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cameronspecial · 11 months ago

Note

I saw you were looking for some angst ideas lmao

So rafe and reader are together. Loves her more than life but his addiction gets in the way of that. One night they have a fuming argument and she doesn’t talk to him for a few days. He then makes a plan for them to talk about it somewhere private at nighttime, but when she shows up he’s not there. She waits for him for a while then she gets attacked by the rafes dealers because he owes them money and she was the next bet. Rafe finds her and he’s freaking out but she won’t let him near her and she blames him. You can choose how this ending goes or if you even want to write this but this has been on my mind

You Deserve Better

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Drug Use, Swearing, Stabbing, Blood, and Death

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.1K

Masterlist

The centre of Rafe’s life wasn’t always the white powder that tumbled around the little Ziploc bag that lined his pockets. His centre is supposed to snort or wheeze a little whenever she laughs, refusing to use her inhaler because she doesn’t want to embarrass him. It will stay up past her bedtime because she is in a flow with her work. His sun crosses her eyeballs whenever he presses a kiss on her nose because she knows it would make him chuckle. Y/N Y/L/N used to be his rock and now, all because of an accident, she isn’t anymore. That is something not a lot of people know. They assume his addiction started because he was a bored rich kid who had the money to spare. However, in reality, it began with a torn ACL. One wrong shift of his leg and his football career was over. At first, the oxycodone was only to manage the pain from the ACL surgery. He had the hope that he could recover the way he needed to get back on the field, but then the news came that he wasn’t progressing the way his doctor wanted… That was when the problem started, suddenly the drug he was taking to help ease his physical pain became the one to take away his mental pain too. The pain of not being able to play football. The pain of missing out. The pain of not knowing where his life was going.

Don’t get him wrong, Y/N was by his side the whole time, except a person can’t be everything to someone else and he needed a therapist. He just wasn’t ready to admit that. It was only when he stopped being prescribed oxycodone that he turned to cocaine to fill the mental hole the prescription used to be for.

———

Rafe’s blown pupils are hidden by his eyelids as he lies back on the couch. Y/N is still out with her friends, so he isn’t sleeping. Not when she is not at home. The front door opening and closing makes him jerk forward. His eyelids are just a sliver because the light from the ceiling is too bright for him. Her footsteps approach the living room and the large sigh she lets out makes her arrival known. “You didn’t do the dishes,” she states, her hand resting on her jut-out hip. “And the hole in the hallway is still there.” Yesterday, Rafe, in a high state, accidentally made a hole in the wall when trying to put up a picture frame for her. He promised her before she left for work this morning that he would get what he needed to fix it this morning and in the afternoon, he would fix it. However, before he could get himself to the store, he saw a post from one of his old football teammates, who went pro and he spiralled.

He doesn’t mean to roll his eyes, yet it happens and this causes her to let out another huff. “I didn’t get a chance to go to the store,” he grumbles like he didn’t care. He really did though. He wanted to be able to do something that simple for the girl who meant everything to him, except his mind seemed to disagree with his heart. It is easier to pretend it doesn’t bother him. Her eyes narrow in on the residue of powder on their coffee table, “Let me guess, you got your nose caught up in some business. Rafe, you promised me you wouldn’t do that shit at home.” He can’t keep looking at the way tears start to appear because he knows how worried she gets when he does drugs, always scared he might overdose. He looks anywhere but at her. “Don’t get on my ass about this again Y/N. You don’t know what I am dealing with,” he argues.

“I don’t and that’s the problem. You need to talk to someone about how you are feeling because you are going to put yourself in an early grave if you keep doing what you are doing now.”

“Seriously, we are going to argue about this again because I didn’t do the dishes or fix a little hole in the wall.”

“No, we are going to argue about it because you aren’t the man I fell in love with anymore and I don’t think if I can do this anymore. I want to be by your side to help you get better but if you don’t want to, then I don’t know if I can be here forever.”

Her words hit his ears at the same intensity as they would if he were sitting next to an airplane engine. They had arguments about his sobriety so many times before, yet those fights always had the underlying understanding that she would be there to help him. She never once mentioned the possibility of her leaving him because she truly did want to help him find his sobriety. His mouth falls open to talk. No words come out. How can he possibly swear that he wants to get better when he isn’t at the self-realization point in his journey? She takes the silence as an admittance that getting clean isn’t on his mind. “I need some time apart. I’m going to sleep at Deliah’s place tonight,” she informs, turning to leave. He doesn’t stop her; he wants to give her the space she needs in hopes that she realizes she can hold on for a little bit longer. The only word he can respond with is “Okay”, right before she closes the door behind her.

———

She hasn’t answered any of his texts and calls. Her night of taking some space turned into a week and it is driving him crazy. Her non-existence return may have to do with his unwillingness to agree to go to a therapist. After the thousandth attempt at calling her, she finally answers the call. “Normally, when a person doesn’t pick up the call, it means they don’t want to talk to you.” He lets out an internal sigh, “I know, I just need to talk to you. Please, can we meet at our spot, Sunshine?” She could never resist the usage of his nickname for her. “Okay, meet me there in an hour,” she agrees. The call drops right after her response and he gives himself a small smile. Not only does he get to see her again, he gets to try to get her back.

———

By the time she realizes she is being followed, she is alone under the bleachers, where she and Rafe used to spend their time in high school. It was where they found themselves when they didn’t feel like going to class or they needed to get away from the chaos after his team won a game. It was the place she fell in love with him in because even before they were dating when they were just friends, it was their spot. She spins around at the sound of grass being pressed down by a set of feet, ready to scold him for being late. It isn’t Rafe as she expected; instead, an average-height man with a dangerous air that scares her. The gleam behind his eyes tells her the bald man is up to no good, which is confirmed when he pulls out the hunting knife from his hoodie pocket. She steps back in an attempt to get away from him, but her back hits against a metal beam. The man rushes toward her and presses the sharp edge against the soft skin of her neck. “Your boy owes me money and since he is taking too long to get it back to me, I thought I would hold onto something precious to him until I get what I want,” the man explains with a wicked grin. She refuses to show him fear and looks him dead in the eyes, “Rafe’s dealer is Barry so I have no idea what you are talking about.” “He stopped going to Barry because Barry started getting on his case about how much he is using,” the male growled, not enjoying the bite to her bark. She chuckles like a maniac, “When Rafe comes, he is going to beat your ass.” “Shut up, Bitch.” Angered by his words, her knees find their target between his legs.

He lets out a howl and doubles over in pain. She uses this as her opportunity to attempt an escape, trying to run past him. Unfortunately, he reaches out to stop her and this results in the blade driving into her abdomen. A gasp passes her lips, causing the dealer to look in her direction. “Shit.” His eyes bloom open and immediately begins to pull it out. “No. Don’t pu-,” she warns, except it is too late. The weapon is already out and he is running toward the exit. She hunches forward and stumbles back against the beam, pressing her hand to her stomach to keep from bleeding out, feeling as though she has been punched. Calling 911 seems to be the logical answer; however, when she goes for her phone, she finds it broken on the floor. She thinks about going to her car and is stopped by the feeling of even more blood gushing out of the wound as she tries to push off the beam. It doesn’t hurt as much as she thought it would.

“Sunshine,” rings through her ears. Her dizziness makes it difficult to focus on the speaker, yet she knows who it is based on the nickname. She slides down the beam because her legs lose all their strength. Rafe rushes to her side and kneels beside her. “Shit, Sunshine. It’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to call the police. They are going to fix everything,” his voice breaks as his hand joins hers to stop the flow of his blood. She can hear him relaying the information to the dispatcher, but her body is telling her something Rafe isn’t going to be ready to hear. He places his phone on the floor so both of his hands can press on her abdomen. “They’re coming, Sunshine, just hold on. I promise. I’ll be here the whole time.” Her handshakes as she raises to his cheek, staining it with her blood. Her tears water at the edge of her bottom eyelid, “I don’t think I’m going to make it.” His head shakes vigorously. “Don’t say tha-.” She cuts him off, “Can you please just listen to me?” He nods to let her continue. “It was your dealer. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. Just to make sure he gets arrested. But I need you to know that you are more than just your addiction and football. I know you don’t think so, but you are and if you just realize that, then you will see the man that I fell in love with.” “I don’t deserve that though. Look at all the shit I put you through. You deserve more than a druggie as a boyfriend,” he cries, holding her hand against his skin.

She smiles up at him, “You deserve more too. You deserve to be truly happy. You deserve to try to find a new purpose in life. I want that for you.” “How can I find all of that if you are gone?” he questions. Her breathing begins to become laboured, “You’ll find yourself and once you grieve, you’ll find someone who can help heal your broken heart. That’s how.”

“I don’t want anyone else. I just want you. Please, don’t go. Will you please stay if I promise to get sober?”

“I will be with you every step of the way.”

The words tear his heart in two. He knows what it means. She truly doesn’t think she is coming out of this alive. “I want you to see me get better though. Please. Just hang on a little longer.” His tears cloud his vision. When he doesn’t hear a response, he wipes his eyes to get a closer look at her. The world goes dark at the sight of her glassy eyes only reflecting back his face with no recognition or life behind them. The rise and fall of her chest have stopped. The universe decides to answer his calls for help at a cruel moment as he hears the siren finally approach. There is no use in their hurry if the person who needs saving is the one to do it because Rafe isn’t going to let her last words die with her. He is going to get better, not only for her but for him too. He deserves more than a life of chasing his pain away with drugs and he is determined to achieve that.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe imagine #rafe x you #rafe cameron outer banks #outerbanks #obx #obx fic #obx fanfic #obx imagine

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radiantmists · 1 month ago

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Haven't finished my day one fic but here's my entry for @charles-rowland-week Day 2: Chorb!

I see a lot of cute orb-ghost content and love it, but for some reason when I sat down to write my brain went: that experience must be terrifying on both ends. Especially if it happens when they're pushed to the brink, a circumstance that otherwise leads to ghosts just... dissolving. Especially the first time.

So here's the first time!

***

Charles can't remember how he got here; he hasn't really got any idea where here is, except that the ground he's lying on is too hard and the light is so bright it burns his eyes whenever he opens them.

Though that might actually be something wrong with his eyes, judging by how much the rest of him hurts. He must have pissed someone off real bad, to be in this much pain, but he can't remember who or why. He hopes it was worth it.

"Charles," says a voice, a voice he knows. Edwin's here, and he sounds upset, and like he's trying to hide it. Charles manages to pry his eyes open for half a moment before the searing pain forces them shut again, but in that brief second he gets a glimpse of Edwin-- just his neck and the bottom of his face, the harsh press of his mouth.

Charles has seen that expression before, knows it comes along with wide eyes that give away what might look like frustration otherwise; this is the face Edwin makes when he's terrified.

Edwin shouldn't be terrified. Charles tries to reach for where he thinks he was, to comfort him, but just the idea of moving his arm reminds him of how much his shoulders hurt, and he half-screams before he can swallow the sound.

"Charles, just-- just lie still a moment," Edwin says beyond the roaring of his ears, and it shouldn't be a hard request with how much moving hurts, but Charles doesn't think he can bear to lie here like this much longer, the ground digging into him and the pain burning through his bones.

There's something wrong about that. Charles shouldn't be able to feel the ground, however hard it is; he doesn't actually have bones to burn.

He's dead, but he's still hurting, somehow, and that doesn't seem fair, does it? He'd sort of thought he'd escaped it, for a while. Maybe a little pain was the cost of being alive, but now-- unable to feel any good thing-- it just feels cruel.

He's so tired of hurting.

