#and i know if i wait for the grief to be manageable again it's gonna be a fucking while with how i grieve

[lightkrets312]

wish i was one of those artists that could make poetry from pain or whatever, something in honor. all i’ve got is pain though.

#i dunno how to make something that would be respectful though #mostly cause i don't wanna make something that's just about me and my feelings- despite being locked in my own head for like a year #i'd like to make something good but i think i gotta be all hurt or whatever the fuck about it. #...long story short is i'm trying to cope but i wanna also do something nice- #and i know if i wait for the grief to be manageable again it's gonna be a fucking while with how i grieve #i'm. not looking forward to doing this song and dance a third time. it's a long fucking dance. #my post #my art #bad vibes #i'm gonna miss ya friend

[whateveriwant]

Choice

Summary: Simon forces you to choose. Him, your husband… or the other man he found in your bed.

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: ANGST

A/N: Forgive me.

“Simon!” you gasp, bolting upright in bed.

There, darkening the doorway to your bedroom, stands your beloved husband. You thought you'd spotted something lurking in the shadows of your periphery, but rather than it being a mere figment of your imagination like you'd hoped, you've come to find out that's not at all the case.

Simon’s brows are knitted tightly together, the lines framing the sides of mouth deepening as he begins to scowl. “Fuckin’ knew it,” he grits out. “Knew you were a fuckin’ liar.” His eyes flit back and forth between you and the figure lying beside you in bed, and if looks could kill, you'd both be six feet under.

“Simon, no, wait–!” You're quick to shoo the other male from your bed even as your husband storms away. Jumping to your feet, you chase after him, tugging your shirt into place from where it had ridden up. Simon’s just reached the living room when you manage to catch up with him. “Simon, please just–”

“When will enough be enough?” he cuts you short as he whirls around to confront you. You've never seen such anger rippling from him before, and it makes you recoil, stopping dead in your tracks. “When's it gonna end, huh? You promised me you were gonna fuckin’ stop this.”

“I-I-I know I did, Simon,” your voice trembles under the weight of your shame.

He's right. After the last time, you’d told him that was it, that it would never happen again.

So much for keeping your promise.

“I'm– I'm so sorry,” you try to offer him, for whatever it may be worth.

Apparently, it's worth very little as he proceeds to scoff right in your face.

“You’re ‘sorry’?” His expression pinches to show how he takes offense to that apology. “That’s three times this month I've caught you. Three. Let alone how many other times I'm sure have been behind my back.”

Again, he’s right on the target. You’ve been dishonest with your husband, been deceiving him more times than you can even remember at this point. Though you're in no place to feel as if you're the one that's been hurt in this situation, you can't help how his biting words feel like daggers plunging right into your stomach.

Simon sighs and brings a hand up to rub his forehead, the self-soothing gesture doing nothing to soften the lines creasing his skin. After a while, he asks, “Why?” his voice much calmer than it was a moment ago. “Why d’you keep doin’ this? Lyin’? Sneakin’ around?”

When he drops his hand to look at you again, you can see how quickly his emotions have shifted from fury to sorrow. The sight of his grief almost wrenches your heart in two, and you swallow the lump in your throat, your own emotions threatening to spill forth and choke you.

“I… I don't know,” you tell him, yet another lie.

You know the truth behind your actions, the real reason you can't break this bad habit. It's because you're selfish; because you're spineless; because you're fucking weak.

Your answer, the unconvincing slop that is, isn't good enough for Simon, and his shoulders rise in a show of perplexity. “Am I not treatin’ you right? I've been withholdin’ from you? Is that it?”

You're shaking your head before he even finishes the inquiry. “No, Simon. It's nothing like that,” you say.

“Well then, explain it to me.” He tosses a hand into the air, the frustration in his tone palpable. “Because I'm tryin’ to understand what makes him so bloody special. What is it about him that makes you treat me like a fuckin’ afterthought?”

“I don't–!” you begin, the accusation immediately putting you on the defense. But then you pause and intake a deep breath, trying to rein yourself back in. The last thing you want is to strike a match against this highly combustible conversation. If ignited, this powder keg runs the risk of taking you both out with it.

You take another moment to collect yourself before releasing an audible exhale. “Yes, he means a lot to me–”

“Oh, well, I'm bloody well aware of that, thank you.”

You ignore the derisive comment as you continue, “–but you're my husband, Simon. At the end of the day, I always want you,” you emphasize. You can feel a stitch forming between your brows as they slowly pull together. “I know you're upset with me – and I understand, truly – but I… I-I just…” your voice trails off as you consider your next words.

You know what you want to say, what niggling thought you want to express. But you're not sure if voicing it aloud is the right move to take. You're trying to cool down the tension here, not potentially add fuel to the fire.

But as Simon prompts, “What?” you realize there's no backing out of it now.

You sigh. “I just think you're blowing this whole thing out of proportion.”

The way your husband's eyes immediately widen tell you it was probably better to have kept your mouth shut.

“Blowin’ thi–?!” Simon blinks wildly in disbelief, his anger from earlier surging back tenfold. His voice is venomous as he spits, “I catch you lyin’ to me, catch you continuously goin’ behind my back.” He points an accusatory finger in the direction of your bedroom. “I catch you with that filthy shite in our bed–”

“Hey, don't call–”

“–see him lyin’ there, sleepin’ on my fuckin’ pillow, and you think I'm ‘blowin’ this out of proportion’?!” he's fully shouting now, his volume having risen alongside his fury. Simon lets out a dry chuckle that's entirely devoid of humor. “Do you even hear yourself? Do my feelings mean nothin’ to you anymore? Do you– Do you even really love me?” his voice peaks as a wave of despair washes over him.

“Wha–?” Now it's your turn to blink wildly as you're caught off guard by that last sentence. “Of– Of course I do, Simon! Of course.” How can he even ask you such a thing?

“You just love him more, then, right?” The question stings like a punch to the gut.

You shake your head vehemently, asserting, “No. No, of course not!” even as you feel a twinge of guilt pricking the base of your skull.

Just as you're slightly skeptical of your own words, so too is Simon, and he brushes you off with a, “Pssh, right.”

The heightened emotions of the last several minutes persist even as you and your husband lapse into a tense silence.

As you stand there, you watch as Simon begins to harshly run both hands through his hair, not sure what you should say – if there's anything to say in this moment. Though you and he have had this same argument more times than you'd like to admit, something about this time felt different to you, felt like there were higher stakes in the mix. And as you reflect on the quarrel, you can't help how one line in particular sticks out in your mind. ‘You just love him more, then, right?’ he'd accused, bluntly, bitterly.

The idea is ridiculous to you, loving someone else more than your own husband. It sounds like something only a fool could believe.

But if that's the case, why did Simon say it so assuredly?

And why does the thought of it make your stomach clench like there could be some truth behind the claim?

After another few moments of him tugging at his roots, Simon releases a billowy breath. He briefly closes his eyes and shakes his head to himself, before dropping his hands back down by his sides.

“I don't know how much longer I can keep this up,” his voice sounds as exhausted as his body looks. As he peels his lids open to once more lock with your gaze, you feel your own eyes narrowing in your confusion.

“What do you mean?” you ask, voice quiet, timid.

“I mean you need to choose,” he tells you. “Me or him.”

That statement has you balking, the cords that hinge your jaw shut practically snapping. “Si, you– you're not serious.” This has to be some kind of sick joke, right?

“I am.” He nods resolutely. “I can't keep doin’ this – goin’ back and forth with you, wonderin’ if you're really all here with me or not,” he says, frowning. “So you need to choose. Right now. Me… or him.”

It's like you've just witnessed your worst fears materialize before you. Simon, your loving husband, has just asked you to do something that was once completely inconceivable to you. He's asked you to make a world-altering choice: pick between him and someone else.

The decision should be easy – should be obvious – and yet, you find yourself frozen, unable to speak the words you know you should say.

Simon is your husband, the first and greatest love of your life. But this other man he's making you choose between is… well, he's something else to you entirely.

When you're having a rough day and feel like the world is collapsing in around you, he's the first one you want to run to when you need a shoulder to cry on. And conversely, when you're feeling on top of the world, feeling so high up you could reach out and touch the clouds, he's the one you want to call so you can share your joy.

From the moment you met him, you knew he was one of a kind. He's got a smile that could rival a thousand suns, a kiss that could warm the coldest of nights, and the way he looks at you – like you hold the entirety of his universe in the palm of your hand – you think it could keep your heart beating long after it's chosen to stop.

