#Fear of death can be the thing that stops you from reaching your dreams so you need to teach yourself how to live plenty

[visceravalentines]

threw this little blurb together based on a conversation with @curlytemple about the possibility that Benson meant to kill everyone at Burgersx3 including himself and uh......read at your own fucking risk, man.

tw graphic depiction of homicide, suicide, and animal death. reference to past child abuse. dead dove, do not eat.

in his dreams, they all die.

it plays out pretty much the same at first. he hits Chris in the gut, again, on purpose, again. he can still hear his old man saying "a gut shot's a helluva way to go, kid." sometimes, in the dream, he pulls the trigger again for the mercy kill. sometimes he doesn't.

Hardy's faster in his mind. makes it a little closer to the phone every time, but he gets him. he always gets him, and he always takes half the office down with him, papers and cups and pens and shit all over the floor.

it's funny, when it happened for real, he didn't hear Jess screaming until he was looking right at her, and then it was all he could fucking hear, all he could fucking think about, and she wouldn't fucking stop, and he tried to get her to stop, but what're you gonna do? what's he supposed to do? it's the same in the dream. she isn't screaming until he turns around and then she is and she always was.

he never sees it hit her. the camera of his mind always shifts angles. there's probably something to that but he can't think what and he doesn't really care. all he knows is, the sound her body makes when it hits the ground makes him think of when Ma would sit up late at the table and he'd know it meant the fucker was back in town, and he'd excuse himself to his room and out the window for the evening. easier for everyone that way.

that's all pretty much standard. it's the next part that's weird.

he feels the gun in his hand, hears the break and the hollow plastic clatter of spent shells on the linoleum. he just fucking mopped. he reaches in his pocket for the last two rounds.

once, he looked down and saw something written on one of them in permanent marker or some shit. a B or an R or something. but everybody knows you can't read in dreams, and it only happened the once as far as he can remember.

he walks slow, real slow, dream slow, around the tables until he's facing him head-on. and he's high-def every time. wet cheeks, trembling lips, and those fucking eyes, blue in a way that can't be real. lashes long like a girl's. looking at him with the blind fear of a baby animal too fresh-born to understand but with enough sense to know it's fucking over. enough instinct screaming in the blood to stay still, stay still, don't breathe, stay still.

stay still and let it happen.

stay still until it's over.

don't breathe or you'll never get the fucking smell out of your nostrils.

he tastes bile in his mouth when he pulls the trigger.

he never runs. never even tries. he hits him in the chest, dead center, every time. and he crumples like a beer can under a boot. goes to the ground with this soft, feathery gasp that echoes in his brain. it makes him sick.

he steps forward, stands over him. it takes him way too long to die, way too fucking long. the mess of his chest is seven shades of red. sometimes he can see his heartbeat in the swell and collapse of gore, and that's how he knows he's dreaming. because no man on earth takes a blast of buckshot to the ticker and keeps ticking.

it reminds of the time he hit a rabbit doing 95 on the canal road, vision so blurred he could barely see past the hood of the car. how he slammed on the brakes, skidded to the shoulder, and through the cloud of dust he watched the thing heave and die in the scarlet of his taillights, and he gripped the wheel so hard his fingers hurt the next day and sobbed until his voice went hoarse.

he never cries, in the dreams. never feels regret. never feels much of anything.

he stands and waits. watches the blood bubble helplessly on his lips, the tears coming down in sheets from those eyes. those fucking eyes. looking back at him glazed-over and heavy with an apology. more remorse in those eyes than he's ever felt for anything in his life. and it hollows him out. cleans him right out like a carcass strung up in the yard. empty in the ribs. blood all over the ground.

some of it oughta be his, right?

so he flips the gun, and from the floor he watches him do it, and the funny thing about dreams is that he sees it from both angles at the same time, from his own perspective and from the ground looking up with the light growing cold and faint around the edges.

he nestles the muzzle snug under his chin, back against his throat. you gotta aim it right or you'll miss the brain, blow off your face, and then you'll really wish you were dead. good thing he can see it from both angles. make sure he gets it right the first time.

he's not scared, before he pulls the trigger. for one goddamn glorious moment, he's not scared of anything.

it all goes red when the gun goes off, the red of taillights in the dark, and he never wakes up with the bang. no, he wakes up one...two...three seconds after with every muscle clenched and his tongue clamped between his teeth. and he stares up into the black and waits for it to come back to him. how it really happened. where he is. who he is.

what he's done and what he hasn't.

it's only once he's sure of things that he seeks him out, sends a hand roving through the sheets until it meets the angle of a hip or an elbow. sometimes that's enough. sometimes he won't allow himself more.

sometimes he will. sometimes he needs to. sometimes he rolls to the side and pulls him in under his arm like a teddy bear, shoves his face into the bone of his shoulder and pretends to sleep until the sun comes up.

either way, he spends the rest of the night trying to forget. trying to forget the sound, the screams of a girl or a boy or a rabbit. the smell of blood and gunpowder. the heat of steel against his throat.

the feeling of feeling nothing, nothing at all, when he looks into those eyes, blue in a way that can't be real.

#yikes #wigged myself out a little with this one ngl #the passenger #tw suicide

[sillypiratelife]

When Sanji sacrifices himself he's aware of what he's doing. He knows exactly what is at stake and how much he's given and why his act is bad to others or himself, why it must be done either way. From what I see, it's a reflection of his self-esteem and his desire to put others first, it's guilt and it's self-punishment and he knows, okay?

When Zoro sacrifices himself he's insane, batshit crazy. He doesn't want to die per se, he doesn't hate himself and doesn't do it out of punishment. His dreams are bigger than his life, they are more valuable, so he's never afraid to put his life at risk when it comes to fulfilling what he thinks his duty is. You could say it's his honor or his code of life— Zoro can survive the deadliest wounds, the worst circumstances, 'cause he doesn't seek death, it's just that he won't avoid it either.

I love that contrast and how clear it is during the encounter of Zoro and Mihawk in Baratie.

#they both live to carry other people's dreams that are also their own #Zeff's dream of finding the All Blue and Kuina's dream of becoming the best swordwoman ever #They both fight with the techniques snd experience that were passed down to them by Zeff and Kuina #The difference is that Zeff cutting his leg and giving all the food to Sanji made Sanji feel eternally guilty and unworthy #he thinks he has to sacrifice himself for others so much #Zeff hates seeing how he drags himself down when other hadn't even asked that of him #Meanwhile Kuina's death drove Zoro to go all out never fearing his death #He could die trivially in some accident like Kuina did but the difference is that Kuina died reaching for her sword #Call it whatever you want but Zoro learned from her to don't let desth stop you it can catch you whenever anyway #Fear of death can be the thing that stops you from reaching your dreams so you need to teach yourself how to live plenty #Zoro's opinion on sacrifice is closer to Luffy's #The insanity of those two #It really hurts to see Sanji around them because of that #He's position is closer to Nami's in that sense #She who sacrificed everything for her village and her people #shan blogs about one piece! #one piece anime #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji

[toxicanonymity]

that scream blurb that you posting about Ghostface being unconscious and the reader testing to see if he’s hard…. you have to make the full fic now pleaseee omg it was so good

Every inch

1.4k / m!ghostface x f!reader / from blurb.

SEQUEL: EVERY INCH 2 🔪 THREEQUEL: 3

Slasher master list

Warnings/notes: I8+ noncon (ghostface unconscious) somnophilia. Based on the car scene from Scream II, but it's modern day (cell phones exist).  You can HC this as anyone but he's night walks coded if you read my other stuff.

Your skirt grazes his robe as you carefully stretch your right leg over the driver’s seat, trying not to touch him, trying not to wake him up.  It’s tricky crawling over Ghostface to get out of the car.  He smells faintly of weed and sweat.  You’ve never been close enough to smell him before. You’ve never been close to him at all for more than a few seconds, always with his knife in hand.  You hear him breathing behind the mask and assume he’s knocked out from the impact of the crash, but can't know for sure. 

He could be pretending for his own amusement, planning to taunt you then stab you at any moment. You’re going to have to open that car door sooner or later - it’s the only one left you haven’t tried.  It'll definitely make a noise. You hover there straddling him, delaying the inevitable. Straddling Ghostface, you think to yourself. Is this a nightmare? 

You slowly lower yourself into his lap, throbbing at the possibilities of what might await you.  Your heart pounds in your chest.  You put your hands on the edge of the seat to pull your body  closer and your heart nearly stops as  your inner thigh softly nudges  his hand.  But he doesn’t wake up – or if he does, he doesn’t show it.  Emboldened, you lower yourself a little more until your damp panties arrive at a warm bulge in his robe and your breath hitches.  He’s only somewhat hard,  but obviously packing.  He still doesn’t move.  His chest is rising and falling with his breaths.  You know he’s alive.  Unable to resist, you lower yourself a little more.  You tilt your hips and gently grind yourself against his package.  

What if the nightmare became a wet dream? It’s always turned you on, at least a little, but especially lately.  It’s been harder and harder to separate arousal from fear.  You’ve wondered if it was a sexual thing for him, the way he pursues you.  Stabbing is penetrative after all.  Does the thought of killing you turn him on? Would it turn him on to wake up to you straddling him?  After all, he’s only a man.  Why not, you think.  This could be your best chance to find out.  This might be the most power you’ll ever have in the situation.  You’re turned on thinking about it.  If you’re mere seconds from potential death, you have nothing to lose.  Plus you're curious what's under all this, and it's too risky to lift up his mask.

Fuck it feels good, and the fact that it’s Ghostface, the one who’s been stalking you, killing your friends, trying to kill you - that gives you such a rush.  The tables have turned.  You’re on top of him now.  You look around for his knife and it’s landed on the floorboard along with his voice changer.  You reach down to grab it then quickly stab it into the back of the driver’s seat at an angle so you can grab it if you need to but he won’t know where it is.  Then you return your crotch to his and a bolt of arousal slices through you when his hard package swells against you.  Holy shit he's hung. You slowly roll your hips against him, grinding into him, trying not to be too aggressive, but it’s hard to control yourself. 

-

His breathing changes and your heart jumps to your throat. You wonder, Is Ghostface seduceable? It might be your best shot if you're already getting his dick wet when he wakes up.  But there's always the chance he reacts violently, and now that you're up against him, it's clear you'd be no match for his strength.

Then you have a thought.  You carefully lift his gloved hand, and he doesn’t react.  You lift the dead weight of his heavy arm all the way above his mask, and he still just sits there, breathing.  You pin both his hands above his head, between the metal pegs of the headrest. His hands are large and the two of them together barely fit through the gap.  Then you slam down the headrest, pinning him there by his wrists.

His mask moves.  He seems to look at you.  Then a soft, low sigh.  You lower your crotch again and he’s harder.  You rub yourself against him slowly with your hands braced on the seat and have to stifle a moan in the shoulder of your dress as you grind against him and his cock swells even harder.  A soft groan muffled by his mask makes you wetter.  

You’re going to have to have him.  This is your chance and you can’t resist it.  Your inner thigh muscles begin to fatigue as you push yourself off his lap to hover again.  You lift up his robe, exposing PJ pants. Strange and not at all imposing, but convenient.  You arrange the robe behind his raging erection, then take a deep breath and pull down his waistband.  His stiff member stands at attention. You cover it with your warmth before the cool air wakes him up. A stab of desire shoots through your core as your wet panties meet his hard cock.  You rub yourself against him and your clit throbs.  Your core aches to be filled. 

You pull your panties to the side and nestle the swollen head of his cock at your entrance.  Then you sink down and fail to suppress your gasp at the stretch.  He moans but doesn’t move.  Your body makes way for him as you slide down and sheathe him entirely with your cunt.  His cock is nice and thick, it makes you feel so full.  It’s crazy this cock has been under the robe the entire time.  You wonder if you could just fuck from now on.  If he’d agree not to kill you - that is, if the threat of it doesn't turn him on.

You rise up, then sink down on him again, his size making you grateful for your ample wetness.  You lift and lower yourself and roll your hips into him. You try not to breathe too heavily as you feel it building in your lower belly.  You start to ride him less restrained, unable to resist fucking yourself on his nice, hard cock.  

-

His mask begins to move as though confused, and he grunts as he tugs at his arms,  unable to free them from the headrest.  He’s groggy and weak.  You’re not going to stop. You're too close to coming.  You greedily keep filling yourself to the brim with him.

His mask looks right at you. “Always wanted this cock,” ghostface says weakly, making your heart race.  “Knew it.”  Then it echoes from the voice changer on the floorboard.  Always wanted this cock.  Knew it.   He tugs at his hands more violently, then gives up.  

“Nasty girl,” he says, voice getting stronger.  Nasty Girl. 

He thrusts his hips up powerfully and you moan uninhibited. He thrashes his arms and stabs upward with his cock, bouncing you on his lap with the power of his hips.  Your whole body tingles and tenses, then you bite your own arm as your walls clamp down around him.  You come on his dick, then pull yourself off and he groans in frustration but has no way of getting you back.  

You open the car door and you’re torn about whether to make him come or leave him with blue balls.  You decide to jerk him off as a power move.  You kneel into the open door frame of the car.  You wrap your hand around his girth and fuck his fist.  “All ya had to do was ask,” he says.  All you had to do was ask.  You grab the voice changer and throw it down the street.  Now he's nothing but a man with his dick in your hand.

“Woulda given you every inch," he says. Maybe every inch of his blade.  He nods down to his crotch. "Now you know." His voice is coming back to full strength, smooth and low. It's a voice you can't quite place.

You know you should stab him while you have him tied down, but you're thinking with the wrong head now, unable to bear the thought of this cock going to waste. You slow your hand way down and edge him mercilessly.  His big, stiff cock twitches in your hand and you can tell he's dying for more.

You take your phone out of your bra and take a short video of him trying not to whimper, dick sprouting out of his unimposing pajama pants.  Then you finish him off and take a dick pic selfie with cum all over his robe.  You take the knife out of the back of the seat and leave him stuck in the car.

-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. Even if you're reading this way later I would love to know your thoughts in a comment! Knowing what you liked helps me write more. 🖤🖤

#ghostface x reader #ghostface smut #ghostface x you #slasher smut #slasher fanfiction #cw noncon #tw noncon #cw somnophilia #night walks #ghostface #slasher fucker #billy loomis x reader #ethan landry x reader #toxicanonymity ☠️ #mickey altieri #dark fic #ghostface ☠️ #every inch ☠️

[arienotari]

Drowning

Summary: When your worst fear becomes a reality and all you have on the other side is a brown eyed boy.

Pairing: Wally Clark x Reader

Warnings: Death, Drowning, Bullying

Edit: I am terrible at editing, and I tried my best so I'm sorry if you find any mistakes. This is my first full story I am releasing out into the world.

Word Count: 3330

I’ve never liked swimming.

People say it makes them feel free, but I felt anything but free. Every chance I got I avoided water at all costs. It's suffocating. Something about floating in a body of endless water and possibilities always made my skin crawl. One major problem that contributes to my fear is the fact that I can’t swim. I don’t blame anyone for this setback because I've never asked how to or showed interest. My inability to swim didn’t become a problem for me until my senior year of high school. I’ve gotten out of swimming class every year up until now and I had no choice but to take it. I tried to tell the swimming coach and counselors privately that I couldn’t take the class. All they said was I could stay in the shallow end. That I’ll be fine. I believed them. 

Word spread quickly throughout my class that I couldn’t swim once they started noticing I wouldn’t leave the 4ft mark. I didn’t really care, all I cared about was getting through the year. I was never really popular which didn’t matter much to me but being in this class never made it more obvious how much I hated it here. I felt eyes on me at all times which only made being in the water worse. 