"Charles," Edwin's voice breaks through again, only this time the tone is different, somewhere beyond fear. "Charles, please, don't-- please just stay--"

His voice breaks on the plea. Because he is pleading, which is all kinds of wrong. Edwin doesn't beg when he's terrified; he goes silent and still like a hunted rabbit, which Charles hates with all his being but he hates this too. Edwin shouldn't beg. He shouldn't have to, not with Charles, who has embarked on the afterlife-long project of making him as happy as possible.

Not going anywhere, he tries to say, but his mouth doesn't want to obey him and instead he just sort of groans. He can't move his fingers-- he's not sure he has fingers, right now. They don't hurt anymore, but he can't really feel them either.

He remembers that: losing his fingers first, then his toes, then more and more. Edwin had been there then, too, strange and funny and unbelievably kind, and Charles hadn't had the chance to worry about his toes. Edwin had given him that gift, the gift of not being scared, and then he'd tried to run off like it was nothing, like after all that he'd thought Charles would just leave Edwin to the lingering terror in his eyes when he spoke of Hell.

That terror has never left completely, despite Charles' best efforts. He's started to think it never will, and the thought hurts, but at least he'd thought it was getting better; except now Edwin is terrified, and he's the one begging Charles to stay. He's still talking, somewhere beyond the pain, and though Charles can't make out the words, that heartbreaking tone is still there.

Charles isn't leaving him. He refuses. But he can't bear this either, the pain making it so hard to think, to remember. Edwin's voice is a lifeline, but it's getting more and more difficult to hear it, and he's not sure it's just the ringing anymore.

He's a ghost. He doesn't have ears to ring, not really, or bones to ache or eyes to burn when he opens them. Piece by piece, half on purpose and half unable to hold on, he lets it all slip away, until all that's left is the conviction: whatever happens, he wants to stay.

It feels a little like changing his hair, the way Edwin had taught him, just holding on to what he wants until that's what he is.

Mostly, though, it feels like dying.

***

He knows less and more, like this. He doesn't know where he is, and there's no feeling to help him guess, no pain or light or voice in the ears he doesn't have anymore. He doesn't know how he got here, doesn't know how long he's been here, doesn't even know who he is, really.

But he's not confused, because what he knows is this: he's dead, and it's not fucking fair, because he had so much left to do. He knows he was going to do better, that he was going to fix things, and now he'll never have the chance. Part of him seethes at that, and part of him just wants to take the hint and stop trying.

Except he also knows, somehow, that he does have another chance. That he's still here, even if he can't feel or taste or smell-- or even see or hear. That he can move things, somehow, change them, sometimes even fix them. He can solve crimes and save lives and on very good days he can make Edwin laugh.

He remembers that, the last time he'd made Edwin laugh-- just a little chuckle, really, but helplessly sincere, and the smile had stayed on his lips when he'd said, really, Charles--

The world unfolds around that voice speaking his name, first just memory into sound and then the awareness of ears to hear it, of a head to turn toward it and arms to push himself up, of something soft and forgiving under his palms, and of eyes he can open to see Edwin's face, remarkably close and blinking with surprise that, as Charles watches, collapses into relief.

"You came back," Edwin breathes. From this close, Charles can see the tears well in his eyes. Edwin, who he's seen burn half his hand off without even noticing, is crying over Charles.

It's not really a choice, to reach out with hands that still look a little misty and pull Edwin close. Edwin clutches him back, curling his hands in the back of Charles' shirt and tucking his chin over Charles's shoulder like if he just holds Charles close enough, he can hold him together.

Maybe he can. Charles curls his own fingers into Edwin's coat, breathes deep just to feel his ribs expand into Edwin's grip, ghost-cool but firm and real, real, real.

"I was afraid you were gone," Edwin says.

I was too, Charles doesn't say.

"Told you," he murmurs instead, "you're stuck with me."

#dead boy detectives #charles rowland #dbda #edwin payne #dbda fanfic #charles rowland week #something is bugging me about the structure of this so i might edit a bit before putting it on ao3 #and im still learning the boys' character voices #but here it is! my first dbd fic #my writing #god how do people write short pieces this is so hard

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keerysfreckles · 7 months ago

Text

homesick — steve harrington

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve drives to y/n's house after an alley fight with jonathan byers

warnings: s1 steve, some cursing, not proofread!

a/n: this is for aly and aly only if you're not aly pls look away rn ! @keerysbrowneyes (also ignore the date the song came out at the end i just wanted to use it)

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

to say y/n had a long day would be putting it lightly. her job at radioshack started off smoothly two weeks ago, but now almost every customer has been pissing her off.

she's tried to be a good employee, wanting to empress her boss bob newby. but when every person she's dealt with does nothing but complain to her, and tell her how she should do her job, y/n started thinking about putting in her two weeks notice.

every day this week y/n's gone home to an empty house at 4 pm. her parents were visiting her relatives in california, but y/n said missing two weeks of school and work would be complete hell. which explains why she's been home alone for 5 days.

her daily routine was finishing normally as she pulled into her driveway, throwing her radioshack nametag in her glove compartment, before grabbing her backpack.

she sighed stepping into the quiet house. it was just her, her mother and her father, so it was normal the house was quiet. but knowing no one was there to greet her put a damper in her mood.

after throwing her backpack somewhere in the living room, y/n managed to find two slices of pizza from god knows where.

a car pulling up in her driveway took her focus away from the microwave. her parents weren't supposed to be home till next week, so who could be the mystery driver?

a familiar red bmw was crookedly parked in front of y/n's house.

y/n opened the door just as the driver went to knock, his curled hand frozen in the air.

"steve?"

y/n looks up at her old friend, bruised and beaten. blood dried around his eye, nose and lips, his eyebrows are furrowed in what she could only guess was hurt and anger.

y/n and steve haven't gotten along the best ever since he stopped being her friend. he'd rather hang out with tommy hagan and carol perkins. it was more than a stab in the heart to y/n when he ditched her on the first day of their sophomore year, over a year ago.

"what are- shit are you okay?" y/n leans forward to hold his head in her hands, examining the damage done to his skin.

"i didn't know where else to go," his voice sounds as fragile as a glass bottle. it could break any moment and he was worried no one would be there to pick up the pieces.

y/n noticed the waver in his words, causing the girl to bring him into a tight hug.

her arms wrapped around his neck, embracing him as he held her waist. he shoved his face into her neck, muffling the light cries falling from his eyes.

"you're okay, you're okay steve," y/n mumbles into the air, as she runs her fingers over the hair at the base of his neck.

steve shook softly in her arms. y/n does nothing but hold him closer.

she doesn't care that her front door is open. she doesn't care if people from her neighborhood are staring. she doesn't care if she has to stay like this all night.

all she wanted was for steve to be okay.

after minutes, steve let go of y/n. he wiped he eyes, before remembering one of them was severely injured. he hisses at the pain his touch causes.

y/n lets him inside, shutting the door behind the pair.

"you go ahead and shower. wash some of the blood out of your hair, okay?" y/n's voice is calm as steve nods.

he knows her house like the back of his hand. after being here so many times in the past, he walks down the hall to the last room on the right, immediately turning on the shower.

y/n's quick to grab a towel before walking to her room. she pulls open the all too familiar drawer.

the drawer filled with steve's clothes.

ever since freshman year, whenever steve stayed over he always ended up leaving an article of clothing almost every time he left. so over the span of two years, there were about five and a half different outfits in the bottom drawer of y/n's grey dresser.

she grabbed a pair of sweatpants and old gym tshirt, hoping they'd fit him.

hearing the water still running, she quietly opens the door, placing both the towel and clean clothes onto the counter.

minutes pass before steve turns off the water. his heart warms at the sight of clean clothes on the counter, and he notices his dirty clothes were gone off the floor.

he's extra careful when drying off his hair, and makes sure to be gentle around his face.

a knock makes him jump slightly.

"are you alright?" y/n asks, "i uh- found some medical supplies from my parents room. i think i can help with your cuts."

steve opens the door, and he swears his heart melts again at the sight of y/n. she's holding a small container filled with medical supplies just like she said. she had a certain look in her eyes, one steve couldn't quite recognize.

"do you-" steve let his question trail off as he pointed from the bathroom then towards her room.

"bathroom's fine," she replies, watching as he sits down on the closed toilet.

she starts sifting through the box of supplies, hoping to find at least one thing that could help with steve's injuries.

"so what did you do to get yourself all beat up?" y/n finally asks.

steve doesn't look at her, instead focusing on the tiled floor beneath his feet.

"i said shit that made jonathan pissed," steve doesn't even have to look at y/n to know she's sending him a scolding look. "if i could take back what i said i would."

y/n starts taking a wipe to get off any dried blood steve missed in the shower. she holds his face, making him look up at her.

"would you take it back if he never heard it? or would you just take it back since you told him?"

steve's silence is the only answer y/n needs to prove her point.

she hears small sounds coming from steve as she finishes wiping the blood. she continues apologizing, not wanting to hurt him more fhan he already is.

"why are you being so nice to me?"

his question catches y/n off gaurd. her movements pause as her hand hovers over his face with a bandaid for his nose.

"you came to me when you were hurting. is it so bad i want to help you?"

y/n continues working to patch up steve's face, while his silence gives her the answer she needs once more.

just as she places the last bandaid on his chin, steve speaks up.

"thank you, really. i don't know anyone else who would help me with this."

"of course steve," she sends him a soft smile. she checks one last time over his face, making sure she didn't miss anything.

y/n throws any trash on the counter away, letting steve stand and inspect her work in the mirror.

as y/n walks back to the bathroom, she pokes her head in the doorframe. she studies his face for a moment. watching his fingers trace over the fresh bandaids. she watched as his hair slightly moved with every turn of his head.

steve notices the girl standing behind him, making a switch flip in her head, suddenly reminding her what she was going to ask.

"do you want to stay for a little? i could try and find an ice pack for your eye."

steve nods, making y/n lead him towards the living room. he's quick to sit in the couch, finally feeling the stress and worry leave his shoulders.

he starts picking at his fingernails, looking around the all too familiar living room. there were still pictures up of y/n as a baby. even a few more pictures were added as she went through high school.

"okay i don't have any ice packs, but i found this," steve turns his head, chuckling at the bright red coca cola can in her hands.

steve lets his eyes stay on y/n. he notices her hairs gotten slightly darker in the past year. her freckles are less prominent. her eyes seem more dull.

he looks up at her hoping she can notice he wants to be saved. wants to be saved by her. saved from the assholes he hangs out with now. saved from the stress of high school. saved from it all.

as steve hasn't taken the can, y/n sits beside him on the couch and holds it gently over the bandaid around his eye.

a small blush creeps its way onto steve's cheeks. y/n notices.

the two sit in a comfortable silence, as y/n turns the can from time to time so the coldest part is always on steve's bruised face.

"i think you kind of deserved it."

steve's eyebrows furrow as he turns to look at y/n. her monotone expression only confuses him more.

"what?"

"losing the fight to jonathan."

"i never said i lost–"

y/n simply ignores him, "maybe his punches finally knocked some sense into you."

steve might consider himself an idiot sometimes, but he knew what y/n meant. he curses at himself every day for why he ditched the girl sitting next to him.

"i don't even know why i did it."

y/n's silence made him continue.

"i guess i hated feeling so small in school. so i started talking to the people i thought were cool. it's dumb believe me, i know," steve leans forward to run his hand through his hair.

it's a nervous tick steve picked up over the years. one y/n recognized.

she simply reached her other hand to his own, rubbing her thumb over his palm.

"you're still the same steve i know," y/n's voice is quiet. "you may have a bigger ego and be an asshole sometimes. but you're still the boy who danced with me at the snow ball when no one else would."