He's your best friend, your other half of a whole, your personal ray of sunshine that cuts through all the gloomy rain. Simon is your husband, yes, that’s true. But this other man is your soulmate, and you know that however long you both shall live, you will love each other until you take your final breaths.

Tears start to bead in your eyes as the answer to your predicament reveals itself to you. And as Simon eventually pushes, “Well? Who's it gonna be?” you know there's only one thing you can tell him.

“Him,” you mutter, feeling the first tear spill over. “H-Him, Simon. Him. I choose… him.”

It's like the planet ceases to spin for a moment as your choice floats in the air like a ghost. At first, you think Simon must assume you're bluffing, what with the way he has no immediate reaction to your response. But as the silence stretches between you and you've yet to renounce your decision, you watch as the realization hits him like a slug to the chest.

Simon's face falls, the color zapping from his skin, and as his eyes start to shine with tears, you find your cheeks flooding with your own.

Simon blinks rapidly, his nostrils flaring as he tries to keep his emotions at bay. His brow furrows like he wants to say something – to argue something – but when he opens his mouth to speak, no words escape. He closes his mouth for a second but then opens it again soon after, once more nothing leaving him but the sound of his breath.

Open then shut, open then shut, he repeats the cycle over and over again, never once managing to get a word out. Finally, after several minutes of waging an internal battle with himself, Simon eventually lets out a low sigh of defeat.

“Then go,” he mutters, gaze falling to the floor. “Just… Just go.”

Your own heart shatters at seeing the pain you've caused your husband. But you can't take back what you've said now, and even if you could, you both know it'd be a lie.

Thus, all you can offer him is a whispered, “I'm sorry.” Any louder and your voice would break from the strain of your cries.

The room falls quiet again as you both let everything sink in. Simon, your husband, the man you'd promised forever to, just put his heart on the line, practically flayed himself open for you… and you didn't choose him.

“I'm sorry,” you say again because you don't know what else there is to do.

Simon waves your apology off with a dismissive hand, still refusing to meet your eye.

Over the next few moments, you continue to sob softly, the sounds of your sniffles puncturing the otherwise quiet house. After a while, you feel the faucet behind your eyes gradually slow to a trickle, and you wipe your face with the back of your shaky hands, swallowing down the last of your tears.

You take another minute or so to compose yourself, still standing before your forlorn husband. Once you feel somewhat well again, you clear your throat, then tip your head back to let out a short, high whistle.

Almost immediately, you hear the telltale noise of feet moving against the hardwood floor. Then, not a beat later, you see the man you'd just chosen rounding the corner to the living room.

“Come here, pup-pup. Come here,” you encourage Riley, your fourteen month old shepherd-mix, forward.

Like the good boy he is, Riley trots closer at your beckoning. But before he reaches you, he makes a pitstop by Simon, shoving his cold, wet nose into the man's empty palm.

Riley gives him a couple boops to the hand, politely asking him for pets. And Simon, for his part, despite still being obviously disgruntled, obliges and gives him a brief, dispassionate rub to the snout.

Having received his desired scritches, Riley then continues over to you, and you crouch down so you can meet him at his level.

“You wanna go cuddle with me some more? Yeah? Do you?” you pitch your voice up in that babyish way Simon pretends to hate.

Riley, however, absolutely loves it, and his tail wags back and forth in a way that says he's all too eager to agree.

“Okay, let's go!” You wave him after you as you take off down the hall.

As you both walk back to the bedroom you'd been occupying earlier, you hear Simon speaking behind you, muttering angrily to himself.

“Mangy fuckin’ mutt. Knew he was gonna be trouble,” he murmurs as he makes up a spot for himself on the couch. “First he steals my bed, then he steals my cuddles, next he'll be stealin’ my fuckin’ car…” his voice peters out the further away you walk.

“Don't mind your daddy. He's just being grumpy as usual,” you stage whisper to Riley as you approach the door to your bedroom.

Letting yourself inside, Riley quickly follows after. You shut the door and then waltz over to the bed, patting the empty space beside you as you settle in.

Swiftly, Riley jumps up to join you, taking the side normally reserved for your husband. He moseys all the way up the mattress until he reaches Simon's pillow, where he proceeds to lay down.

You roll onto your side and start to pet him, scratching that spot behind his ears you know he loves. As you do, you see that infectious smile of his slowly take shape, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as his eyes drift closed.

The sight of him so content makes your own lips upturn into a smile. He is so sweet, so perfectly innocent, that it makes your heart want to burst inside your chest.

And as you continue to cuddle Riley, making little kissy noises in his ear, you know you made the right choice as you grin and ask him, “Who's my favorite boy?”

__________

A/N: April Fools! Hope I didn't break your heart too much lmao!

As always, I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley angst #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare 2

[yourjughead]

Boyfriend Part 2

Sweet Pea X Reader

-----------------------------------------

Sweet Pea pov

I made the short walk, well in my rage, the short run to Jugheads trailer. Lights out no body's home. Hm. Where would the usual spot for him and yn be, the thought making me feel sick. Whyte Wyrm? Nah Jughead was rarely there. If I was a horrible human being where would I go hmmmmm. Ah that diner on the Northside!

3rd Person 

You crossed the threshold of the Whyte Wyrm as quickly as you could, still processing what just happened to you. Arriving at the bar top, Toni sailed over to you smiling. 

"Hey YN, How'd the rekindling of the romance go?"

"It didn't, pass me one of the spare burners would ya". Toni reached into a large ceramic jar on one of the top shelves of the bar, retrieved a phone with a sim taped to back and tossed it to you. You gave a small smile in thanks and began to set it up. 

"Am I allowed to ask what happened or...."

"Ugh Toni what a mess, he thinks I'm dating Jughead" 

"Well aren't you?" 

"Yeah aren't you?" The sound of your father's voice joinging the conversation startled the two of you. Toni took a rag from the bar top and quickly exited the conversation to grab your father a replacement drink.

"Yeah Dad, of course" you tried to give a smile, barely convincing him. 

"Right well the two of you together is the Serpent dream. Me and FP are delighted, you settled with one person who's right for you and Jones kept away from that busybody blonde girl" your father gave you a wink before taking his drink from Toni.

"Speaking of which, I gotta go meet him" you nodded to the both as your new phone lit up to life. 

~ Simultaneously across town Sweet Pea POV

I raced across the old bridge on my motorbike, not fully knowing where I was going but closely following the trail of picket fences. What a sad existence this truly is. I finally came across the neon sign of Pop's Dinner through the torrential rain. 

From outside I could see Jughead and the outline of the back of her, seeminly wearing a hat. He looked so happy. Fuck him. I could see the two shake with laughter. I really messed up. I mean sure it hurts but we were never really exclusive and besides we could never be public like this. She deserves someone she can publicly love. I should just disappear. 

I went to push off again but then stopped as watch Jones lean across the table to kiss her. This is really the end. Her hat fell to the floor as he moved from her. Then it caught my eye. A long slicked back almost glowing blonde ponytail. That's not YN. I couldn't help but smile so wide. Thank God it's not YN! Wait.....thats not YN. Holy shit that's not YN! He's cheating on YN! 

3rd person 

Sweet Pea leapt from the bike so fast it nearly came crashing to the soaked gravel. Launching himself through the doors of the almost deserted diner has the few eyes that were there lock onto him. Including Jugheads. 

Jughead leapt from his chair, immediately putting his hands up in truce but it was too late. Sweet Pea had moved quickly across the diner to catch Jughead by the collar and push him into the back wall, all while leaving the blonde screaming. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you Jones?! You're gonna chest on YN?! I swear I'm gonna kill you?!" Sweet Pea barked as Jughead was losing colour in his face, the blonde girl trying as she best she could to seperate the two, failing greatly.

"You-dont-under-stand" Jughead choked out. Pop's ran for the phone to call the police as Sweet Pea glared deep within Jugheads eyes, overcome with grief and anger. 

From outside you could see what was happening, bolting in off your own bike and straight down to the bottom of the diner. 

"Sweet Pea stop!" You screamed, managing to wiggle between the two. Sweet Peas grip completly released from Jughead, sending him to the ground, Betty quickly tending to him.

"YN he's cheating on you with her!" 

"YN I thought you were gonna tell him?" Betty looked up at you both with pleading eyes. 

"Tell me what?" Confusion painted Sweet Peas face. "Tell me what?!" He tried again, banging his hand off the wall he just had Jughead against. 

