as you swallow it back down. “Oh, who?”

A faint pink spreads across Eddie’s cheeks, much to your dismay. Not once, in your fuck, what, seven, eight years, of friendship have you ever managed to see Eddie blush. (Just once but it was when you nearly walked in on him jerking himself off a few short years ago.) “Who?” 

“Um Chrissy. Chrissy Cunningham?” 

Your jaw drops, but your gut falls through the floor. You swear you hear it smash through the tilted floors and fall into the depths of hell. 

“She asked you out?” 

“Hey! Don’t act so surprised! A cheerleader could like me!” 

That was the last thing on your mind. Of course a cheerleader could like Eddie, they’d be stupid not to. No. Every other girl that Eddie has either slept with, or gone on a date with brought no worry to your head, competition, per say. But a sweet girl like Chrissy, one that bore pretty blonde curls, a sweet smile and a sweet disposition, this is like your worst nightmare come true. 

Thanks to the notion of living in a small town, you could recall 99% of the names that Eddie had told you, whether they be hookups or a date. Most of them didn’t intimidate you, only because, selfishly, you could nitpick at things you think wouldn’t work out with Eddie. Whether they were too vapid, too shallow, had none of the same interests as him, only shallowly liked him for his looks, or was a bully…you had something to give great comfort to you to prevent that little jealousy monster from clawing its way out. 

This time, your brain wracked itself for some sort of answer. Some sort of flaw in the Queen of Hawkins High that could settle this uneasiness that has taken over your mind. Nothing. Nothing. 

“I’m not surprised a cheerleader could like you, I’m surprised that Chrissy Cunningham asked you out,” you answer candidly, watching in step with him to where you supposed was his van. “I’m guessing you said yes?”

“I’d be crazy not to!” Eddie answered sheepishly, tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket. “I’m taking her out on Friday night.” 

“Ah, you’ll tell Steve to take Creeper off hold for us, then?”

Eddie stops mid stride, faltering, his brows pinched as he gives you those big brown eyes. “Shit. It totally slipped my mind.” 

This is also new. Even as his dates would happen any previously made plans with him were always a priority. You just hope this isn’t a new habit of his. 

“We’ll do it on Saturday, yeah?” 

You nod, giving him the comfort you suddenly find yourself craving. From the pep in his step, the rosiness of his cheeks, the warm glint in his eyes, you can tell that he’s truly excited. As a best friend, you tried to be happy for him, however hard it is to make the smile on your face even remotely convincing. 

Eddie curls his arm around your shoulder, tugging you along with him for what is probably another afternoon in his room, clouded by a haze of weed. 

You smoked more than usual, if anything to allow his excitement and plans for his big date in two days to buzz into the background, the bong rippling through your lungs as a punishment for yourself. 

-

Final word count is about 24k so I think I'll post on the 15 to give my editor a fighting chance. If you want to be tagged let me know <3

[vivid-dreamscapes]

Can I make a request please? KiriBaku or just Bakugo (if your not a fan of poly 🙈) noticing y/n hasn't been eating, suffering from ED since she was young but something triggered it again. I read one fairly recently and as someone struggling with the same issue, it just hit me in all the right places. I totally understand if you give this a hard pass since it can be triggering for others. Thank you

Yes, ofc! Ty for the request, and I’m happy to write this! I hope it can help bring comfort to people struggling with eating disorders. ❤️‍🩹

Kiribaku x Gn!Reader

Tw: Eating disorder, angst, cursing

Bakugou wanted to kill Mineta. He wanted to put a palm in his face and let out the biggest fucking explosion he could even muster. The only reason he hadn’t yet was because Kirishima reminded him that you probably didn’t want attention brought to you. And because, you know, potentially killing a classmate was a horrible idea.

It had all started two weeks ago, on a Wednesday. It had been your turn to make dinner for the class that night, and after a lot of studying, you were too tired to prepare a full-on meal. So, making a quick stop to the convenience store at the base of the hill UA was perched on, you made a bowl of instant ramen for every member in class 1-A.

Sure, you added certain vegetables, spices, eggs, or other ingredients to certain people’s bowls to make them a little fancier. But it was low effort, and honestly? Instant ramen didn’t sound too bad to 1-A either. Who wouldn’t want something so simple after one of the most hardcore week of training this semester?

Once you had set out everyone’s bowls, you sat down to eat your own. You had just been happily talking with Eijirou about some new move of his, when Mineta finally came and joined the group dinner.

“…wow [name]. Instant ramen? Is this what you eat regularly, cause that would explain why Mina looks skinned next to you.”

Instantly, Mina threw her fried egg at his face, shouting at him about how wrong he was, and how he’d really crossed a line. Everyone actually started yelling at him and defending you. But honestly…you didn’t even notice. You just stared at the food in front of you, suddenly feeling a loss of appetite.

And following that night, you’d slipped into an unfortunately all too familiar pattern. Checking the food labels. Eating the bare minimum. Checking the weight scale. Skipping out on meals.

The worst part? Nobody noticed. Not one person. You pushed it off as anxiety. Blamed it on the protein bar you told everyone you ate at the school gym earlier. That protein bar was never actually there. You said the meds you were taking came with loss of appetite as a side effect. You said you were fine.

It wasn’t until a couple nights ago, when it was Katsuki’s night to make dinner, that he finally took notice. The thing about your boyfriend…he’s a good fucking cook. And he damn well knows it. So he usually doesn’t give a shit about whether or not people like it.

But you and Eijirou are different. You’re his partners, his significant others. He wants you to like his food, craves your validation. So when he sees you barely ever touch his Horumonyaki, he’s kinda pissed.

“Oi.” He said, and you looked up form the napkin you had been fidgeting with. “Don’t like it or somethin’?”

“Oh no, Katsuki, it’s really good.” You said quickly, flashing him a nervous smile, which you disguised to be sheepish. “It’s just a bit spicy for me.”

Bullshit. He didn’t add any spice tonight because stupid Racoom Eyes kept complaining about how he always made his dinners, ‘too damn spicy’.

But he didn’t press anymore. He just told Eijirou. And for the next few days, they watched. They watched you eat lunch. They watched you eat snacks. They watched you eat breakfast, and they watched you eat dinner.

They watched you eat.

Or rather…

They watched you…not.

Until today. They decided they needed to do something about this. So they waited for the elevator to reach the floor your dorm was on. Katsuki had his fists clenched at his side, foot tapping impatiently. Eijirou looked at him in concern, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

Once the entire door opened with a Bing, Katsuki stormed over to your dorm, Eijirou jogging in surprise to catch up.

“Oi!” Your angrier boyfriend of the two shouted, pounding on your door. “Open up idiot!”

“Katsuki, maybe they don’t want to be approached so aggressively.” Eijirou said, trying to reason with his explosive partner.

Regardless, you opened the door with a tired sigh. Your eyes were a little red rimmed, form being tired or having been crying, they couldn’t tell.

Originally, Katsuki had planned on giving you a very loud lecture and telling you that Mineta was fucking blind, and was spewing shit from his mouth. But seeing you so low, so out of energy, so…sad. It made him pause. And before he knew it, he was stepping forward, embracing you tightly.

You stumbled back a little in surprise, eyes wide before hugging him back. Eijirou quickly joined in on the hug, shutting the door to your dorm so nobody could spy on this personal, private moment.

So, after some gentle persuasion, you told them everything. How you’d struggled like this before. How you’d even trapped in this dark place for years, and had only been able to leave it a few months before coming to UA.

“I thought I was done with this.” You said through your tears, fists clenched on your knees. “I thought I was past this. God, it’s so stupid, and childish, and-“

“Hey, hey, hey.” Eijirou quickly cut you off, putting a hand on one of your trembling fists. He gently rubbed a calloused finger over your knuckles, giving you a soft look. “Nothing about this is childish. People having eating disorders though all ages in life, and not one of them is any more or less valid then the other.”