"you know," steve's voice seemed brighter as an idea popped into his head. "i still owe you a full dance."

"what do you mean?" y/n laughed, "you already danced with me. at the snow ball."

"not for the whole thing. if i can recall i swooped in to save the day probably halfway through the song."

y/n can only laugh again while watching steve start searching through the limited record selection in the living room.

"what are you even looking for?"

steve holds out his pointer finger, before running towards y/n's room, not satisfied with any choices from the living room.

seconds pass until steve's back in the living room, with a record in hand.

y/n tries peering over his arm to see which one he grabbed, before he slid the disc out and put it into the record player.

the familiar beginning to our last summer by abba began playing.

"steve, this isn't even a slow dance type of song," y/n tries to argue, but steve only grabs her hands to pull her up off the couch.

"i don't care, i still owe you a dance," he then places both hands on her hips. "plus i know this is one of your favorite songs."

y/n smiles up at him while holding onto his shoulders as the two sway side to side.

"you remember that?"

steve nods, "of course. i could never forget anything about you."

y/n feels the blush brushing her cheeks now as she looks down at her feet, trying to hide her nerves.

as the song progressed, steve and y/n continued swaying slowly. after seconds of internally debating to herself, y/n leans forward to press her head against his chest.

she lets all the anger and hurt for steve seep out of her. each sway the boy creates, a pound of regret leaves y/n's body.

she swears she can hear his heartbeat pick up at their close contact, but she doesn't mention this, only smiling to herself.

steve's breath quickens for a split second as y/n's head rests on him. he reaches his hand up to hold the back of her head, rubbing his thumb slightly. he kisses the top of her head, only making y/n wish it was humanly possible to become closer to steve.

"y/n," steve's voice is low a rough, he worries she didn't hear it.

she removes her head from his chest to look up at him. his hand stays on the back of her head, pushing only slightly, giving her the reason to back up if she pleases.

she doesn't back up. in fact she leans foward whether it be because of steve's touch or not. she doesn't want to back up.

in a matter of seconds steve's lip press against y/n's. the cut on his bottom lip stings slightly, but he couldn't care less about the pain. if kissing y/n made his lip sting, he would still kiss her a thousand times.

y/n's hands grip his shoulders tighter, trying to push him closer as they both deepen the kiss.

y/n begins to pull back, needing a second to regain her lost breath that was stolen by steve. however the brunette doesn't allow it, pulling the girl back in for another kiss.

her hands move to his neck. her fingers begin pulling at the hair, eliciting a small breathy moan from steve.

it caught y/n off gaurd, making her pull away again.

the two silently share eye contact. their panted breaths are mingling with each others.

steve leans forward to kiss her again. his way of telling y/n he wants nothing more than her.

he can only guess she gets the idea, when she giggles at the feeling of steve picking her up off the ground to carry her to her own room.

y/n laugh is cut off by steve slamming her bedroom door behind the two, "you know no one's here right? you didn't have to close the door."

steve simply shrugs as he lays down on the bed above y/n.

their fourth kiss of many for the night begin to become more and more passionate.

y/n would be lying if she said she didn't want to sleep with steve. and steve vice versa with y/n. but they weren't about to admit that tonight.

#shelbi writes #keerysfreckles #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x female!reader #steve harrington x fem reader #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #joe keery #joe keery fic #joe keery fanfic

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lumosinlove · 18 days ago

Text

Christmas Eve Will Find Me

part i: leo

(tags for cw)

One: Leo

A Nightmare, A Dream

Amsterdam

So far, Leo had been able to hide the dreams. They hadn’t happened during the nights he’d shared with Finn, but that was probably because he never slept those nights. Not deeply. He’d been too wired by the idea of Finn beside him, and too worried by how the pained lines of Finn’s face didn’t relax even in his sleep.

The dreams hadn’t happened with James on the train, but he’d figured that was because Logan had been just one wall away. Safe. As safe as he could be. Logan wasn’t dead. Logan wasn’t dead, he hadn’t drowned, you didn’t let him drown, you didn’t lose him, someone cut the tracker out, you didn’t lose him, it wasn’t you.

And yet.

He should have asked Logan more questions. He should have forced him to tell him what was going on—why he wanted a direct line to Finn, why he had such a faraway look on his face, why he took phone calls where he barely said a word. He should have seen something coming. He should have forced Logan to tell him.

And now, he was here in a safe house, sitting up on the couch he’d volunteered to take, and watching snow fall in the streetlights outside. Stalling. Afraid to sleep. Logan was right there. It should be fine. But if it wasn’t…

He looked towards the bed, which he’d given to Finn and Logan. They hadn’t slept beside each other like that yet, he realized. Not since Logan got back. The train had been bunk beds. No wonder Finn had laid down so carefully. No wonder he’d kept glancing at Logan as they’d all sat up for a little while, wary of the strange new place, waiting for the adrenaline to wear off so they could actually fall asleep. Finn had managed it. Leo knew his breathing patterns by now. He’d spent so many nights listening to the hitching after-math of a hard cry fade, exhausted.

Logan was awake. He was on his side, facing Finn and staring. Just staring at him in the darkness. He’d shift every once in a while, and it took Leo a moment to realize that he had his ankles tangled in Finn’s beneath the quilt. Leo knew Finn did that sort of thing in his sleep. It was painfully sweet that Logan didn’t pull away.

“Can I ask you something?” Logan whispered suddenly.

Leo nodded. Ten thousand possible questions went through his mind. Some of them real, some of them a fantasy. Yes, I missed you. Yes, I never stopped looking for you.

Yes, Logan, I’m in love with you. I’m in love with the love of your life, too. I’m sorry.

“Was I a bad person?” Logan finally asked. “Was I bad?” He looked down at Finn’s sleeping form. “To him?”

Leo sat up fast, hands pushing into the overly plush couch cushions. Logan, slowly so as not to disturb Finn, sat up, too. He looked so perfect in this light. He looked warm and alive—and a bit guilty.

“It’s only that,” Logan paused, uncertain. “I’m not with you. I know that, I…there are parts of my wedding that I can see.”

“What can you see?” Because Leo was awful, and Leo wanted to know. He hadn’t been there. He wanted every detail. “I mean…No. We’re not together.”

“But I kissed you.”

“No,” Leo said. Exactly was he was afraid of. “No, I kissed you.”

“I kissed back.”

“No.” Leo almost wanted to get up. He wanted to sit on the edge of Logan’s side of the bed and shake him. “It was a moment. We were scared and exhausted and lonely. And it didn’t mean anything. I don’t even know why that’s—something that would come back, I…”

The words sounded like some part of a torn up script in his mouth, ashy and rehearsed.

“You…” Leo tried to think how to explain this. How did he explain, to Logan, about the way Logan loved Finn. About the notes. About 1017 and about the weight he saw Logan drop like a heavy cloak whenever they touched onto English ground again. When Finn met them somewhere, how did he explain what it was like to watch them take each other in, uncaring of where they were or who was watching. How did he explain to Logan that he was the richest person in the world because he had found everything, everything, from ease to lust to comfort to love, in one person?

“1017,” Leo said. “You asked me to break basically the most sacred rule we’re given because you refused to let him worry about you if something went wrong. You protected him, Logan, at risk to yourself. You could never…never be bad to him. You love him so much, it hurts to look at.”

A brief silence as Logan took this in. No blood, though, so Leo thought he’d done all right.

“That’s how I found you. 1017.” Logan shifted again, pillows piled behind him. “I saw those numbers for months, I just didn’t…I woke up one day and I knew what to do with them. Just like I woke up one day and I knew French was my first language. Just like I suddenly knew my wedding band had been silver.”

Leo involuntarily looked to the hand it had once rested on. Logan was touching his ring finger. “Do you remember what happened to it?”

Leo felt bad for asking instantly. Logan’s face turned so hopelessly inconsolable, even if just for a second, that he wanted to yank the words back in.

“Non,” Logan said softly. He closed a fist around his hand. “No.”

“You could never be bad to him,” Leo said. “When your memories come back, you’ll understand.”

“If, you mean. If they come back.”

“They’re already coming back, Lo.”

The nickname made Logan look up, but he seemed to settle into it. “Not everything.”

Leo could argue with that. He had no way of helping Logan. None at all.

“You have to be patient with yourself,” he said in the end. Logan just looked back down at Finn’s sleeping face.

They were quiet again after that, but neither of them lay back down. Logan began to card his fingers through Finn’s hair. Leo didn’t know if he knew how natural that gesture was. How often Leo had seen him do it.

“You can sleep,” Logan said. “I’m not tired. I will keep watch.”

Leo began to protest, but Logan shook his head.

“Leo, please. I’ll never sleep. I don’t feel like I can.” He looked down at Finn again, then back to Leo. “I’ve been exhausted these last couple days, but now I’m just…awake. There is so much I can see. It’s just—as though it’s out of the corner of my eye. I need…I need to keep letting it come back. Please, rest.”

Leo wasn’t sure how to refuse. He didn’t want to tell Logan about the dreams, and Logan obviously wouldn’t take Leo wanting to keep him company as an excuse. He was exhausted. More than exhausted—the ear-ringing, thirsty sort of tired.

“If you’re sure,” Leo said.

Logan’s half smile brought him almost no comfort at all as he lay back against the couch.

He would pretend. He would lay here, close his eyes, keep his breathing regular. But he couldn’t fall asleep. Out of Logan’s sight he dug his nails into his palm. He couldn’t fall asleep.

The next thing he knew, he was plunged into something cold and deep and blue. Salt water filled his mouth.

It started like it always did. The weightlessness of the open ocean was pleasant for no more than a few moments—until he realized how deep he was.

Holding his breath, Leo looked up towards the glimmering surface far, far above. In his head it was miles, fathoms above him. Unreachable. The panic they were trained to master began to squirm. He seemed to be sinking, too. The light from the sun dimmed as the ocean took over. There was the shadow of a boat up there. He didn’t know who’s. He looked around, as if there was something he could push off of, give himself some leverage beyond his own desperate strokes and kicks—and he saw him.

Logan, his eyes closed, dark hair a halo around his slack face, was sinking into the dark waters below him. Remus was a few feet away.

Choose, something said. You’ll never reach them both. Choose.

Leo turned ice cold. Remus was drifting down, his limbs loose and weak in the water. Leo would have to go farther to reach him, and he’d never make it back for Logan.

And that was always the point when, suddenly, Remus’ face turned into Finn’s.

Leo let out a silent scream of his name. Because that was wrong. Finn had been no where near them, that was wrong, Finn was safe.

Choose. You’ll never reach them both.

Finn’s thick, red hair brushed across his forehead as a current swayed him just a little towards Leo. He was pale. So, so pale in the ocean’s thin light.

Leo began to swim down. He pushed, harder and harder, but it was like there was a force working against him. He stretched out a hand towards Finn, reaching even as his other hand worked to pull himself towards Logan.

But they were being swallowed by the water. He was shaking. Finn was being pulled farther and farther away. The next time Leo looked, he was just a shadow in the blue. There was no more air. Logan’s face slipped out of view and Leo shouted his name, letting the water in. When a sob forced an inhale, the water went with that, too, and Leo scratched at his own throat. He couldn’t see the water’s surface anymore. He couldn’t see anything. Logan. Logan. Logan. Logan. Leo—

“Leo.”

Leo was forced back into the apartment like a bright light being slammed on. His entire body was slick with sweat. He could feel it sliding down his temples and soaking the neck of his shirt. He sat up, trying to gasp for air, but none came. None came. None ever came. Finn was kneeling beside the couch with his hands on Leo’s shoulders.