"Me and Jughead -" you were cut off by the sound of sirens filling the car park. Both you and Sweet Pea gave panicked glances to one another, neither could afford another trip to the station.

You grabbed Sweet Peas hand, pulling him through to the girls bathroom. You went to grab anything to break through the window but turned to the crash of the glass from Sweet Peas fist. He groaned as his hand began to instantly swell with blood. You couldn't help but roll your eyes before carefully passing through the window, Sweet Pea trying his best to follow you without adding to the collection of cuts. 

You ran through the drenched woods behind the diner, down the banks and beneath the trees before arriving at the bridge between the two worlds. 

"They have the bikes, they'll go straight to the trailer park" Sweet Pea breathed out from beneath the shelter of the bridge. 

"I don't have plates on mine" you glanced out checking if anyone followed. 

"- and when they search yours it'll register to Greendale" Sweet Pea couldn't help but laugh at that, the Serpents think of it all. 

"Show me your hand" you took his bleeding extremity from his side to examine it under the above street lights. Little shards of glass shone out as you gently removed the larger pieces.

"That's all I can do without the kit, we'll sort it when we're home" he nodded at you thankfully before sliding down the wall of the bridge to the dirt, you following suit. 

"I hope FP doesn't find out about this, he's not gonna take it well that you went for his son"

"I don't care, he had it coming"

"Sweet Pea -" 

"He can't take you from me and then cheat on you YN" he cut across you, staring at the stream of water parallel to your feet. 

"Sweets I tried to tell you tonight, I tried to tell you before battle Royale broke out" 

"I'm sorry I flew off the handle....tell me what? You knew he was cheating on you?"

"We'd have to be actually dating for him to cheat on me" you looked worriedly over at the increasingly confused face of your partner in crime. 

"Jughead and I are just faking, he wants to keep dating the Betty girl and I want to keep being with you, it's just to keep our parents off of our backs" 

"No that's not true" Sweet Pea stood and began pacing. 

"I told you he has a gift for making up stories, this is one of them. Our dads were getting more and more on us about why we weren't together, this way it would stop them from asking questions. I wanted to tell you sooner but Jughead said we needed you to believe it first, to help Dad believe it" you stood to look at him.

"No no no no this isn't happening because that would mean I over reacted for nothing" 

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news but you over reacted, I'm sorry I lied" he stopped pacing at these words. The rain continued to almost bubble off of the rocks surrounding you both. 

"I'm sorry I got so angry and that I smashed your phone" 

"I'm sorry you ended up pinning Jughead to a wall" 

"Yeah I'm not sorry about that" you hit him playfullly into the chest at his jesting. Silence wrapped around the bridge again, the rain slowly easing. You put out your arms in truce and Sweet Pea happy wrapped his around your waist, holding you into his chest. 

"Sweets, Jughead and I have to keep pretending for awhile, just until it's believable that our break up would have no turning back" 

"Do you have to call him boyfriend though?" you gave a small smile at Sweet Peas evident insecurity. 

"Yeah but it's only pretend, you're the one I want to be with. Let's start walking home, I'm sure those cops are half way to Greendale by now" Sweet Pea gave a small nodd to your voice before taking your hand and pulling you up the bank and to the bridge. You dropped it then. 

"I can't risk being seen with you like that, I'm sorry" 

"It's okay YN, you can make it up to me at home" He winked and you were happy to see the playfulness return to him .

"By the way you owe me a new phone" 

"Have your boyfriend pay for one"

#riverdale #riverdale imagines #jughead jones #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale x reader #sweet pea fic #sweetpeaxreader #sweetpea x reader #sweetpea imagine #riverdale sweet pea #sweet pea #riverdale cw #fancfiction #jughead x betty #betty #jughead #sweet

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Ok my friend Imma gonna hit you up for some more 😜 Fic Roulette!!!

1. 6 and 16

2. 10 and 39!

Hehehe, I'm almost afraid to ask but yes, Hunter 😂

You did marvelous on the last ones! Can't wait to see what you'll do with these!!!

Ohhhh sweet @dragonrider9905 You thought you could stump me huh? Well you almost did. LOL. Just kidding.

I hope you enjoy both stories. This is 6 and 16.

Love oo,

Not Your Fault

Warnings: Feelings of guilt, mentions of death, fluff, grief, sadness, I think that's it. If I miss anything please let me know.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Omega laughed as you tried to do a fishtail braid, “Sorry,  hun, I’m doing my best here, but it’s coming out a little …” you scrunch your face as you look at your handiwork, “Let’s just say if this was a real fish’s tail, this fish would be dead. Do you mind if I start over?”

“No. Go ahead.” She answered with patience and love, just happy to spend time with you.

“Alright.” 

So you set to remake the fishtail, yet, no matter how hard you tried, the tails didn’t look even or how Omega wanted them, and she couldn’t stop laughing, “Omega,” you laughed unable to hold back, “I’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still.”

It was about another hour when you had finally managed to get the tails to look like tails and to make them even enough they wouldn’t embarrass her, make her look odd or like a crazy person. She ran around telling her brothers about her fishtails and showing them off. 

You chuckled to yourself, slowly following her footsteps. However, you stopped midstep, your eyes focusing on Hunter sitting in his patio chair looking out over the water. There was a near blank expression on his face, yet his eyes held all his emotions. It broke your heart seeing him so … lost? Guilt-ridden? Maybe it was just overwhelming grief.  

After all, it hadn’t been long since Omega and Crosshair came back. Frankly, you were happy to have them back, especially after losing Tech. Everyone on Pabu felt his loss, and getting to know Crosshair had been challenging at first, yet Hunter somehow took on the responsibility of making sure Crosshair got along with everyone.

As each day progressed, the emotions in Hunter’s eyes were slowly becoming more and more overwhelming. It wasn’t hard to see he was still learning how to move on without Tech. How to live his life without his brother. 

You’ve suffered more than your fair share of losses, and you knew how difficult it was to just start living again. To start putting yourself back together without having that support you relied on so heavily. If anything, Hunter needed a friend first and foremost right now. 

Not wanting to disrupt his peace too much, you did what you could as you quietly walked over and sat beside him. 

Hunter didn’t flinch or react as you took your seat, he knew you were there, but he’d rather focus on the horizon, at the moment.

It was almost half an hour later, when you finally spoke up, “You okay? Caught you staring off into space again.”

His face turned to look at you, doing his best to give you a smile, even if it was half hearted. 

“I’m fine.”

It had been his go-to response lately. Everything was either ‘I’m fine,’ ‘I’m okay,’ or ‘I’m just tired.’ Honestly, you had to keep reminding yourself not to get upset with him, he and his family had been through a lot. More than most families and it didn’t help if all you were going to do was nag him. 

So you did what needed to be done. Find a way to get him talking. Whether you two would still remain friends after this conversation, was yet to be seen. But he needed this, whether he admitted it or not. 

“It’s not your fault you know,” you rested your clasped hands on the table as you looked at him.

“What’s not?”

“Losing Tech, Omega getting captured or even Crosshair choosing to stay with Empire for as long as he did before leaving them.”

He let out a vexed noise, “It is.”

“It’s not.” You told him emphatically. 

“You weren’t there.” 

His eyes narrowed as you talked about the unspoken topic that was never to be mentioned between the two of you. He knew you cared, it was evident by how you took care of them. Ever since they moved into the house beside yours, you were quick to offer any assistance. Helping Omega, cooking dinner, even giving a listening ear to whoever needed it and keeping what you had learned to yourself. 

However, he didn’t want you to be tainted with his failures. He wanted you to remain separate. 

“You’re right.” You nodded, as your eyes focused on the sunset, “I wasn’t there, but you know who was?” I turned to look at him and smiled, “Wrecker, Omega, Echo and Tech. I’ve spoken with Wrecker, Omega and Echo, and each one of them said Tech made a choice. It was a difficult situation and it was either he delayed the inevitable and you all got captured or killed, or … he’d make the ultimate sacrifice to ensure his family survived.” 

You reached over and took Hunter’s hand in yours, “Considering who Tech … was, do you think he would’ve been happy knowing you would’ve been captured because of him?”

He shook his head, as he let out a choked laugh, “No. No, he would’ve made us go over the scenario a thousand times to make sure we never let that happen again, and then he would’ve come up with a plan to enforce that.”

“And would he have blamed you for going to the outpost you went just to find information on Crosshair?”

“No. He … he was the first one to suggest it.”