“Yeah, and not one of them is necessary.” Katsuki scoffed, and Eijirou threw him a look. “What?” The blonde asked gruffly, taking your other shaking fist in his two larger hands. “I mean that there’s no need to be so worried. Every body is beautiful. Just because one person says someone body looks one way, doesn’t mean the next person is going to see it the same way. And maybe they do. But maybe they find it attractive.”

You wiped a stray tear, trying to keep yourself from breaking down again. “B-But Mineta said-“

“Oh, Mineta said this?” Katsuki said, voice suddenly dark and angry. “Ohoho, I’m gonna fucking murder that little shit.”

Eijirou shot his boyfriend another warning look before rubbing your arms gently. “Listen, what Mineta said was out of line, and untrue. Remember when he called Jirou ugly? She’s not ugly, is she?”

You looked at him before shaking your head, wiping your eyes as your bottom lip grumbled a bit. “No. She’s really really pretty.”

“Exactly.” The redhead said with a smile, tilting his head. “So we already know Mineta’s judgment is pretty clouded.” He smiled, his words eliciting a laugh from you. He held up his hand, hardening it with his quirk. “Here. Squeeze it as hard as you need too, it won’t hurt.”

So you took his hand and squeezed the shit out of it, letting off some tension you hadn’t even noticed was in your shoulders. Smiling, you pulled back.

“Better?” Eijirou asked, and you nodded. Smiling, he and Katsuki scooted closer to you from both sides, wrapping their arms around you.

“We’re here for you every step of the way, [name].” Katsuki said gruffly, wiping a tear away with a rare smile.

Eijirou smiled and nodded, hugging you tighter. “We’re going to help you get through this. You’re not alone.”

!Not proofread!

Requests welcome and wanted! :)

[eggplantwaffles]

Since Steph and Kara became friends during Steph’s Batgirl run and post all her critical character development and casually horrifying pre Batgirl life, I imagine Steph accidentally lore dumps crazy shit in conversation:

��——

Kara: Holy shit, are you okay?!

Steph (holding her certainty broken arm): Eh- hurts less than giving birth.

Kara: I guess?

Steph: Although, I think my baby had an unusually large head.

Kara: Oh… wait, what?!

———

Steph: You can stay with me few days, just don’t use my shampoo.

Kara: That’s the only rule?

Steph: Yeah, I had to start hiding it when my Dad let Ed Nygma and his goons stay over.

Kara: …The Riddler stole your shampoo?

———

Kara: You have to have hobbies outside of crime fighting.

Steph: I liked gymnastics in high school.

Kara: Okay, that’s something!

Steph: I quit cause I found out my coach was dealing drugs to kids.

Kara: Oh.

Steph: I also played piano as a kid but I quit that too cause after my parents left me with a pervy babysitter for days I didn’t trust any adult men for a while, including my piano teacher.

———

Steph: You’re really nice to me.

Kara: Well, yeah? We’re friends!

Steph: You haven’t even told me to go away once!

Kara: Why would I want you to go away?

Steph: Normally it’s cause Batman thinks I’m no good- but I guess that wouldn’t matter to you?

———

Kara: Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you’d never met Batman?

Steph: I’d be in prison, probably.

Kara: For what?

Steph: I was gonna murder my Dad… actually I think I would have gotten away with it so maybe not prison?

Kara: …Forget I asked.

———

Steph: Ugh! I’m going to kill Bruce!

Kara: What’d he do now?

Steph: He paid off my student loans without telling me!

Kara: That’s… terrible?

Steph: I don’t want his stupid pity presents. He does this every year!

Kara: Pity present?

Steph: Yeah, it’s his yearly “sorry you got murdered” gift. Last year I magically qualified for a WE scholarship I didn’t apply for.

Kara: …I might regret mentioning it but did you say murdered?

Steph: Huh? Oh, yeah, brutally- that’s why I don’t like walking past construction sites. Hold on, I need to call Bruce and yell at him.

[chloe-skywalker]

Not Doing Good - Sirius Black

Sirius x Fem!Reader Daughter

Cedric x Reader (romantic-Past)

Warnings: Cedric's death

Word count: 688

Summary: Y/n had been in a very happy relationship with Cedric. Till the dark lord killed him. Now her friends are concerned with how she’s dealing with the loss of him. So they call in her dad.

Authors Note: I don’t normally write Cedric as dead because I hate that they killed him off. But this work really well so . . . sorry. It hurts me to.

Masterlist

Harry Potter Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Y/n” Ron greeted as the Y/h/c-ed girl sat down at the Gryffindor table.

“Ron.” Y/n greeted back with a quick nod, not really feeling up to conversation.

“How’s your day been?” Hermione tried asking hoping to get a conversation going with Y/n.

“Okay I guess.” Y/n shrugged not looking up from her plate.

“You wanna go to hogsmead with us this weekend?” Hermione asked hopeful that maybe she’d join them this time, instead of staying in her room at Hogwarts.

“I don’t think so guys.” She gave them a tight lipped smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Please Y/n/n. Don’t make me go with them alone.” Hermione pleaded, trying to get her out with them.

“I don’t want to dampen the mood.” Y/n shook her head.

“You wouldn’t, Y/n. You never could.” Hermione argued back.

“Okay.” Y/n gave in, knowing they wouldn’t stop if she didn’t.

“We’ll have fun.” Hermione smiled, hoping to lift her friends spirits.

^     ^     ^

“She hasn’t gotten better.” Harry stated, worried for his friend. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all snuck off after dinner to talk alone. They were worried about Y/n.

“She just can’t seem to move on from Cedric.” Ron said, shaking his head sadly.

“I don’t think she’ll ever move on from him. I do think she can move forward. But she’s not.” Hermione told the boys. The 3 were trying to come up with some way to help Y/n.

“How do we help her?” Ron asked out loud, hoping they had an idea because he didn’t.

“I think we can only do what we’ve been doing. She has happy moments, and I think that's the best thing we can keep doing.” Hermione hated that they couldn't really do more than they already were.

“Maybe we should contact Sirius?” Harry hoped maybe bringing Sirius in on what's been going on with Y/n he could help. He is her father after all.

^     ^      ^

@ Hogsmead

It was finally time for the trip to Hosmead. It gave Harry, Ron, and Hermione some hope when Y/n was ready before them. Getting to hogsmead didn’t take long. The group of four were joking and laughing, even Y/n was a little. That was till they saw Sirius.

“I’m gonna go see my brothers.” Ron excused himself. Not wanting to intrude on the father daughter moment that was going to happen.

“I need a new quil and ink.” Harry excused himself also. Wanting to give them privacy.

“It’ll be okay. But you need to talk and we think he might be able to help.” Hermione smiled reassuringly before she to left the father and daughter alone.

“y/n/n.” Sirius walked up to his daughter, after getting the letter from Harry Sirius was very concerned for her.

“Dad.” Y/n whimpered out with tears in her eye’s, she had missed him a lot especially with dealing with the loss of Cedric.

“Come her honey.” Sirius opened his arms and y/n ran into them. Holding her tightly Sirius rocked her softly.

“It’ll get easier sweetheart. I promise.” He knew all about what happened and he felt for his daughter. In the short time he’s been back in her life he saw how in love Y/n and Cedric were. How they had a future planned out together. One that had died with cedric that night.

“I’m not doing good, Daddy. I miss him.” Y/n sobbed gripping onto him tightly, staining his clothes with her tears.

“I know sweety. I know.” Sirius kissed the top of her head.

It would take time for her to heal from this loss and in truth he was absolutely sure that she would never fully heal from it.

Cedric will always have a place with her that can never be filled again but Sirius hoped she’d let someone else in in the future.

Cedric would always watch over her, it hurt him to watch from beyond how much his death was affecting her. But he wanted her to be happy and move on. They’d see each other again.