It was March 12, 2015. Only a couple months left of school and then I’d be off to NYU living my dream of being a writer. First I had to get through 4th period swim class of course. I walked into the girls changing room preparing for the next 50 minutes of anxiety as I put my swimsuit on. I folded my dark blue jeans, my gray sweater, and a white tank top with lace on the trim that I wore under the sweater. Making my way to the pool I started putting my hair up in place of a hair cap I seem to have forgotten. Staring at the water I can see the bottom but it doesn’t stop the feeling of wanting to crawl up from my throat. Half the girls were already in the water preparing for a game of volleyball. Step by step down the ladder my hands begin to shake and my mouth becomes dry like I just ate pancakes. I make my way to the back to avoid any confrontation or any chance of being involved in the game. The one thing good about this class is it has a perfect view of the sky. I always get lost staring out at it wondering who’s also looking back. It makes me forget the situation I’m in and my environment. That's until a ball lands in front of me and about 15 girls are looking back at me waiting for my next move. I pick it up with my now calmer hands from before and spike it. Thankfully I made it over to the other side and the girls immediately turned back to the game. Not without some dirty looks but quite frankly I don’t really care. I watch as Mrs. Withers gets a call which seems to be serious as she tells us that she needs to step outside and when the bell rings to just go ahead. It’s only 10 minutes later when the shower bell rings and I feel the crushing weight lift off my shoulders. The other girls split based on which ladder they are closest to heading to the locker room and I help one of the girls get the volleyballs together. Making my way back to solid ground I rush to put the balls away not wanting to be one of the last to leave. I grab a towel on the rack near the other end of the pool as I make my way back seeing the last of everyone leaving. At least that’s what I thought until I heard someone behind me scream “Wait up” before running past me tripping me in the process. Losing my balance I watch as the one who screamed leaves the room leaving me alone. I hit the water with a loud splash waiting to hit the bottom to kick back up only to never feel my feet hit the concrete. I try to reach for the surface but everything I try seems to pull me down further. I panic, feeling my lungs on fire from filling with water. I tried to scream but no one could hear me and no one ever would. Everything was starting to go black and everything was becoming numb. All I could think about was how much I would miss out on. Finally, everything goes dark and I feel like I’m floating but I’m not, I’m being pulled up. I grab onto whoever’s pulling me up as if my life depended on it. Once I reach the surface my lungs fill with air as I begin to cough unbearably with my eyes screwed shut. I feel myself being hoisted up on the ground and out of the water. I’m pulled into the person who saved me as I am unable to move from exhaustion. When the person holds my face to center it I finally open my eyes as I am met with wide brown ones. 

“Are you okay”, he’s breathing heavily as I study him blocking out his yell to someone to bring his jacket. 

I feel a warm weight on my shoulders seeing its a blue and white letterman jacket out of the corner of my eye. 

“Thank you for saving me” I give him a weak smile but all I get in return is an expression filled with nothing but sorrow and guilt. 

Still seated on the floor I hear a horrified scream from beside me causing me to whip my head towards the chaos. Suddenly time stops and everything goes silent as I choked out a sob watching as a student and Mrs. Withers pull my body out of the water. The whole class comes to watch as they try to resuscitate me but nothing is happening. I feel the stranger push my head into his chest and I begin to cry harder than before. He repeats “I know’s” and “I’m sorry’s” as my world comes crashing down on me. 

Hours later we are still in the same position my hair and clothes dry now along with a tear-dried face. It’s dark outside with only the poolside fluorescent lights to illuminate our two figures. I begin to shiver more and more as the stranger who pulled me out of the water rubs my back and arms. 

“We need to get up, you're getting too cold” he whispers, pulling his body to get a better look at me. 

I lift myself up getting a better look at him as well as I memorize his long structured face, beauty marks, and brown eyes. After a minute I nod and try to stand up realizing that I’m still exhausted, the position not helping adding to the pain. He helps me steady myself and fully extend as he holds my hands making sure I’m okay. 

“You should take a shower and change into your regular clothes, I’ll probably do the same and I will explain everything once we're done. Okay?”, he says softly with an uneasy half-smile waiting for my response.

“Okay,” I whisper back at him not wanting to raise my voice feeling it’ll be too much to handle. 

His smile fills out more as he nods and begins to turn away to do the same tasks as me. I begin to turn away as well before I realize I never got the guy's name who pulled me out of the pool and stayed with me for hours. 

“What’s your name?,” I said, grabbing his arm to stop him from walking away. 

He looks down at my hand holding his arm which makes me see I’m still holding onto him causing me to let go. 

“Wally, Wally Clark”, he said with a wide smile that made me feel alive again for just a split second. 

After warming up from the shower I changed into my clothes from before that were neatly folded. As I begin to walk out of the locker room I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look back at the girl staring at me feeling disconnected from who she was or what she could’ve been. I take a heavy breath before opening the door to leave and face the reality of my situation. Stepping into the hall, the school looked unnatural to me with the lights off. I look over and see a less wet and cold Wally approach me with the same smile as before. 

“How was the shower? Do you feel better?”, he asked one right after the other. 

“The shower was good and I’m doing the best I can with the fact that I am already dead,” I said, peering up at him only noticing now how tall he really is. 

“I know it's hard and I’m sorry it happened this way but I will try to explain everything the best I can.”, he said, extending his elbow out for me to take it as we began to walk further down the halls.

And Just like he said Wally kept his word and explained everything to me that he could. Like how we’ll never be able to leave school grounds unless we pass on. He also showed me all the other kids stuck here just like us and told me how some passed. As well as the weird support group that the kids attend in the gym. Even though he’d joke he never sugar-coated anything, which I couldn't help but appreciate. I won’t lie, the first couple of weeks were rough. I was plagued by the memory of what happened as well as the thoughts of the future I’ll never get. It definitely didn’t help that everyone at school was mentioning it and not in a sorrowful way. During those few weeks, Wally helped a lot with trying to be a distraction so I wouldn’t focus on others. I guess one of the perks of being dead is being able to duplicate belongings so I was able to get my phone and journal. I found the perfect spot on the football field to just listen to music and lie down. I’d close my eyes and imagine what life could’ve been but I knew I couldn’t do that forever, so I started to write more. It was easier to put my wishes and fantasies on pages without having to dwell on them. I usually kept my writing to myself so around 7:30 every day I’d go to my little bubble of solitude on the field and write. It was May now so the sun would start to set around 8 giving me enough light and a view. 

“What are you writing?'' I suddenly hear Wally's voice right next to my ear. 

“Jesus Christ Wally you scared me to death”, I said, jumping in reaction to the sudden deep voice, placing my hand on my heart and dropping my journal. 

“I mean it's a little too late for that someone must’ve beat me to it.”, he said smiling at me as he sat down next to me grabbing my journal to open it. 

I glare at him and snatch my journal back. 

“What too soon?”, he said with a stupid grin trying to get my journal back.

“Just a little,” I said, scrunching my nose. 

“No but seriously what are you writing? You come out here every day and write in that little journal.” He said leaning back on his arms a bit more to get my full face into view. 

I try to hide the blush that has crept up on my face when I realize that he’s been watching me come out here. After a moment I brush my hair out of my face and am met with those famous brown eyes. I take a deep breath before explaining to him my reasons. 

“I don’t want to stay stuck in the living because all it’ll do is bring harm. All I thought about for the past couple of months was what I’ll miss but I never stopped and processed my death. I’ve been hurting for all the things I couldn’t change and it caused me to push anything away, even you. So I thought why not write my wishes and wants down so they don’t stay on my mind. At least this way I can close the journal.” I said with a tiny smile looking up at him as he was staring back intently listening. 

“Before I died I wanted to be a writer and I had my whole life planned out, I was going to attend—“ 

“NYU, I know,” he said, finishing my sentence before I could. 

I watch as Wally sits up straighter and scooches closer to me before tilting his head. I can tell he’s trying to figure out what to say because he’s fidgeting with his necklace. I wait for him because there’s no point in rushing, I have all the time in the world. 

“I’ve been watching you for a long time,” he says with a breath held in waiting for my response. 

One of my eyebrows lifts as I tilt my head in response to the slightly weird statement. 

“Oh god, that came out creepier than I meant it to. What I meant to say was even when you were alive I knew who you were.” He said laying back fully down in the grass. 

I watched as he covered his eyes with his hands with a frustrated grunt like he was trying to revert into a hole. 

“What do you mean?”, I said moving towards his laid position to where I’m now bent over leaning towards him leaving my crisscross position to now on my knees. 

I grab his hands that are covering his eyes and pull them down to his chest as I hold them to keep him from covering his eyes again. How he’s looking at me I can tell he’s debating with himself. I wait and listen before I watch as he closes his eyes. 

“The first time I saw you was during your freshman year in the library. I was looking for something to watch for group movie night. I had Rhonda yelling at me in one ear and Charlie telling me something in the other. I was getting a little annoyed but then I looked between the bookshelves and there you were.” He takes a pause to look at me and I squeeze his hand in return to continue. 

“You were tucked into the corner where the bookshelves meet, where no one could see you. In your hands was The Devil’s Highway by Luis Alberto Urrea. I watched as you cried the further you got into the book. After that day I came back to the library every day to see you. I even started picking up some of the books you read, but I couldn't finish half of them though.” He said with a small smile on his face and in his voice.  

He sat up which caused him to become closer to me while he took my hands instead of me holding his. He was looking at the grass for a minute while rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles. When he looked up I could see that he was tearing up making my heart ache. 

“I knew you had anxiety when it came to swim class because you couldn’t swim so I’d go to try and help. Even though you couldn’t see or feel me, I was always there.” He said lifting his hand up to tuck a loose strand of my hair that fell. 

His hand stayed in place as he cupped my cheek and I went to ask why he was tearing up because of this before he spoke. 

“I watched you die. I was there and I couldn’t do anything until it was too late, that’s why I was there. I had to watch you struggle knowing I couldn’t grab you or even scream for help.” He said with his voice croaking with the struggle of what he’s had to go through. 

My eyebrows furrowed as I watched the walls I built up crumble down with one look at him. I never knew he’d been holding in something like this for so long. If I had known I would’ve never tried to shut him out. I was scared of what had happened and how my life had ended but I never thought about him. He was always there and whenever I needed help he was right by my side. I moved from my position pulling him into a soul-crushing hug. It took him a second to respond to the sudden gesture but after a couple seconds, I felt his arms wrap around me.

“Wally my death wasn’t your fault, I need you to know that.”, I softly spoke while hugging him harder, feeling him return it. 

We continued hugging for what felt like years but could never be enough for me to be satisfied. One of my arms is coming up from under his arm grappling his shoulder while the other is around his waist. His arms are wrapped around my waist and I can feel his hands rubbing small circles on my back. Looking up from being tucked away in his shoulder I notice the sun is beginning to set. I begin to pull away and when I make eye contact with him again he’s only a mere few inches away from my face. I raise my hand to brush his hair away from his face as it has flattened from the hug. My hand slips down as it trails from the side of his head to where it now rests on his neck. He’s staring at me the whole time while I do this and when I look up to meet his eyes my heart quickens. Well, I imagined it quickened. There’s something about those brown eyes I’ve grown fond of that makes me feel alive again. His eyes flash down to my lips and back up to my eyes like he’s silently pleading. I give into his wants that now become a need for me and all I can do is nod. His hand comes up to my face pulling me towards him as our lips meet. The kiss felt like everything in my little life led up to this moment. Nothing else seemed to matter to me but the boy in front of me right now who just confessed that he’d been watching me for years. Wally’s the one to pull away first. I slowly opened my eyes to look at him wanting to capture this moment forever. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek and giving me a quick peck. I can’t restrain my gleaming smile as he pulls away for the second time. 

“Well I’m glad we got that cleared up”, he laughed as he spoke. 

I glared at him while punching him in the arm causing him to fall back but not before dragging me down with him. I land on his chest relaxing in his touch like it’s something I've been craving but have been deprived of. We lay in comfortable silence as I felt Wally rub circles with his thumb on my hip. 

“I’m glad it was you who found me. I don't know what I would’ve done” I said, being the first one to disturb the still air. 

“I am too,” Wally said into my hair as he kissed the top of my head. 

We lay there all night even when the stadium lights came on we just talked about everything and anything. Maybe the afterlife won’t completely suck. 

#fanfic #wally clark #wally clark x reader #school spirits #television #x yn #Wally Clark fluff #milo manheim #wally clark imagines

[sentientfunfetti]

killer!wally/reader hcs

(killer wally and his au were made by @itskorrychang on tumblr and twitter! go support their work!)

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK APPRECIATED!

CW// THEMES OF DEATH, POSSESSIVENESS, ABANDONMENT AND LONELINESS.

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when you two first meet, he’s wary of you and a lot more aggressive. that is until you show that you’re not a threat. it takes a while, but when he finally does fall for you he’s head over heels. to the point you can’t leave his sight. he follows you everywhere.

due to the fear of you abandoning him, and him being all alone again, it’s only natural that he takes steps to make sure that just won’t happen. let it be locking doors, hiding keys, not answering questions. he hates lying, but if it makes you stay the he’s all for it. some things are better kept secret, after all.

speaking of questions: he loves both asking and answering them…but everyone has their limits. unfortunately for you, you tend to reach that limit very easily. if you ask too many too much, he’ll just…stare at you. eyes wide. pupils dilated. lips pressed into a thin line. silent…then carry on as if nothing happened! try not to push his buttons too much. he’s not above putting his pallet knife to use…

can’t imagine a world without you. you’re the kindest neighbor ever, after all!

loves everything about you. especially your eyes. eye contact was a bit hard for him after he lost one of his own, but after you showed up and showed you were accepting of that fact, oh boy did he love that. he loves your eyes, the color, the way they widen when your surprised…the fact you have both of them…

paints you religiously. he doesn’t even need you to model anymore. it seems like every time you turn around theres a new piece, or doodle of you somewhere.

more than anything, he just loves having you around. you brighten his day, make him smile, ease the pain of loneliness. you’re just so sweet. you make him feel warm and fuzzy. he can’t get enough of you.

as soon as you break down his walls, he’d do anything for you. anything. draw blood, trash all of his paintings, take his other eye. anything. all he wants to do is make you smile. make you stay. make you want him. he still doesn’t fully understand romance, or love, but all he knows is that you make him feel something new. something good.

if you two fight, he immediately comes to you apologizing. he’d break into sobs if you didn’t forgive him, and immediately beg you to stay. don’t leave him. if you refuse…well…

in short, he would make you stay if he needed to. he can’t have his favorite neighbor leaving so soon! he’d tie you up to a chair, and feed you everyday. he’d take good care of you. he’d let you out one day if you promise not to try and leave again. if not, then, it’s back to the chair! womp womp!

also loves the fact you’re taller than him. loves when you pick him up and move him around, the fact you have to look down at him, the fact you can cradle him so easily in your arms, he loves sleeping with you, and watching you sleep. you look so peaceful…

speaking of sleep. he’s plagued by nightmares and night terrors (yes those two things are separate things and conditions). you wake up to him screaming and kicking frequently, begging for his late neighbors to stay, for them to stop. at first, you were to afraid to comfort him, or wake him up, but after a bit you began to hold him close, whispering that it was just a dream in his ear as you watch his body relax.

he loves watching you sleep. when he wakes up from nightmares in the middle of the night and you aren’t woken up by his tossing and turning, he just sits up and watches over you. he feels nice knowing that you and him are safe there, together. you’re safe with him. always.

sometimes, he enjoys taking care of you too. he’ll sing to you as you fall asleep, tell you stories, teach you how to draw, anything that puts a smile on your face and makes your day.

when you two aren’t painting or overall just hanging out together, one of his favorite things to do is cuddle you. he loves feeling your body against his (not like that calm down), and he loves looking into your eyes while you two cuddle. more than anything, he loves listening to your heartbeat. it’s something he lacks, and he’s fascinated by it.

he’s fascinated about everything biological with you. one thing he can’t seem to grasp is the fact you can eat…like actually eat. with your mouth. he gasped when he first saw you bite into one of the apples he gave you. he also loves how squishy you are. the feeling of your skin is different than his fuzzy skin. he lets you ask your questions about his anatomy too…as long as you don’t ask too much.

has frequent hallucinations, and episodes where he becomes frantic, irritated and paranoid. sometimes he accuses you of hurting his friends, and taking them away. as scary as it is, you take the time to calm him down, get the knife away from him, and remind him that you’re here for him. that you care. be appreciates this, and most times takes a nap afterwards having spent all his energy tearing the studio apart looking for his friends.

wants to introduce you to Barnaby one day…or at least what’s left of him. doesn’t allow you into the other neighbors houses AT ALL. “neighbor…it’s rude to go into other peoples houses without knocking…naughty naughty…!”

at the end of the day, he’s harmless. as long as you stick around and make sure he’s in high spirits, this can only end well!

author’s note ⊹˚. ♡

just wanted to do some killer wally hcs. i absolutely love this little guy! such a silly little fellow! wahoo!

anyway, i have a few requests to do and some more of my own hcs i wanna do. if you have any requests, don’t be afraid to request them! until then :3

#welcome home au #welcome home #wally darling #wally please i have a family #i love wally #possessive wally darling #killer wally #killer wally au #welcome home angst #yandere welcome home #welcome home headcanons #welcome home wally darling #welcome home tumblr #welcome home x reader #wally darling x you #wally darling x reader #wally darling x viewer #wally darling headcanons #welcome home wally #yandere wally darling #yandere wally x reader #wally x reader #wh wally #wally au #wally my beloved #i love wally darling

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

It was just a dream

(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

Summary: So this is based on This request that @taintedcigs got and she gave me permission to write it because it’s kind of heavy. The request is based on reader dreaming about crying at Eddie’s grave but I did change it to you having a dream about the day he almost died. That’s just the way it came to me personally. You have a dream about the day Eddie dies, but you wake him in his arms, and he comforts you in every way possible. WK: 3k.