“What…” Finn asked, frantically looking around Leo’s for signs of danger, of a wound. “Le, come on, what’s wrong. Hey, what happened, look at me, Leo.”

But Leo couldn’t answer. Air wouldn’t come. He couldn’t explain to Finn that everything was fine, it was okay, you’re okay—

“Leo?”

That soft voice. That gentle accent cupping the two sounds of his name. Lay-oh. Drowning. Pale, ocean skin, never see him again—

Leo’s eyes met Logan’s, who knelt beside Finn and put a hand on his chest. His eyes were nearly the color of summer in the wash of the yellow lamp Finn had turned on. Leo tried to gasp, but all that came was an awful, retched sound. His heart began to pound in his temples, he could feel the heat of his neck and cheeks as he struggled.

The crease between Logan’s brow was full of emotion, of life, of worry. It was nothing like the death Leo had seem on him in the dream. Nothing.

Breathe, Leo willed himself. He’s right there, you idiot, breathe, breathe.

Finally, it came back. The air. Leo gasped, then coughed hard, swinging his legs down from the couch so he could sit up and cough again, draw air again, even as Finn put a hand on his back.

“Fuck. God, can you breathe?” Finn asked hurriedly. “Leo? Leo, can you breathe?”

“I’m sorry,” Leo said hoarsely. “Yes. Sorry.”

“Oh my God,” Finn whispered. His fingers were pushing through the back of Leo’s hair now. “Oh my God, Leo. Leo?”

“I’m okay,” Leo said. His voice sounded awful. His chest ached. Blood rushed through him and brought small sparks to the edges of his vision. “Nothing happened. Nothing’s wrong. That’s all me. I can explain.”

Which of course sounded ridiculous to them. Finn pressed his forehead to Leo’s shoulder and let out a harsh breath.

“Leo,” he panted. “Jesus.”

Leo’s arms were trapped between them, but he patted Finn’s side, still trying to catch his breath. “I’m okay. I promise, I’m sorry, I…” How did he explain? How on earth did he explain? “It’s just a dream I have.”

Finn pulled back and stared at him, still horrified. “That makes you not be able to breathe? That’s not just a dream.”

“It is just a dream,” Leo said. He groaned rubbing at his eyes. “Thank God it’s just a dream…”

He peeked through his fingers at Logan, who was still watching him. He still had his hands on him. For a moment, it was almost as if he knew who Leo was completely.

To have both of them sitting next to each other again, looking at him, was more than Leo could ever have wanted. He never thought he’d see it again.

“I lost you in the ocean,” Leo said to Logan. “I lost you in the ocean, and so I’m…I’m in the ocean and you’re below me and you’re sinking.” He had to draw in a quick, ragged breath. He rubbed at his chest. “You’re sinking, you’re drowning, maybe you’re already dead, and I’m trying to reach you and then Finn is sinking, drowning, and I never reach you. I never do and—and when I wake up, I just…I can’t breathe. Nothing is wrong with me, but I just can’t. For a few seconds, I can’t.”

“Why did you never say anything?” Finn asked. “To me, why did you never—”

“Because…” Leo shook his head. “Why would I tell you something like that? That’s a horrible image, I didn’t want that in your head, Finn.”

“Why would you…” Finn rose up on his knees, closer. “Leo. You watched me fall asleep crying and wake up crying for months. And you think you can’t tell me?”

Leo, very suddenly, felt that he might cry himself. “I…”

Finn saw it immediately and put his hand back on Leo’s chest. “You know how bad it was. You know I would have understood. You heard those messages I left Lo. Those hundreds of messages…”

Leo’s eyes widened, new heat rising to his chest. “I—no. No, I didn’t…”

But Finn tilted his head, brown eyes soft and imploring. “It’s okay. It’s okay if you listened. I know they went through you now. You kept us connected when I thought it was all lost.”

Leo shook his head, a surprised, hitching sob clawing up his throat. He covered his eyes briefly and willed it away. “Only when—only when I couldn’t be there. I only listened when I was called away and I couldn’t come over, only when I needed to know you were at least a little all right—”

“All the while you weren’t all right—Leo.” Finn drew him close, pressing their foreheads together.

Beside them, Logan sat back on his heels in a jerky movement, like someone had tried to knock him over. He put a hand over his mouth. Leo looked in time to see blood coat his fingers, and then Logan let out a sound that was half a cry of pain, half a curse. His knuckles were white on Leo’s knee.

Leo didn’t think. He drew the hem of his t-shirt forward and cupped the back of Logan’s head while he pressed the cloth to his nose.

“Shit,” Leo said. “Logan?”

“Oh, Lo,” Finn whispered.

“I don’t know,” Logan gasped. His voice was thick from a blocked up nose and his eyes squeezing shut before opening wide to the ceiling. “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

“Shh,” Leo hushed. “Lo, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.”

This was too much. Too soon, too heavy. Leo didn’t know how the memories worked, but he’d learned enough to see that these things had to come slowly. Force only brought Logan pain.

“I feel like it was,” Logan said. “I feel—I feel like I knew. Something. I feel…”

Leo could hardly watch him struggle. Leo tilted Logan’s face up towards him to wipe the blood away as best he could. He didn’t realize he was stroking a thumb over Logan’s temple until Logan closed his eyes and leaned into his hand.

“It’s not your fault,” Leo repeated. He looked at Finn, but Finn didn’t seem to mind, so he kept his hand half buried in Logan’s soft hair. “Logan, you didn’t know this would happen.”

“Leo’s right,” Finn said. “Lo, you didn’t know.”

Logan’s voice sounded small. “How can you be sure of that?”

Finn reached out and wiped the last streak of blood from Logan’s nose, then wiped it on his own shirt.

“Because you would never leave me like that,” Finn said firmly. “You never would.”

Leo left them only to splash cold water over his face. He looked ragged and pale to himself in the bathroom mirror. He watched his own chest rise and fall until his breath came easier and his head stopped throbbing. Then he switched off the light and went back into the main room. Finn and Logan were talking in low voices back in bed and Leo made his way to the couch. Maybe he should shower. he was still soaked in sweat. But exhaustion was taking over again.

“Leo,” Logan’s voice came.

Leo looked over his shoulder as he pulled his blanket back. “Yeah?”

Logan looked at Finn, who nodded, then put a hand flat on the mattress between the two of them. “Sleep. Here.”

“I—what?”

Finn patted the space more firmly. “Come here and sleep in a real bed.”

Leo straightened, the blanket falling from his hands. “You want all three of us to sleep in that bed?”

They just looked at him. Logan, a little frustrated now, hit the space.

“Allez.”

Of all the things Leo had expected to do right then, laughing was not among them. Even Finn smiled.

“What?” Logan asked.

“Nothing.” Finn looked at Leo for help.

“That was just…” Leo stopped at the end of the bed. “Very you.”

Logan brightened a bit at that, pleased.

“Oh,” he said, and lay down, folding his hands across his chest expectantly.

Leo felt a little bashful, crawling across the bed, but it was so warm once Leo was under their covers that he shivered and didn’t care whether they were just being kind. Some deeper sort of thaw began to take place in his chest. Finn curled an arm around Leo’s waist, turning into him. He hadn’t even held Logan like that, yet, and here Leo was, wrapped up between them.

“Okay?” Logan whispered, eyes already closing.

“Mhm,” Leo managed to say. Maybe this would keep the dreams at bay.

Finn knocked his forehead gently against Leo’s temple and Leo turned his head to meet his gaze.

“Thank you,” Leo whispered.

Finn just put a hand on the side of his face and pressed a gentle, soundless kiss to his cheek, just near the corner of Leo’s mouth.

When he pulled back, that familiar worry was there, but muted. At least for now.

“He dreams about you, too,” Finn said, and closed his eyes.

#Christmas Eve will find me lumosinlove #o'knutzy #spy au #finn o'hara #Leo knut #Logan tremblay #cw: mentions of drowning

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naffeclipse · 2 years ago

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I don't know when I'll ever write this, but I've had this AU in the back of my mind ever since Bendy and the Dark Revival came out, and it's best to get it out of my head before it festers and rots.

More or less, it's BatDR and the DCA smashed into one. The premise is that you are an animator at Fazbear Studios and Sun and Moon are humans who go by Cyrus and Mani respectively, employed as voice actors. (First AU with human Sun and Moon whoo! don't get attached though) Vanessa is a janitor who is a bit odd, mostly keeping to herself though sometimes you feel like she's starting at your back when you're alone.

Cyrus and Mani perform as extras in the Fazbear cartoon, adding supporting voices for side characters and miscellaneous lines. Cyrus often supplies humorous, wacky, and surreal voices to his performances. Mani tends to get villainous or spooky characters with his deeper, raspier voice. They both enjoy what they do and love that they can work together as brothers.

You can't help but notice Cyrus and Mani. You admire their skill, their passion, and their smiles, and you sometimes even work up the courage to wave at Cyrus or Mani whenever one of the brothers happens to pass by your work desk.

They inspire you—not just with their work, but with their small acts of care. You find coffee on your desk when you return from a meeting with the other animators with a little smiling sun doodled on the cup. Sometimes, Cyrus asks you to join him on a walk since it's your lunch break and you could really use some sunshine and a chance to stretch your legs. When it gets far too late and you're burning the midnight oil, Mani is somehow always there, doing a funny voice to surprise you with a little reminder that it's past your bedtime. He leaves you little treats in blue wrappers, hidden in places on your desk, among your ink and papers.

It's not a surprise that you start drawing a character for them in your rare off hours when you still have the energy to hold a pencil. The Fazbear cartoon could add a new, permanent character. A robotic jester, lanky and tall, but with two forms for the day and night, funny and sweet and mischievous. Cyrus and Mani could both voice him!

That's silly, however. Fazbear Studios does not want your chaotic and half-brained scribbles nor do you dare show the brothers what they inspired—they might hate it. You keep your little jester character tucked away, along with a small doodle of a minor, nobody, gray character who may or may not be a tag along to the main act that is the jester. Your sketches and concept art are hidden away, far from where the light of day or the shine of night will ever see.

It goes missing one day. You're upset and asking everyone who went through your desk. No one confesses. Cyrus tells you that it'll be okay, he'll help you find it. Mani suggests that you keep locks on your drawers from now on.

It's never found, not that you wanted either of them to stumble upon it. Yet, they stay late with you after everyone has gone home, looking for your precious and secretive sketchbook through the many departments of the studio.

Somewhere along the way, Cyrus disappears, promising to return with your sketchbook. You lose Mani in the audio department before, oh, there's Vanessa. She tells you to come to the basement with her—she found your notebook. You're relieved but a little put off by Vanessa and reluctantly follow her down into the dark.

You don't find your sketchbook, but you do find Cyrus slumped against the wall, blood trickling down his temple, and a strange collection of shrines to one of the studio's cartoon characters.

Before you can rush to his side, pain explodes in your skull, cracking white across your vision. You fall to the ground, dazed, as Vanessa gives a cryptic promise to return with the last sacrifice. You manage to crawl across the floor in your pitiful state to reach Cyrus and attempt to revive him, but by then, Mani is walking in. His shock overtakes him but he dodges a swipe of Vanessa's wrench and starts struggling against her. You try desperately to drag Cyrus somewhere safe as he murmurs for you to get out of here, but in the middle of Vanessa's and Mani's fight, she flips a switch and ink begins filling the room.

The black flood sweeps Cyrus away from you. Pages spill out from the inside of Vanessa's vest, dozens of sketches of your jester character. You cry out. Mani looks to you. Vanessa at last shoves Mani into the surge of onyx liquid beside Cyrus, and you watch both of them go under together. You scream their names. She turns to you, grinning.