You nodded, tightening your hold on his hand, “Then would it be right to say it was your fault? I mean Tech made the ultimate sacrifice for his family, that’s commendible and honourable. Don’t cheapen his sacrifice with your guilt.”

Hunter let out a long sigh as his free hand ran down his face, “If only it were that easy.”

“I know, it’s easy for someone like me … an outsider … to look in and tell you what you need to do; but as the person who lived it,” you smiled as you looked at him, “… you can just tell me to shut up and just hold your hand.” 

A small smile of understanding appeared on your face as you offered it to Hunter. 

“I’d never tell you to shut up.”

“Maybe I haven’t irritated you enough, yet.” You looked into his eyes letting him know you were there, as you squeezed his hand, “Hunter, nothing that happened was your fault. Omega getting captured was as Echo put it ‘an overwhelming amount of force.’ Crosshair choosing to join the Empire was no more your fault, than him choosing to leave the Empire.” You reached over brushing his hair back and tucking it behind his ear, as you cupped his cheek. “You can’t take on people’s choices or circumstances beyond your control, simply because you’re a Sergeant, or were a Sergeant. Life gives you no karking choice but to play the cards you’re dealt, and I for one, am glad you guys found your way into my life.”

He leaned into your hand holding it against his cheek, “Your friendship means more to me than you know.”

You smiled as you looked into his eyes, “I know. Your friendship means a lot too. Just … promise me, you’ll talk to me when you’re letting your emotions overwhelm you. If not me, at least someone. Please?”

“Alright, mesh’la. I promise.”

Hunter’s smile grew as he kept looking at you, even as you pulled your hand away. He’d been holding off on telling you how he felt for so long. However, he couldn’t hold back anymore, he was going to tell you.

“You know, one of these days, you’re going to have to tell me what mesh-a-la means.”

“I will,” he leaned forward, keeping your hand in his, “I promise.”

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

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#star wars #450 follower celebration #Star Wars fic roulette #SW Fic Roulette #450 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION #Follower Celebration #Star Wars Fic Roulette #Fic Roulette #star wars the clone wars #star wars: the clone wars #starwars #pick your character #pick your prompt #the clone wars #the Mandalorian #Andor #Book of Boba Fett #original trilogy #Obi-wan #Ahsoka #The Bad Batch #star wars prequels #star wars sequel trilogy #tbb hunter #hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter #hunter bad batch #bad batch hunter

[sempersirens]

yes, chef | part two

summary: navigating work and home with joel was tough but sweet, with you both learning to manage in your own little ways

pairing: no-outbreak, chef!joel x f!reader

content/warnings: 18+, mdni. slow-burn smut, tenderness, pining, angst

a/n: you ask and you shall receive. you guys know i'm a slut for a spotify playlist, and this is what i imagine reader and joel listening to while they cook together. i took inspiration for this chapter from @spookyanamurdock's comment on the previous chapter because i loved her ideas so much.

There was no such thing as a quiet shift at the restaurant. Whether it was the clatter of pots and pans, expletives darting across the room, or the unrelenting tick of the ticket machine rolling off order after order. It was exhilarating. The constant loudness quietened every decibel of noise in your mind; no matter what was happening outside of work, you could count on the pressure of controlled creativity to drown it out. Family drama, heartbreak, grief - it all slipped away as soon as you slipped your uniform on and heard the first shout of fuck! blaring across the room.

It should've been impossible for your heart to race any faster than it already did. But there it was. So subtle, unnoticed by all except you. His fingers brushing against yours when he would snatch the knife out of your hands, loudly berating you for dicing the onions too damn big. Your eyes would catch for just a moment, but it was enough. You were obsessed, infatuated.

Not only with the feel of his rough skin against yours, or the intoxication of his scent but with the secrecy too. Something stirred inside of you every time you would pass him, knowing he could still taste you on his tongue, your perfume lingering in his nose. At any moment to yourself, you would squeeze your eyes shut and remember the feeling of his hands on you. Grabbing for god knows what, the thrill of it all, taking any inch of your skin in his grasp that he possibly could. Devouring you in the knowledge he would have to wait hours until he could have you like this again.

Working beside him drove you insane. You constantly toyed between accidentally slicing a carving knife through your pinky just to feel his touch on you, or being a good girl for him, knowing you would relish in his praise later that night.

You didn't know how no-one else could feel the spark between you both. It consumed your entire being, only ever finding sweet release pressed up against the shelves of the supply closet. You managed to keep your meetings secret. Sometimes they felt concealed even between the two of you, never wanting to brave the question of what you even were in fear of it all dissipating beneath your fingers.

Most mornings began with your bare feet padding across his kitchen floor. He always woke before you, the smell of coffee coaxing you from his sheets. You felt feral. You were drunk on the sheer scent of him like an animal searching for its first meal after hibernation.

What had begun as lust had turned into something almost ugly, you didn't want to acknowledge the person you had become. Desperate for his affection, his praise, him. Each touch, kiss, and clash of your hips, felt like a nicotine rush surging straight to your head. You were addicted.

"So fuckin' needy for me baby, ain't ya?" He would laugh into your hair, whether he had you pinned against the bathroom door or tucked softly between his torso and bed sheets.

In the kitchen, you would find yourself subconsciously gravitating toward him.

"Back to your fuckin' station." He'd growl, loud enough for the others to hear.

"Yes, chef. Sorry, chef."

Later, tangled in his bed, he would coo "you gotta stop doin' that, baby. People are gonna start noticing."

"Maybe I want them to. I want them to all know I'm yours." Fingers in his hair, his teeth gently sinking into your shoulder. Yes, you would think, mark me, brand me yours.

"You're too good for that, baby. You gotta make a name for yourself."

"I know, I know." You'd whine. He was right, and you knew it. You didn't want to be known as Joel Miller's girl. It was a cut-throat, misogynistic business as it was, you had to have your own exposure, not be known as the poissonier chef fucking her head-chef.

The restaurant was always closed on a Sunday. Saturday nights rolled into Sunday mornings so sweetly. Peeling each other's garlic-scented clothes off, a smell only you could find satisfying. In those long-awaited moments alone, the collision of your bodies was ravenous. You were ruthless in the greediness of taking everything from one another.

Those Sundays would flow like honey, sickly sweet, slowly sticking to every inch of you. You savoured every moment alone with him. At around 7 pm, you would begin prepping dinner together. Experimenting with love, trust, and maybe a new recipe you had found in an Ottolenghi cookbook. In his kitchen, you bounced off one another. Otis Redding flooded the background, mangled with the sharpness of metal cutting into the chopping board.

"Did you get the parsley from the market?" You shouted, rifling through his cupboards.

"Still in the bag, on the table."

Tonight, you were making a pumpkin and cinnamon oxtail stew. The oxtail had been slow-cooking all afternoon, filling his small apartment with a warm, hearty smell. You chopped the parsley, lemon, and garlic for the gremolata, while Joel decanted the mixture of tomatoes, thyme, and rosemary into an oven dish.

"Smells so good, baby." He kissed your cheek, hands around your waist. "I'll set the table. Want a glass of red?"

In moments like this, maybe you didn't need the world to know Joel was yours and you were his. His kitchen was your utopia, and you would happily live out the rest of your days bathing in the smell of simmering vegetables and his cologne.

taglist: @cool-iguana @skysmiller @lhymer1995 @brittmb115 @moonlightdivine @reallyidontcare @nana90azevedo @spookyanamurdock @lovely-ateez

#joel miller x f!reader #my fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #yes chef #dee writes #pedrohub #pedro pascal fanfic #pedrostories #joel miller #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #chef!joel

[the-iceni-bitch]

“You made me miserable and I still loved you.” With Carol 🥹🥹🥹 I’ll go get my tissues. Wishing you a happy angsty bday 😘

Oooooof, this was the prompt that I knew was going to wreck me so I’m just going to apologize right off the bat 😭

When you spotted her across the bar you froze. It had been months and of course she still looked amazing. You wanted to run. Your heartbeat was getting faster and you were starting to sweat. But for some reason you stayed rooted in place, a high pitched ringing in your ears when she saw you and gave you that same easy smile she used to.

“Hi baby.” It was like she didn’t even remember, or care even, what she had done to you. “God, it’s been a while, how you been?”

All you could manage was a mumble that just barely resembled the word ‘fine’. Anyone else would tell her you were fine. Nobody knew about you crying yourself to sleep every night, or about how worried your doctor had been when you lost so much weight in the two weeks after she ripped your heart out of your chest when you couldn’t manage to keep anything down. What the fuck were you supposed to say to her?