Taglist:

@padawancat97 @gruffle1 @daughter1of2anita3dearly

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 4

I finished it!! It will have 8 chapters. I'm excited for you guys to see where this goes! I'm still working on Sweet Home Indiana and will be focusing on that until ITS done. Then we'll be back our regularly schedule WIPs.

We have Eddie's big plan and Steve gets his flirt on.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

****

Steve slipped into the kitchen and there in his mother’s neat handwriting was a note telling him that there were leftovers in the fridge and that they would be home again next Friday.

He sighed and opened the fridge. He immediately closed it when he saw what the leftovers were.

Boiled cabbage with chopped bacon and carrots. It wasn’t bad if it was made correctly, but his mother boiled any flavor and nutrients out of the poor vegetables and then tossed in cooked bacon to hide its sins.

He opened the cupboard and pulled out a small can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup and made that. He was craving the sodium. Eddie’s beef was good to get his body to stop shaking, but he had sweat so much he needed to replenish the salt he’d lost.

Once Steve had eaten and drank another glass of water he went to go get a shower and get ready for bed. It was no use trying to get back to his homework now. He had managed to blow up his whole evening by getting lost.

He had no idea how he got to Forest Hills or even why his feet carried him there in the first place. He could feel the weariness seeping into his bones from running for so long.

He undressed and got under the scorching water, letting the heat carry away his pains. His mind ran through all the things that Munson had done for him. The guy had no reason to be nice to him, but he had been more than gracious.

Then it hit him. Munson had called him Stevie, and without thinking Steve had called him Eds.

Eds.

Where the fuck did that come from? They weren’t friends, they could barely be considered acquaintances. Was his brain reaching out to the guy subconsciously? Is that why he ended up at the trailer park? Everyone knew that’s where Munson lived. Who knew how many times the guy had been called trailer trash, but the older teen seemed to rise above the insult.

Steve shook his head, spraying water everywhere. Just because Munson picked up lost sheep, didn’t mean he’d be willing to taken in an injured wolf. Because that’s what he was, reformed or not, Steve would never be a sheep. He would always be a wolf. A predator.

But at least as a wolf he could protect those kids with everything he had. And he would, even if it killed him.

The water had long since turned cold by the time Steve stepped out of the shower. He completed his after shower routine mostly on autopilot as he kept going over his interactions with both Munson men. He didn’t really have good interactions with dads or in this case uncles. But Munson’s uncle Wayne treated him with kindness and he could see where the older boy got it from.

He dressed into his pajamas and slid under the covers. He rolled over on his back and tucked one arm under his pillow, staring up at the ceiling.

Steve thought back to the apology. One Munson really didn’t have to give but did anyway. He thought about the other jocks that bragged about hurting his hand. He held it up and looked at the fading bruise. It wasn’t as though he was even basketball anymore. Hurting his hand wouldn’t do anything but make it hard to do his homework and all he had to do is show his teachers his hurt hand and he’d get extensions for that. Like he had for his concussion last November.

But then again Tommy H. never had reasons for the people he hurt either. He just liked the power he got seeing the person helpless.

He placed his hand over his heart and let himself drift off the sleep, brown eyes and dark curls haunting his dreams.

****

Eddie had originally bought the red heart for himself like he had told the two juniors. But staring at it now, he had a better plan for it. Because that last wall, that last bastion of defense crumbled to ashes when he realized that despite the fancy car, the big house, and the expensive clothes, Steve Harrington was more like Eddie than he thought possible.

Wayne’s approval of the boy cemented that for him. Because if he could take one look at Steve and decide he was worth saving, then Eddie raring to go full steam ahead for a rescue mission.

Eddie could tell that the hearts were made from simple construction paper, like the kind found just about anywhere. He knew it would be technically cheating to just simply make more instead of buying them, but he had no intention of contributing to a dance he was never going to go to because one, it wasn’t his year; two, the whole gay thing; and three, the one person he would want to go with if the gay thing wouldn’t get him hate crimed, wouldn’t give him the time of day.

Well, all right, that might have changed with the whole rescuing him from wandering alone in the dark thing.

He forgave Eddie about being a dumbass, so maybe there was hope for, at the very least, a vast decrease in hostility. And he was willing to take what he could get.

He decided to wait until tomorrow after school to get the construction paper and hope that the high school hadn’t bought up the town’s supply.

On his way out the next morning, Wayne stopped him.

“You don’t have to tell me, son,” he said gently, “but you got feelings for that boy?”

Eddie froze and turned slowly to face his uncle. “What gave you that idea?”

Wayne chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Boy, when you’d go on rants about the Harrington boy, you’d describe his floppy hair, his hazel eyes and how unfairly good looking the kid was. I didn’t say anything because it did sound like he’d been a bit of an ass. Only after last night I got to thinking and was wondering is all.”

Eddie closed his eyes and opened them slowly. He let out a long shuddering breath, his bottom lip quivering.

“I–I don’t...” he closed his eyes again. This wasn’t Al. He wasn’t going to get beat for admitting it, but still it was so hard to say. So he just nodded.

Wayne came up and wrapped his arms around his nephew. “It’s a hell of a lot tougher batting for the other team, but I trust your judgment. Just promise me that if he shows signs of liking you back, you take the chance to tell him how you feel because...”

“You miss one hundred percent of the chances you don’t take,” they said together.

Eddie dropped his bag to the floor and hugged him back. “I know, old man. But I promise if there is a chance, I’ll be brave enough to take it.”

“Get going,” Wayne said, voicing cracking with emotion.

He pulled back and nodded. He reshouldered his backpack and got in his van.

He had a lot to think about and that really wasn’t conducive to paying attention in class or to his friends as they talked about their upcoming D&D session.

Gareth kicked his shin causing him to yelp.

“What the fuck, dude?” Eddie hissed.

“What the fuck is up with you?” Gareth hissed back. “You’ve been going on and on about the mind flayer for weeks and now that it’s literally this weekend, and you’re off in some other realm.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment before his brain came back on. He shook his head to clear it.

“Yeah, sorry, man,” he said around a pretzel. “Weird night last night.”

“What happened?” Jeff asked, tilting his head to the side.

So Eddie told them. “He was like a ghost, guys. If Wayne hadn’t seen him too, I would have thought I was hitting Mary Jane a little too hard, you know?”

“I didn’t realize he was getting bullied,” Brian said, frowning. “I would have thought with Hargrove giving the dude a wide berth, that everyone else would have too.”

“Untouchable,” Jeff agreed. “The fact that jocks are now splintering into factions tells you what kind of control Steve actually had on them.”

Eddie rubbed his chin. “I don’t know how true this is, but if Harrington wasn’t lying, he’s a real sweetheart, too.”

Then he leaned forward and explained about the pink heart scheme.

“So,” Gareth said, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them, “you’re telling us is that we have been seriously remiss in our duties in collecting lost sheep.”

The older teen sighed and shook his head. “I’d like to collect him, but I’m afraid the wolves might decide to rip him apart before we got him to safety if we tried.”

Jeff winced. He knew what Eddie was talking about. Steve Harrington wasn’t the usual lost sheep. He might be bullied now, but as King, Harrington had run far too long with the wolves to think that they could protect him one hundred percent of the time.

“So what are we going to do?” Brian asked. “Because if we let this slide, we’re throwing our lot in with the bullies and that’s something I refuse to do.”

A grin spread out over Eddie’s face, closed lips and dimples entrenched into his cheeks. “We’re going to make the school think that he’s just as popular as he ever was.”

The other three boys looked at each other in confusion.

“So what have you got?” Gareth asked, his own grin starting to take over his face.

****

Eddie made sure to get to class early so he could see where Steve was going to sit. He tried to tell himself it was about the dude’s hand, but it wasn’t working. He wanted to see if the former Hawkins royalty would chose to sit with his old friends or by him again.

He didn’t have long to wait. Steve walked in not long after he did, just as the bell rang. He didn’t even look at his old desk near the front and beelined it for the chair he had sat in on Friday.