The last thing you remember is Vanessa shoving your head into the ink.

Then it's the only thing you remember. You're vaguely aware that your jet-black hands are strange and shiny, and that you don't know where you are in this sepia-colored studio, but you know something's not right. You're missing someone, and someone else. You're scared.

You wander around for a bit until you're attacked by monsters emerging from the ink, shrieking and wailing in gluey dark forms until a wonderful and terrifying automaton arrives. He destroys such a creature about to tear you apart. He stands so tall, detailed with sharp teeth and even sharper sun rays around his large, flat face, but you think you recognize those yellow eyes—a living cartoon.

He helps you calm down and asks for your name in a loud and funny voice that rings like a bell in your mind but you can't name the tune. You don't remember your name. He doesn't remember his either. He leads you away from the harsher spaces of the studio, somewhere 'safer'. You don't know if there is anything as safe, but you feel better with him.

You're startled when after a time, in the middle of talking to this sunshine character, he melts and morphs and bubbles until a crescent moon face emerges and a new grin. You panic before a darker, raspier voice, like a cartoon villain, tells you it's alright. He's here, too. He's not sure what's going on but he, and the other 'him', and you are gonna make it out of here, somehow.

You don't have hope anywhere else but in this unique robot jester, and he seems to want you to stay close to him. So it's you two, the last sane partnership in the crazed and dripping studios, fighting off ink creatures and surviving other bizarre characters. You learn how to wield a gent pipe and the jester is strong on his own, often able to tear things apart or toss monsters off of you before they can do worse. He has claws and teeth and he uses them well.

Vanny is a lady rabbit and a constant threat. She's smart and cunning, unlike the other mostly senseless attackers. She keeps tracking the two of you down and spouting off the religious rhetoric of Inktrap, promising that your sacrifices will be well worth the pain. You had to be introduced to the cycle. The ink has corrupted you perfectly. You are part of this place. You are never leaving and will give in to Inktrap.

You and he avoid Inktrap at all costs. You've only caught glimpses of the shadowy, pitch-black beast, but that's all you need to see as you both hide and hold your breaths until the danger just barely passes by.

You start to call the daytime jester Sun, and he seems to respond to it. The nighttime joker is Moon, and he neither hates nor loves it, but he answers when you call. He has a name for you, too, or rather names. Peach, bird, thrill, calico, and sweetheart. He gets creative and goofy. You think he's being mean sometimes but he tells you he's not, he means it, and you don't know how to take that before you two have to focus on escaping this part of the studio and getting into safer areas. You protect his back and he protects yours, and together, you make this living, unending nightmare bearable. Sharing bacon soup, falling asleep in Moon's lap, and patching up any drips in Sun's inky form becomes something like a life.

It just never stops, repeating over and over. The jester deserves better than this, whatever happened to him. You know you both do.

You become determined to learn how the cycle works and how to prevent it from going on. There's a funny feeling you have that, somehow, you're going to have to go through Vanny and the Inkdemon. One day, you will get the jester and yourself free.

You need to see his and your happy ending.

#sidenote: cyrus is pronounced cy-rus and mani is pronounced mah-ni not manny #also their last name is Sterle but i don't know if that would ever come up #sorry that's all i'm gonna put here as a sort of summary #there's a dramatic ending with the jester saving your life but it comes at a price of merging with inktrap #and that's when eclipse comes out to play #but despite looking as terrifying as he is now and fighting for control #he still loves you! (whoops he wasn't supposed to say that last part out loud)#The Jester and the Tagalong #bendy and the dark revival FNAF AU #this goes out to wynnibee for reminding me this was buried in my drafts!

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sixleggedboar · 6 months ago

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Hello everyone, since it's been very quiet on here I wanted to share an update for those who are wondering and the friends and mutuals I've been severly neglecting.

You'll find me oversharing under the cut but tldr, I am still in the middle of recovering from burnout, but it forced me to completely restructure my life to the degree that I am emotionally more stable and therefore feeling better than ever. So for anyone worrying, don't. I still have a long way to go, but I have the privilege of a good and reliable support net that caught me and offers me the resources I need to be able to build the life I need. I want to come back here, share more art in the future, but I will not force it.

And right now it's just not the time.

Thank you to everyone who's still here, thank you for your support!

CW: mental health, depression, suicidal ideation, internalised ableism

I had been suicidal my whole life. Had never known a time where I wasn't. Couldn't understand how people wanted to live, how this wasn't normal. I couldn't see myself in the future no matter how hard I tried. But I kept going because this was my normal, I didn't know anything else, didn't know I needed help and a change that was a lot more fundamental than just talking to a person every week. I had no frame of reference to communicate my struggle that came with every day life because for all I knew this is just how everyone else feels.

This is just life.

And I am just not made for it.

Didn't help that whenever I tried to communicate that to a mental health professional I just got brushed off as dramatic, being told I am fine.

Because in the end it just works. I function.

I was one of the lucky ones who got diagnosed with ADHD as a kid, mum went to a specialist cause she has it herself and wanted to make sure I get tested so I don't have to go through the same struggles that come with staying undiagnosed as she did. Thing is, that diagnosis didn't really change much, I was still too academically gifted and non-obtrusive to be considered for medical treatment (and honestly seeing and hearing about stories were kids have been on the wrong dosage for years because no one knew better makes me think that maybe it was for the better) and my mum tried to teach me the skills to succeed in life despite that diagnosis, but she herself was alone and too deep in her own trauma to be able to provide the support I needed.

This lead to me cracking and dropping out of high school, trying other things, landing back in school, this time college, and cracking again, this time not managing to immediately get up again to keep going with something else.

Nothing seemed to work, so all I could do was to take a break.

A break that showed me for the first time, that no, chronically wanting to die is not normal, that I am capable of enjoying life, that I am capable of wanting to live and my first goal should be to figure out what I can do to crawl my way back into everyday life without losing that feeling, that knowledge. I learned the difference between just a really bad, but perfectly healthy, day and the excrutiating pain day to day living had caused me until that point.

And that break's been going on for over a year now, with me periodically trying to get back into school, trying to figure out what accommodations I need and how I can build a future for myself that is worth living.

I don't know if I'll finish my bachelor's, probably not, but if I drop out I'll need to find a viable alternative first. I don't think I'll ever be able to work full time, doubt I'll ever be able to fully support myself, but I know there is a future out there for me somewhere, one that is worth living to me and that is a hope I never had until recently. That is what I mean when I say I am doing better than ever, despite the fact that my functionality has effectively crumbled to dust and diagnostics say I am still depressed.

I am still struggling with the guilt that comes with relying on others for support, that comes with not being the perfect productive member of society I am expected to be, that comes with not being the perfect friend I want to be. I learned that I actually do want to work, something that if you had asked me a year ago, and if I felt save enough to be honest, I would have said no to. I just need to figure out what that looks like. I learned I can only focus on a handful of things, and that includes basic survival and individual people. I learned what I need to not feel lonely without being overwhelmed by social interactions and have incredible people in my life who make that possible.

I also met my amazing partner who is showing me how stable and unwavering love can be. Who gives me the security I need to say that whatever comes, we'll figure it out.

Oh and yeah, starting medical transition sure as hell helped a lot too.

I am currently trying to find my passions again, learn how to actually love creating art again, to learn how to learn and find enjoyment in just the act of it.

I'm in therapy and am trying out medications in the hopes to find some that work and don't make things worse.

All in all I'm going somewhere. I don't know where it will lead but I know that it will be worth it.

#personal #mental health #adhd #depression

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definitelynotafurinasimp · 1 year ago

Text

Them reacting to you gifting them something for Valentine's day

characters: Seele / Bronya x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: Do me a Favor and pretend it’s still Valentine's Day, okay? I was busy yesterday and only got the idea to write something for it after I saw @genshingorlsrevengeance post.

Also no Natasha, bc I’m not going to lie, I couldn’t think of what to write for her…

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Seele

The most difficult part about handing Seele her gift was finding her in the first place. With how many tasks and missions she had to run through, getting a hold of her turned out to be more difficult than you had envisioned, as whenever you arrived at her last known location, she had already booked it to somewhere else.

When you finally caught up to Seele however, you could hear her from what felt like a mile away, arguing with a couple of stubborn vagrants only for it to escalate into a full on clash as you got nearer. Once you got to see her however, the two other combatants were laying on the ground already, one of them groaning in pain as the other seemed to have been knocked out for a while.

“Get lost while you can- Oh it’s you”, Seele spat as she turned around in a moment's notice, her scythe drawn and pointed at the perceived enemy, only for her to quickly lower it once she realized who stood before her.

“Ah, my bad. You caught me off-guard… Did something happen for you to be looking for me?”, she asked as a hint of worry made its way onto her face, only for her eyes to widen in surprise when she noticed the small pouch in your hand.

“N-no”, you stammered out, still somewhat in shock from having her weapon pointed at your face before coughing in hopes it would lessen the chances of your voice cracking again and continuing.

“Anyway, happy Valentine's Day”, you handed her the chocolate, Seele’s hand automatically reaching out to accept it as her cheeks grew slightly red, balling her other hand into a fist and putting it in front of her mouth to nervously cough into it while at the same time trying to cover the lower half of her face.

“I, umm… I didn’t think you’d- I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this”, she managed to say out loud, looking away slightly for a few seconds before putting down her hand and looking you in the eyes once again. “Thanks.”

“...Ahem. Where were we?”, Seele eventually proclaimed as she turned around to the two vagrants once again, only to start looking around hurriedly when they were nowhere to be found.

“Quick, they have to be nearby, help me find them!”

Bronya

From the moment she opened her eyes, Bronya was reminded of what made today so special, your work assured it, after all. The first of your letters was placed on her bedside table, another one fell out when she opened her closet, and the last one she found once she pulled open the top drawer of her desk, the envelope kept shut by the wax-seal she had grown all too familiar with since getting to know you.

Each of them were filled with enough encouraging and loving words to make even a heart of stone melt, and yet you were nowhere to be seen. As the day dragged on, with Bronya re-reading your words in between each of the dozens of audiences she went through, having to hide the smile appearing on her face whenever she thought about them in the middle of listening to her people’s troubles and worries more than once, she increasingly found herself yearning to see you. And yet, you were nowhere to be seen.

When she finally finished work, the sun was already starting to set, the amount of people in the room slowly dwindling down until the only people other than her present were two silvermane-guards standing on each side of the entrance. Only for that to change as well when another voice rang through the hall.

“Would you be so kind and leave the two of us alone for a while?”

By the time Bronya looked up, the two guards were well on their way through the door, and you were coming closer and closer before eventually stopping just a few feet away from the stairs leading up to her desk, a bouquet of Flowers in your hands as you gave her the smile she had missed the entire day.

And before Bronya knew it, she was on her feet and moving towards you as well.

“I’m sorry it took me so long. The Astral Express was nice enough to allow me to go on a small day trip with them”, you apologized before presenting her your gift, the various kinds of flowers she had never seen on Belobog before explaining your motive for leaving better than any words could have done.

“Happy Valentine’s day”, you managed to speak before Bronya gave you an unexpected hug, one you quickly returned.

The two of you remained that way until there was a sudden knock on the door, causing the Supreme Guardian to return to her regular posture in the span of a nanosecond before calling on the person on the other side to enter. Not without whispering a few more words to you however.

“Thank you.”