“That’s good. I’ve been thinking about you lately.” She stepped closer and rested her elbow against the bar right next to you, making every hair on your body stand on end. “We did have a good thing didn’t we?”

Before you knew it a laugh bubbled out of your chest. God, you sounded fucking hysterical, laughing like a madwoman and crying as you rested your hand against the bar to hold yourself up.

“Sure, Carol, we did have a good thing.” People were looking at you but you didn’t care. “I felt like we had a fucking great thing. I was planning a whole fucking future for us with a white picket fence and all that shit, looking at matching rings, naming our future dog. And then you,” she still had a damn smirk on her face and you wanted to slap her. “You just left. You said you found someone who made you happy without ever letting me know that I hadn’t been. You knew I was making a future for us. You knew I was devoted to you. You let me plan and plan and plan and then you just fucking left. And you know what’s so fucking stupid?” You were a damn mess at this point but you couldn’t stop yourself. “Even now, looking at you and knowing exactly how much you hurt me, I still want to you to take me back. I still want to believe that maybe this time you really did fucking change and you won’t just abandon me like every other time before. You made me miserable and I still love you. There’s still no one else for me because you have my whole heart after you tore it out of me. And I don’t even know if you ever cared about me or if you were just waiting for me to fuck up so you had an excuse to leave. Fuck you for making me still love you, Carol! And fuck me for just wanting you to hold me and tell me it’s gonna be okay!”

You didn’t know when you collapsed. Or when Carol left. Or who had put their coat around your shoulders while you wailed. All you knew was that you were alone again, like you would be for the rest of your life, and suddenly your tears just stopped. The hole in your chest was throbbing and numb as you rose to your feet to pay your tab, your face back to the blank mask you wore whenever the grief wasn’t overwhelming you. You were a dead woman because of her, but you’d never stop loving her.

⁂❆❅ 𝒥𝑜𝒾𝓃 𝑀𝓎 𝐵𝓁𝓊𝑒 𝐵𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒹𝒶𝓎 ❅❆⁂

#natalie answers #nat’s blue birthday #carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers x female reader #carol danvers x y/n #angst #female!reader #asks are always open #love my mutuals

[lou-struck]

Bribery

Kei Tsukishima x reader College AU!

Prompt: study date +🍩

~Studying with Tsukki is hardcore, he always know just what to do to keep you motivated

WC: 2k

~This is one of the requested prompts for My Emoticon Expression’s Event; check out the masterlist on my welcome page

“You’re wrong; try it again.” Your boyfriend curtly says as he peers down at the study guide you have worked on for the last three hours. At times like this, you are thankful the two of you booked a private study room in the university’s library because you have not been watching your volume in the slightest. 

“Are you sure?” You sigh exasperatedly. “I really thought this one was gonna be right.”

“Well, it’s not; you need to go back and check your work.” He replies, sliding the paper back over to you; it is completely covered in angry red pen marks from his corrections. It’s a bit discouraging, but you know he is only being hard on you because he knows how badly you want to pass this class.

His features soften as he looks at you apologetically. “you’ve got this, just take your time and break down the problem into parts.”

“I’m just tired; my brain feels like it’s not working.” you sigh, rubbing your temples. “Maybe I should just accept that I’m going to fail and skip the other stages of grief.”

“Not going to happen,” he laughs, using his taped fingers to give your forehead a fick. It doesn’t hurt at all, but you and your dramatic self flinch and whine “Owww” just to get a rise out of him.

“Oh really?” he asks, looking down at you through his glasses, “if that hurts, just imagine how you will feel when you miss out on that internship you have been wanting due to your grades.”

You freeze; you have heard about the internship he had mentioned since freshman year of college. Not only is it a paid internship, but if you were to take it, you would get credit for about four classes that you need to graduate. If you miss out on this, you will probably regret it for the rest of your student life. “Why did you have to bring that up? Now I’m stressed, tired, and hungry.”

He looks at you with amusement; teasing you is one of the highlights of his day. “You’re hungry?”

You cross your arms over your stomach for effect, “Starved, haven’t you heard my stomach growling?”

“Over your whining?” he teases, raising a brow.

“I-it’s not funny,” you stammer, “this is a real predicament; I can’t study on an empty stomach; we may be here all day at this rate.”

He sighs, his golden brown eyes betraying a softness that tells you that you have won. “Fine, if you are sure this is the only way to get you to finish your worksheet, I guess I have no choice.” he relents, getting up from his seat at the table and grabbing his wallet out of his book bag. He turns and points at you strictly, “Stay right there, and If you are not done with that worksheet by the time I get back, I’ll just give it to someone else.” 

“Are you trying to bribe me to finish this worksheet?” you grin, giving him your best look of innocence that he doesn’t buy at all.

“Just get it done,” he says, turning towards the door and opening it quietly. 

“I love you,” you call after him. He smiles and turns to walk down the hallway; just before the door swings shut, you hear a chorus of sharps’ shhhhhhhh’s’ from the studying students from the other side of the library. It makes you chuckle to yourself as you stare down at your angry red-streaked paper and try to figure out what you did wrong in that last problem.

~

It’s only been about eight minutes since your boyfriend went to get you some fuel, and your stomach is busy grumbling the instrumentals of Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody. Your quiet study room is lonely, but you have managed to figure out what you had done wrong with the last problem, and to the best of your knowledge, it is correct this time. All you have to do is wait for Mr. Vanilla himself to come back and check over your work for you. 

Curiously you flip to the next page in your workbook; if you can bust through a few more problems before Kei gets back, it would mean that you can leave the library much sooner, and maybe the two of you can make it to the Jurassic Park movie marathon in the quad you had seen posters for. It would be such a great surprise to take him there after this is all said and done.

Buying him a large tub of popcorn is only one of the ways you are planning on thanking your Volleyball-playing s/o for taking so much time out of his busy day to help you study.

With sunset in about four hours from now, you return to your work; this deadline gives you a much-needed spring in your step as you begin to get back to work. 

~

The analog cock on the wall says that about another ten minutes have passed, and without your boyfriend’s presence, you haven’t been too motivated to finish any other problem other than the one he told you to do. They have been attempted, but you have only split the problems into smaller fragments so you can better understand them later, 

‘Maybe I should’ve taken better notes in class.’ you think to yourself when your boyfriend comes back into the study room. 

“Hey, you were gone for a while. Was the line at the cafe long?” you ask, tilting your head.

“In not heartless, you deserve something way better than the trash the cafe has to sell,” he says, stepping up to the table. The throw pillow-sized brown paper box in his hand just catches your eye when your nostrils are suddenly hit with a sweet and doughy smell that has your mouth watering. 

“I bet you’re wondering what is inside?” he smirks, placing the box on the table; you reach out for the strangely familiar scent only for him to push it further out of your reach. 

“Hey?” you whine. “Why did you have to do that?” 

“Ha, Let’s see your work first, then I’ll decide if you actually get to have any of this.”

“Jerk,” you huff, tearing your gaze away from the box to look at his face. A dark mole on the corner of his mouth catches your eye. Curiously, you lean in a bit closer and realize that it’s not a mole at all...

It’s chocolate!!!

“Wait,” you say softly, never taking your eyes off the little speck of fudge on his cheek, “is that frosting on your face?”

With his thumb, he wipes it quickly away; as he licks his thumb, he looks at you evilly, “What? Someone had to make sure they weren’t poisonous.”

You sigh and turn away from him, arms crossed and a pout on your lips. “Just look at my damn paper already.” 

“If you insist,” he grins, staring deep into your eyes. “Just know that if you take too long, your food will get cold.” The harmless threat shakes you down to the depths of your soul as he looks at you with gentle satisfaction. He slides the paper closet to him, and his eyes dart between your answer and your work before he looks up at you with a blank expression. 

You gulp nervously as you try and fail to read his expression. Mentally cursing the fact that Kei Tsukishima has one of the best poker faces you have ever seen. “So? What do you think?”

“I think,” he hums, reaching out towards the mysterious treat box with long arms. He rests his hand on top of it before sliding it across the table in front of you. “You got it right.”

Your chest heaves a deep sigh in relief. Unable to take the suspense any longer, you toss o[into the box to reveal dozens of little doughnut holes. 

Some look to be covered in glaze, chocolate, or frosting. While others look to be filled with various creams, jellies, or something else. 