The teacher picked up on the change immediately and wrinkled her nose. “I am to suppose that you are taking up permanent residence in the back with Mr. Munson, Mr. Harrington?”

Steve half shrugged as he began to pull out his things for class. “I got more work done, Mrs. Dixon and I really want to graduate on time.”

Mrs. Dixon nodded. “Agreed and as long as you continue the level of attention from last week, you are permitted to stay there.”

About half way through class while Mrs. Dixon was grading papers, Tommy H. turned around and kicked Steve’s chair. “Suck up,” he hissed.

Steve puckered his lips and wagged his eyebrows. “Why? Do you want to be next?”

Tommy turned back around, his face bright red.

Eddie raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side as he considered everything about that interaction.

A little blossom of hope sprouted in his chest and he fought to keep it down. Steve had insinuated that other people were gay for years, but to Eddie’s highly trained gay ears, that sounded like Steve was offering to suck Tommy H.’s dick and that Tommy didn’t exactly turn him down.

Curiouser and curiouser, he thought tapping his lips thoughtfully. More research would have to be done.

He pulled out a different notebook, the one he used for campaign notes and song lyrics.

He wrote girls over one column and boys over the other and began tallying what he knew about the former King of Hawkins.

A shit ton went into the Steve liking girls column, but there was surprisingly more in the liking boys column then he would have thought possible. He looked up to catch Steve smirking at him.

Eddie quickly covered his notebook and stuck his tongue out at Steve.

The other boy shook his head and went back to doing the assignment. Eddie was more careful about what he left out in the open because he didn’t want Steve teased for it nor did he want him to see that Eddie was trying to figure him out.

The bell rang and the notebook was suddenly whisked off his desk.

“Hey!” Eddie cried, looking up to see Steve dancing away with the notebook teasingly. “Stevie!” He grabbed his bag and chased after the other boy. But the other boy was a jock and Eddie was wheezing for breath by the time he caught up with him at his locker.

“Give that back,” he huffed.

Steve gave him a bright smile and handed it back. “I just made a minor addition.”

Eddie frowned as he flipped through the pages but didn’t see anything. Steve took it back and turned to the correct page and leaned close so that only Eddie could hear.

“I trust you’ll keep my secret,” he whispered and then dropped to one knee to start getting into his locker.

Eddie gulped at the sight and turned to the paper to avoid saying something stupid. There in bold capital letters under his girls/guys columns was the word BOTH.

He looked up at Steve who had stood up. Steve winked at him and then walked away, leaving a shocked Eddie behind.

****

Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Tag List:

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @slv-333 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

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@dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual

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@ravenfrog @dauntlessdiva @thelittleclare @steddieyourself @dam28lh

[subway-tolkien]

Okay, this is 1600 words of (positive!) meta regarding the OFMD finale. Included is character analysis and a treatise on why a certain trope people keep throwing around does not apply here.

This is of course just my take, and I'm sure people will disagree, but I needed to get this out. Apologies if it comes off disjointed, I've had like no sleep.

Spoilers within, obviously. You have been warned. Heed the tags. I didn't tag any characters because I consider it a spoiler, but you know who this is about.

Listen. Listen.

Let me start off by saying I have been where you are. I’ve had beloved characters die, either because it was important to the narrative or for shock value. I’ve been there, so I’m not coming at this without empathy. I’m not an Izzy hater. I loved him as a character. I’m truly sad to see him go.

But from what I’m seeing around Twitter and tumblr, some of you do not understand the role of an antagonist in a story.

Izzy was always meant to die. The moment he said, in the first season, “the only retirement we get is death,” I knew he was meant to die in the end. The foreshadowing ran through both seasons. Izzy was the true antagonist of S1. He was there to keep Blackbeard tethered when he started pulling away, and yet he also set the plot in motion. He inadvertently introduced Blackbeard to the person who let him be just Ed. He put Ed on his own path to redemption without even knowing it.

S1 ended with Izzy getting what he wanted as Ed lost everything he had. S2 was about Izzy coming to terms with the fact that he’d gone too far, he’d turned Ed into a monster. It wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted Blackbeard back, just like old times. Instead, he got the Kraken, and it was more than he bargained for.

Especially after it cost him his leg and he realized how far gone Ed really was. The conversation that ended with Izzy’s half-assed suicide attempt was the final blow to Izzy—Ed really didn’t seem to care anymore. Where Izzy wanted him to stop giving a shit about his silly boyfriend, he instead got a Blackbeard who didn’t care about anything, and he was apparently now included in that category.

(I said half-assed suicide attempt because Izzy wasn’t meant to die then, THAT would have been an empty, pointless death. It wouldn’t have taught Ed anything—in fact, all it did was make him more self-destructive, which was Izzy’s purpose to the narrative, but not his endgame. That Ed thought Izzy killed himself pushed Ed to the brink. Ed wanted to die and take every scrap of Blackbeard with him. Had Izzy successfully killed himself, Ed and the Revenge would be at the bottom of the ocean.

It wasn’t until the crew left Izzy the unicorn leg that he realized the power of compassion, the incredible act of grace from a crew that suffered so much from Izzy’s own machinations and didn't need to forgive him. It moved him to tears, and it moved him to accept that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to let people in, to let himself be cared for. It was a foreign concept and something Izzy likely hadn’t experienced since losing his family (I fully expect a shit ton of fanfic of Izzy’s life before piracy).

Israel Hands found the capacity to let love all the way in and by god, did he pursue it.

But, again, Izzy was always meant to die, and I’m glad they stuck to the narrative they set out with instead of placating fandom and letting our influence dictate how they told this story That’s never good, trust me. Fandom should not influence a creator’s decisions regarding their own characters. It rarely if ever ends well.

[Stares in Voltron S8]

And I see a lot of people out here throwing the “bury your gays” phrase around—I beg you, please look up the definition of the trope. Izzy didn’t die because he was queer, he didn’t die because of his disability. He wasn’t one half of the only queer couple in the show fridged for shock value. He wasn’t killed off due to pressure from conservative viewers. He wasn’t the only queer, disabled character.

They didn’t kill off Lucius, or Jackie, or Wee John. Would you be as outraged if it was any of them?

Killing Eve is bury your gays. Supernatural is bury your gays. Pretty much any film, book, TV show, whatever, where a queer character dies because they’re queer, of AIDs, to further the narrative for a straight person, etc—that is burying your gays.

Izzy’s death was none of those things. Izzy’s death had meaning.

Izzy’s death freed Ed from the Blackbeard persona. It finally forced Izzy to say the things he couldn’t say until he realized it was his last chance. Izzy was also tired. I honestly think he stuck it out for Ed’s sake, because he was afraid to let Blackbeard go without making sure Ed would be ok.

He loved the idea of Blackbeard, but over time, he learned to love Ed. He finally understood what Ed tried to tell him the whole time.

“Fuck off, you twat. You’re surrounded by family.”

You’re safe. You’re loved. You don’t need me anymore. You don’t need to be reminded of who you’re capable of being, you need the people who will guide you to who you will become, and I’m not one of them.

I know a lot of Izzy fans are stung by his death, some of you are deeply upset. I get that. Like I said, I’ve been there. Sirius’s death made me throw that fucking book across the room. That Fucking Woman™ killed off my entire OTP, purely for shock value and, imho, a direct response to shippers. Trust me, I have felt betrayed by a creator for their decisions.

But I need you to understand that no, this was not a personal attack, this was not malicious, this was not “bury your gays." A show that celebrates queerness and diversity is not suddenly homophobic and ableist because your favorite character died and happened to be both of those things. But when the majority of your cast of characters is different in some way, and they’re in a show about 18th century pirates, you have to accept that one of them could, in fact, die. “Anyone Can Die” is also a trope and the more accurate one to describe E8.