#hsr bronya #bronya x reader #bronya rand #hsr bronya x reader #hsr seele #seele #seele x reader #hsr seele x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader

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door-insurance · 27 days ago

Note

Not to be dramatic or anything, but thank you for your great chasemarsh art and for drawing the girls. Sometimes I genuinely worry that Victoria and Kate would be forgotten by this fandom, when they shouldn't bc they're also very important female characters to the story. people tend to treat Max and Chloe as if they're the only female characters so thank u for doing Kate and Vic justice!

Heya!

Thank you for the kind words, both Kate and Victoria are hella important characters and I'm glad to see them still get love. One of the things that motivated me to start making fanart was seeing how barren the other character tags were compared to Chloe, Max and Rachel

At some point Chasefield was the 2nd most popular ship in the fandom but as time went on I feel like the new batch of fans we're getting didn't really explore the game's world as well as the older generation did or got into the franchise through watching speedruns or even worse, they saw tik tok edits of only the max/chloe scenes and nothing else

It's actually painful lol we used to have ask blogs for characters like Brooke, people would do shitposts and scenarios that involved all the other blackwell kids- now whenever i feature them somewhere id get questions on who's who

I'm hoping that my project at least has that old fandom spirit of appreciating Arcadia Bay and the world building

---

speaking of VortexVN, I'm gonna start doing monthly updates. So far in January I managed to do the following;

-Added in an achievement system

It's gonna be list/text only, adding in pictures and stuff is just beyond my basic programming knowledge but I will include funny references specific to each route

-created a character sheet for Victoria:

i actually don't like how her sprites turned out i'm gonna revamp them next week

-Polished the waking up cutscene:

won't show the whole thing but this is the third frame

also just wanted to say that the demo launch was a success!

As of January we reached 59 downloads for the PC version and 80 browser plays for the web version, so in total 139 people played the demo... Holy shit amazeballs

Now going into this I knew it will never reach Love is Strange numbers and level of hype cause it's been almost 10 years but oh my god I didn't expect this many people playing lol

It’s kind of a gamble making a fan game featuring a divisive/antagonistic side character

my goal was around 50 downloads and browser plays for the FINAL RELEASE of the game, we hit that shit on day one with the goddamn demo- ya'll are amazing for that

I'm gonna try my best to get this project done as soons as May or June of this year, game deving isn't easy but I will try to update yall on a monthly basis.

Next week's tasks are the new journal entry and revamping Victoria's sprites

#life is strange #lis #max caulfield #victoria chase #chloe price #kate marsh #chasemarsh #rachel amber #chasefield #VortexVN #VVN update January

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edosianorchids901 · 2 months ago

Text

Survive and Thrive

@sherlocktember2024 prompt - "bees"

Whenever it became necessary to force Holmes to take a holiday, he had a habit of vanishing periodically. He went for walks alone, wandered off to investigate a new interest, or simply found some quiet place where he could avoid everyone, Watson included.

Watson had gotten used to it after so many years together, and took no offense. Holmes hated being away from Baker Street, and hated not working. It tended to make him somewhat irascible.

Today, though, he had not reappeared after a few hours, and Watson began to worry. He had spent his own afternoon alternating between reading a yellow-backed novel and catching up on medical journals. He tended to neglect his own reading during busy patches, and this had been a busy patch.

Finally, though, the twist of anxiety in his stomach overruled his ability to focus. What if Holmes had not merely gone for a walk or gotten enraptured by a friendly horse in a neighboring field, but had collapsed?

His health was poor, after all, his body badly strained by this latest round of overwork. He continued to suffer from sudden, severe fatigue, as well as bouts of pain that sometimes grew so unbearable that he cried out. If he had been stricken by another such attack, he might be unable to return to the holiday cottage.

Watson put on his hat, snatched Holmes’ favorite blanket off the sofa, and jogged outside. Holmes had apparently taken his cane, which meant he most likely was not somewhere inside the cottage. Unlike yesterday, when Watson had found him in a previously unnoticed attic going through old letters that had belonged to some past owner.

The garden near the house seemed a good place to start looking, and Watson took a full circle around the cottage. In a way, this very much reminded him of his army days, of going out to search for wounded soldiers. At least he wouldn’t find Holmes bleeding to death.

Theoretically. If there was anyone who could manage to nearly bleed to death while on holiday, it was certainly Holmes.

Finally, Watson caught sight of the familiar figure and gave a sigh of relief. Holmes sat on a low garden wall, deep in the study of a cluster of sunflowers. All was well, then, and quite normal. Holmes occasionally lapsed into contemplation of flowers or plants, and usually emerged with some sort of philosophical lecture.

“No, I have not collapsed in a field somewhere,” Holmes said as Watson approached. He did not look up from the sunflowers. “I am merely appreciating the garden.”

“That’s good. Time in nature is supposed to be very healing.” Watson shook out the blanket and wrapped it around Holmes, then rested a hand on his shoulder. “I should be glad to join you, if I would not be in the way.”

“You are never in the way, my dear Watson.” Holmes flashed a quick smile at him, then indicated the empty spot on the wall beside him. “I do advise a little caution.”

“Caution?”

“Mm. I doubt the bees would take kindly to being sat upon.”

Watson cast an alarmed look at the wall, then at Holmes. “I did not trap any underneath your blanket, did I?”

“If you had, I believe I would know about it by now.”

Cautiously, Watson stepped across the wall, eyed it again, and then sat. He could hear the low buzz of bees now, a handful of them drifting from sunflower to sunflower. He glanced at Holmes again, and smiled. “Is that what you’re watching so intently? Bees?”

“Mm.” The briefest of smiles twitched onto Holmes’ face. “Bees work exceptionally hard, Watson. They are tireless, endlessly devoted to their work.”

“Bees do not take holidays, I presume.”

“No, no. They work for all their lives, and do not idle away precious time on pursuits that matter not.” Holmes held out a hand near the sunflowers. A bee brushed against his fingertips, investigating the new arrival, and then returned to collecting pollen. “All that they do matters, Watson. Each task they complete helps the hive to survive and thrive.”

“I would guess that the many people who you have helped to ‘survive and thrive’ would think that all you do matters, Holmes.”

Holmes pursed his lips. “At the moment, I do not do anything. True, I have not had a worthy opponent since Moriarty, but my more commonplace work accomplishes some little good. My sitting here idle and wallowing, however…”

Affection tugged at Watson’s heart, and he gently settled an arm around Holmes’ shoulders. “You are not a bee, old man. You cannot simply work continuously until you die.”

“Mm. I think I should prefer that.”

“I would not,” Watson said with a shudder. “I want you to live much, much longer than a bee.”

Holmes started a little, as if broken out of his trance, and then gave Watson a small, apologetic smile. “Of course. Forgive me, Watson. I am merely a little melancholy.”

“Are you in much pain?”

“Yes, and very tired. I suppose I must rest if I, too, am to survive and thrive.” Letting out a long breath, Holmes leaned into the embrace. “I cannot accomplish any good if I am too sick to work.”

“You must indeed rest.” Watson hugged him closer, careful not to use too much pressure. Holmes was even more sensitive to touch when in pain. “But you’re not entirely correct. You do a great deal of good for me just by living, old man.”

“Ah.” Holmes flashed another smile at him. “Thank you. Perhaps I might do more good for you by entertaining you with interesting facts about bees?”

Chuckling, Watson turned back to watch the bees at work while he listened. “I should be delighted.”

#granada holmes #sherlock holmes #john watson #hurt/comfort #sherlocktember2024

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lawqual1ty · 1 year ago

Text

Not so stoic... (Trafalgar Law x Gn! Reader)

Pov: After being saved by the heart pirates from the slavers you have managed to get under your captains nerves repeatedly with your overall life attitude

This is kind of a self insert I'm so sorry

Trigger warning: Mention of blood, autopsies, slavery (briefly mentioned), sharp objects, organs

Law had always been the serious type, calculating, analytical, heck some could even say the same ice age came to life in his heart making his gaze become the worse thing you can find yourself against...

That didn't seem to make you waver at all though... If anything you didn't care much, you had dealt with worse which now... Well needless to say you were making him quite angry

"Y/n-ya! Give that back!" You were running around with his bisturi while you laughed hysterically, you had just finished helping him out in an autopsy and now had offered your help to clean his tools much to his reprimands and his obvious discomfort at the idea of you cleaning up after the bloodied up mess.

"Come on! I'll leave them shinning and sharp I swear!" You kept running around the operation room followed by a very angry Law.

You were a pain in the ass for someone like Law... Ever since you joined he has had a hard time being his usual stoic self, you were such a happy go lucky person that it sort of reminded him of Luffy, almost like during shabondy he hadn't saved just a slave but had somehow managed to bring back an exact copy of Luffy.

Although you weren't exactly like him which pissed him off, besides that usual clumsy demeanor you had a smart side to you not many people got to see. Your deep understanding in history and human anatomy always impressed him, he found out as you entered once to the operation room during an autopsy and offered a helping hand.

He was wary at first but as soon as you put on your full bodysuit and mask like a pro together with two pairs of gloves and got to work his doubts were quickly shut down. You even went out of your way to give him tips on how to take the organs out without cutting through them and how to stop the body from dripping too much blood or lipids from the corpse. You were good and it made him mad knowing you didn't show that side often.

It got to the point sometimes your clumsiness would stick with him, getting rid of his usual stoic and serious self in about two seconds.

Whenever you walked together you would always manage to somehow trip him up, the way you zig zaged as you walked always managed to mess up his walking pattern making him either fall off somewhere or crash against someone.

Much to his annoyance.

But he would never admit he actually loved this side of you... He still struggled to understand how a person like you ended up in a world like this but was somewhat grateful you did...

Your mannerism reminded him that the world wasn't always all that dull or filled with hatred as he always thought, all he needed was a few dumb trip ups to remind him that a scraped knee or a messy needle were nothing in the grand scheme of things...

"Hey Law!" Your voice pulled him out of his trance as he felt how you firmly pulled him back by his collar, he was about to curse at you when all of a sudden he felt a gust of wind quickly pass by in front of him, making his eyes widen as he froze under your grasp.

You had just saved his thoughtful ass from nearly getting himself a quick run to the hospital thanks to a car.

"Jeez and you call me absent minded man?" A sonorous laugh could be heard from your lips. He could only blink in disbelief as you held him firmly by the collar almost like a kitten, although he was... Particularly taller than you.

"Since when... Are you this strong...?" He asked with clear surprise in his voice, you tilted your head to the side "Oh well... Since I started training? Although I still have a long way to go"

You let go of his collar with a smile, the path of cars cleared and you walked up ahead in your usual zigzag form, he stared at you for a bit before you turned around calling for him "you coming captain?"

A small smile formed on his lips, his step following behind closely behind you...

You may have ruined his stoic mannerism...

But seeing you like this...

It may be worth not being serious for once...

#trafalgar law #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar one piece #one piece fic #one piece fluff #trafalgar law x reader

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skyward-floored · 6 months ago

Text

The cats out of the bag chapter 7

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52017334/chapters/148928023

Please enjoy this extra-long chapter, as I have no clue if I��ll update this again before whumptober starts :)

Chapter 6 | Next (coming soon)

————————————————————

Twilight’s desperate shout rang in Wind’s ears as he fell, wind rushing past his fur and whiskers.

He could barely tell which way was up, and it brought him no small panic that he couldn’t see where he was going to land, but he felt it when the Daira that was holding him hit the water below.

Wind hit it shortly after, and a gasp left him as he plunged in. The claws gripping him had lessened the fall’s impact, but the plunge still hurt, and the water felt as cold as Ice Ring Island, only worse. Because instead of a boat to climb back into where he could sail somewhere warmer, Wind was stunned and being dragged down a river with little idea of which way was up.