“Doughnuts.” you cheer, picking a chocolate-covered sprinkle out of the box and plopping it into your mouth. The still-warm dough seems to melt on your tongue as the sugar makes you feel alive. 

As you savor the treat, he places some napkins in front of you. “Are you happy now?”

You nod and wipe your fingers with one of the napkins. “Extremely. What are all the flavors?”

“I dunno.” he says, “The shop was closing soon, so they just gave me a bit of everything for no charge.”

“That’s great; I can’t wait to find out,” you say, reaching for another donut hole only for it to be pushed out of your reach.

Upon seeing the look of confusion on your face, he laughs, “Did you really think it would be that easy? It’s a bribe.”

You look at the box longingly, “You don’t mean?”

“I do; every problem you get right, you get to have a piece. 

“You can be so cruel sometimes, Kei.” you sigh, earning a genuine smile from him, flipping to the next page; the little bits of work you had done earlier are starting to make more sense as you look flip between the notes Tsukki left on your other page and the fresh problems. 

“How are you doing?” he asks, looking over your shoulder,

“Does this look right so far?” you ask, pointing to the nearly complete problem. 

“It looks perfect.” he hums, glancing over it carefully. 

“Really?” you say with a light voice full of hope. Maybe the two of you will be able to make it to the Movie marathon after all. 

“Yep, just keep doing what you are doing.” he says, “I told you before that you know how to do this.”

Only because I have the best tutor in the world, “you hum cheesily, leaning in a bit closer to him. 

The tips of his ears turn pink at your world, and he looks at the box of donuts, “You’re not trying to get me to give you a donut early, are you?” he asks sarcastically.

“Nope, I want something else.” you hum, pushing yourself forward to catch his lips with your own. The kiss contains the lingering sweetness of the pastry you had just eaten, along with something a bit sweeter.

He kisses back far too eagerly for someone who had been relentlessly teasing you just a few moments ago. You pull back slightly and grin as he follows your lips stubbornly. 

“Do you think you’re being funny?” he asks, placing his hand on the back of your head to keep you close to him. 

“Just a bit; I have to tease you when I can since you are so good at teasing me.” you hum, giving him a devious smirk like the one he gave you earlier. 

“You’re such a pain,” he chuckles, gently retaking your lips. 

“But you love me,” you hum as he pulls away. A small smile tugs at his lips

“I do, which is why I can’t have you getting distracted,” he sighs, tapping your worksheet with his pen. “Let’s get back to work.

“You know, you could’ve just bribed me with kisses,” you tease, picking up your pencil. “They work just as well as the donuts.”

“Now you tell me,” he sighs. “If I knew earlier, I could’ve saved myself the effort of picking these up.”

“Nope, we need those too.” you laugh as you reach for the box. 

With a gently yet firm grip, he grabs your hand and shakes his head, “Not so fast; get that problem done, and then you can have one.”

“Come on, just one more?” you plead at him with big eyes, “I need all the help I can get if I want to finish in time.”

“Time for what?” he asks, raising a brow. “Did you really make plans after this?”

“Plans for us,” you say innocently. “Please?”

“Fine, just one more,” he sighs. “But then we have to get back to work.”

#haikyuu!! #kei tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #kei tsukishima x reader #hq x reader #hq #x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff

[ivystoryweaver]

Spectre

A Moon Knight Halloween Love Story

Event #6: A Nightmare on Elm Street

prev | Fic Masterlist | My Masterlist | next

Event #6 Summary: Marc spends the evening with you and Steven gets a haunting

Pairing this chapter: Marc Spector x f!reader, Steven Grant x f!reader (Jake mentioned)

Word count: 3k

Content: ANGST, the yearning, ghost probs (no body), language, dealing with death and grief, manner and COD discussed, violence, spooky/horror elements, probably inaccurate DID (show based), not beta’d

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

PREVIOUSLY on "Spectre"...

"And...and maybe don't sell the house just yet?" You barely managed that request in a choked whisper. "If this is the only place I am besides the dark, and...and you guys leave then, I'm afraid - "

"Of the dark," he solemnly concluded. Reaching for your hand again - pointless, though it was, he made a vow. "Baby, look at me. I will never leave you here alone. Never. I promise you."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc wanted to stay home with you all day, but you insisted that they lead normal lives. You promised to come back.

He wanted to kiss you goodbye. You’d just told each other you loved one another. It almost seemed as if he was headed downtown to work, and you would venture into your loft to write for the day.

You missed your loft. Why couldn’t you go in there? Maybe if you concentrated hard enough…

You missed writing. Maybe you could write some children’s ghost stories. After all, you now had first hand experience.

What…were you thinking? Write?

Was this death? Feeling all these tormented emotions? And good ones too? The sparkle of laughter with Jake, the yearning to talk to Steven, the love and longing, even lust for Marc.

And the guilt. You were too harsh with Marc before, when you said he ran away from pain or punched it in the face. You had to see him again soon, to apologize. He was going through too much already - he didn’t deserve that - not from you.

“I’m so sorry, Marc,” you whispered into the stillness of your bedroom. As if he could hear you.

The feelings washed over you, making you feel…alive. And clearer than you had felt since you first became aware of yourself, or of this room.

You waited all day. This was new. It was boring. But boring was better than darkness. Feeling anything was better.

You were practically bouncing with anticipation by the time the sun set. Finally Marc arrived.

You called his name as soon as you saw him climbing the front steps to your front door, and didn’t stop until he was standing in front of you.

“Baby? You okay?” He huffed, having run up the stairs.

“Yes, you can see me?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, pulling off his jacket. “The way you were calling my name, I thought…something was wrong.”

You both realized how weird that sounded. Being dead kind of meant everything was wrong.

So you told him about your day. How you thought and thought and felt so many feelings. How you wondered about writing and your loft. How you never went back to the Dark Place. And how very sorry you were for what you said to him.

“I’m the last person who should be confirming your worst thoughts about yourself, Marc,” you explained. “Please forgive me, I felt terrible about it all day. I’m so sorry.”

His brow furrowed with confusion. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” No way he wanted you of all people to feel anything negative. You were the one who lost your life after all.

You talked for a little while longer, about simple things - his day at work, his walk home. Ordinary things. He mentioned speaking with Ms. Marjorie and you shared that you heard Steven speaking about her quaint, lovely shop.

Finally, Marc’s stomach growled, letting you both know that he needed some dinner. He could plainly see that you were anxious about him leaving the room.

“Just gonna grab some leftovers, honey, I’ll be right back,” he softly assured you.

Great. Now you were a clingy ghost. What the hell…

He wasn’t gone long, by your estimation anyway, and ate in your bedroom, with the two of you sitting on the bed. Then you felt even more guilty, as if you were trapping him here somehow.

“Hey, is the World Series on yet?” You asked, knowing October meant baseball postseason.

“Next week,” he clarified. “Why do you ask?”

You smiled at him knowingly. “Well, I mean…you can go watch baseball if you want to. You don’t have to sit in here all night.”

He pretended to be offended. “You trying to get rid of me?”

“No! No, I just…I want you to live your normal life…” You trailed off, sighing wistfully.

“Fuck it, I’ll just move the TV up here. Or get a new one,” he shrugged. “I want to be with you.”

That proclamation sobered you both, because it was the whole problem. You couldn’t be together. Not really.

“I want that too,” you whispered, easing a little closer to where he sat, leaning against the bed’s headboard. “It’s all I want. To be with you. But…it’s too late.”

“It’s not too late,” he found himself telling you, without really thinking before he spoke.

You frowned, confused.

“That’s what you kept saying, or…some voice I kept hearing when you first started appearing to me. ‘It’s not too late’. Even Ms. Marjorie said it. I didn't realize it til now but...I've heard it a few times: 'it's not too late.' What do you think it means?"

You shook your head. "No idea. It's obviously too late for us to really be together...isn't it?"

The sight of your wide, hopeful eyes broke his heart. "There has to be a reason you're here."

You talked a little while longer, about what this all could possibly mean. And instead of fading away, you seemed energized...and felt more alive, but you definitely were not.

Marc kept trying to touch you on instinct and you were most assuredly a ghost.

So you talked about ghosts: about myths and fables and any lore you could think of. You even looked it up online. Marc admitted Steven might be the better consult regarding this topic, but you both soberly remembered that he couldn't see you.

Which hurt because you felt overlooked and Marc felt crazy. But it wasn't Steven's fault, clearly.