If only being queer and disabled made you invincible.

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

And no, I’m not an Izzy hater. I loved him, I loved him as an antagonist, and I loved his redemption arc. He was fascinating and Con put his whole O’Nussy into that part. I’m sorry to see him go, but as a mystery writer who often has to kill off beloved characters, I understand that he served the purpose he had from the beginning.

I swear, if some of you had your way, there’d be no conflict at all in any form of media. This what a steady diet of nothing but fanfic gets you. This is not a fluffy one-shot with magical healing dick and a happy ending where everyone sails off into the sunset. If that’s what you wanted, what you headcanoned, you did this to yourself. It’s not David et al’s fault that we took that character and babygirled him. That’s the risk we take when we decide to love a specific character, when we take a genuinely terrible person (in S1) and woobify him.

So, please stop harassing and attacking David, Alex, et al. David did not and should not change his story to placate us. The fact he went ahead with it despite the backlash I’m sure he expected makes me respect him as a creator even more.

Anyway, I’m going to revel that we have three (!) queer relationships with happy endings where one or both didn’t immediately die (again, the actual definition of “bury your gays”) and that we got at least two seasons of a little show that celebrated individualism, diversity, queerness, compassion, and love.

In the end, it all came down to love.

“There he is.”

Goodbye, Blackbeard.

Hello, Ed.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Visiting Hours by Ed Sheeran

Summary: It has been a year since you lost the love of your life. How were going to live in a world with her gone and a daughter to raise?

Warning: Cannon character deaths (Tony, Natasha, Loki, Vision), Sam is the new Captain America, drinking, grief, survivor's guilt, reader is Wanda and Pietro's older sister who has similar powers to Wanda, angst, sort of happy ending??

Note: At the moment, I do know have a part 2 planned.

Word Count: 3.4K

Today was not a good day. When you flipped the calendar from September to October, you dreaded today. But you put on a brave face so your daughter wouldn’t see her mommy upset. You were thankful your sister could watch her niece for the night. Today, you wanted to be alone, where you could let your mask fall and grieve. One year ago today, you lost the love of your life so the rest of your family could return. It felt so unfair that the universe put you in this position. You wanted to scream and cry until your throat went raw. But you couldn’t. You were so numb to it all. How were you expected to raise your daughter without your other half?

You sat on your bedroom floor, resting your back against your bed. There was a half-opened bottle of vodka that you were sipping on the moment Wanda picked up your daughter. That could explain the numbness you were feeling. Your hands shook as you held your phone, rereading the text messages you sent back and forth. You couldn’t delete them or the voicemails, but you weren’t ready to hear her voice again. Even though you missed every pet name she called you or every time she told you, she loved you.

She loved you. She loved you.

It was the mantra that you kept replaying over and over again. But if Natasha loved you so much, why did she leave? Sighing, your phone began to ring. “Yes?” You answered.

“Just checking in on you, kid,” Clint said.

“I’m fine.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“None of your fucking business,” you snapped. “Besides, Delilah isn’t here.” The older archer sighed, and you felt one of his fatherly talks coming.

“Look, I know-”

“Barton,” you cut him off, feeling a pressure that began to build at the base of your skull. “I don’t want to talk. I want to sit here, drink, and be sad because I can’t do that every other day. So please, leave me alone.” Your jaw clenched, and each word was laced with your native accent.

“Okay,” he sounded defeated. “Call me if you change your mind.” You hung up the phone. Closing your eyes, you pushed the palms of your hands to your eyes.

“Breathe,” you mumbled. “Breathe.” Your powers were connected to your emotions. You lost control when Pietro was killed and when you faced Thanos a second time. There was so much anger and grief building inside you that it almost consumed you. For Pietro's death, you had to focus on Wanda, and Natasha pulled you out of the darkness. When the battle was done, it was Delilah. She wasn’t born yet, but we knew she was there. The little girl, a perfect blend of you and Natasha, was the only light you saw. The only reason you kept going.

‘It’s okay, moya lyubov’ (my love), it’s okay,’ you heard Natasha’s voice echoing inside your head. You shook your head. You could almost feel her hand on your shoulder, pulling you into her arms to help you regulate your breathing.

“No,” you pleaded. “Please go away. You aren’t here. You are gone.” Gone. Dead. She wasn’t coming back.

‘I’m right here, baby,’ Natasha whispered. ‘Join me.’ You were becoming too weak to resist it. Suddenly, your bedroom door burst open, and your sister was standing there.

“Where is-”

“She’s safe,” she said quickly, pulling you into her arms. “I need you to focus on me. Right here. Do you feel my heart?” You moved your hand to her chest and felt her heart. It was steady, strong, and real.

“Wands,” you gasped for air. “I can’t.” The warmth of your sister’s arms as she rocked you back and forth was helping, but the pull was stronger.

‘Come on, darling,’ Natasha whispered. ‘Come with me.’ Wanda began to hum a Sokovian lullaby that your mother used to sing to drown out the sound of the bombs.

“We’ve been waiting for you. Now you are here. More perfect than I imagined…”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦    

“Where is my daughter?” you asked when Wanda returned from your kitchen. She held a cup of tea in her hands. When you refused to take it and sat on your bed, she placed it on the side table.

“She’s with Pepper. I would have been here sooner but wanted to ensure she was settled.”

“How did you know?” She smiled, took one of your hands, and laced your fingers together.

“Call it twin intuition,” you scuffed, looking away from her but keeping your hands together.

“We aren’t twins,” you were two years older than Wanda and Pietro and were so excited when your mom told you she was pregnant. It was even better when she gave birth to twins. You made it your mission to protect them and seemed to fail at every step. They followed you to HYDRA; you couldn’t stop Pietro's death, and then you and Wanda were thrown into the RAFT. You couldn’t stop Thanks from snapping half of the Earth’s population, and your sister was ripped from you. All this power, and you couldn’t protect those that mattered.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered. “It hurts too much.” Wanda squeezed your hand, fearing you’d slip away from her. “I want her back.”

“I know you do,” Wanda said. “But the world your mind is trying to bring you to isn’t real. She’s gone.” You hated that she was right. That was your power. You could go into the minds of others and bring their greatest wishes and desires to ‘life.’ You made them believe they got their dream job or their loved ones returned from the dead. People have gone mad because of your influence.

“I wish heaven had visiting hours,” you whispered and looked at Wanda’s hand that held yours. “So I could ask for advice. Because I don’t know how to raise her,” Wanda was quiet as she let what you said to sink into her. “I’d go to see Mom, Dad, and Pietro and have them meet Delilah.” Wanda’s face softened at your confession. “I’d ask if I could bring them home, but they wouldn’t let me. So I’d sit till they close and let my worries disappear.” Your sister sighed.

“They’d want you to live life the way they taught us because it’s not a goodbye. It’s a till we meet again.” It was unfair how cruel life was to you and your sister. She lost Vision. You lost Natasha.

“What is grief?” you whispered. “If not love persevering,” you quoted the man she loved. Wanda let out a breathless laugh and wiped away a tear with her free hand.

“I miss him too,” she said. “So much.” You were blinded by your grief and failed to realize how much this day must hurt for everyone.

“Come here,” you said, pulling your sister into your arms. Her head was buried into your shirt, and she let out a few more tears.

Sometimes, you wonder if your family is cruised. Maybe centuries ago, your ancestors angered a god, and now you are facing the consequences of their actions. All you want is for your family to be together and safe.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦    

You woke up to the smell of bacon and fresh coffee. The way your stomach growled made you realize how hungry you were, but leaving your bed sounded awful. Then you heard Wanda’s voice. "I know, Lala,” she cooed to your daughter. “Your mom can’t say no to my cooking, so she’ll be out soon.” Your daughter’s babbles and giggles pulled you out of bed. The annoying alarm clock read that it was 11:36. Shit. You hadn’t slept in like this in a long time.