Not to mention the axe-throwing lizard thing still trying to kill him.

He heard a screech through the ringing in his ears, and Wind shook himself tried to steer right side up again. They’d slammed into the bottom of the shallow river, but the Daira didn’t seem hurt at all, even though Wind was sure it had hit some rocks.

Did the black blood really make monsters sturdy enough to survive a fall from a cliff?

Swiping claws interrupted his thoughts, and Wind kicked fruitlessly at them, keeping his own claws extended. The daira had let go of him when they’d hit the water, but Wind could feel it trying to grab him again as they tumbled through the current, swipes that just barely missed him. Wind was a bit more concerned with breathing than fighting, but the monster didn’t seem to care much.

It would be just my luck if these things could breathe underwater.

Wind managed to get his head above the water and suck in a breath, but then claws closed around his middle, and he was pulled under again. He twisted his head around and bit down hard on the claws gripping him, a watery howl ringing in his ears. They released him, and Wind kicked for the surface again, surprised at how swimming wasn’t actually too hard in this form, even with the pain and cold ringing through his head.

He popped his head up from the water, looking frantically around for where the Daira had gone, and he yowled as claws snatched at him yet again.

They went back and forth like that for what felt like ages, the monster’s claws grabbing at him, Wind using his own claws and teeth to fight back, neither of them able to get the upper hand as they were carried down the river.

Wind was feeling even colder now, and his legs were exhausted from the swimming and fighting he kept having to do. He coughed whenever he breached now as well, and he was done being in this river.

He’d been pulled underwater again, but Wind whipped around, and finally managed a solid claw to the Daira’s eyes, a spot he hadn’t been able to hit before now. It thrashed, and another watery howl reached him as black blood stained the river.

Wind kicked away to the surface, dragging in yet another desperate gasp as he looked around, and his eyes went wide as he saw white peaks and foam in the water ahead.

Rapids.

The monster realized it the same moment Wind did, and it screeched, kicking in the water and trying to get to shore. Wind ignored it as he did the same, but the current was strong, and hard to fight against with his exhausted limbs.

He could already feel the current picking up, tugging at his fur as panic began to hit him. Right as Wind was sure he’d never make it, he managed to snag a branch that was stuck between some rocks, and clung to it with everything he had, his claws digging into the slimy bark.

The daira wasn’t so lucky though. Its vision was impaired from Wind clawing it, and Wind got a front-row seat as it was flung down the rapids, body thumping against rocks and being plunged under the water as it was carried further and further away.

It wasn’t long before Wind couldn’t hear its screeches anymore.

Wind exhaled, and began pulling himself along the branch with shaky paws. The stick was too skinny for him to climb and walk on, but thick enough to hold on to and drag himself through the water with. The branch soon ended, but Wind was out of the main current, and he was able to swim to the riverbank, head repeatedly slipping under when his tired legs betrayed him.

But finally, finally Wind crawled out of the river, hacking up water and shivering violently as more dripped off his fur and pooled around his feet.

And promptly collapsed, too tired to even think. He panted, working on catching his breath as he continued to cough, beyond glad that the monster was gone. A part of him still couldn’t believe he’d survived that fall with nothing but a couple of bruises, but he was insanely grateful he had, and more than happy to be out of the river.

Now he... just had to get back to everyone else.

“Guys?!” he yowled once he caught his breath a bit, listening intently for any of the other Links.

Nothing.

Wind looked at his surroundings, still shivering. He’d landed on a pebbly section of riverbank, flat, with some small plants growing between and around the rocks. The woods were thick around him, mostly big, old-looking trees, like the ones in that one forest in Time’s era, and they didn’t look familiar at all.

He had no clue where the river had taken him. No clue how to get back to the others. He was cold and achy and hungry again, it was getting dark, and Wind was rather glad cats couldn’t cry because he felt pretty close to it.

Wind plopped himself down in a small patch of grass, still catching his breath as he calmed himself. He could handle this. He was fine. He’d been in plenty worse situations then this, he was the Hero of Winds for crying out loud, being a cold, damp, hungry cat in the middle of nowhere wasn’t going to stop him!

Wind shivered again, and curled his tail around himself. First on his list of problems to solve... getting warm.

He took a minute to shake as much water as he could out of his fur, licking the more stubborn spots that retained the moisture. Wind was halfway through grooming his leg when he realized exactly what he was doing, and he spat some fur out of his mouth in bewilderment and annoyance.

Sure cats licked themselves, but he wasn’t one, not really. Not enough to lick himself dry! That was just... weird. Really weird.

Wind huffed, deciding not to think about it, and stood up again, his legs a little less shaky. Dusk had settled in, and Wind looked around, then shrugged as he trotted into the woods. He wouldn’t go too far from the river, since the others would probably try and use it to find him, but this area was too open, and it was getting dark. He needed some kind of shelter for the night.

Hopefully somewhere warm, he thought with another shiver.

Unfamiliar birds called to each other as Wind plodded through the woods, pausing occasionally and making sure he could still hear and smell the river behind him. One particular spot on his back stung whenever he took a step, but Wind ignored it, unable to do anything about the scratches the Daira had left him with.

At least it didn’t throw an axe at me like Wild, he thought, feeling a sharp sting of worry for the champion. The battle had been overwhelming on a number of counts, but he’d heard Wild’s scream clearly, and seen blood when he’d gone down. Sure Four and Warriors had gotten to him, but that didn’t mean Wild was okay.

If only I hadn’t sneezed and exposed us, Wind thought guiltily.

The whole battle had been his fault. He didn’t even know if Wild was okay, and he wasn’t the only one who’d been injured. Legend had been knocked to the ground, and Hyrule had been nearly overrun by monsters, and Twilight with the tektites and—

Wind harshly shook his head, scattering his worries. They’re fine, I’m sure they’re all fine. You need to find shelter right now, not worry!

What sounded like an owl hooted somewhere, and Wind watched as the light began to fade from the sky, making the forest seem deeper, and darker than before. Branches loomed over him, blocking the sky and creaking softly in the wind. The birds quieted the longer Wind walked, and he could feel his tail bristling, no matter how he tried to calm it down.

It’s just scary, dark, unfamiliar woods, that’s all, he huffed, walking just a little faster. So what if you’re cold and vulnerable and still damp and exhausted? Sailors don’t give up! Especially in unfamiliar territory!

The owl hooted again, closer this time, and Wind shivered in spite of himself, fur bristling. The others would probably laugh at the way it was all fluffed up right now, and the way his ears swiveled and whiskers twitched. Tetra would definitely have a field day with his current form, that was for sure. But once she was done laughing she’d probably tell him to stop shivering and worrying and to ignore the fear that was trying to take root in his heart.

I’m not scared. Just because I’m small and alone doesn’t mean I'm scared.

Wind firmly nodded to himself, and then something swooped at his unprotected back.

Claws snatched at his already sore pelt and Wind cried out as they lifted him up, the ground falling away beneath him so abruptly he was nearly sick.

The sensation was horrifyingly similar to when he’d tried to save Aryll and instead been grabbed by Ganon’s giant bird, and Wind's mind flashed back to the cruel talons that had nearly crushed him, tight and unrelenting in their grip. Ganon’s almost disinterested look, and then the wind tearing at his skin as he’d been thrown away like nothing more than a piece of garbage.

Wind finally snapped out of his shock and memories when the bird swooped to avoid a branch, and he began struggling like mad, even though he was exhausted from everything he’d done today.

He was not letting himself be eaten!

He attempted to turn around and claw at the bird, but its talons gripped him tight, digging into his skin and only adding to the pain from his scratches before.

Wind yowled in frustration and panic and pain, squirming madly as what he finally figured out was an owl carried him off. I don’t want to be dinner I don’t want to be dinner let me go let me go!

He twisted his neck around and managed to bite at a talon, the owl letting out a screech from the pain. Its grip loosened just enough, and Wind whipped around and clawed at its stomach, apologizing in his head to Time since he knew the old man liked owls.

...Though he probably wouldn’t like this one.

The owl let out another screech, falling in the air a bit, and Wind scored a scratch through its feathers, blood welling from the cut.

Suddenly the talons around Wind released him, and Wind felt a brief rush of relief at being free.

Which was soon squashed as he realized he was rather high up in the air.

Wind plunged downward for the second time that day, the trees below him approaching at an alarming rate. Air rushed past his whiskers, and the sailor slammed his eyes shut, even as his body instinctively twisted itself around midair so he was facing upright.

I’m gonna die I’m gonna die oh golden goddesses I’m gonna die I’m gonna—

Thump.

Wind didn’t move, afraid to open his eyes. Or breathe. Or do much of anything.

Had he hit the ground so hard that he was just... dead?

Wind shivered in spite of himself. He didn’t feel dead... not with how his heart was pounding in his ears, and his legs shook under him. I guess I’ll have to look.

Wind peeped an eye open, and saw that he was standing on the forest floor, perfectly unharmed from his fall. He blinked in astonishment, looking up, then back down at himself, then taking a few shaky steps around.

He was... fine.

Okay, that’s just weird, he thought, sitting down in bewilderment as his heart thudded. I must be the luckiest guy in the world. How on earth am I still alive?!

A hoot came from above him, and Wind scrambled back to his feet, hurrying beneath the shelter of a small tree. He heard a few wing flaps, but they soon faded away along with the hoots, and Wind was once again alone.

His side ached, and he turned his head to look at it, groaning at the blood he could see. Now his back hurt even more, a burning, achy sort of pain. And worse...

Wind looked around at the unfamiliar trees, sniffing the air, and pricking his ears.

...he’d lost the river.

Wind hung his head, discouragement hitting him hard. That owl had gotten him all turned around, he had no clue where anything was now, or where to go or what to do.

I guess I’d better start walking.

Wind took a deep breath, and started off again once his legs stopped shaking so hard, being much more attentive to his surroundings hearing-wise. No owls were getting him again. Or anything else for that matter.

He sniffed at a few scraggly bushes as he walked, trying to find one that he felt comfortable staying under for the night. None of them offered much shelter though, and Wind’s paws dragged worse then ever as the first stars flickered into sight above him.

He was so tired. He just wanted to find somewhere to rest.

His exhausted paws caught on a root, and Wind tripped, fumbling to catch himself. He nearly fell on his face, and glared back at the root that had dared to trip him, anger brought from exhaustion bubbling in his chest.

Then he blinked.

The root was a part of several that weaved around each other, creating a hole that seemed just Wind’s size. He turned back towards it, cautiously sniffing, and when there were no fresh scents of animals that he could smell, hope rose like the swell of a wave in his heart.

He’d finally found a safe spot to rest.

Wind couldn’t help the cry of relief he let out, and he crawled inside the tiny spot, shaking as he plopped down and curled into a ball.

It felt so good to be off his paws that Wind almost fell asleep immediately, a weary sigh escaping him. Worry for the others prickled at his mind though, keeping his eyes from closing for just a bit longer, and Wind swallowed as he looked up. He caught a brief glimpse of the stars through the trees above him, and he thought about the other Links, and the battle, and... Sky.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and tried not to think about it any more, letting himself sink into his exhaustion. It could wait until morning. He’d figure it out tomorrow.

Wind curled into a tight ball, and fell asleep, cold, hurt, and alone.

(...)

Wild was stable. The monsters were dead.

And Wind was gone.

Twilight sat with his hands to his head, thoughts screaming through his mind so loudly he couldn’t hear anything else. He replayed the moment over and over, looking for any way he could’ve reached Wind before he’d fallen, but he found nothing but the horrible terror in Wind’s eyes before he’d dropped out of view.