Warnings: In beginning of the fic although it is a dream I do describe Eddie’s death so read with caution if that upsets you, unprotected p in v, love making, fingering, hurt/comfort, Eddie being the sweetest goofball, fluff. 18+MNDI!!

A/N: I’ve never written a single thing where I acknowledge “the scene” or Eddie dying, ever. Like I always write AU with no upside down. But after seeing those photos yesterday I’ve been feeling very emotional and I saw this request and idk it just kinda came to me. I did cry writing it, but it also comforted me a lot. But pls pls read with caution if this might be upsetting for you. Thank you to my lovely @babygorewhore & @bimbobaggins69 for beta reading for me. Sending everybody love.🖤

The muscles in your legs are screaming and your lungs burn with each step you take. The grey particle filled air feels like it’s filling your organs with each intake of breath. But it’s nothing compared to the tearing feeling in your heart, the anxiety and fear coursing through you pushing your aching body to keep running. The massive bite shaped gash in your calf is a distant sensation as your eyes zero in on the swarm of bats, eagerly searching for any signs of him.

“God fucking damn it, Eddie. Fuck!”

Tears stream down your cheeks and your throat is raw from the curses and screams you’ve been letting out for the last few minutes. At least you think it’s been minutes. It truly felt like it’s been hours since you watched him cut that rope. You screamed so loud you felt like your ear drums were going to burst. You scrambled back through the gate, injured leg be damned.

The minute you hit the ground, you didn’t stop. Not when you heard something in your shoulder crack, not when you heard Dustin screaming after you. You didn’t stop when one of those bats flew directly at you, you just ran faster, jabbing your spear directly into its heart as you went. And you weren’t going to stop. Not until you reached Eddie. You couldn’t. They’d have to kill you first.

The adrenaline in your body continued to push you forward, only a few feet away from the swarm now. You tried your best to focus your eyes through the endless streams of tears falling from them, and it took a few seconds but you finally saw him. Your heart lurched when you saw he was still standing, his shield held above him. It somehow gave you the strength to run faster, your spear slashing through the air at the bats to get to him.

“EDDIE!!!!!!!!!”

His head whips in your direction at the sound of your voice, a shocked look on his face. In the same moment he looks away a bat lunges at his side, taking a large bite out of him, causing him to cry out in pain.

“EDDIE NO!!”

You shove your spear into the bat that’s latched onto him and it lets out a shriek as it dies. Your relief is short lived because there’s a sudden stabbing pain in your already stinging shoulder and another one in your bicep.

“BABY!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING! FUCK!”

Eddie can’t believe you’re here, you weren’t supposed to follow him. He knew he wasn’t making it out of this, and now he was going to take you with him. He never should’ve cut that rope. He slams his spear against the bat on your shoulder, while you shove your nails into the one on your bicep. But it’s no use, you’re surrounded. Every time you get one off, two more are on you, and he’s starting to feel weak.

In that moment he does the only thing he can think to do, he wraps his arms around you, tackling you to the ground. His covers his body with yours, his arms on each side of your head, his face hovering above yours so your eyes can meet.

“I’m so sorry baby, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” Tears fall from his eyes and onto your cheeks, pooling together with the ones leaving your own eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You soothe him, your bloodied hands reaching up to cradle his face. His eyes are shut now, his body tensing over and over as he uses it to shield yours against the bats attacks. “At least we are together, yeah? Kiss me.”

He obligees, his dirty sweat stained lips meeting yours in a desperate kiss. He kisses you over and over until he physically can’t anymore. His head lulling to the side against your chest. You hold onto him for dear life, barely even feeling the chunks you’re sure are being taken out of your forearms. You feel like it’s never going to end, until suddenly it does. The attacks all stop at once, a chorus of thuds sounding around you. Then you hear Dustin’s voice calling your names, it’s distant, but it’s there.

“Eddie, Eddie, they’re dead.” You shake him slightly and he groans. “You gotta get off me so I can take a look at you baby.”

“Oh my god!! Are you guys okay!?” You see Dustin’s panicked face standing over you and you wish you had it in you to make a sarcastic remark about how you’re obviously not, but you don’t.

“Dustin! Help me, help me roll him over, please.” You practically beg him, your sobs still haven’t stopped, the shallowness of Eddie’s breath taking away any relief you felt about the bats being gone.

Dustin bends down, rolling Eddie off you as carefully as he can. Eddie whimpers when his back hits the ground and you immediately shoot up right, leaning over him.

“Eddie, sweetie, can you look at me?”

“Bad, huh?” He groans, a slight smirk still somehow present on his face.

“No no, Eddie you’re gonna be okay.” Dustin is on his knees how, trying to access Eddie’s injuries through his panic.

“I didn’t run away this time, right?” Your heart breaks at the sound of his voice, this can’t be fucking happening.

“No, baby, you didn’t. But we’re gonna get you okay of here, okay?” You grab rub your thumbs over his temples, resting your forehead against his.

“Yeah, we just gotta get you to a hospital, come on, you guys gotta get up.” Dustin begs, tears fall from his eyes and it breaks your heart even more. You hate that he has to see this.

“I just… I need a second.” Eddie groans, his hand weakly reaches for your face, cupping it like he’s done a thousand times before, like you’re scared he will never do again. “I love you, I love you so much baby. You’re my everything, I’m so sorry.”

“I love you Eddie, I love you. It’s gonna be okay don’t apologize because it’s gonna be okay.” You rub your nose against his, he feels cold and his breathing is more shallow than ever.

“Dustin…” he turns to his young friend with a found smile. “You’re gonna have to look after those little sheep for me, okay?”

“No, no, you’re gonna do it yourself” Dustin’s sobs cause a new wave of your own to wrack through your body, shaking every bone.

“Nah man… you’re gonna do it for me…” Eddie smiles, patting Dustin’s cheek with all his strength. “Baby girl… you’re gonna be okay, okay? I’m … so sorry. I love you.”

His hands start to slip from both of your faces, his eyes falling shut.

“Eddie? Eddie!! No, no, no, no. Baby stay with me.” You shake his face, but this time you get no response. Your hands clutch onto his hair, your head falling to his chest. “NO!!! NO! NO NO NO NO!!! THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING!!! EDDIE NO!!!”

You feel like the world is shaking around you, you feel like your heart is being ripped from your chest. You can’t lose him. You feel warm hands on your shoulders shaking you as someone says your name over and over again. You push them off. You aren’t leaving him. They’ll have to leave you here.

“Baby!!!! Wake up!!!! You’re dreaming, it’s a dream, I’m here.” Eddie’s voice finally gets through to you, and your dream hazed mind vaguely starts to recognize the feeling of his arms around you. You come back into your waking body slowly and then all at once, shooting straight up with a shriek.

You look around the room panting, it’s still dark, and you’re in bed. With Eddie. Eddie is alive. He didn’t die. The others got to you in time. You’re in your new fancier than you ever imagined, government tip off home. That you share with Eddie and Wayne. Eddie is alive. You start to repeat the mantra that’s become all to familiar to yourself in your mind as you feel strong arms wrap around you from behind.

“It’s okay baby, you’re okay, I’m here. It’s just a dream.” Eddie soothes you, pulling you into his lap so he can cradle you. He rocks back and forth, his hands running over every part of you, he makes sure to keep his grip strong, remembering that you said it makes you feel grounded. It makes you feel like he’s really here.

“Oh Eddie, it was so real. It was like I was really there again.” You sob into his bare chest as your hands desperately caress his skin. Some of it still has the same smooth texture you always remembered, most of it is rough from scars. But it’s just another thing that grounds you to reality, another reminder that he’s real and the dream wasn’t.

“I know sweetheart, I know. But it’s okay, I’m here, I’m always going to be here for you. I’m so sorry.” Eddie’s crying now, the guilt of leaving you, of putting you through this plagues him constantly. The dreams aren’t every night like they used to be, they’ve finally started to space out after almost a year. But it still pains him deeply that he put you through this. That on nights like this you scream out for him, because of him.

“It’s okay Eddie, it’s okay.” Your hands loop around his neck, pulling him close. You hate that he beats himself up, you understand why he did it and you’re just glad he’s alive, glad he’s here with you. But your unconscious mind couldn’t seem to get the memo. No matter how much you understood, no matter how much mental and physical healing you did in the waking hours, the dream always found its way back to you. “I love you. So much. I love you so much Eddie.”

“I love you baby, more than anything.” He wanted to apologize again, until his lungs gave out, but he knows you hate it when he does that. That you’ll just tell him there’s nothing to be sorry for, even though he will always feel like there is. So he does what he always does, he decides to show you how sorry he is without his words. To remind you how here he truly is.

He cups your face in his hands gently, like you’re porcine glass that could break at any moment. He rests his forehead against yours, just reveling in the feeling of being close to you. He takes deep breaths and you follow, you’re basically breathing each other's air but you don’t even care, you want it that way. He kisses you sweetly, once, twice, three times. The fourth kiss is more firm, but still so gentle. Your fingers lace through his hair as you shift your body so you're straddling him. His tongue softly licks across your bottom lip and you immediately grant him access, tangling it with your own.

He kisses you leisurely, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as his hands roam your body. Your thin tank top is the only thing separating your skin from his but it feels like the thickest winter coat right now so you break the kiss to quickly pull it over your head. You press your chest against his, his skin against yours feels like a breath of fresh air and you sigh at the feeling.

“My beautiful girl, you’re so beautiful, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” His brown eyes are soft and filled with love as they look into yours. He gives you a gentle kiss before his lips start to travel down your jaw and neck. Gentle caresses of his lips and flicks of his tongue pull breathy gasps and needy moans from you. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

“Yes Eddie, please.” It’s all you need right now, you need him as close to you as possible in every way. You need him.

“Lay back for me baby.”

You oblige, rolling off him and onto your back. You situate your head on the pillows and he climbs over you with a sweet smile on his face.

“Look at you, you think I’d ever leave someone as sexy as you? Not a chance baby.” He leans down and kisses you, his ringed hand caresses your inner thigh and you shiver. He brings it to your core, running his knuckles along your underwear covered slit. “I don’t think I could go a day without you.”

“You went like… almost two months without me when we were healing.”

“Shhh… that’s besides the point, that was like forced, doctor ordered, celibacy and it was almost more torture than the healing process. Don’t remind me of the dark times, babe.” You giggle at him, your heart warming at him just being Eddie. He stayed that way, laughing and joking, making D&D references through it all.

“You’re so dramatic. But, you’re not wrong. I missed you so bad when I couldn’t have you.”

“You can have me now babe, all the time, forever, whenever you want. I’m not going anywhere.” He smirks at you as he pulls your panties down your legs, you kick them off your ankles and spread your legs for him. He groans at the sight of your slick pussy, bringing two long fingers and running them through your lips. You moan and your back arches off the bed when he inserts them inside you, immediately curving them to hit that perfect spot.

“Fuck.” His fingers thrust in and out of you at the perfect pace, his thumb comes up to circle your clit and he leans down to place gentle wet kisses along your throat. “Oh god.”

“Yeah baby? Is that good? You gonna cum for me?” His fingers speed up and he gently nips at that spot on your neck that makes you crazy, his cock ruts against your thigh and it sends you over the edge. Your body tensing underneath him as moans rip out of you. “That’s it, good girl.”

He fucks you through your high, only pulling his fingers from you when he feels your body relax. He holds eye contact with you as he inserts the digits into his mouth, sucking your juices off them with a groan.

“Eddie… I need to feel you, please.” You reach for the band of his sweatpants, tugging at the material.

“No need to beg sweets, I’ve got you, I’m gonna take care of you.” He pushes his pants off, freeing his cock and taking it into his hand, stroking it a few times. He runs the tip through your slick folds, bringing it up to circle your clit before slowly pushing inside you. Once his hips are flush against yours he connects your lips again, kissing you passionately.

“Oh fuck, Eddie. Yes.” He starts to roll his hips, not pulling out of you, just reveling in the feeling of being inside you. You clutch onto his back, pulling him down fully on top of you, just wanting to feel his weight on you.

“Mmm you feel so good, so so good, pussy is always so good for me.” He’s kissing every inch of you he can reach, your cheeks, eyelids, neck, collar bones. He finally pulls his hips back, slowly pulling his cock almost all the way out of you before shoving it deep inside you again. He repeats this action a few times before thrusting into you deep and hard. He still has his weight on you, and he’s not fucking you fast, just taking his time feeling every single part of you. With his hands, his cock, his lips,

“Eddie, I love you, I love you, you feel so good.”

“I love you so much baby girl, more than anything, I love fucking you.” He picks up the pace a little, his hand snakes between your bodies so he can rub your clit.

“Oh fuuuuck, yes, Eddie I’m - I’m gonna cum soon.”

“Yeah, cum for me, I wanna see your beautiful face when you cum undone on my cock.”

His lips crash against yours, his tongue immediately licking into your mouth, he’s hitting that perfect spot over and over again and his fingers continue to circle your clit. It’s all so good, and it sends you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, you let out needy moans and gasps against Eddie’s mouth as your pussy clenches around him. He pulls away so he can see your face, and the sight has him spilling inside of you. He falls forward, his face buried in your neck. He places gentle kisses there in between panting breaths.

The position reminds you of the dream, the memory really, but this time it doesn’t sting, because Eddie is alive. He’s alive and he’s panting on top of you for the best reason, instead of the worst.

“Thank you.” You sigh, wrapping your arms around him, squeezing him tight. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Psh! Don’t be sorry, I got to be here for my girl and I got to have bomb sex? Seems like a win win to me.” You feel him smile against your neck and it makes you laugh.

He rolls off of you onto his back, and you have to push the thoughts of that day from your mind again but you don’t have long to think about it because he’s pulling you into his chest, running his hands down your back and placing a kiss on the top of your head before your mind can fully go there.

“But in all seriousness, don’t be sorry, okay? You know I’m always here for you. No matter what. Especially on nights like this. I’m all in, always. I fucking love you so much. I’m not going anywhere.” He puts his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. He smiles at you sweetly, placing a kiss on your nose, then your lips.

“I love you Eddie. I’m always here for you too. I’m never letting you go. Ever.”

You nuzzle into his chest, just happy to feel him. Just happy he’s alive. You might both be scarred, mentally and physically, and they might not ever fully heal. But at least you’ll always have each other.

#eddie munson x reader #Dolly writes #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson hurt/comfort #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson one shot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader smut #Eddie Munson fanfiction

[readychilledwine]

Home to Me

Summary - After the death of Beron, Lucien is finally free to move to the Day Court, and he could not be more ecstatic to have you and Elain by his side

Warnings - moving anxiety, Helion being the best father in law, fluff

Prompt - Day 4 - Adventure

A/n - Happy @polyacotarweek! I was really excited to play with Elucien and a Spring Court reader. Something about them as a trouple with another flower girl makes my heart skip.

💕Poly+ACOTAR Week Masterlist💕

Freedom was a concept Lucien so rarely knew. From living under his father's thumb to Tamlin's command to Rhysand's control, it had always felt like a goal, some far-off dream he would never reach.

Until he met Elain, of course. Elain, as difficult as chasing her was, quickly became his light. He had made her chase him in return for the years of waiting, and she had fought tooth and nail for him. He had never met someone with so much love to give, and who wished to give it so freely.

Meeting you just made sense due to that. Elain had met you in Spring as they were helping Tamlin with rebuilds where you personally were in charge of the garden overhauls due to your powers. He would never forget the way Elain ran back into the house, sliding down the wall as she held her heart, and Briar rushed to her as she whispered "Mate," over and over again.

Lucien went to where she had been and stopped. Your kind was rare, but there you were, iridescent wings tucked on your back, shifting yourself to a smaller size to move pollen from flower to flower. “Ah, y/n,” Tamlin had admired you as Lucien did. “She will be fine with all of this. They are all used to marrying in pairs.”

Courting you had been the easiest thing both of them had ever done. Lucien had joked you were a simple female. You were wooed by shiny things, by chocolates left at your door late at night, by long walks through your garden. Elain adored you first, but Lucien fell in love the hardest. You were so kind, so gentle. He could hardly imagine life without you or Elain.

Now, 10 years later, that life could openly be a reality. He put the last of your boxes into the portal Helion had opened from your home in Spring to the home you three would share in Day, clapping his hands together as it closed.

Elain was already there, unpacking and decorating the home. She wanted it to feel as safe and loving as possible for you, seeing as you had never once left the Spring Court borders in your 300 years of life.

You were the most nervous of the 3, moving to Day was a lot to ask of you, but with Beron finally gone, Lucien was free to be with his dad, to be home, and you and Elain both wanted to give him this chance. He deserved it. He had earned it.

He found you in your garden, overlooking centuries of hard work, “Blossom, are you ready to go?” His heart almost sank as you quickly wiped your cheeks before turning.

“Of course!” The lie was so obvious it was almost insulting as he walked to you and took your upper arms in his large hands.