Sitting up, you stretched your arms above your head and listened to the sound your bones made. The first stop was brushing your teeth and washing your face in the bathroom. Then you changed out of the clothes you fell asleep in and walked into the kitchen. Delilah was you first. Her legs started to kick, and you were thankful the high chair was stable. You gasped and picked her up with ease.

“There is my beautiful girl,” you smothered her cheeks with kisses. “I missed you. I missed you.” Wanda laughed from her spot on the stove.

“See, told you, sunshine,” you smiled at using your native language. “She can’t resist my cookie.” You used your powers to pinch her sides and smirked at her help.

“Cheeky witch,” you teased. You knew she would retaliate if you weren’t carrying Delilah. “Wands,” she looked over her shoulder. “Thank you. For everything.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦    

Once breakfast was eaten and the dishes were put away, you were sitting on the couch while Delilah played on the jungle-themed play mat that Clint had gifted her. Her hands reached for the hanging elephant. Her laughter made you smile as she touched it. Soon, an ache filled your heart. You took out our phone, captured a video of your daughter, and sent it to Clint. A response was immediate. ‘She’s gotten so big.’ Followed by another text, ‘We need to get together soon.’ It was a simple statement but filled your heart with guilt.

You didn’t intend to cut off the team, former and current members, once your daughter was born. They all reminded you of what was. ‘How about I come to you? I bet D would love the farm,’ you hit send.

You loved the Barton homestead, too. It was quiet and peaceful, and it became your second home. It was coming up on 6 years since the last time you stepped foot in Iowa. “Can I ask you something?” You ignored your phone buzzing in favor of taking the mug from Wanda. “Are you going this weekend?” It took a moment for you to realize what she was asking about. Then it hit you.

Honestly, you forgot about it. The email from Sam was left unread in your inbox. The team’s new leader invited current and old members to a party at the brand-new compound. A celebrated, he called it in the email. In some way, it was a celebration. You won the fight but lost Natasha and Tony. “Are you going?” You countered.

“Answering a question with a question is a cheap shot,” Wanda said. “But maybe,” she shrugged and sipped her coffee. “It would be nice to see everyone.” It would be, but you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to see everyone. However, you wanted Delilah to grow up with her aunts and uncles.

That was the plan. You and Natasha would retire, find a property close to the Avengers, and build a family. You wanted a big backyard for your dogs and kids to run around. On nice summer days, you could have barbecues. You saw yourself asking Clint to help Natasha build a jungle gym set for the kids, bringing them lemonade to help cool them off in the summer sun. But that was all a dream, a fantasy. The New York City apartment you lived in was home for you and your daughter.

“Maybe,” you answered. You knew Natasha would have hated how isolated you became. “Yeah,” you gave in. “I’ll go as long as you are there.”

Delete Created with Sketch.

It was a bad idea. As soon as you got out of the car with Delilah on your hip, anxiety and dread filled your stomach. Luckily, Wanda drove with you. The squeals of your daughter distracted you. “Hey,” you looked at your sister. “Sam told me you have a room here fully equipped for Delilah. So if you need a minute, you can go there,” you made a mental note to thank the man. He was busy being Captain America and trying to make this place comfortable for you.

“Let’s do this.” The party was in full swing when you and Wanda stepped out of the elevator. A knot was still in your stomach, but it loosened when you saw your family.

“There is my niece!” Clint was the first to see you arrive and swooped Delilah out of your arms. The man covered her face with kisses. Her squeals were getting the attention of the rest of the party. Thankfully, Laura was the only one to come over and join her husband.

“She’s getting so big,” she cooed, tickling her belly. You were surprised how easily Delilah warmed up to people. Maybe she knew how important these people were to you.

“I know,” you felt Wanda squeeze your shoulder, and you nodded as she walked into the party. “I want her to slow down.” Clint passed your daughter to Laura and pulled you into a hug. You were surprised how easily your body slumped against him.

“How are you, kid?” You let out a shaky breath.

“Okay,” you answered. “Just taking it day by day.” You felt him nod and kissed the side of your head.

“That’s the best we can do,” he admitted. “Come on. Let’s try to enjoy ourselves.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦    

At this rate, you only held your daughter when you entered the party. While it was nice to have a break, you were anxious whenever she was out of sight. So you sat in a chair while Pepper was holding her. Your sister was by her side with Morgan in her arms. You knew she wanted kids, but you weren’t sure what her plan was with Vision gone. Sighing, you sipped on your drink. You felt it. The lingering sensation of your powers trying to take over. You dug your nails into your thigh. Wanda glanced at you, a question of concern on her face, but you gave her a thumbs up. You were fine. You weren’t going to ruin her night. “Lady Maximoff,” you turned to see the God of Thunder.

“Thor,” you smiled, stood up, and hugged the man. He looked much better than the last time you saw him. The God was off-world when Delilah was born. “How are you?”

“Better,” he sat next to you. “My time with the Guardians did me well.” You were happy for him, indeed. For the five years of the Blip, he was overcome with his grief. It was understandable when he watched his brother die for those stupid stones. “How are you? I have yet to meet your little one.” You smiled.

“Good luck trying to get to her,” you teased, ignoring his question. “She’s a popular girl.”

“She looks so much like Natasha,” your breath hitched in your throat at the mention of your partner. You looked at the God as he stared ahead, watching the scene fold before him. Morgan was now on Wanda’s lap while your sister helped her hold Delilah. You could see Natasha and Tony over with them if you thought about it. Maybe Thor was imagining Loki. “Sorry,” he finally spoke. “I’ll see you again tonight. I am going to make my rounds.” Thor stood up and left you alone before you could tell him his apology wasn’t needed. Instead, the God walked over to Sam, Rhodey, and Bruce.

It felt stronger now. The pressure was building at the back of your skull. You needed to escape, a quiet moment without feeling everyone’s grief. It was suffocating. Standing up, you walked to the bathroom and closed and locked the door behind you.

Your hands gripped the sink as you closed your eyes. Each breath was shaky that you let out. Everything hurt. For a place of celebration, everyone’s thoughts were filled with those who weren’t there. You could feel Pepper’s loneliness, Clint’s guilt, and the weight of the pressure on Sam’s shoulders. “Shit,” you turned the water on cold and splashed the water onto your face.

‘Hi, detka,’ You looked in the mirror and saw Natasha behind you. She looked like she did when she returned from a morning workout. Her red hair was pulled back into a braid and she was wearing black leggings with a matching sports bra.

“Go away,” you told her. Natasha frowned.

‘Why would I? You want me here,’ you shook your head and dried your face with the towel.

“Not like this,” you admitted. She moved closer until her front was pressed against your back. It was pathetic how easily it was to lean against her. A soft chuckle rumbled through her chest.

‘See,’ her lips traveled up and down your neck. ‘You can bring us all back together. Nice and safe. Just how we dreamt it.’ It felt so easy to sub-come to it; the warmth and safety she provided. It happened subconsciously, the way your fingers began to glow. Natasha chuckled. ‘Good girl,’ she encouraged. ‘Almost there.’

Even the knocking and banging on the door couldn’t pull you out of it. You could give them everyone back - Natasha, Vision, Steve, Loki, Tony. It hurt and burned as you felt their grief overpower you. ‘Good,’ Natasha whispered. ‘Let go. I got you.’ Her arms kept you standing as you screamed, and a pulse of your powers left your body.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦    

The movement of the bed woke you up. Your eyes fluttered open. Even with your vision blurred with sleep, you saw Natasha climbing into bed with Delilah. “Sorry, dorogoy,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I think our girl wanted some morning cuddles.” You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. You weren’t sure if it was Natasha or your daughter that wanted extra cuddles. Your wife found it impossible to say no to Delilah, almost claiming your daughter had your eyes, and it was hard for her to say no to you, too. The new one-year-old was fast asleep on your wife’s chest.