"Ghosts can have unfinished business," Marc read from his phone screen. "All right, who are you still pissed at?"

The tension in his shoulders and the scowl he normally wore had relaxed as the night wore on. He almost seemed like his old self again. The person he was with you. The loving partner you adored, not the grief-stricken lonely man who questioned his sanity.

"No one," you thoughtfully answered, not knowing how the next words out of your mouth would change everything. "Well maybe the asshole who killed me."

Marc's phone dropped out of his hand and hit the mattress. He went deadly serious in one second flat. The mirth in his eyes turned stone cold - his lips parted as he drew a shuddering breath.

"W-what did you just say?" He choked out.

Shit, that wasn't a topic you should have made light of, or thrown around carelessly. Marc must still be reeling from your murder, if not blaming himself for it somehow.

"I'm sorry I said that - "

"What...did you say?" He covered his mouth with both hands as his eyes burned with fury. Pushing up off the bed, his fingers tore through his hair. "You...you weren't murdered," he gasped, his chest heaving the way it normally did right before he panicked. He wouldn't likely be here for much longer.

"You weren't," he hissed out a whisper. "What are you saying? There was an autopsy. You weren't...what are you saying!?"

Shit.

You floated off the bed, bewildered. You hadn't considered, even for a moment, that Marc was unaware of how you died. And it hadn't exactly come up.

"Marc, I...it doesn't matter how it happened, really. I didn't mean to...I thought you knew - "

"Yes, it really fucking does matter," he snapped, his fists clenched so tight they were turning white. His wild, frantic eyes landed on you, and seeing your distress, he shook his head in agony.

"You were...how? Who did this?" He let out a choked sob. "Tell me who. Who hurt you?"

"I-I don't know him. Marc, I thought you knew. If I wouldn't have gone to see Jake that night - "

"What?"

You went into the city the night you died? And Jake never fucking thought to mention it?

"I...I was on my way to see Jake." You did that sometimes - ride around with him at night, when Marc and Steven would have the next day off. It was a way to spend a little extra time with Jake, in his environment - his own little world. Plus it was fun to stay out all night, driving people around, eating at your favorite diner...making love in the back seat...

"I never made it," you explained. "I-I was still here in town when a man grabbed me - covered my mouth. He was strong. Then he moved my arm and I felt a pinch underneath my armpit. And that's all. He...maybe he injected me with something."

Marc pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes, almost doubling over in agony. "No. No, no, no, no." He banged his fists against his forehead and before you could follow your instinct to go to him - before you could even remember you wouldn't be able to touch him, he was gone.

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Steven straightened up, blinking a few times before using his sleeve to dry his eyes. "What?"

He glanced around, trying to get his bearings when he heard the most heartbreaking cry of anguish...

coming from you.

“Bloody hell!” Steven gasped, scrambling away from your visage - not because it was you. He simply wasn’t expecting anyone at all to be in his bedroom. And he still couldn't see you, but he did hear someone cry out.

“No, no, no,” you cried, knowing Steven couldn’t see you.

"Losing m'mind," he mumbled, drawing his hands to his chest. His eyes swept across the room nervously, but he saw nothing.

"Maybe this place really is haunted," he murmured to himself. Deciding to take an evening walk and shake himself out of his spooky mindset, Steven found his shoes before shuffling downstairs, leaving you alone and heartbroken.

The feeling of being alive was so close, you could almost taste it. Your chest heaved with emotion - your heart, which stopped pumping life through your veins months ago, raced with worry for Marc and longing for Steven.

"Steven, please," you gasped, in a manner that would have been tearful, except that you had no tears to cry.

But he was gone.

Steven no longer lived in complete oblivion as he once did. If he suddenly fronted, his cheeks wet with Marc's tears, there was clearly a reason. Maybe Marc was still seeing you. He wasn't sure right at the moment because his alter was quiet - nowhere to be found, really. And it wasn't a parlor trick. He couldn't force Marc to appear or share anything.

Perhaps your little bungalow truly was haunted. Without giving it much thought, Steven's feet carried him back downtown, straight to the "Mystic Delights and Other Charming Novelties" shop.

He was looking for Ms. Marjorie. He wanted answers and somehow, he felt that she could give them.

But as he rounded the corner onto Main Street, he stopped short. There, right where the Mystic Delights shop should be, was...nothing. The building was dark and little run down. Unoccupied.

"Wait a minute..." Steven mused to himself, inspecting the darkened windows, where twinkle lights had recently shone out, welcoming him in. He scurried a few more doors down, to Mrs. Alraune's flower shop. Her store was closed, but in tact.

Retracing his steps, Steven tried to reason with himself about where Ms. Marjorie and her lovely shop could possibly be.

Finally, he decided to inquire in the corner drug store. He recognized the face of the cashier but didn't know her name. She looked to be in her early 20s and often rang Steven's order when he stopped in.

He inquired after Ms. Marjorie and the little shop that had come to mean so much to him in only a couple days.

Devon, the young cashier was named, told him she had been employed at the drug store since high school and that particular store had changed owners a few times. The city had tried to clean it up on many occasions but she couldn't remember an antique store - not recently, anyway.

"No, that's not possible," Steven argued. Realizing his words might offend, he apologized. "Sorry, I just...I swear there was a lovely little antique shop right there. The most extraordinary woman owns it..."

Realizing he sounded like he wasn't quite right, he offered up one more apology and left.

Steven felt more confused than ever. Where was Ms. Marjorie? And her shop? Who was making noises in his home? And why had Marc claimed to see you?

October 31st hadn't quite rolled around, but Steven was all done with spooks. He walked home, quickening his pace, fueled by confusion and agitation.

Once he reached your front yard, he saw the curtain of his bedroom rustling.

"All right, ghost," he firmly declared, "I'm coming up and you bloody well better make yourself plain. No more games."

He rushed up the front steps to unlock the front door, hoping with all his heart that, if you were here - if Marc really saw you - that he might see you too.

So he called your name.

"Darling, I know I haven't been able to see you, and...I don't even know if you're here, but please...please send me some kind of a sign."

Turning this way and that, he checked the living room, the kitchen. With a heavy sigh, he climbed the stairs to the bedroom, pausing at your picture in the hallway.

"What's happening, love? Marc is seeing you, and I'm apparently having tea with a spectre instead of a shopkeeper. Please...are you there?"

His shoulders slumped in defeat and confusion, he trudged the final step into your once-shared bedroom

...and there you were.

Right there, seated on the edge of the bed, wearing Marc's hoodie.

"Oh my days," he breathed, his eyes widening as he stepped right in front of you. “Darling? Is it really you?”

Your gaze, so forlorn, snapped up to his. “Steven?” You gasped, “Can…can you see me?”

He rubbed his eyes for good measure, then nodded eagerly. “You are here. Aren’t you, love?”

"Steven, oh my god," you breathed, rising to meet him, wishing with all your nonexistent heart you could throw your arms around him. "I've been trying to talk to you, but you couldn't hear me, or see me," You emphatically explained.

"God, I'm so sorry," he sincerely returned, his dark eyes shifting, studying you with concern. "I didn't mean to doubt you. I'm sorry."

He shook his head in wonder. "I can't believe it. Marc was right. H-how are you here?" Stepping closer, he interrupted himself. "Are you alright, love? You're not hurt or anything? I mean, besides the obvious..."

He trailed off, granting you a bewildered smile as he drew his hands close to his chest. Oh, how you missed this precious, adorable man of yours.

"No, I'm okay. I was with Marc before. Then you left."

You explained to Steven a little of what had been going on, with your talks with Marc and Jake. Then you asked Steven if any of them knew how you died.

"Coroner said your heart just stopped," Steven explained.

"Yeah because someone injected me with something," you supplied, feeling the need to pace back in forth, even though you were really sort of floating. "They didn't find anything in my system? A drug, or a puncture mark under my arm?"

"Darling you're not...you're not suggesting that you were...killed?"

Just the thought of some asshole taking you away from your life - from your stories, your loft, from the town you adored, from this house and from the man you wanted to marry and have a family with - the feeling of the helplessness and despair you felt in that moment boiled into rage.

Without even realizing what you were doing, you curled your fingers into fists, squeezed your eyes shut and cried out, sending a wave of energy jolting through your bedroom, knocking Steven clean off his feet. The power was so strong, it knocked the lamp off the bedside table, crashing to the floor, and lastly, the mirror over your dresser shattered.

You acted out of pure spectral instinct.