“You're frightened?” You could only nod. “Tamlin promised to care for the home. You will be back here every Autumn and Winter along with the honeybees and butterflies. Your garden will be fine, my love.”

“It's not the garden. This whole thing is just scary.” You both paused as the sound of winnowing came followed by Elain's soft footsteps.

“Tulip?” She ran the distance to you, tugging you into her while being mindful of your delicate wings. “My heart, what's wrong?”

Lucien answered for you, pulling you both to him. “She's a little scared of the move.”

Elain hummed, kissing away the tear that fell on to your cheek. “I can't imagine how hard it is, leaving behind all you've ever known by choice. You are so brave for our happiness. Your fear is so justified, y/n. I can understand that part, trust me.”

“If you want to stay,” Lucien's throat tightened at the thought. “We will make this work. We can-”

“No,” you sighed, heavily leaning into them. “I want to be with you. Both of you. This is just a whole new experience and a new world and a new high lord.”

“If I am what you are worried about, I am pleased to inform you there is nothing to be afraid of.”

Lucien looked down at you two, metal eye whirling as the other rolled. “Dad, we're having a moment here.”

“And I am joining. Come here, sweet pixie.” Lucien And Elain released you, allowing you to move to the Lord of Day. “I know your kind was hunted outside of this court, but I promise you, you and those precious wings will be safe in my home.”

That slow realization hit Elain and Lucien like bricks. They were asking you to leave Spring, a place your kind had been allowed to make a haven, and you had selflessly agreed. “Your new home is within the walls of my palace. No guards or guests will be able to get to you without my approval, and you will have your own guards approved by Lucien and Elain. You will be safe to fly and pollinate all you wish. My gardens could use that.” Helion kissed your hand where the rose gold and pink diamond ring sat. “Give Day a chance. Let it be your first big adventure.”

You nodded at him, letting your father in law take your hand. “My butterflies and bees are already there?”

“They are.”

"And they are happy?"

"They are dining on the most exotic pollen and nectars they have ever had. They were very excited about the move." Helion offered you a soft smile as Lucien and Elain both tugged the bond.

You turned to them, taking one last moment to memorize them in the archway of Wisteria and Roses. “Alright. I'm ready.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria

Poly+ACOTAR Week Taglist:

@amara-moonlight @toporecall @littlestw01f @prettylittlewrites @anuttellaa @nayaniasworld @123345566

#acotar #acotar x reader #lucien vanserra x elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #lucien x reader x elain #elucien x reader #poly+acotarweek 2024 #poly+acotarweek 2023 day 4

[hanlimz]

[midnight thoughts: jungwon + the sublime]

synopsis: after an arduous battle, jungwon isn't sure if he's going to make it, but he has to say something before he goes. pairing: yang jungwon x gn!reader genre/warnings: spiderwon!au, angst with happy ending / mentions of blood, discussions of death, overall angsty themes but no one actually dies!, lots of confessions of love, and weird inclusion of "the sublime" bc we talked abt it in my eng class, also NOT proofread :,) wc: ~2.4k (haha OOPS) a/n: heyyyy how yall doin :))))) this has been sitting in my drafts forEVER ... and i finished it at 1am b4 my first day of school so be warned for inconsistencies / i liked the first half of this drabble but the second half is not my fave ,, so sorry that i couldn't do you justice spiderwon

yang jungwon never believed in the concept of the sublime. that uncanny mixture of overwhelming fear and unsettling fascination never managed to make an impression on him. especially in his line of work, jungwon is firm in his notion of death: when the time comes, a vast blackness will consume him; the void will leech away his life, and he will cease to exist. there will be no theatrics, no white light, no booming voice or angel song—only a comforting emptiness welcoming him into the dark.

now, however, jungwon lies alone in a familiar back alley; the tips of his fingers are numb from the amount of blood he's lost, and he can hardly lift his head up from the brick wall it's resting on. the palms of his hands are stained a deep crimson as he attempts to stop the river of red spilling from his thigh. jungwon admires the eerily beautiful way in which the body lets go; glinting in the dim street lights, his wounds glitter like rubies in a summer sunset. at this point, succumbing to his injuries seems inevitable, and jungwon thinks there may be some truth to be found in sublimity.

but, he's not ready to die. not yet—not with so many things left undone, so many things left unsaid.

with the little strength he has left, jungwon reaches for his backpack hidden in the nook behind the dumpster. he pulls out his phone and dials a number number he knows by heart; his cold fingers fumble over the screen, and he curses his current lack of dexterity. eventually, though, the machine begins to ring. the sound grates on his ears as he waits with bated breath for you to pick up.

"hello?" you croak, your question laden with sleep, "who is it?"

a breathy chuckle escapes jungwon's lips. he had forgotten how late it was, how you mentioned earlier that you had a calulus exam tomorrow, and just how gorgeous you sounded when you were tired. "sorry, [y/n] ... didn't mean to wake you," jungwon sighs, "just wanted to hear your voice."

"won, seriously?" you scoff, "this couldn't have waited 'til tomorrow? i mean, it's—it's two in the morning ... i was literally just dreaming about acing that calc test."

a dopey grin fastens itself to jungwon's lips as he wills his eyes to stay open. if he falls asleep, he knows there's a possibility that he won't get back up; so, he indulges for a bit, listening to your fatigued grumbling and smiling like an idiot. "honestly, m'not sure if tomorrow's in my cards, [y/n]," he admits, trying to hide how labored his breaths are becoming, "'nd i jus' wanted to hear you one last time."

"yang jungwon, what the hell are you—" jungwon knows exactly when you realize he's in trouble. he knows exactly when you realize he's not messing with you. the abrupt pause, the hitch in your breath, the way you inhale through your teeth—it's almost too obvious. "oh fuck," you continue, "oh shit ... won, where are you? are you hurt? what can i do to help?"

jungwon coughs out a laugh, "'m in the alley off jackson ave, 'nd i think i've bled on every piece of old furniture back here, if that says anything."

your breathing is frantic. jungwon listens to the sound of rustling clothes and the occasional thud of your foot as it hits your bed frame. you're cursing and mumbling and unravelling at the seams, searching for whatever you can that might help you help jungwon. out loud, you go through a list: gauze, neosporin, saline.

"am i missing anything?" you ask, not expecting a response.

"bandages?" jungwon replies.

"bandages!" you exclaim, "i almost forgot the fucking bandages?" there's more noise on the other side of the phone, and jungwon doesn't let himself relax until he hears your window crack open. metal clangs as you rush down the fire escape; he wills the beating of his heart to match the tempo of your feet against the steps. jungwon wills himself to stay alive. and, it's almost as though you can read his mind through the phone. "don't you dare fall asleep, yang jungwon. talk to me about something—anything—just don't fall asleep."

he racks his brain for a topic of conversation; the nerves building in his stomach as he anticipates next week's orgo exam, the cat he rescued from a tree in queensbridge park earlier today, the new thai restaurant that opened up near his apartment building. options race through his mind, but all of jungwon's thoughts lead back to you.

"i love you," jungwon says, abrupt yet resolute.

"oh god." you suck in an incredulous gasp, "you're delirious. this is—"

"i'm not delirious," he interrupts, voice hauntingly clear. "i know what i'm saying. and, i'm saying that i love you, [y/n] [l/n]."

for a moment, the line crackles with a thick, viscous silence that seeps through the grainy static; it's heavy, almost too real, and jungwon listens to the sound of your shoes slamming against the pavement until you speak again. "okay," you sigh, something unreadable swimming behind your words, "keep talking to me, jungwon."

jungwon takes in a deep breath before speaking again. his whole body is cold now, and if it weren't for the weakness spreading throughout his veins, he's positive his teeth would be chattering. inhaling the concoction of gasoline fumes, freshly dumped trash, and frigid, autumn air, jungwon feels the chill of the reaper creeping up the length of his spine. its spindly fingers beckon him into that same darkness he was once so sure of, once so okay with. but, jungwon can't let himself give in to its temptation. after all, he has someone waiting for him.

"you give me this feeling," jungwon declares in an inexplicable moment of lucidity, "'nd i dunno how to explain it. it's—it's like ... i look at you, and you pull me in. an invisible string, maybe? fate? true love? i'm—i have no idea what to call it. you always make me want to know more, even though i've known you forever. since we were kids, [y/n]—i've felt like this for years. and, i'm sorry. i'm sorry for not telling you earlier, for not telling you when i told you about the whole spiderman thing.

"i'm such an idiot for making you worry. someone who loves you shouldn't do that to you, i shouldn't do that to you. and, god [y/n]—i love you so much. you're this force of nature, you know? drawing me in, even though it's dangerous. and, even though i'm terrified of what the consequences might be, i love you so much that i'm afraid to die without saying it at least once.

"i'm—i'm so sorry for being so stupid, because—" jungwon whispers with a shaky voice, teetering on the edge of consciousness, "i love you, [y/n]. i love you."

jungwon's hearing is fading in and out, and his vision is growing blurry; but, the sounds of your footsteps accompanied by the incessant drone of his phone keeps him from slipping into that overwhelming darkness. you take in a sharp breath, and his head lolls in your direction. jungwon's lips are molded into a mindless, faraway smile; his eyes are misted over, foggy with both pain and fatigue. he's not all there, but he still manages to be cheerful. it astounds you.

rushing over to begin applying all the first aid supplies you managed to stuff into your backpack. wound-wash, gauze, bandage, wound-wash, gauze, bandage, wound-wash gauze bandage, wound-washgauzebandage. the sheer amount of blood that has been leeched from his body makes you dizzy; your head is spinning as you try to calculate just how many pints would be equal to what you've just sopped up. glancing up at your best friend (crush? lover?) you see that his eyes have drooped shut. his skin is pallid, his lips are pale, his neck is craned at an awkward angle as it rests on his shoulder. and, your heart stops because you didn't get to say it back.

"no. no, no, no ... won—jungwon, wake up!" a storm brews in your stomach. it starts as a mellow rain pattering against the lining of your intestines, then becomes a raging tempest as it bubbles up and out of your throat. "please, please, please! i got here in time, i swear—i never cared about the stupid, fucking calc test! i cared about you, i care about you! and, i'm here now, so you can't leave. you can't leave me."

an inhuman shriek claws through your lips, ricocheting against the brick walls that seem to be caving in around you; the weight of the world crashes into your frail shoulders, threatening to crush you. as you inch even closer to jungwon's shrouded figure, your pants are soaked through with a crude mixture of blood and rainwater. you reach out for him and cup his cheek with a trembling hand, and part of you swears his skin is still warm to the touch.

but, hope has no place here.

instead, you cradle his head and heave his body to rest against yours. he is astonishingly heavy; you can feel his muscles ripple beneath the tips of your fingers, but you're already convinced. your best friend is dead. slowly, the cement will absorb his heat, and he will grow cold. as the morning draws nigh, you will be forced to put his mask back on and leave him for someone else to find. then, the news articles will pour in, and the city will have stolen not only his life, but his death as well. tears are wetting his scalp as you bury your nose into his sweat-caked hair. you're gripping at his suit so hard you think the threads might snap, and the throbbing in your head is nothing compared to the agony in your heart.

the wailing doesn't stop until, in your peripherals, you see his finger twitch. sucking a staggering breath through his nose, jungwon cracks open a tired eye to gaze up at you. "i would—" he coughs out with a wince, "i would never leave you."

in your stupor, his voice doesn't register first. his mouth moves, but no sound escapes him; then, the words play over again in your mind while his lips remain closed. seconds melt into minutes, and you float away from your body. a numbness overtakes you as you stare at the scene before you from about five feet away; your fingers are still clutching at the suit fibers, the pajamas you chose earlier tonight are now saturated with blood, and jungwon is breathing. jungwon is breathing. jungwon is breathing.

snapping back into yourself, you place a weak hand on his chest. steadily, certainly—it rises and falls; the beating of his heart, though shallow and slow, thrums beneath your palm. shifting your stare to his face, you are greeted once again by a familiar, wry smile. jungwon is alive. despite all odds, the boy you love is alive; and, try as you might, you can't really help yourself.

"[y/n]?" he croaks, quirking the eyebrow above his less swollen eye, "can you hear—"

"i love you, too."

the utterance dangles precariously in the frigid midnight air. jungwon's lack of response causes your stomach to churn until he relexes further into your frame, huffing out a pained laugh. he lets himself rest for a moment, relishing in the warmth he manages to leech from your skin. "it wasn't ... wasn't supp—supposed to happen like this, you know?" jungwon protests, voice catching on his fatigue and discomfort. "i ... had everything planned—planned out."

"won, you don't—"

baring his teeth, he lifts a hand to hold the one you kept on his chest and barrels through your objection. "i was gonna take you to the met ... gonna take you for a pic—a picnic in central park." jungwon sputters, pressing his forehead against your upper arm, "then, we would swing ... back to your apartment. 'nd, i was gonna tell—tell you. tell you about how i feel."

still supporting his neck with your arm, you move to take his face in your palm once more. jungwon's gaze is sharper than it was just minutes ago—more focused, more alert. the emotions swirling in those deep pools of raw umber are more multitudinous than the stars they reflect. gratitude, torment, joy, defeat, love. bridging the gap that had separated the two of you for so long, you stop just shy of his lips. a dynamic heat emanates from them; jungwon is practically vibrating under your touch, living and breathing.

"are you okay?" you ask, "is this okay?"

jungwon answers by pushing himself up—closing the distance, sharing your breath, connecting your souls. salt and iron dance on his tongue as your tears mingle with his blood. it's a hypnotizing concoction—one that threatens to send him reeling, one that threatens to have him spinning out with no hope of return. fireworks explode behind his eyelids, a myriad of bright reds and vibrant oranges blinds him, and jungwon uses what is left of his strength to grip your wrist; he grounds himself and allows his lungs to burn as he breathes you in.

after a while, however, your parting is instinctual as the lack of oxygen forces you apart—two bodies trying to preserve themselves long enough to meet again. with a labored sigh, jungwon slumps backwards and tucks his chin to catch your gaze. in that moment, he finds himself frozen; his essence is suspended motionless, positively bewitched by you. in the silence, where all he can sense is you, jungwon embraces the ever-present warmth that has flourished within him. it floods his being with a terrifyingly powerful adoration for you. it is nothing like he has ever felt before, and though he is brave enough to confess, this extent of his love for you—it scares him.

however, as your skin glows in the light of the moon and your eyes pool with the desire for a future with him, jungwon digs his feet in and roots your love deep within his heart. he refuses to let this fear grow in its place; instead, he vows to nurture it, to care for it, to protect it. as he lies in your arms, jungwon rejects the sublime once more and chooses for himself.

"i love you, [y/n]," he whispers into your palm.

the world seems to go quiet as it listens for your response.

"i love you, too, jungwon."

#enhypen fluff #enha fluff #jungwon fluff #enhypen headcanons #; — cass writes: jungwon #enhypen #jungwon headcanons #jungwon imagines #jungwon reactions #enha scenarios #enha imagines #enha angst #enhypen angst #enha x reader #jungwon x reader

[dreamermonica]

BLUE LOCK BOYS + ROMANCE TROPES

—includes isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, michael kaiser (sorry if this asshole's part is freakishly longer than the other boys' parts. favoritism exists in this blog, unfortunately.)

—fem pronouns are used, swearing cause it's me, major crack, fluff, messy attempt at humor, teenage pining and such, god help me t.t

ISAGI YOICHI is definitely childhood friend material. sworn friends ever since diapers, promises of being together till the very end, marriage proposals at the tender age of 6—all that type of cheesy stuff that would get you squealing and have your little feet kicking in the air out of giddiness. but as time goes on with him being set on football and you doing your own thing, the promise gradually gets left behind in your heads, slowly getting buried underneath all the pressure of being an adolescent. the once childish promise only resurfaces during an unexpected reunion—with both of you having achieved your dream careers. will your puppy love rise once more from the depths of your memories and perhaps turn into something...more serious? hah. what are you talking about? this old friend of yours should take you out for a proper dinner first, atleast.

BACHIRA MEGURU with the ugly duckling trope. no friends, seen as an outcast, too eccentric for his other classmates to comprehend—and there's you—the popular and extroverted individual loved and befriended by many others. you as the campus crush, who found an interest in the lonely bowl cut boy. though your curiosity is piqued at first, you were quite reluctant in actually befriending him. with rumors of him being a weirdo—most people often shy'd away from the idea of letting him inside their radars. but you aren't going to let that stop you from—wait, he's actually super sweet? and kind too? surprisingly a huge sweetheart? what kind of plot twist is this?! though the monster he speaks of kind of scares you, you're still terribly attracted like a fly to a light by his strong will to become the best striker in the foreign dimension of soccer. in the end he's just doing what he loves, a good-hearted boy who simply got misunderstood for his obsession with football—oh? why is your heart suddenly picking up its pace?