“It’s fine,” you said, sitting up slightly and snuggling closer to her. With her free arm, Natasha pulled you closer to her. “We have to get up soon,” you mumbled. It’s a busy day today.” Natasha hummed and kissed the top of your head.

“Yes, we do. We have to celebrate this little one. Wanda said she and Vision would be here around noon to help set up,” you nodded. You were hoping to have everything done by then. You loved your sister, but sometimes, she stressed you out when it came to planning parties. Pietro wasn’t much better, but he said he was going to be late. “I can’t believe she’s one,” you noticed the emotional hitch in her voice.

“She’s growing up so fast,” you added, pushing a tear that fell down her green eyes. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Do you want to have another one?” She asked, drawing her eyes away from Delilah to look at you. It was an idea you weren’t against, especially with Natasha taking a step back from the business. She was out of town and missed Delilah’s birth.

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Not against it.” You ran her hand over Delilah’s back. She would make a great older sister, you knew it. Looking back at your wife, her green eyes darkened. “After we celebrate our first child, you horn dog,” you gently slapped her arm. “Can you start breakfast while I shower?” You stole a kiss, stood up before she could respond.

“Such a tease,” she mumbled when you closed the bathroom door. You loved your little family and were excited for it to grow.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦    

After you showered, you found your family in the kitchen. Delilah picked apart the pancakes while Natasha made breakfast for you and her. The phone began to ring, disrupting the peaceful morning. “I got it,” you told Natasha as she wiped her hands to pick up the phone. You kissed Delilah on the cheek before answering the phone. “Hello, Romanoff residence,” it was mostly static. You could make out a voice trying to speak, but you couldn’t hear them. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you; you may want to try calling back.” More static answered.

Suddenly, the voice became more evident over the static. “Hello-,” Bzzz. “SWORD-,” Bzzz. “Let them go." Bzzz. The pounding in your heart increased.

“I’m sorry you have the wrong number. Goodbye.” You hung up quickly. With your hands shaking, you walked over to Natasha and hugged her from behind. You placed her hand on her heart and felt the organ beat.

“Everything alright? Who was on the phone?”

“Prank call,” you answered. “I just missed you.” You felt her chuckle, and your mind began to race, so you missed her joke about joining you in the shower. This was real. She was alive and safe. No one was going to take your family away again.

[unhinged-simp]

Obscuary boys with an MC who can see spirits.

(requested in the comments)This was supposed to be out earlier, but my Internet died.

Thank you so much for requesting. I thought this premise was really cool! It reminded me of that one anime girl who suddenly started seeing them. I added a personal hc that vampires can see the ghosts, and werewolves can smell them. So both Ed and Lyca can see/hear them, but Rui can't.

Ed noticed how weird you acted.

You’d keep your head down, or suddenly move your head like you saw something that wasn’t there.

He'd watch you for a week and note whatever he found.

The little habits you did were only around the presence of ghosts. 

The ghosts were very powerful, even capable of killing humans.

Ed would give you a little help, nothing too big though. 

A couple of trinkets that he had when he was younger that repelled the ghosts, he had no use for them since he was undead.

You’d go to him for advice on how to deal with the ghosts. 

Most of the time he wouldn’t give you a concrete answer or sometimes an answer at all, since he's be asleep

Rui would see you have some weird mannerisms, but he wouldn’t know what you were doing.

Why do you suddenly look away, or look over his shoulder with a terrified look.

He was honestly a little terrified at your reactions, and he was a little scared to press.

Ed had to tell him what was going on with you.

It took a bit for Rui to process what he heard, and suddenly your behavior made sense to him.

He would be a bit curious on how it worked, but if you didn’t want to talk to him about it then he'd drop it.

Rui would reluctantly go to Ed about how to help you. Though he would receive only a bit of advice.

He'd wait until you were ready to talk or if you ever needed help with the ghosts.

Rui would try to help you in any way he can, wether that meant listening to you vent, or actually helping you stop them.

Lyca would find you behavior rather odd, and asked about them.

If you told him, he'd be rather confused and concerned.

You can see ghosts? Not smell them? And they’d kill you if they know you’re looking at them.

If you didn’t tell him, he may press a bit more until you tell him.

Lyca would smell the area ahead of time, just to make sure there wasn’t any ghosts around. 

He almost fought with Zenji, since he couldn’t distinguish his scent with a dangerous ghost.

You had to pull him away from the scene, though you didn’t tell him that he couldn’t fight ghosts.

Lyca would scout out the areas with the least amount of ghosts and take you there to eat or hang out.

He would do what he could to help you not be around ghosts. He'd also protect you in case one goes to attack you.

[sankta-wraith]

In Defense of Asher Sorrengail

Onyx Storm has resulted in Asher getting a lot of hate, and while I do get it (dedicating your 2 year old to the goddess of war is not generally considered good parenting,) I think there is more to it, and, similarly to some of Lilith’s bad parenting decisions, it does come from his love for Violet more than anything else.

I have two theories about why he did it, although this first one is slightly more nebulous. The conclusion that Violet comes to is that he thought he could “fix” her EDS, but that just doesn’t seem to fit with what we know of him. Asher was a scribe, not a rider. He favored logic above all else, and knowing that, I find it hard to believe that he would plan to do something as risky as dedicating his youngest child to one of the most dangerous goddesses just because he though she needed “fixing.” He would have researched it extensively before committing to that course, and even though there probably isn’t much readily available material about dedicating children to the gods, we already know that Asher was capable of looking beyond what the government allowed most scribes to study. Any research he did would probably have told him two things, A) dedicating a child to the gods doesn’t magically cure all their problems. Admittedly this isn’t exclusively stated in the text, but I think if the gods just healed every child who was dedicated to them, the practice probably wouldn’t have been outlawed. B) Dunne is one of the most dangerous goddesses to serve. The epigraphs state over and over again that Dunne is demanding, and doesn’t show mercy to those don’t have her favor. Violet even uses this when she kills Theophanie. Even if Asher did decide for some reason that he had to dedicate Violet to one of the gods, I can’t imagine him choosing Dunne for the purpose of healing her. It would have made the most sense for him to choose either Amari or Hedeon. As a scribe, he would probably have more faith is wisdom than war, and as someone from Amarilis he would view Amari as highest of the gods. Basically, it doesn’t make much sense for him to risk dedicating his daughter to Dunne just for the chance that it might “fix” her. I think that during his research into the venin, he found something that convinced him that the only way to protect Violet was to dedicate her. Maybe it was something about the original six, maybe something about the irids, but I think something convinced him that he needed to give her to Dunne. I think whatever he discovered will be brought up in the next two books, and might have the key to defeating the venin.

This next theory is way less likely, but I like it anyway. In this scenario, there’s no secret about the venin or anything, he just does it because he can’t stand to see her in pain. I’m pretty sure that Violet was around two years old when she was dedicated, but even if my calculations are wrong, she couldn’t have been more than three. Imagine 2-3 year old Violet who wants nothing more than to play with Mira and Brennan and Dain, but she keeps getting hurt, and she’s frustrated and in pain and there’s nothing anyone can do. It must have been horrible for Lilith and Asher to see their baby girl constantly injured and crying and having to live with the fact that they can do absolutely nothing about it. I like to think that for a year or so after Violet was born, Asher spent all his time trying to find a cure, not because he though she was broken, but because he would give anything to make her stop hurting. In that case, taking her to Unnbriel would have been a last resort, and he probably felt incredibly guilty about for the rest of his life.

So those are my two theories. Personally I think the first one is more likely, but I like the second one more. What do you guys think?

[write-ur-wrongs]

The Set Up

Fic prompt from @always-and-forever-alone : I was wondering if you could write a store of reader, being called a monster for most of her life, and he either telling her she's not or saying something well it's happening(in he's way, because let be honest he probably wouldn't say it directly, God forbid he cares)

A/N: not proofread or beta-ed. I really wanted to get this one out today so I am going down with my typos. I had another idea in the works for this but this idea snuck up on me as I wrote. I honestly might keep working on v1 to post eventually but here's this one for now! :) ______________________________________________________

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” you screamed, your voice overlapping with the immense witcher standing across from you, who said the same thing.