Twilight and Legend had made it to the cliff as soon as was possible, shouting for Wind, but by the time they reached it, there was no sign of Wind or the monster that had grabbed him. Only the river far below, jagged rocks sticking out of the water. They'd scanned the forest and water below, still shouting, but there was nothing.

They'd exchanged agonized looks, but when a tektite nearly knocked them off as well, they leapt back into battle, protecting what was left of their group as best they could.

What else could they have done?

Twilight breathed out, mostly not shakily, and looked around at the others.

They were all patching themselves up after the battle now, scrambling to attend to their injured. Twilight knew Legend had bruised some of his ribs, and Four’s arm had been bitten by something, his sleeve still stained with blood, but they’d been taken care of.

It looked like Time was the only one still being treated now, Hyrule helping him tend to a deep cut right under the scar over his eye. The traveler winced as he cleaned it, rubbing at his elbow, and Twilight looked away. Almost everyone had been grazed by the Daira’s axes, and most of them were cut up by tektite legs and teeth as well, leaving no one unscathed.

Wild had been the worst off, his arm nearly separated from his body by the deadly metal of the axe. They’d all rushed to make sure he wouldn’t lose it or bleed out, and after too many healing supplies and what basically amounted to field surgery, the champion now sat slumped beside Twilight, looking rather drained. His face was still white, and his hands shook whenever he lifted them, but he’d had a potion, and it was doing its work along with the stitches Warriors had given him.

Twilight gave his good shoulder a squeeze, and Wild silently leaned against him, eyes half-lidded.

“He what?!”

Twilight jumped at Warriors’s shout, and turned to see him bolt for the cliff Wind had fallen off of. He leaned over the edge so far Twilight was about to move to grab him, but Four moved first, yanking him back by his scarf.

“We don’t need you falling down there too!” Four exclaimed, and Warriors drew back a little, though he didn’t leave the cliffside. He did level Four with an impressive glare, though.

“We need to find him!” Warriors snapped, eyes blazing and frantic. “He fell off a cliff, he might be in trouble or hurt or any number of things!”

“I know, we just can’t right now. There’s nowhere down there to land a glider, and there aren’t enough handholds for a hookshot,” Legend spoke up, and Warriors glared at him.

“Well I’m not going to just sit here! There must be a way down!”

“It’s too far to jump or climb, you’ll just hurt yourself,” Four reminded him, his arms crossed. “We’ll find a way down, Captain, but you need to be patient.”

“He might be dead!” Warriors shouted, and the clearing went very quiet.

Shocked blue eyes flashed into his vision again, and Twilight’s breath shook as he looked at his lap.

“I want to find him just as much as you do,” Legend finally said, his voice holding just a bit of a shake to it. “And we’ll find a way. But we can’t right now. We’re all hurt, it’s getting dark, and Wild shouldn’t even be moving at least until tomorrow.”

“I can move,” Wild mumbled in an irritated voice. Twilight just tightened his grip around his shoulders in response. No you can’t.

“I know,” Warriors snapped back at Legend, but it had a little less fire to it. “I just... there must be something we can do.”

“I might be able to see something with my hawkeye,” Twilight suggested in something of a croak. He and Legend had already looked everywhere, but there was a chance he’d be able to see something with the mask.

Warriors’s gaze snapped to him, and Twilight resisted the urge to flinch.

“Good luck,” the captain said in a flat voice.

There was more there that he wasn’t saying, but Twilight ignored it, murmuring a quiet apology to Wild as he slid out from under him and stood up.

Twilight pulled his hawkeye from his pouch, and stepped over to the cliff, ignoring the cool look Warriors gave him. He began scanning the land and water below with the sharper picture the half-mask granted him, and focused.

The cliff itself could have been a steeper drop—Twilight himself had survived higher falls—but despite that, he saw hide nor hair of either Wind or the monster that had fallen with him. There wasn’t so much as a smear of blood or a tuft of fur that he could make out, and after a long time of scanning every inch of river and forest he could see, he leaned back, shaking his head.

“No sign of him,” he said finally, the horrible feeling in his chest churning at a nearly unbearable level.

“Nothing at all?” Legend asked quietly, and Twilight shook his head.

“Nothing. No fur, no blood, and no... bodies.”

“So he must be downriver then, right?” Four said, and Warriors let out a grunt.

“Unless he fell further out and hit the trees,” he muttered. “Either way, the odds of him not being hurt are pretty slim. Sure is a pity Wolfie isn’t here and could help sniff him out, isn’t it Rancher?”

Twilight’s stomach plunged right down to his toes.

Everyone slowly turned to look at Warriors, and Four and Legend exchanged loaded looks. Wild only frowned dizzily.

“What?” Twilight finally got out, and Warriors rolled his eyes.

“Oh don’t even start. You’re Wolfie,” Warriors snapped. “Were you ever going to tell all of us? Or just keep pretending to go patrolling and always miss out on the wolf magically turning up?”

“What? No, no I was going to,” Twilight got out. “Soon even, I’d planned to, I just got distracted with Wind... there just wasn’t a good moment. And I wasn’t going to just drop it in casual conversation, it’s not like we’ve known each other all that long!"

“And yet almost everyone else knows,” Warriors said, hurt and anger flashing in his eyes. “Wild, I’m sure. And the Smithy, and probably Legend, and Time too I’d bet. Are only some of us worthy of your secrets, O furry one?”

“I didn’t tell anyone, they just found out,” Twilight defended, starting to get angry. Why were they even having this conversation right now? “Why do you care whether I kept this a secret exactly? We all have our secrets! I’m sure you do!”

“Not like this!” Warriors snapped in an exasperated voice. “You’ve been leaving out information, Rancher! Crucial information!”

“It hasn’t caused any problems!”

“Hasn’t it? If Wind had known about Wolfie and your goddess-forsaken necklace from the start, then he wouldn’t be missing!”

Twilight stilled, a tight feeling constricting his throat.

It was true. If Twilight had told the others about his shifting ability and the item that did it sooner, Wind wouldn’t have picked it up that first day they’d arrived in Hyrule’s world. He wouldn’t have been turned into a cat, he wouldn’t have been rendered nearly helpless, he...

He wouldn’t have fallen off that cliff.

“That is enough,” Time said, pushing both of them back with a disapproving look. At some point during their argument, they’d gotten rather close to each other. “We should be focusing on moving forward and finding our sailor, not arguing. What’s done is done. The fault is that of the monsters, not any one of us.”

He said the last part while looking firmly at Warriors, and the captain looked away.

Time sighed. “Do we have any idea of where he might have ended up?” he asked Hyrule, and the traveler bit his lip.

“If Twilight’s right and he landed in the water, he probably got pulled by the current,” he said quietly. “And there isn’t much downriver of here except for some rapids.”

Twilight felt sick.

“Well... Wind is tough. I bet he got out of the river before them,” Four spoke up with a bit of desperate hope to his voice, and Time put a hand to his chin, thinking.

“I would agree. But even if he made it out of the river, he’s still alone down there, and even if he’s unhurt, the truth is that he’s rather defenseless,” he said, and glanced at Wild. “We still have some light. We should make use of it. How long would you say it takes to get down to the river from up here, Traveler?”

Twilight sat back down beside Wild as Hyrule shrugged apologetically. “A couple hours? I haven’t been in this area in a while, I’m sorry. This ridge follows the current, and leads down to the river eventually, so if we keep going forward, we’ll hopefully end up where Wind did.”

“Maybe we’ll find Sky too,” Four said, obviously trying to be positive. Legend snorted.

“You said a couple of hours?” Time asked, and Hyrule confirmed with a nod.

“Yeah. I would guess somewhere around two or three? Four, maybe.”

“That’s too far for Wild to go,” Legend said immediately, and Wild glared weakly at him.

“It wasn’t my legs that got hurt,” Wild mumbled, and Twilight pointedly pushed him back down when he tried to stand.

“Cub, that’s not an option. You lost a lot of blood, and nearly your arm along with it,” Twilight said. Wild turned to look at him, then sucked in a pained breath.

“But Wind...”

“Doesn’t need all of us to go after him,” Warriors finished for him, and looked around their group. He avoided Twilight’s eyes. Twilight didn't blame him. “Two of us can stay here with Wild, and the rest of us can move out.”

“Should we really split up even more?” Four said with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s this or wait until Wild can move, and I’m not waiting,” Warriors said sharply. “Wind might be in all kinds of trouble down there.”

“Okay then, so who’s staying?” Hyrule asked.

Nobody raised their hand.

Wild groaned. “Guys, please, I can walk—”

“No you can’t."

“Well can’t somebody carry me? I’m worried for Wind too!” Wild nearly shouted, his voice shaking with pain and worry.

Their group went quiet, and Twilight blinked, not having considered that. It would be painful for Wild, but Twilight at least could probably carry him in a way that wouldn’t stress his arm or open anything. Everybody else seemed to be considering it as well, and Time sighed, running a hand over his face.

“I don’t like it, but... it could work.”

“It would slow us down though,” Legend added with a slightly apologetic look at Wild. “Whoever carries him will have to move slower.”

Warriors got a calculating look on his face. “How about this: Traveler, you help guide me, the old man, and our veteran ahead to the river, and Twilight, you carry Wild and follow behind. Four stays with you for a sword if you need one. We regroup downriver. That way we can get there faster and start looking without having to wait as long.”

Twilight bit his lip. It made sense in theory— in fact, it made a lot of sense, but he still didn’t like the idea of Wild traveling while recovering, or Twilight himself moving so slowly while carrying him.

He didn’t want to delay in searching for Wind. He needed to know that the sailor was okay

It’s my fault he’s in this situation at all.

Nobody else seemed to share Twilight’s reservations about Wild though, and seemed to think it was a good plan with the way they were nodding. Even Legend, who'd been countering most of the arguments, looked like he was in agreement. Wild had gotten a bit of the spark back in his eyes, and Time knelt beside him, looking him in the eye.

“Are you up for this?” Time asked seriously, and Wild nodded.

“I am. I want to help,” he said, voice strong except for a slight quiver Twilight detected.

Time studied him in silence, then nodded, and straightened again. “All right. Then let’s move out. But if you reopen even one stitch, you are stopping and resting until you’re fully healed. No arguments.”

Wild nodded.

Then everyone quickly packed up what belongings and supplies they’d taken out, and got ready to go as fast as possible. Twilight busied himself getting Wild situated in his arms in a way where he didn't really have to hold on, the champion's head resting on his shoulder. Twilight wouldn't be able to hold him like this forever, but he could do it for a while at least. Wild set his head a bit tiredly against Twilight's pelt, and when Twilight asked if he was comfortable, Wild gave him a grin that was only a little shaky.

Twilight weakly returned it, and hated how his thoughts immediately turned back to Warriors’s sharp words, and Wind’s panicked eyes before they’d disappeared over the cliff edge.

"Twi?" Wild asked quietly, but Twilight only shook his head. He didn't want empty reassurances, or insistence that it wasn't his fault. He knew it was.

Why is keeping the people I love safe so hard?

Twilight swallowed, and ignored the concerned look Wild gave him. "We're ready."

Twilight and Wild were the last holdouts, and with one last check that they'd grabbed everything, the Links left the rocky outcropping that was stained in both their blood and their foes', moving as fast as possible so they could begin the search for Wind.

Nobody mentioned that they might be looking for a body.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu wind #lu twilight #linked universe fanfic #fic #tw injury #writing from the floor #kitty wind #next chapter I’m so excited about heeehehehehe #but this one is good too #me using the Warriors mad at twilight because of wolfie trope 😔#he actually had a good reason here though so I hope it isn’t out of character hhhhhh

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