ITOSHI RIN with...*drum rolls*...quiet kid at the back of your class. 😐 not that surprising is it. anyways, this emo kid is obsessed with soccer, yet still able to keep up with his studies just fine. though he's mostly neutral with everybody, you sometimes fear the he might be plotting all your deaths with that unconventional stare of his that looks like he's constantly displeased. but you eventually come to a conclusion that that isn't the case. you both take the same bus home everyday, and you can confidently confirm that he really just looks like that. the stare only softens when he brings out his phone and starts playing granny or something. not to be a creepy stalker or anything—your field of view just always inconveniently contains him and the contents on his phone! he appears to have a knack for the genre of horror. games, movies, even tutorials. (this lil' cheat—) but of course, for this headcannon to work my way imma have to embarrass you in front of him for chemistry and relationship development purposes :p. so once upon a time, where you're tired as hell after some shit going down in school, you fail to remember your usual spot and slump down onto an open seat beside itoshi rin—who was on his phone paying you zero mind whatsoever, playing a horror game that you recognized to be some popular roblox game. you don't know if it's the tiredness that took over you, or the sole fact that seeing rin play so goddamn horrible on the game got on your nerves up to the point you couldn't hold in your thoughts anymore and outright told him what you'd come to regret in just a few moments—“what the hell, dude. you're terrible. you're supposed to get the key and then—” about to reach for the phone out of sheer frustration, you suddenly pause, realizing what you've just done. oh no. your eyes flicker to his expression and holy crap. rin itoshi is giving you the biggest, bombastic, judgemental, dehumanizing side eye you've ever seen in your life. actually, scratch that—he's full on staring at you like you've just directed 57 slurs at him. you feel like you've shrunk into a mere insect with how intense his stare is, mentally slowly melting into a puddle of shame as you stand up and profusely bow while spewing out pitiful apologies. after a few moments, you hear him heave a deep sigh, you slowly crane your neck up to look at him expectantly—only to find him and his absurdly gorgeous face challengingly raising a brow at you, “then what do you suppose i should do, miss i'm-so-good-at-the-game? please continue.” rin roblox kid confirmed.

ITOSHI SAE as the regular who has caught your eye trope. i really wanted to use childhood friends on this guy with the amount of angst it'd produce but isagi already got the trope so...'eye candy regular at the local coffee shop you work part-time at' trope it is. a bit specific but yeah you get what i mean :). it's hard not to notice this man whenever he comes in with that unfortunately charming blank face of his—so charming that in fact some girls from other nearby schools actually gather to seat themselves and wait for his appearance, shoot their shot with the guy and get immediately shut down with just one cold sweep of his indifferent stare. being pretty sure does have its downsides. you can still feel the shivers from when he full-on glared at a girl who was getting a bit too persistent. you've never really interacted with him aside from taking his regular order, but there's still the underlying fear that he'd cuss you out and embarrass you in front of teenage girls should you get his order wrong so now you have a note plastered onto the wall that always has his regular order tip up to the notch—with a highlighted nickname, “duckbutt james” since you never caught his name. but oh fuck, he sees it one uneventful day and raises a brow at you, nonchalantly and coolly saying that his name is “itoshi sae”. god. is this the part where you roll over and die in shame? why did you even think it was a good idea to put the note in point-blank range?! it's the same as basically shoving it in his face! you think you might pass out—but then suddenly—he smiles. he smiles. what. but it immediately disappears as fast as it came so now you're questioning if you're hallucinating or not. he takes his usual order and heads out once more, but as your head clears itself from the multiple stages of grief you experienced in one singular moment—you think of his name in wonder, finding it terribly familiar. itoshi sae. itoshi sae. itoshi...SAE?! WAIT—

MICHAEL KAISER is definitely enemies to lovers material, change my mind. a football hotshot who has to begrudgingly graduate first before officially signing a contract with the famous german world-wide football team—bastard münchen. at this point in life, he's basically already successful, so he literally just ignores and passes up all opportunities to actually study anything that isn't related to football. he's not a troublemaker perse, but you're convinced the entire faculty staff hates him due to the amount of unnecessary work his laziness spews out, but they would still have to pass him regardless of his lax attitude towards his studies due to the sole fact that the entirety of germany has their eyes on this genius of a prodigy. it was relatively obvious that failing him and delaying his awaited pro-debut would do no good for the name of the school, so he's now spared from the chains of corrupted education. despite being in the same class as him, kaiser was someone you've barely talked to—you both only interacted a grand total of two times. one was regarding a class project, and the other was that time you walked in on him getting confessed to for the what, thousandth time? needless to say, you're both barely acquainted, so being friends was out of the question. besides, it's not like you want to befriend him anyway (y/n moment)—you were both complete opposites. you were a study freak, and he was an infamous prodigy who had a passion for kicking a ball—he's the emperor who lived in a completely different world from your mundane life as a mere commoner in his story.

*rubs hands together* now it's time to get even more delusional, folks. it's just supposed to be a normal day but oh nooo, you're now both forced to fully acknowledge each other's presence after a teacher falsely accuses both of you and sends you to detention—highly biased should you add. it's one of those low teachers that act passive aggressively with his early success. it's bound to get people jealous, but shouldn't you be proud as a teacher? whatever. all that you know is that you're now both stuck in detention and you're blaming him now. you know very well you're both completely innocent so for what exactly are you blaming him? absolutely nothing. you're just bored and michael kaiser was your only source of entertainment in this bland and empty classroom. jabs are thrown around from across the room as you are unable to initiate conversation without you throwing an insult everytime he attempts to flirt with you. you asked him to be quiet? babe, he's going to do the exact opposite. you asked him to shut the fuck up? he'll say the typical 'make me'. your sanity is all but squeezed out of your entire being by the time your detention is over, finally being dismissed for the day until he stops you from actually leaving the room by holding your shoulder in place and asks for your number with a playful wink. you want to slap him, maybe kick his shins, roundhouse him in the face and run away but with the knowledge that you'll both still be meeting in your class the next day is a bitter reminder that you should atleast try to remain civil with this young and growing superstar if you want to survive the school year. albeit begrudgingly—you punch down your numbers into his phone (you put a random number in at first but he quickly confirms it to be false when your phone doesn't receive the message he sent just in-case. tsk.) and immediately leave the premises after he cracks a joke about seeing him tomorrow night for dinner.

unbeknownst to you, he was the one who put the anonymous tip in the school's online forum that falsely landed both of you in detention—all just to get some alone time with you and grab your number without attracting too much unnecessary attention because oh my lord he's genuinely interested in someone who isn't a part of his football kingdom?? wowowowowow

sae reawakened my duckbutt (sasuke) phase ong (also reader doesn't know what the world-class midfielder sae looks like, only his name so that's why she was shocked)

#my bllk phase is THRIVING #and it's all because of this fruity german twink named michael jackson #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #bachira x reader #bachira meguru x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #bllk x you #har❗fiction

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 1 - Creation~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

This is my first-time writing fanfic but I literally cannot get the stories out of my brain so…why not make everyone else suffer. This is part one of a story I’ve been rolling around some time. I feel setting a good foundation for the reader/main character is super important, so I PROMISE this story gets better. Be prepared for the usual angst, mystery (Alastor), sassiness (Lucifer), fluff, eventual smut (yes horny readers bear with me we need some plot), and of course 18+ because….it’s Hazbin what do you expect?

Summary: f!reader finds themselves in Hell. Unable to accept your horrible fate you make it a point to continue being a bright soul surrounded by the darkness of Hell. With some higher advice, you create a list of rules to live. A short list to keep out danger and continue helping the lower sinners of Pentagram City. It’s the ONLY way you can survive (right?). Your list begins to crumble when you start helping Lucifer’s daughter with some hotel and a dream to redeem the same sinners you want to protect.

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

1.5k Words

Part 1 (You're on it!) Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Rumor was all sinners would spawn in hell with attributes related to their life and (untimely) death. Your gift power was proof of that.

“Everyone get inside! Come on before the exorcists see you.” You hurry the last of the smaller sinners inside a building. It kills you to see such fear from the souls. “Lock the door. I'll lure them away.”

How foolish you were. Somehow a heart of gold followed you to these depths after death...ironic how even the nicest people end up in hell. God really does have his favorites I suppose.

But that foolishness led you to the best thing to happen to you, so you thought. Dodging through the streets, maneuvering, anything to lead the "angels" away from even the worst of sinners. Cursing praying for their safety. It was only your second extermination, but you already caught onto their game. It was all too easy to get around their sloppiness. Needing a breather, you weave around some cars and dive behind a dumpster. Idiots can't even keep track of my thickass? Pathetic!

A few moments pass as it grows quiet. Your breath begins to steady when the softest whimper catches your attention. As quietly (and non-threatening) as possible, you turn the corner to approach a crying dark mass curled on the ground. Seeing their blood pooling sends your stomach into flips. Not another one. Fearing the worst you gently reach out. “Hey hey...shhh..." you utter, feeling her wince ever so slightly. "No don't panic I'm here to help. Where are you hurt?"

The young girl slowly uncrumples herself to show her wound...a massive "X" sliced hips to neck. It was so deep you couldn't believe she was still breathing let alone even moving. Fuck she's lost too much blood. "Come here let me try to stop the bleeding" you lied. You knew she had no chance. But your chest hurt at the thought of her dying (again) alone in some shit alley. With the last of her strength she curled into you, her white hair tickling your face. She had her textured locks pulled back tightly and black horns accenting the top of her head. Her tired red eyes relaxed, slowly closing as she leaned into you. Such a beautiful girl falling to such a terrible fate. With one hand on part of her wound, you used your other to softly stroke her head. “I'm so sorry young one...just breathe in and know you're not alone.” As her breathing shallows you gently kiss her forehead, bidding her soul a gentle goodbye.

The second your lips touch her skin, pure fire floods through your veins. Every nerve in your body feeling ripped apart. You spasm from the pain, clenching onto the girls now limp body. Just when the pain starts misting your vision you see flashes of...pink? "What the fuck!!" You grit through your teeth. What felt like hours of pain was merely a few seconds and it quickly dissipated from your body as did the pink light. Shit shit shit, there’s no way the exorcist didn’t hear OR SEE that! You stay perfectly still...listening to the silence with your mind reeling over what just happened.

A gasp breaks the deafening silence, pulling you back to reality. The young girl jolted out of your arms, gasping in as much air as she could. Looking down you notice her wounds were gone, only dry blood and tattered cloth remained from the laceration. You look at each other in panic and shock.

After inspecting her stomach she snaps out of her daze, remembering you two were still not safe.

"It's too dangerous to stay out here. Come with me - we aren’t far from the safehouse. I am sure my mother will want to meet you."

You follow without hesitation. Trust has always been a weakness. As you make your way through the city, she explains how she was out collecting angelic weapons with her sister when they got separated. After getting cornered she just accepted her fate...then you found her. "The name is Clara by the way. Clara Carmine. I usually just go by CC though."

You never intended to get into the Overlord game. You were merely trying to make the best, quiet life in hell if that was even possible. Guess things change when you save the daughter of Hells most prestigious Overlord. Who could say no to being taken in and protected by THE Carmilla Carmine.

Carmilla immediately began preparing you after hearing of the power you possessed. The power to heal with touch...of course it’s not that easy…it required pure intensions, coming from a place of love. Who the hell (pun intended) wrote this cruel joke for a sinner? How did the lowest of low get given such power just a few short years after arriving? It was your most precious secret. It had to be. If anyone of ill will found out - and come on, it's Hell - your soul would have been the most sought after in the pride ring. You wouldn’t last a day. Carmilla was indebted to you for saving Clara, so she made a deal to give you protection and mentorship as repayment. The first of many deals you’d make in Hell, growing the power you held.

In the years you've been under Carmilla's watch, you created a short list of rules to keep yourself out of harm’s way -

1. Never trust another Overlord

2. Never tell a soul what (or how much) power you have

3. Never bring anyone too close

4. Never let your weaknesses show

It was a simple enough list that had worked for you so far.

You chose to make deals with those who needed protection or help while navigating the dangerous afterlife. In your deals each soul was bound to secrecy as to who you were and what you provided. Contract details and fine print were your specialty. Your soul count was the highest Carmilla had ever seen for someone so new, so merciful. She would often mention only one other sinner ever rose the ranks as quick though his methods were…less than savory. She never bothered to say who. Every Overlord meeting the rumors spread of some "Saving Grace" sinner making their way into powerful ranks. A shadow giving vile hope. But just as quick as those rumors appeared - they were put to rest when no new faces ever appeared. Of course you were there - you needed to attend for information just as much as the next guy, but you never sat as an Overlord. Carmilla granted you a place off to the side as "the help" to serve tea or make notes as needed. No one ever batted an eye to someone considered just a worker bee in Carmilla's hive.

Every meeting was the same, though it seemed unease was rising after each extermination. Six years had passed since you fell into this hellhole (har har). Another extermination, another meeting. Sitting in your designated corner, you twirl your pen as the Overlords began taking their seats. Might as well be invisible - but you preferred it that way. As your mind slightly wonders to less important things, the quiet buzz of conversations around you fades away from your ears.

"—yes I know I’ve been absent some time. I'm sure you've ALL been wondering!"

Your attention snaps back with the sound of this charming new voice. The demon was dressed to the nines - red suit jacket, gloves, freshly pressed slacks. Your already preoccupied mind raced. Who the hell is that? Where has he been? Why does he have that shit eating grin?

He must hold some power to be sitting here after all these years…

"Not really. But welcome back in any case."

That dismissal from Camilla was enough for you to put aside any questions you had of the demon. You knew this meeting would be tense. Can't afford distractions when you needed to be all ears. As you began writing you felt something in the pit of your stomach. Was someone staring at you? You try to shake the feeling when Velvette made her grand entrance. With a sigh and eye roll you set aside your notebook. God damn this woman, no respect, no couth. Gonna be a long one today.

The sinking feeling returns, this time you catch the culprit. The (new to you) demon Overlord is staring at you as if you’re the only one in the room. You make eye contact hoping he moves his gaze, but it only fuels the intensity on you. That smile never faltering. Your ears ring and static pricks your ear drums. Can I fuckin help you sir? Wait no, you're just the help. Lower sinners would never even dream of speaking to an Overlord like such. Thankfully the eye contact breaks when Velvette tosses the head of an exorcist on the table.

Ah I suppose this will be quite a fascinating meeting…

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #fanfic #hazbin hotel fandom #hotel hazbin #hazbin alastor #hazbin fandom #hazbinhotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #slow burn #hazbin hotel lucifer #carmilla carmine #hazbin hotel carmilla

[bored-storyteller]

Ok this is totally self-indulgent that's off the canon, but I wrote that and now you can find it here. It is related to this and the continuation of this. Of course you are free to ignore it.

Sally Face, Sal Fisher x Reader

The sun in the night

"It's me."

If you hadn't noticed how much his fingers were shaking, now you surely heard it in his voice.

"It's really me." Sal insists, because he doesn't know what else to do.

You are there, in front of him, illuminated only by a cold artificial light, the road is empty except for you two, and you hold three large sunflowers in your arms.

"Don’t be afraid." He keeps telling you, because that's what he expected to find in you: amazement, fear, disbelief.

Yet he sees none of this in your gaze, or maybe he does, but not in the sense that he - people - would expect.

You are motionless in front of him, he almost thinks that you are not breathing, and perhaps he fears more than you the consequences of his reckless gesture, of having sought you out.

"I ... I'm back ... if you can say so ..."

Oh, how much he would like to ask you not to cry. But what right does he have? And why are you crying? For him, or for the wounds he inflicted on you? How much he wished things had been different between you two, a trip to the underworld is not enough to start all over again.

Your tears are silent, they slide down your cheeks, on your expressionless lips. And you're looking at him like you're waiting, waiting to see him disappear, maybe.

"Please ..." he finally begs, in a whisper. Sal knows he cannot expect anything, but he feels cold, cold and lonely in being so distant from you. He felt your pain, he felt it inside of him, and he would pay any cost - more than he has already done - to hold you in his arms.

Now, a word would be enough for him, just one, even a sigh.

But you don't speak, you just stand there looking at him, with wet eyes and clenched teeth.

And then, as if you were a dream, he sees you reach out to him; extend your arm in the direction of him. He doesn't hesitate in his moves, he hardly thinks when he approaches you.

Your palm is now on his chest, he holds it gently over his heart, his living heart beating in his ribcage.

"I'm here ... it's me ..." he repeats again, like a broken record, without daring to look up at you.

Even just your passive touch is a refreshment to him. At least you are there, at least you are in front of him, at least you know that he really is there.

And there would be so many things he would like - no, he should – to tell you, but like a raging river in a too small crack he can't get anything out. Everything is too important and nothing is enough. He has the distinct feeling that one wrong word can make you go away, forever, and a thousand deaths won't be enough to bring you back to him.

But he has to tell you something, he has to talk to you, he can't drop everything out of cowardice, he can't.