When your longtime friend had asked you to come into town to meet a friend of his, you’d been hesitant. Life wasn’t kind to non-humans, and it certainly hasn’t been very nice to you. But you’d known Jaskier for years, and he’d never given you any reason to think he’d hurt you. Until now of course.

“Woah! Hey,” Jaskier, to his credit, sounded about as panicked as you felt, “please both of you just sit down and let me – Geralt put the sword down for fuck’s sake.”

You tore your eyes off the white-haired brute, his merciless grip easing off the hilt of his still-sheathed weapon, and chanced a glance at your supposed friend. There was a little bit of sweat on his upper lip, his eyes were wide, and he had his arms outstretched between the two of you, palms down – pacifying? He looked nervous but not guilty.

Why the fuck doesn’t he look guilty? You thought, confusion and hurt mingling bitterly in your stomach.

Wait. The witcher – Geralt? – yelled at Jaskier too. Why the hell was he pissed? Maybe Jaskier expected he kill you for free, or maybe he was on some kind of vacation and resented the job.

You set your eyes back on him, still refusing take a seat at their table, and your breath caught in your throat as his harsh, cat-like eyes, met and held your gaze.

“Y/N,” Jaskier said, waving you forward with the hand closest to you, “please sit. Let me explain.”

“Explain what?” you hissed, “How you hired a witcher to kill me?”

“Kill you?!” Jaskier and, confoundingly, Geralt, said in unison.

“Come on,” Jaskier continued, softening his tone and looking from you to his guest, “you know I would never do that. I have no reason to do that. Please, just sit.”

Fighting every instinct, you pulled up a stool from an adjacent table and joined the pair. Your heart was beating into your ears but you figured the witcher wouldn’t make his move in the middle of a busy tavern so you should be safe – for now.

***

Geralt watched the woman sitting across from him with growing curiosity.

When the bard had told him he was looking forward to introducing him to a friend of his in town, he’d rolled his eyes. Jaskier was always trying to introduce him to women he knew, women he hoped would sway and soften him up a little. It was exhausting, infuriating, and frankly, a little embarrassing. Geralt didn’t need any help in that department and he definitely didn’t share Jaskier’s taste in partners.

But this woman was nothing like the others. For starters, she wasn’t human. Geralt could sense her power even before she entered the tavern, his medallion vibrating in warning against his chest. When she entered, he took immediate notice of the way every candle got brighter, each flame now leaning toward her slightly, drawn in by her power.

She must have been a fire elemental of some kind, he’d thought. Or maybe a sorceress who’d given into the Power brought by fire. Either way, Geralt couldn’t take his eyes off her.

His fascination had only grown when she spotted Jaskier from across the room and her guarded face erupted into a wide and open smile. A smile that turned defensive as soon as she locked eyes with him over the table.

She bared her teeth and sent a surge of power through the room, flames flickering around them. How did Jaskier even meet this woman?

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” he said, pushing up from his seat and reaching for his sword, a confusing mix of defensiveness and jealousy settling in his gut. How and where did his soft, flowery friend meet someone like this?

***

“Okay, first of all, thank you both for agreeing to this.”

“I would never have agreed had I known –”

“Jaskier you son of a –”

“Okay, sorry! Sorry! That was a mistake, I admit that, I’m sorry,” Jaskier said, rambling, “but look, Y/N, you’re always saying how you wished you could find someone who saw you for who you are and not what you are.” He turned to you as he spoke, cupping his hand gently over your elbow, urging you to uncross your arms.

“And Geralt, please don’t kill me for this,” he blurted, placing his other hand next to the witcher’s on the table, “you’re too lonely for your own good, and I thought maybe if you met Y/N, someone who could match you, you could, I don’t know…”

“Wait,” you interrupted him, laughing despite yourself, “you’re saying this is a romantic set-up and not a,” you brought your hand across your throat in a mock-slice, “murder-for-hire set-up?”

“Now, wait, hang on. Why would I kill you?” Geralt said, speaking over your realization defensively, as if he didn’t reach for his sword when you made eye contact. “I’m a witcher, not a damned assassin.”

“Because I’m,” you hesitated and glanced around you to make sure no one was looking before briefly demonstrating by drawing a flame up in your hand and extinguishing it just as quickly. Jaskier was looking at you so softly, his eyes betraying the way he pitied you, but Geralt? He was looking at you like you’d just juggled the bread rolls on the table rather than summoning fire.

“Why would that be reason enough to kill you? You’re not a monster.”

“Tell that to every village I’ve ever dared to call home.” You scoffed.

“Geralt can relate!” Jaskier said, jumping in far too loudly and with too much exuberance. “People have been wrongly treating him like a monster for years!”

“Jask!” Geralt hissed, looking pissed and, wait, was he embarrassed?

“Sorry!” he squeaked, throwing up his hands as he got up from the table. “I am going to get us another round, the two of you… get to know each other.”

You watched your idiot friend rush over to the bar for a beat before rolling your eyes. “I can’t believe he did this.”

“We could take him if we team up,” Geralt said, a mischievous glint shone in his eyes when you looked back at him.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you then, nor could you stop the blush that crept up your neck when you saw the witcher’s face break into a wider smile.

“Yeah,” you breathed, uncrossing your arms so you could lean over the table toward Geralt conspiratorially, glowing under his open and earnest gaze, “I think we’d make a good team.”

[crimson-and-clover-1717]

Ed knows he lives within a subculture which upholds his reputation, and that the rules of that subculture could easily be applied to any meeting between the Gentleman Pirate and himself. This is Blackbeard’s world; a ‘good impression’ is assured. Yet, Ed decides that any meeting will take place with the rules of the dominant culture as the yardstick of success. Ed will, through choice, enter the Gentleman Pirate’s world, even when inviting him aboard his own ship, and be judged accordingly. Because Ed wants to try something different.

Ed’s class and race inferiorities are evident. He can definitely hear his childhood trauma in his ears… ‘just not that kind of [person]’. Yet, he’s prepared to try and present himself as someone whom this upper class man might condescend to talk with. And the risk isn’t that the Gentleman Pirate might kill him; there’s not much chance of that, and it probably wouldn’t be all that bad. No, it’s something much, much worse: Ed’s afraid the Gentleman Pirate might laugh at him.

We get the inverse in season two. Stede wants to re-enter the world of piracy where he will try to meet again with Ed. It’s a subculture in which there’s a lot of showboating. Literally. Stede can’t turn up in a dory: he needs to make an entrance, show Ed he’s good enough. Now Stede doesn’t want Ed to laugh at him: the silly little man who ran away like the coward he is. Not so wondrous without his fancy library and auxiliary wardrobe…

Stede knows Ed is an entirely self-made man, and likely feels the need to do the same to prove his worth. Now Stede’s childhood trauma rings in his ears: everything he ever owned is because he ‘lucked it’. He certainly didn’t deserve it. If Stede can just turn up in a huge boat he achieved through his own blood, sweat and manly-tears, well then, maybe he’ll be good enough for Ed; maybe Ed will decide his life isn’t better without him…

This not being ‘good enough’ for the other is the heartbreaking legacy of their childhoods. Ed thinks he’s too coarse, not refined; whilst Stede thinks his problem is the exact opposite. They make so much progress together throughout season two, with further healing still to do.

One day in their inn, they’ll realise - maybe together, maybe at different times - that the voices in their heads are entirely and utterly wrong. It’s not that the other hasn’t told them over and over that they have worth, they both just struggle to believe it.

That epiphany will hit, and it’ll be both a little alarming and glorious:

He loves me regardless! He loves me entirely! He loved me before he met me… And maybe I am worthy of his love