"I love you."

They are not his words, they are yours. The first words you say to him after his return, the first time he hears your voice.

Ba-bum.

His heart is heavy and light at the same time, it sinks into his bowels and rises until it becomes tears in his eyes.

He looks at you now, his lips parted so he can breathe under the mask. And you cry with all the emotions painted on your face as your hand squeezes against his ribs.

And if you have managed to stop the world, it is still you with a sweet whisper to recall everything, again.

"Believe me ..." you beg him. It is a desperate prayer full of all the pain you have felt. “Believe me please, I love you. I've never stopped doing it and I won't be able to stop, please ... "

And he believes that you could continue forever, in that frightened plea. You don't ask him to reciprocate, but to believe you, because he didn't.

"I know it." He interrupts "God, I know ... I know and ..." And he's so sorry he didn't believe you. How many times he would have taken back this words, while he was thinking of you, while he perceived in his own soul your suffering, your remorse for not having been able to make him understand it in time, for not having made him feel loved enough.

He would like to tell you all this, he would like to tell you that he was wrong to trust himself more than you.

But your hand on his chest is now gripping his sweatshirt in a feeble attempt to hold him, as if he could disappear at any moment, and who guarantees otherwise?

He has already left you.

And you're not even expecting him to really stay, you just want him to know that you love him, and you love him with a sweet, tender, strong love that goes beyond even death itself.

"And I love you too." And it is the only important thing he has to say to you now, when he sees you collapse under the weight of an excruciating sadness that you have endured without perspective.

"Sal ..." His name in your cry sounds like the lament of a puppy left alone, and you finally come back to your home. You are against him, in his arms, your wet face hides against his neck, his blue hair softly covers your head.

And he holds you tight, he finally protects you, feels you real, in flesh and blood.

"I have so many things to tell you ... to explain and ..."

"I don't want to know ..." you whisper, never leaving your shelter "I don't want to know how you did it, or why ... if it's a dream, I don't want to know. Just stay with me. "

He understands, and he accepts it.

Your head is resting on his shoulder like when you were sitting together by the lake years ago. Your hand looks for his, and caresses it, like the last time you met, and like the first time you met, the sunflowers shine among you.

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher #sal fisher x reader #sally face oneshot #sally face fanfiction #writing #reader insert #sal fisher x y/n #fanfiction

[mysticheathenn]

What are you being Protected From?

Hi there! Remember to take what resonates and leave what does not. This reading does not supplement your need to go seek professional help.

Take your time when choosing your pile. Ask yourself the question and choose the picture that you can’t stop looking at. Listen to your intuition. This is a Free Tumblr Reading. I only put Patreon just in case anyone wants to join for more pick-a-cards and other content soon to come to that channel. I'll make a post about it sometime this week about the different tiers etc.

Patreon Link (Monthly Subscription)

Ko-Fi Donations (One-time Donations)

Pile l:

*What are you being protected from? (Tarot: 9 of Pentacles, 10 of Cups, The Fool, and 7 of Cups (Reversed))

Dreams! You’re dreams and goals that you envisioned for yourself are being protected at this time. Some of you may have decided to take the leap of faith and go after what you want for yourself and out of life and you’re wondering if you are also on the right or wrong path and your spirit guides want you to know to keep going, you’re on the right path and that you are protected. This isn’t to say that you won’t deal with hardship when pursuing your dreams especially if you are in a competitive field. This is more so of spirit saying that no one can take away what is yours, your goals and dreams are for the taking and in reach and they are here to help you along the journey if you just ask them. Remember closed mouths do not get fed and we all have free will so your guides will not just jump in your life and change things without your consent. When things get hard on this new path of yours remember to ask your guides for help. If you work with deities ask them for help as well but remember it is a give-and-take relationship when working with deities and you shouldn’t expect things from them because they are who they are. Keep going on whatever path you are going on, you are protected.

*Messages, Synchronicities, and Signs from your Oracle Cards: (Moonology Manifestation Oracle Deck: Go Deeper, Step into your Power, & Relax)

“Go Deeper” Passage from the book: “You’ve moved through your fears and can see now where this issue has come from. It’s time for you to face your darkest concerns…go deeper. Your situation may need to crumble before it can be renewed. Magic is called for. It’s crucial to stay strong.”

“Step into your Power” Passage from the book: “Achieving anything is always part inspiration and part hard work. Be You! Take action, be bold, but be smart. Be systematic but also allow yourself to be excited about what you want.”

*What good things are coming from this protection: (Oracle Cards from Spellcasting Oracle Deck)

Passion Inspiration Boundaries Finding (This could be becoming more of your authentic self, developing your intuition more, or finding the answers you seek)

Pile ll:

*What are you being protected from? (Tarot: 2 of Swords (reversed), 4 of Cups, 6 of Pentacles (reversed), The Moon (reversed), Death (reversed), and The Devil (bottom of deck))

“It’s not time yet.” This is what I am hearing from your guides. Some of you are getting impatient waiting for something you’ve been putting in a lot of work towards, or if not a lot of work towards maybe you are waiting for a scholarship, a gift or money from someone, whatever it is you are waiting for it’s not time yet. There are still some missing pieces that need to come together, some pieces that aren’t being shown to you at this time that accepting or doing whatever it is you want isn’t happening right now.  But you can’t help but feel stuck and questioning if you made the right or wrong decision. Some of you may have been drawn to pile 1 as well. For movement to happen pile 2 change needs to happen for some of you this isn’t on your end, and you just need to wait whatever it is that you are waiting for out, and for others, some of you need to change something. I don’t know what that may be because your guides are telling me that you know. You know what needs to change whether self-doubt, breaking up with your partner, moving from your toxic environment, quitting your job, or what. When you do that, you will receive what you are looking for. You can’t want great things while holding on to the same toxic and harmful people or environments, it will only taint your blessings.

*Messages, Synchronicities, and Signs from your Oracle Cards: (Moonology Manifestation Oracle Deck: Open Up to Change, Attune to the Divine, & Talk Less, Feel More)

“Talk Less, Feel More” Passage from the book: The danger of your current situation is that you’re going to be really good at starting things and less good at finishing them. This card suggests that you talk less and feel more. What you want wants you too. Do you believe in yourself or not.?” (Paraphrased from the book, passage was too long lol)

“Open Up to Change”: “Big changes are on the horizon, but you need to let events unfold with as little steering as possible from you. A rational even slightest aloof assessment for your current situation is being called for.”

*What good things are coming from this protection: (Oracle Cards from Spellcasting Oracle Deck)

New Beginnings Answers Protection

Pile lll:

*What are you being protected from? (Tarot: 6 of Swords, Justice (reversed), 10 of Pentacles clarified by the Knight of Cups (reversed), The Lovers (Reversed), 8 of Swords (reversed), 4 of Cups (reversed)

This could be a relationship/Friendship for a lot of you this is romantic but for some of you, this could be platonic. This reading kind of is going both ways some of you you’re going through a breakup up and others, you are thinking about going through a breakup because you are the only one in the relationship who is putting in all the effort. It reminds me of the Simpson meme where Lis is placing a band-aid on Bart and the caption says my toxic trait is and basically doing things for others they wouldn’t do for you and some of you are seeing that this person is selfish, narcissistic, and maybe even just downright hates you. Reminds me of the thread on Twitter where guys openly discuss the moment, they start randomly hating their girlfriends and start treating them horribly so they would break up with them. Very few of you don’t want to see this out of your relationship (platonic or romantic) so you keep making excuses and giving people the benefit of the doubt. Spirit is saying no more, the blindfolds are coming off and you’re going to see a spade for a spade and move away from this situation. There is better on the horizons. Some of you don’t want to leave this person because you have low self-esteem and feel no one else will love you and others of you are afraid of being alone or fear the dating scene because of what is out there but ask yourself is it really any worse than what you are constantly putting yourself through. Love yourself and have respect for yourself enough to leave, boo.

*Messages, Synchronicities, and Signs from your Oracle Cards: (Moonology Manifestation Oracle Deck: Know Your Worth, Trust all is well, & Keep Your Heart Open, Know You are Loved)

Unlike the other two piles who received messages from the passage from the book of the oracle cards, your cards are quite self-explanatory.

Know Your Worth (Do I need to say more)

Trust all will be well (trust you will be okay when this end. Trust there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Your life will not end because you ended or are going to end your relationship/friendship)

Keep Your Heart Open (I know this isn’t fair the feeling you are feeling and all you have been through. But keep your heart open for others to see the beautiful light you shine.)

Know You are Loved (Again do I need to say more)

What good things are coming from this protection: (Oracle Cards from Spellcasting Oracle Deck)

Lighten your Load Forgiveness (This could be forgiving the person or yourself for not seeing things clearly or even for not taking action sooner.) Friendship Reconciliation (This is more about self-love. If I had to put it in further words it’s that Twitter post where it says after a breakup women go back to school, work on their bodies, buy a house, etc. It’s more of focusing on the self than getting back together with someone.)

Thanks for checking out my reading. I appreciate all of you, until the next reading.

Stay Safe and Be Blessed.

#spirituality #tarot reading #pick a card #pac reading #pac tarot #pick a pile #tarotcommunity #witchblr #pick a picture #pick a photo #tarot community #tarotblr #tarot cards #divination #protection

[dinogoofymutated]

SFW!Cable/GN!reader - Pt 2.

@gildedjerk YOU DID THIS TO ME. I was supposed to finish my homework an hour ago but I wrote this instead. I literally haven't written a part 2 to anything this quickly ever. what is happening to me

Read pt 1 here :)

TWS: Angst with happy ending. Falling buildings, minor depictions of death, timeliness bullshit, big man cries and we smooch him. Possibly part 3 if the mood takes me

 For the first time in a long while, Nathan is panicking. Buildings in the city are crumbling around him, sentinels closing in around every street corner- and he can't find you. He calls out your name, and you don't respond. He reaches for you, searching for your mind with the telepathic ability he can spare- and he can't feel you. 

    He can't feel you.

    For the first time, he's more struck with the absence of your running mind than he had ever been annoyed by it.

    He should have gone with you. He never should have let you split away from him. The two of you were a duo. No matter how much grief you gave him when you first started to tag along, he couldn’t imagine life without you. He refused to. Cable narrowly dodges a falling fire escape, and he knows he’s running out of time. He calls for you, again, and again- and there’s no response. He can’t let this happen. He won’t. 

    Cable bolts down the street as the smoke billows and the world crumbles. The device on his wrist beeps, and his blood runs cold when he realizes it’s a warning. Still- he perseveres. He follows the psychic echo you left behind, rounding every corner he can, staying on your scent like a bloodhound. He wouldn’t leave without you. Not again. 

    He’s getting closer, he can feel it- but his fear only grows, knowing that you were so close, and yet he can’t feel you. He can’t find that beautiful mind of yours.  He can’t find your memories. Your nervousness. Your running mind. He can’t feel that love he was so afraid of anymore- and he is so scared for an entirely different reason than before. 

    He follows your trail through a warehouse, weaving in-between the machinery as he hears the distinct sound of a sentinel, but he’s horrified when he realizes it’s not coming towards him. Towards you. It’s walking away. Cable exits the warehouse, and on the other side, he finds… nothing. 

    Cable finds rubble. The building in front of him is rubble. He hears the shrieking of metal as the building on his left begins to fall, but he’s preoccupied. A beeping is heard, but it doesn’t come from him. It sounds again and again. Never stopping. 

    Cable sees the blue light from underneath the rubble, and he finds a device identical to his own. It’s still attached to your arm, but you are not there. Your mind is not there.

     The building to his left finally gives in to the weight and falls. 

    A stabbing influx of… something, strikes Cable’s forehead, and he wakes up in a cold sweat, lying on the cot in the safehouse. His body is disoriented, his mind chilled with something more than just horror. Cable realizes that it wasn’t a dream, It was a vision. It was the future. A future. 

    It was real. It felt so real. He’s not entirely sure it hadn’t happened. Cable sits up frantically, looking towards your cot to find you. But you’re not there. His mind is still addled by the influx of information, powers mixed and scatterbrained, unable to find and feel. The one thing it still seems able to do is keep the virus at bay. He’s stumbling as he stands. Cable slams the bedroom door open, that cold horror all he can think of as his mind cannot find you in its haze.

    He moves through the house like a storm cloud, opening every door, searching for you in the same meticulous manner he uses to search the house for threats.

    You find him before he finds you. Having heard the commotion, you exited the kitchen, stepping into the hallway halfway wondering if there had been a breach in the security. 

    “Nate?” The footsteps stop abruptly when you call out for him, only to pick up the pace a second later. Cable looks absolutely furious when he exits a spare room, storming over to you in a manner that almost makes you afraid he’s going to yell at you.

    But he doesn't. The moment Nathan reaches you, he takes hold of your face, and he kisses you like he’d never get the chance to kiss you again. It’s desperate, almost forceful- but after a moment of confusion, you kiss him back. His hold is all-consuming, presenting his love and care for you out of urgency, and necessity. Nathan only pulls away when his thoughts pull back together. He looks at you in shock, like he himself hadn’t expected the kiss to happen. He looks worried. Scared. You pull him down by his collar to kiss him again- if only to wipe those emotions clean from his face. Tears are running down his face, but he can’t bring himself to pull away from you like he had so many times before.

    He kisses you again, and again, hoisting you up into his arms when his back starts to hurt from bending down to reach your height. Nathan sets you on the kitchen counter, finally pulling away from you- and he begins to sob.

    However afraid he was to fully experience the love you had for him- the fear of losing you without showing you his love had triumphed it all. You hold him close as he sobs into your shirt, wrapping him in your love. You don’t know what started this. What set him on this path when yesterday was spent the same as any other day for the two of you- dancing around each other. Leaving the ties blurry. Leaving your love unclear, choosing not to tread through the rapid waters just yet. -but what did that matter anyway, when he had kissed you with such intense emotion? You’re concerned for him. You’re worried for him. You love him. You love him. You love him. Nathan wants to bury his mind so deep within your thoughts, like a warm blanket that kept all of his self-made fears of intimacy at bay. That made them disappear.

    Nathan doesn’t want to show you what he had seen. What someone had made him see. He doesn’t want you to experience the fear, the pain. Despite all of his confusion, his pain, what he did know was that he was never going to let that happen. He didn’t care what timeline he had to tear apart, what plan for the future he had to ruin. He had lost so much in life, but he wasn’t going to lose you. Not again. Not ever.

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #x men headcannons #cable headcannons #cable x reader #cable xmen #cable imagines #nathan summers headcannons #nathan summers x reader #nathan summers #c

[the-writer-arrived]

A Wish Within Reach

Synopsis: his current life is something wriothesley had never imagined he could have. however, there are things he yearns oh-so-dearly to have that are still out of reach... or so he thought.

Character: wriothesley.

Warnings: gn!reader; established relationship; hurt & comfort; spoilers about wrio's past and voicelines; nightmares; imagery of death and blood (not reader's or wrio's).

A/N: i am so in love with this man, his 'more about wriothesley: v' hurt me so much, i wish to give him all the love he deserves. i talked with a friend about how wrio probably 'froze' most of the bad memories and thoughts of his past to not affect him so obviously, that's why he can say such worrying things so nonchalantly :'( please be happy for your birthday, my love 🥹

P.S: also, in a lighter note, please feast your eyes with eriimyon's good morning series, you're welcome.

It's dark, very dark. Wriothesley can barely see what's around him.

Where am I?

The air is completely still, as if everything is holding their breath in waiting. Waiting for something to happen.

For something terrible to happen.

Suddenly, a bright light blinds him, followed by a loud sound of something popping too close to his face.

"Happy birthday ••••••!"

Wriothesley's stomach churns. That was the name he had long abandoned. Those were the voices he hadn't heard in years.

Voices he shouldn't be hearing anymore.

Blinking to adjust to the newly lit room, a kitchen foreign and yet so familiar, he settles his stare at the two people he shouldn't be seeing anymore.

"...Is something wrong ••••••?"

"Are you feeling alright, son?"

Son... I'm nobody's son.

The hand reached out to him is slapped away harshly, causing the woman to gasp in shock.

"••••••! How could you do this to your--!"

"SHUT UP! NOT ANOTHER WORD!!"

His voice booms over theirs, filled with hatred. Strangely, it sounded... different. Younger.

He looks to the side and saw a reflection of himself in a mirror: a boy staring back at him, his chest heaving, eyes blown wide with fear and a bloodied knife on his hand.

His attention snaps back to the scene before him, the cake with candles and birthday decorations are a stark contrast to the two dead bodies on the floor.

It's too much, too real, too vivid.

The smell, the scene, the hatred, the fear.

It's suffocating.

"...io! ...rling ..ak ...up!"

Someone please make it stop!

----------

"Wriothesley!"

Blue eyes shoot open, hand grabbing tightly whatever it was reaching for his face in reflex.

"It's okay, Wrio, it's me. I'm not going to hurt you, you're safe now."

The gentle voice manages to ground him, his eyes meeting your concerned expression. His grip relaxes, bringing your hand to cup his cheek to place a kiss inside your palm, an apology.

"...Sorry, did I wake you up, sweetheart?"

"It's fine, I had to go to the bathroom earlier, so I was already up." You observe the way your lover's chest move up and down quickly and the way the hand cupping yours is slightly clammy. "Bad dream?"

"...Yeah." Wriothesley closes his eyes, allowing a beat of silence to hang in the air, before elaborating. "Sigewinne scolded me for drinking too much tea, saying it wasn't healthy, and declared I should only drink her milkshakes for now on. Terrifying, right?"

That is an obvious lie, he knows. Totally unbefitting of someone in his position as the Duke, who is always five steps ahead of anyone. He knows. And he knows that you know he's lying through his teeth.

"Terrifying indeed..." You pull your hand away from his grasp to gently hold it instead, thumb caressing his knuckles. "But it's okay now, I'm here."

But, with you, he isn't the all knowing Duke of the Fortress of Meropide, Lord Incognito of the murky depths or whatever fancy title people give him. He is Wriothesley, a human like any other, who is plagued by nightmares from time to time. And who is blessed to have such a kind lover by his side, that chooses to play along with his weak excuse instead of pressing for answers.

"Say..." Your tone of voice makes him open his eyes again, curious to know what's on your mind. "I suddenly feel like having a cup of tea right now... Would you like to join me?"

"Drinking tea at..." Wriothesley stops, propping himself up with his elbows to glance at the clock on the bedside table. "2 in the morning doesn't sound very healthy, don't you think? The Head Nurse would surely scold us."

"Then we need to keep this a secret from her." You shrug, your smile bright even in the darkness of the bedroom. "Well?"

He doesn't even need to answer out loud, already getting up from the bed and pulling you along towards the kitchen.

----------

"Sweetheart, do we still have that jam you bought the other day?"

"I guess so. It should be in the fridge."

As your beloved always says, tea is best served with something sweet on the side, even if it's very late at night. Surely Sigewinne won't mind, right? ...Not that she'll find out about it.

Wriothesley opens the fridge, hoping to find that delicious jam imported from Sumeru you got recently, only for his eyes to fall onto a cake.

Happy birthday Wriothesley!

Happy birthday ••••••!

The names begin to mix in his vision as he stares at the writing on the cake, those cursed voices from his nightmare coming back to ring inside his ears.

"Did you find it, love?" You ask while you finish pouring the hot water inside the matching mugs (one of a wolf and the other of a bunny) and letting the teabags to brew for a little bit. "Wrio?"

Hearing no response coming from the man, you turn around to find him just standing in front of the fridge as if hypnotized by something, gripping its handle a bit too tightly.

"...Wrio, are you okay?" You carefully place your hand on his arm and you watch as his unfocused eyes return to normal, blinking a few times before glancing at you. "What's wrong?"

"Ah, sorry, I got distracted by this." He points to something, opening the door more so you can see it, and Wriothesley has to cover his mouth to stop a chuckle at how big your eyes become at the sight of the cake.

"Shit, I forgot to cover it?!" He feels slightly bad watching the way you deflate. "It was supposed to be a surprise for later..."

"Hey, it's okay, I still got surprised. I had completely forgotten today was my birthday."

Listen, he swears he said that hoping it would cheer you up a little, that the surprise you had prepared wasn't ruined like you thought. But, seeing you frown further, now directed at him, he starts to think that wasn't a good idea.

Your lover opens his mouth, ready to apologize again, but you beat him to it.

"Since the cat's out of the bag now, I might as well roll with it..." Your expression changes from upset to determined and Wriothesley always marvels at how you can bounce back into action. "I have a few things I wish to tell you. Will you listen to me, Wrio?"

You could ask for the stars in the sky and he would ask how many of them you would want. Listening to you talk is something he'll gladly do forever, if it's up to him.

He sits on one of the kitchen stools, pulling you to stand between his legs and patiently waits for you to begin, his thumbs rubbing your knuckles and offering you a relaxed smile.

With a deep breath, you squeeze his hands to signal you are ready and start speaking the words coming from the depths of your heart.

"...You always says that the less people see of you, the happier their lives are. While I get where you're coming from, that has never worked for me."

"Ever since we first met, I've had this feeling of wanting to see you again. Again, while I understand the air of intimidation helps with being the warden and all that, you don't match the description of a dangerous man people have when talking about the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide... Especially when I catch your gloves and back filled with Melusine stickers~"

That last part makes Wriothesley huff, which, in turn, makes you laugh.

"The more time I spent with you, the more I got to know about the man behind the title of Duke... The more greedy I'd become. I'd wonder when I would have the next opportunity to visit you, to have tea with you, to watch you fight at the Pankration... Until I started to wish to be by your side as more than a friend."

"And when you started to open up to me, allowing me to treat your wounds, telling me about your worries and even about your past, that wish of mine only grew."

"...I know life has been cruel to you, ever since you were little. You went through things no one, much less a child, should experience..."

You pause, feeling a familiar pressure behind your eyes and a lump in your throat. You take another deep breath, your hands moving to your beloved's cheeks.

"But I want you to know that I am so, so glad you were born into this world. I'm so blessed to be by your side."

Wriothesley's breath hitches, his heart beating a bit too hard for comfort and his hands shake a little. In a way, it's the same reaction he had during his nightmare, but the feeling this time is far, very far from being fear.

It's love.

A love so deep and strong for you it's nearly painful. The kind of pain he wishes to feel for the rest of his life.

"...I want to make my wish now. Can we light up a candle on the cake, sweetheart?"

"...Huh?" You blink once, twice, three times... "You want... to make a wish? Now?!"

"What? You're not going to deny the birthday boy, are you?"

It's your turn to huff now. You could never deny him, not when he always does so much for you.

You place the cake on the table before him and observe with great interest as the flame of the candle lighting Wriothesley's handsome face, eyes closed in concentration before blowing out the small flame. He then opens his eyes to look at you.

"Want to know that I wished for?"

Truth to be told, you do. You'd love to know what could it be that he desires so much that he couldn't wait until later. Despite that, you shake your head.

"No, it's fine. It won't become true if you say it out loud."

By the Seven, you look so adorable, saying that so seriously despite it being just a superstition. He can't help but tease you lovingly.

"But I didn't wish for anything."

Silence. Only you blinking owlishly at your lover.

"Then why did you even want to light a candle for?!"

"Ouch, hey now! You shouldn't hit the birthday boy!" The man has the audacity to laugh, easily holding your fists in place to stop you from hitting him. "I didn't wish for anything, but I wanted to say thanks to someone."

"Thanks? To whom?"

"...To whatever deity that took pity on me and was benevolent enough to grace me with their most perfect angel."

Your cheeks flush in no time, his eyes full of adoration making you feel bashful.

"Oh, stop it. I'm no angel!"

"Hmm, yeah. On second thought, you're right." He grins and pulls you into his embrace. "You're probably a deity then, rather than an angel."

"Wrio!"

"What? Shocked that I've uncovered your secret?" He chuckles at you rolling your eyes, not missing the way you bite your lips to stop a smile.

"Seriously speaking now, I do consider you as someone incredibly special. Thanks to you, I've achieved things I could never have done by myself, like being able to trust other people."

"...Even though the past can't be changed, I can now say I have a happy present. And I dare say that I'll have a happy future as well, with you by my side."

He dries the lone tear that escapes from your pretty eyes, chest bursting with deep love for you and hopes the kisses he places on your lips can convey his true feelings, when any and all words that he knows fail to do it.

----------

His birthday was something Wriothesley had long since stopped caring about.

His previous birthday is related to a time of his life he'd rather leave behind and never look back at It, while his current birthday is the day he was convicted for his crime.

Suffice to say that none of those dates have a positive memory behind them.

Now, however, as the two of you return to bed after having tea, biscuits with jam and many kisses in between, Wriothesley believes this year's November 23rd is the first one he actually wants to celebrate.

To celebrate the first time he actually feels thankful for his birth.

#blue.writes: genshin impact #blue.writes: angst #blue.writes: fluff #blue.writes: wriothesley #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader

[thelightsandtheroses]

six. even the iron still fears the rot

Your Hand In Mine | Joel Miller x female reader.

Chapter summary: the past comes back to haunt you leading to a drastic decision. Chapter warnings: angst, discussions and flashbacks to descriptions of cults, religion and cult behaviour, past emotional abuse, love bombing and manipulation, the cult leader is a dangerous person, one instance of physical violence, guilt, PTSD , there is the very briefest allusion to homophobia (not direct), flashbacks, discussions of death and canon typical violence, passing mention of being an orphan, breakups, reference to pregnancy (reader is a single mother).  Reader has a backstory but no physical descriptors. Word Count: 4.4k Notes -This is a big chapter, beginning a plot I have had planned for a long time and that I was so nervous about. I must thank the lovely @joelsgreys encouraged and supported me to write this idea from the start. The chapter title is from Ptolemaea by Ethel Cain (who can you believe I only discovered last week?!) Also I changed the image aesthetic a bit as I've loved seeing some other fics with this sort of three pic moodboard recently.

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“We need to talk about the Junction.”

In seven words, Beau and Sean have swept away every sense of security, of hope, of foolish optimism from you.

None of you speak as you unlock the library with shaking, sweaty hands. It takes three attempts to put the key in the lock, you can hear a strange sound, almost like an injured animal in the distance. The three of you walk in.

You lean against the wall, shutting your eyes as you try and centre yourself before you can look at your best friends’ faces.

“What’s happened?” you ask finally. "Why are you bringing up the past?"

Now is not then, you tell yourself. You are not that person anymore - you are a mother, you are stronger, more resilient. You repaired your cracks with gold. You are whole, you are different, you are you.

The Junction has no idea what they’re facing. If they’re here. If this is happening.

Sean reaches into his pocket and produces a small piece of paper. There’s a design on it, simple but familiar.

“Tommy and Joel found this less than five miles away on patrol. It was carved onto a tree.”

“Carved?”

“Yeah, so they took a sketch of it. They were asking around the Tipsy Bison about it, wondered if had seen the symbol before - knew it wasn’t Fireflies or FEDRA, guess it worried them. They showed it to me,” Beau says flatly. “I wondered if it was them, so I went straight to Sean. He said - he said it was, or he thinks it is. We need you to confirm it though.”

“It’s them, isn’t it?” Sean asks, his voice soft and eyes desperate for you to say no, to stop this nightmare in its tracks.

You can’t say it. You can only nod, meeting your best friend’s heartbroken eyes reluctantly.

“Scouting symbol,” you say quietly. ‘He designed it as a code but he designed a lot of things like that, I didn’t expect much  would come of it at the time. I guess -” You pause. “If they’re nearby then it sounds they lost the settlement and have been moving around. I can’t remember exactly what the symbol was meant to mean, but it was definitely for scouting, or to mark - to mark something.”

You thought you would have more time. Time to build something with Joel, to watch Gabriel become the man you know he will be. You had started to hope, to dream.

Dreaming has always been dangerous.

You’ve been on borrowed time for seventeen years.

You expected to panic, to feel more anxious or upset. You had thought you’d sob, fall apart on the floor like you have before, burn with the agony of it all. There’s ice running through you instead and a cool detachment. You don’t recognise your voice, don’t recognise your body. You’re gone, an observer watching a stranger so far away from reality.

“How soon can we get ammo, get supplies?” you ask.

“You can’t think we’re going to outrun this, sweetheart. Not when they’re less than five miles away,” Beau says, shaking his head.

“We’re fucked,” Sean whispers, “less than five miles this morning, they could be - shit. We can’t even run, can we? We’re fucked.” He looks down at his hands, rakes his hands over his hair.

Your past has finally come back to haunt you.

You should have just told Gabriel the truth about his father.  You should have told him where you took him away from.

You should have told him a lot of things.

2004

“We are at a moment right now where the only thing we can do is change. The old ways failed us; we let our hate, our differences, our selfishness dictate our lives and we have all paid a price for this. In our loss, in their names, we stand at a junction and we have a choice right now. Will you listen to me? Will we move forward together and carve a new path, take the route to peace and away from the horrors we have seen?”

The world’s changed a lot in the last six months. Pandemics, death, a whole new dictionary where abbreviations like FEDRA, QZs mean something now and some many words have become redundant. There’s been a lot of death. Survival, that feels like the best outcome right now, living feels like something impossible.

They’ll find a cure soon. The smartest people left in the world are working on it.

They’ll find a cure soon.  This can’t go on like this forever.

They’ll find a cure soon. There’s no other option.

One day in a year or two, you’ll look back on this with Sean and giggle. Do you remember the winter of 2003? Do you remember when we had to live in a QZ and when mushrooms became sinister for a short time? It’ll be something to tell your grandchildren, huddled around a fire and after a long and normal life. You’ll go back to cinemas and dinner at restaurants, to finally getting broadband installed, to a future. There will be scars, of course, but society will move on before you’ve even recognised those.

Humanity will survive, it will endure this. You have to believe that.

There are rumours though - rumours of life in and outside the QZ being lawless, of the loss of society, that humanity isn’t thriving right now.

You had different plans for this year. You didn’t expect to be in a small one bedroomed apartment with Sean. You didn’t expect to be an orphan - or an assumed one at least. Maybe they’re still alive. You hope they are, hope their flight made it to their location, that Cordyceps isn’t so bad over there. You wonder what their lives are like - a two-week vacation that’s turned into months. You’ll laugh about this with them one day.

You live in denial because it’s easier. Because one day this will be all a bad memory. You’ll be back on the path towards the life and career you were working towards, and the months spent picking up shifts in a laundromat and community kitchen to live in a run-down building will soon be a distant memory.

You meet him on a Tuesday. You’re at the laundromat and reading a battered library book, enjoying this rare moment when you’re alone,  when he walks in.

There’s something about him that immediately commands your attention. He’s tall, muscular and carries himself with confidence.

“Hi,” he says, noticing you watching him.  “Haven’t seen you before.”

You nod, placing your book down quietly. “There’s only one dryer working, I’m afraid.” You’re not sure if there’ll ever be more than one dryer working at this point - there’s a shortage of parts and tumble dryers are hardly a priority right now. The one working dryer will just become a Frankenstein of other machine parts, of hope and duct tape until it finally dies. Maybe there will be a cure by then though.

“That’s no worry. I’m Ethan,” the man replies with a faint smile.

You say your name in response and he repeats it like he’s trying to store it in his memory. You feel exposed, perceived in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

You suspect though. You suspect that somehow an axis has marginally tilted, a change has occurred.

You don’t believe in love at first sight. Life isn’t like a movie after all, or if it is, then right now it’s only a horror film. You don’t believe that you can just fall someone instantly. Or you didn’t.

It’s magnetic, his energy, his charisma. You love how his voice sounds, the way his hair falls slightly into piercing eyes. He speaks with care, looks at you like he really cares what you think to his words. He reminds you of the men you’d fantasise about meeting while in college. You thought you’d just wander into a coffee shop on your way to your next seminar and there he’d be.

Even here in a dingy and dirty laundromat, you feel those butterflies.

You’re sure you’ve never met anyone like him before and you have a sense that you will never meet anyone else like him.

You have no idea how right you are.

“Is it a church thing? Really?” Sean asks, taking a gulp of water before leaning against the kitchen sink. “I thought you said after your parents -”

“I don’t think it’s really religious,” you say, “Ethan told me it was more about a sense of self than anything theistic. It’s like a support group from what he said.”

“Thought you hated therapy.”

“Yeah, well, then the world ended.”

“Touché. Can’t you go alone?”

“I could, but I don’t want to,” you say, a teasing smile as you meet your best friend’s eyes.  “I want you to meet Ethan. Tell me what you think.”

You need Sean to meet Ethan because it feels like Ethan could be important. You want Sean to like him, to approve of him. You need to him to.

“I don’t know, hon, it sounds - I don’t know what it’s about.”

“Sean, it’s just a workshop, what harm could it possibly do?”

Sean cocks an eyebrow and sighs. “Fine, we’ll check it out. How bad can it be?”

Famous last words.

“The Junction is here. Humanity has failed in our mission, but it isn’t all lost. We can start afresh, become something better. Every one of us in this room has hope, has what is needed to rebuild our world to save us. The threats of cordyceps, of violence cannot stand in our way …  we must not let these evil forces win.”

It starts so slowly. You become friends as he frequents the launderette more and more. You get to know each other..

You’re not what sure to expect from his workshops but his words are compelling. He makes sense. What he says is rational - until it strays into something else, but it’s still got that root of logic. He’s just stressed, you reason, more people are talking about the workshops.

You fall for him.

He brings you a bunch of roses to the laundrette. Roses.

You haven’t seen roses since the outbreak, you’re not sure anyone has ever bought you flowers like this. You have no idea how he’s got them, but he’s got them for you.

He’s so smart, so compassionate and it’s more than that, he really listens to you. Falling in love with Ethan is the easiest thing in the world.  You hadn’t spent much time dating before the outbreak, had been too afraid in the immediate aftermath. You think Ethan might be the first man you’ve ever fallen in love with.

He starts to invite to sit with him at his workshops, places an arm around you when you speak in sessions. You swell with pride because out of everyone, he’s chosen you.

So you drag Sean to more workshops, you bring friends from your apartment building. You want more people to hear Ethan because he’s changed your life. What else could he do for people?

Time passes. Ethan’s language starts to change again. It’s starting to shift from collective processing of the trauma, the unceasing horror of the last year to something different. It’s less about you all and more about Ethan, about his visions and him. Ethan knows the way through the Junction.

He’ll lead you all through.

It’s your fault really, what happens next. You set everything in motion. You’re almost mugged on the way home from the launderette one night. His next workshop talks about the pain of this post-cordyceps world, of the way FEDRA encourages lawlessness to steer us from the right path, towards evil and ruin.

He says that the QZ is actively fighting against you all need to do. It is fighting for the wrong turn at the next junction. That can’t happen. You can’t raise a family here, make a life, not when society continues to fall apart in front of you. You’re scared walking to your apartment at night now, so you think he must be right. There’s the possibility of something better with him.

So when Ethan says maybe it’s time to leave the QZ, you think he might be right. Of course you’d go with him, where else could you go? You beg Sean to come with you, you’re terrified he’ll die when the QZ falls otherwise.

That’s another mistake.

2005

“The thing is, it’s not about cordyceps. Not really. That was only the vehicle to lead us here, to show me the way forward. We must build afresh here. I have been spoken to and I know this - this community is the only way humanity survives. I will lead us to ensure that humanity is not lost. We had to leave the QZ because the agents of chaos and evil were there, they knew what we needed to do, they knew my mission. We have a chance here. We have a chance here to grow and survive and thrive. This is my mission, our collective goal. The Junction will succeed where FEDRA failed, where the old ways. I received a message; we’re heeding it by being here. The hard work is being done now. The Junction is the future.”

The Junction move to what was once a gated community many miles outside of the QZ. It’s self-sufficient to a point, with high walls, generators, and access to facilities. In some ways,  it’s almost like a miniature QZ- it’s better though.

 A former resident suggested the location to Ethan and he said he knew right there and then it was where you all need to be. He said it was a sign; that he was told everyone needed to be there.

It’s going to be idyllic. That’s what he’s promised. It’s what you believe.

You love him.

You marry Ethan on a summer’s day to the entire Junction as witnesses. You are so in love, you don’t see the looming clouds, the storm ahead. It’s a whirlwind romance, a sign of hope in this terrifying world. Your relationship, he tells you, is a symbol for all of his followers, it’s the lynchpin to keep your community together.

You read through his notes, they’re less like inspirational words and more like sermons now, but he says that’s fine. He says he’s spoken to the Divine . It’s his duty, his destiny. It’s yours to help him too.

You believe he is a good man. It’s your responsibility to help him lead everyone through this mess.

You love him.

When you’re in love you can excuse things though. Those subtle language shifts: we to I, debates on decisions to instructions, the focus on how you represent him as opposed to how you feel, what you want.

The pressure starts to constrict around your neck just a little. It’s all becoming too much, you’re not Ethan, you don’t know how to be a leader, or a leader’s wife.

You take every note he offers in the spirit of self-improvement , tweak every behaviour to get things right. Ethan needs this from you.

The Junction needs this from you.

You need to do better.

You love him.

And if you notice the way Sean’s brow furrows every time you speak or see him now, the way he shakes his head sometimes, or the way he opens his mouth but doesn’t seem able to say the words he wants to,  you put it aside. He’s struggling to adjust - that’s all.

It has to work here.  If it doesn’t, you know you will die outside the Junction, that the QZs will already be falling. Ethan tells you he’s heard on the radio numerous have already fallen. You can’t find the same messages on the radio when you try alone though. You believe him though.

You’re the last stand for humanity.

This is the only way.

Ethan is your only option.

You are so in love with him.

Time passes. There’s a bad harvest, the seeds don’t take. Ethan says, it’s a sign the group’s faith is false, that they are somehow poisoning the group. Ethan becomes obsessed with the fact he needs to root the traitor out.

You’re not allowed to proof-read his speeches anymore, not involved in his congregation. He won’t discuss his beliefs, his visions with you.

You are in love with him though.

His eyes on you feel searching, scathing, and sinister.

You start to feel scared; a twisting sense of sickness and fear that perhaps this, this isn’t going to be okay. This isn’t just an intentional community, is it?

You have doubts about Ethan too, about the glint in his eyes, about the way he sometimes talks about Sean or other congregants, about you. 

He doesn’t like you leaving the house these days because you keep saying the wrong things, keep unintentionally undermining his views. You stop answering the door to Sean, you listen to old radio broadcasts and wish you could be a better wife. A better believer.

After one sermon, he breaks the radio by throwing it against the living room wall. Your world becomes so much smaller again.

The doubts are getting louder now. Maybe the Junction is … no, that word belongs in movies and tv shows, in a time that’s long since passed. However, maybe it’s not what you thought. Maybe Ethan’s not what you thought.

It’s just … you really do love him, right?

“Is it you?” Ethan asks, eyes wild and desperate. You’re not sure what’s happened; one second you’re in your kitchen, sitting at the table and talking to him and now you can feel the cold wall against your back, Ethan’s hot breath so close to you, the feel of his hand on your hair. “Are you the reason why? Are you the reason why this is falling apart? You don’t believe, do you? It’s you, it’s you. You’re a curse, you’re a goddamned curse.” “Of course I believe, of course I do.” “You’re lying.” He’s right about that. Ethan is not who you thought. The Junction is dangerous. You need to leave. You know this now. You don’t want to die here.  You don’t want Sean to die here either; you bought him into this mess, the two of you need to leave this place soon.  Alive.

Jackson, WY, 2024

There isn’t much of a choice. You need suppliers, weapons, a plan before you can even think about leaving Jackson.

Beau’s right - this isn’t something you can outrun. It isn’t as simple as it used to be. Gabriel’s too old to be told he’s going on an adventure and cheerfully tag along without question - it was hard enough getting him to leave Kansas.

There’s Joel too, Ellie … you don’t know what to tell them.

You know that Jackson isn’t safe with the looming threat of the Junction. You’ve built a life here; a home and you want to protect that.

Besides they could already be here, you think, mentally running through every trader or newcomer you remember seeing in recent weeks.

“Is everything okay?” Gabriel asks softly, sitting next to you on the faded couch. “Beau and Sean seem … tense.”

“They’re fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Gabriel frowns, looks away.

You could tell him. He’s sixteen. You could tell him the truth. He wants the truth.

You can barely live with it though; barely live with your own part in it all. You proofread his sermons. You want to give him a father that’s safe, a memory of a good man. Not a deranged, dangerous cult leader.

The air is thick with smoke. You can hear the flames consuming the wooden building, can hear people yelling in the distance. Your distraction failed. There’s a gun in your hands, aiming at him. You can’t stop shaking. “Just - just let us leave,” you say desperately. “You’re my wife.” “Ethan -” “You’re pregnant, you think I didn’t know?” Your panic heightens. This is the reason you’ve been desperate to escape with Sean, to find somewhere else ... you didn’t think he knew. “I won’t let you go like this. I won’t let you take a child from me.  My child. They’re going to - when he’s born, everything will be okay again.” No. Ethan cannot be in your child’s life. You cannot raise a child in a cult. You raise your hands once more and pull the trigger.

“You know I love you, right?” you ask your son.

“Mum,” he groans, sounding out every syllable - the epitome of a teenager, ”Of course I know that.”

“Good, I’d do anything for you, kid.”

 Love.

It’s a strange word; a weapon, a revelation, a lullaby. You grew up with messages about soulmates, about princesses finding their Prince Charming and happy-ever-afters. The world changed; those views were exposed for their naïveté more than ever. It became a dream. Something for other people, not you. Then you met Ethan and love became real, tangible. Dangerous.

You didn’t want that type of love again. Relationships were casual, you kept detached, held something back.

Then Joel stole your goddamn bench and ruined everything.

You feel an ache in your stomach as you watch him working on the porch of an empty house. The mailbox says it belonged to the Bensons, you wonder where they are, what became of them, who will move to this house one day.

“How is it?” you call.

Joel looks up and over at you, a smile widening.

You want to drink in every detail of Joel, commit every freckle, the feel of his fingers on your skin, the sound of his voice as he talks to you, the way he looks when he wakes up … every single part of him.

“Hi,” he says lowly, wincing slightly as he stands up. “It’s in pretty good shape actually - just the porch here needs some work.”

“Wow,” you say, aimlessly swinging your hands as you move closer to him.

“How’s the library been?”

“I wasn’t there today,” you say, honestly, “I had to help Sean.” Not that either of you achieved much. You were in the greenhouses and spent most of your day planning, panicking, and pacifying your anxieties.

There were no immediate solutions to the situation you’d found yourselves in so none of you slept much last night as the worry permeated your mind. Except for Gabriel, perhaps - your beautiful son, the reason you needed a better plan.

Well, there are other reasons too.

Joel touches your shoulder gently. “You okay, sweetheart? You look -”

“Don’t, don’t you finish that sentence, darling,” you say in your breeziest voice.

Joel frowns slightly, furrows his brow.

“How’s Ellie?” you ask, desperate to get this conversation back on track.

“She’s good. Gabriel?”

“I think he has a girlfriend,” you admit, giving yourself just a moment of normality. “Or boyfriend. I think he’s dating, regardless.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh, he’s got the signs.” It pulls at your heart; your son won’t want to leave Jackson. He’s building a life here. A decent one.

You were starting to do the same.

“I am not looking forward to that with Ellie,” Joel admits.

You raise an eyebrow. “Really? You’re worried?”

“Who doesn’t worry?”

“Touché.”

“So, what’d I owe the pleasure of this visit to?” he asks, honey sweet as he slips his hands around your waste, leans close to you, his lips on the edge of your collarbone. “not that it isn’t a highlight of my day.”

“Just wanted to say hello.” You feel the heat of his breath as he chuckles, kissing you briefly.

He smells like soap and the outdoors. There’s a lingering hint of mint, of firewood too.

“That works for me.”

He guides you against the wall and as he works his way up your neck, to your jaw, mumbling sweet nothings against your skin, you wish it could be different.

You want to stay here in this moment, or at least you want to stay here with Joel right now.

They could already be on their way.

“Joel -”I love you.

The words hang in the air, unspoken but clear. He must know, surely?

“Yeah?” he asks, looking at you carefully.

“I don’t think this is working anymore.”

You know you shouldn’t look at him, but you owe him this at least.

His face crumples; confusion, shock, uncertainty. You watch how he works through every moment before shaping his expression into something blank, a look you haven’t seen him wear before.

“Why?” he asks gruffly.

“I just think we need to pause things.”

“Is it because of what happened with Ellie?”

“No, no, not at all,” you say in a panic, remembering the stern conversation you’d had after Ellie’s suspicious accident.

Joel is in the kitchen with his arms folded, flannel rolled up to his elbows and his  scarred, tanned skin exposed. “Total honesty […] that goes both ways, sweetheart.”

Joel was right and he deserves honesty, he deserves someone who can tell him their truths, but you can’t. Not yet.

Not when Gabriel doesn’t know, not when you fear the inevitable judgment on Joel’s face. You helped him edit his sermons, you married him, you didn’t see it until it was too late. Ignorance doesn’t excuse complicity to you though.

You need to protect Ellie too, protect Joel, protect Jackson as well as your family. The Junction would be so dangerous to them - they’re an invasive species, they see something habitable and they would take it over, spread the rot from inside. They might already be doing that.

You can’t be with Joel right now. You just can’t.

A thousand words sit at your lips; you will yourself to give him some sort of explanation, some sort of better parting. When you’re dead, he’ll remember this. maybe it’s better this way. You ruin yourself to him now so he doesn’t have to mourn you, so you’re not another loss or excuse to shut his heart away. You are committing a kindness to him and incomparable damage to yourself because you do love him. You do, you love him in a way that terrifies and soothes you all at once. You feel like it’s been years and decades but maybe Joel is the right person for you at last.

You will not damn him to mourn another lost love though.

This is a kindness.

“I’m sorry,” you say flatly and you step off the porch and away from him, unable to look back in case he disappears.

It’s for him, it’s for him, you’re doing this for him, for Ellie, for Gabriel, for Sean and Beau. This pain is your penance.

Tag List

YHIM: @orcasoul@pedropascalsbbg @yoursoulsunbreakable@iamskyereads@genetics4life@everyth1ngfan@frickatives@perennialdoll247@joelsgreys@pedrobaby@missladym1981@noisynightmarepoetry@picketniffler @titlee78

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed@pedrostories@hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #your hand in mine fic #fic: your hand in mine

[intuitively-her]

How can you improve your finances?

Pile 1-(Page of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, Page of cups, 7 of cups, Knight of swords, 3 of swords, 4 of wands rx, 9 of swords, Death) *angel answers: You're ready! ; communicate clearly with others

You've gotta do some self-improvement babe. Get focused and figure out what career path fits you best. Now is the time to hustle! Separate your needs and wants. Figure out your likes and dislikes. Stop being so unsure of yourself. You've got this! Set small goals, and then move to the bigger ones. Life is not a race. Pace yourself. Stop searching for the "perfect" thing and realize the potential that already surrounds you. Everything you need is right in front of you. Literally at your fingertips! You've got to change your negative thinking and eliminate your fears as well. It seems like you had some type of falling out with someone or maybe there was some drama at a past workplace. It feels like this has caused you to turn cold and not be as receptive to others. You need to connect and put yourself out into the world more. Closing yourself off like this will only create more blockages.

Pile 2-(Temperance, Wheel of fortune, 6 of pentacles rx, Queen of swords, King of swords, The Moon rx, Ace of swords, 8 of cups, 8 of swords) *angel answers: Don't stop! ; Ask your angels

It's time to pour into your own cup for once. Do something nice for yourself. Even if it means a solo date/vacation. Practice discipline with people and certain habits you have. This could include smoking, etc. Learn to say no! Stop hanging out with that certain friend/lover when you know you shouldn't be. This could even be people that come and ask you for money often. Don't be so over extensive to others. Not everyone deserves your time and energy. You need to start seeing people/situations for what they really are. Take your rose-colored glasses off pls. Your environment/whoever you're choosing to spend time with is literally holding you back. You're too distracted and over giving to others right now. Go into hermit mode and focus on yourself for a while.

Pile 3-(The Star, The High Priestess, 9 of pentacles, 4 of pentacles, 5 of pentacles, The Sun, 2 of swords, 5 of wands, Queen of cups, Knight of cups, Page of wands) *angel answers: It's up to you! ; Ask for help from others *angel # confirmation: 555

You need to stay true to yourself and do what you feel is right. Follow your intuition! It's stronger than what you think. I feel like sometimes you let opinions of others affect you. This may cause you to get in your head a lot about whether or not you're doing the right thing. These people could never reach the success that you're meant to reach in this life. So stop giving their opinions so much weight. Stop caring what others think. Stop telling people about your ideas. Just follow your dreams! Whatever creative ideas you have right now, put them into action. Maybe you've been wanting to start a small business or something related? DO IT! I'm also feeling like you don't enjoy a lot of attention and may like to remain in the background. You're meant to be in the spotlight babe! You've gotta get used to it. I think there's actually many people that would want to collaborate with you. You have to express yourself more. BE WHO YOU ARE!🤣 Seriously tho, you need to get comfortable in you own skin. Let people see the real you. You're way too amazing to keep yourself hidden the way you do.😘

*channeled song: Human nature by Madonna

Pile 4-(8 of wands, The Lovers rx, 3 of cups, 2 of cups, 2 of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, 6 of cups, 6 of swords) *angel answers: Wait! ; Romance *angel # confirmation: 888

You need some balance in your life. I'm feeling in your relationships mainly. This could be with family. Maybe there's some loose ends from your past that still need to be tied? You've gotta balance your work and play as well. It's okay to let yourself have fun, but not to the point where the party life controls you. For others, you need to go out and have more fun! Stop keeping yourself so wrapped up in work. Practice having more control in situations and standing your ground. Stop letting others walk all over you. Travel would benefit you as well. Even if it's just an hour or so away. I feel like seeing different walks of life will open your mind to new possibilities. Lastly, you need to go with the flow of life more. I know you're probably tired of hearing that.🤣 Everything will happen as it's supposed to tho. You are right where you need to be. I promise babe.

#tarot #tarot reading #pick a card #pick a pile #pick an image