Steven reacted equally, having summoned his Mr. Knight suit without a second thought. He didn't even intend to do it - it just happened as soon as his mind registered the danger of falling and flying glass.

The sight of your partner "taking arms", or suiting up in his defense against you...

It absolutely shattered you. The coherent thoughts you wanted to share with your partner were as scattered as the shattered mirror glass.

Powerful emotions swirled and blurred into despair. You found yourself untethered from the sweet conversation, longing and desire with your partner - the serenity you had experienced here over the last day or so, with Marc and Jake.

The broken lamp sent the room into darkness and as you fell further into despair, you could no longer detect the white of Steven's suit, or see even the moon's glow through the window.

You thought you heard your name called, but it was galaxies away, the way a voice above the surface of a swimming pool sounds when you're underwater.

The sound faded and all that was left was the Dark.

next

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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[aidaronan]

24 for the Steddie/Spotify wrapped prompt!

Welp. This one got away from me and is less a ficlet and more of just... a fic, but here we go! 24 - Scary Kids Scaring Kids - Watch Me Bleed

Lucky Number 42

Tags & Warnings: Blood, Time Loop, MCD but it’s a time loop so…, maybe it's supernatural or maybe it's maybelline It’s March 27th for the 41st time, and Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the sickly colors of the Other Sky. He won’t forget the blood either, the way it stains Eddie’s shirt and mats up his pretty hair. The way it gushes through Steve’s fingers as he tries to hold it all in yet again, as though if he just squeezes tight enough, it’ll finally—finally—work this time around.

“Guess we’ll try again, huh?” Eddie smiles, red pooling in the cracks between his teeth. “Fuck, Stevie, why’s it always so cold?” Nearby, Dustin sobs uncontrollably. Steve won’t forget that sound either. It’s seared into his brain, all of it. The same day over and over and over again, both of them stuck in it together. Changing everything, changing nothing.

“What is it you told me, Eds? 42 is the answer, right?” Steve squeezes his hand tight, his heart so full of love and yearning and clogged-up grief that he can feel it all spilling painfully into his chest. “That’s gonna be it for us. Lucky number 42.”

But whether he heard him or not, Steve doesn’t know. Eddie’s gone again, his eyes empty, his hand limp. Steve sinks into the dirt and hugs his knees, letting his forehead fall against his folded arms.

He has a mental tally running, everything that’s worked, everything that hasn’t.

There’s really only one direction left, the one direction Eddie wouldn’t entertain when Steve suggested it 28 days ago, 24 days ago, 15 days ago, 7... The more they fell for each other, the more vehement Eddie got about how that particular avenue was off limits, ‘un-fucking-entertainable, actually.’

It’s the only way though, has to be. There isn’t any other way left.

Taking a few deep breaths, Steve raises his head and crawls for Dustin, still crying, completely unaware of how many times they’ve been here before.

“I love you, Dustin. I love you and I’m sorry your childhood got absolutely shit on, and I hope you know you deserve better than all this.” Steve will say it again on the next loop, too, when it’ll actually (hopefully) count. But he needs to say it now. For himself.

“This can’t be happening,” is Dustin’s choked-out reply.

Steve wants to say that it’s okay, that he’ll fix it. But he and Eddie have also talked about how maybe all of it’s some kind of personal hell built just for them. So maybe there is no fixing it.

All Steve knows is he can’t watch Eddie die again, and he can’t watch anyone else die in Eddie’s place.

So…

So.

“I know.” Steve holds onto Dustin’s arm, waiting for the girls to make their way back to them so they can get out together, so Steve can shower and fall into bed and do what needs to be done. “I know,” he says again. And he does know. Fuck, he knows 41 times over.

It’s exactly three hours and twenty-seven minutes later—it always is, give or take five minutes—when Steve finally lays his head on his pillow., curled protectively around Robin’s back. It’s another half hour or so before she cries herself to sleep.

Then countless unquantified minutes before Steve manages to drop off. On the edge of consciousness, he dreams a voice quietly speaking the number, “two.”

#

When Eddie asks the plan for the day, Steve lies. They sneak into the woods near the clearing and they have each other wholly, primally, sex forged from bonding in a way that only they could ever understand. And then they plan.

And Steve lies.

He suggests they rehash Day 13 with Day 42’s knowledge, plus Day 17’s solution for saving Max. He talks Eddie through the hang-ups, through the objections, feeling a sickening mix of resignation and guilt with every inch of ground he gains in convincing him.

In the end, Eddie nods. “Let’s do this then. Lucky number 42.”

“The answer to the universe, life, and, uh, all the other stuff.”

Eddie huffs a small laugh and looks at Steve fondly, cupping his cheek. “How many roads must a man walk down indeed.”

When they kiss for luck, Steve focuses on every single millisecond, on the way Eddie’s lips feel, on the hands on him—small of his back, back of his neck—and on the feeling of Eddie’s hair sliding hairspray-rough through his fingers. Every little breathy sound, every note of birds calling, bugs flitting.

Life.

It may not have been everything Steve wanted, but he got to have this. For one fleeting moment, he got to fall in love and to be part of a small family of misfits. Some people never got that lucky.

“I love you, Stevie.”

“I love you too.”

It feels like a blink before they’re outside of the trailer, Dustin locked in the bathroom in Right-side-up Hawkins. It’s just them and their makeshift armor—spear and nail bat against the swarm.  

Eddie looks at him and nods.

Steve looks back and chokes down a sob, summoning all the bravery he possesses. “Eddie. I’m sorry.”

“Wh—”

This is the easy part, years of sports and fighting all culminating in this moment. At full speed, Steve plows into Eddie, tackling him to the ground, covering his body with his own.

They’re already biting by the time Eddie reacts, fighting like hell, pushing with all the strength of someone who spent years hauling around band equipment and theater props. Eddie’s strength is mostly in his thighs though, a force he uses to drive the rest of him. If Steve keeps him on the ground long enough…

“You motherfucker. You motherfucking fuck! You fucking son of a goddamned…” A feral scream, a shove that Steve counters by squeezing Eddie’s arms tight against him. Eddie growls, broken and desperate, “Stevie, please.”

They’re both fighting hard and with all the love in their bones. Apologizing over and over, Steve forces his fingers deep into the dirt, gripping the roots of rotten hell-vines hard even while the bats chew, even while he cracks his fingernails, and his hands bleed along with his body.

He’s halfway dead by the time the bats drop, and he knows it.

Eddie pushes him off and gets onto his knees and Steve can’t help but smile because Eddie is gloriously and beautifully okay. There’s a bite on his arm along with a few scratches from their tussle, but that’s it. He’ll make it this time. He’ll make it.

“I did it,” Steve says, falling onto his back despite the fact that it’s nothing but open wounds. “I did it. You’re alive and no one else is gonna…”

Eddie replies with a broken scream, with hands that reach for the bloodied hole on the side of Steve’s neck, that try to turn him over to see where else they need to press.

“Don’t.” Steve grabs weakly at his wrists. “Please, just… Let me. See if it works.”

“Fuck you, Steve.” Eddie blinks out several tears. “Fuck you. I said not this. Not this.”

“It’s the one thing we haven’t tried, Eddie. Maybe this is how it was always supposed to go, you know. Why we couldn’t break—” Steve coughs wetly. “God, it really is cold, huh?”

“Just… Just stay, okay, Stevie. Be stronger than me. Hold on, and that’s how we’ll break it, yeah? With you living.”

In the distance, Steve can hear Dustin finally bursting out of the trailer, crying his name.

He blinks up at Eddie’s brown eyes and smiles at the warmth of his hands on him.

Somewhere else, he can hear voices, unfamiliar and new.

“Oh,” Steve says, the edges of his vision going black, swallowing up Eddie’s face. “So there really is something else after all.”

#

Death, it seems, is darkness. Not terrifying but restful. Not cold, not warm either.

Just floating, quiet and peaceful.

“Two.”

A voice flows out of the void, a voice Steve thinks he may have dreamed once or even more than once. It’s quickly followed by more, all speaking rapidly from everywhere and nowhere.

“Four in cold blood. Undoing.”

“Two from love’s sacrifice. Healing.”

“And so it is. See how it all knits back into one.”  

“Then it is done. Send him back.”

Steve tries to open his mouth. “Where—?”

He never finishes the question.

#

Steve blinks awake to the rhythmic sounds of a machine beeping.

He slowly turns his head to find Robin curled up in a chair next to him, snoring softly with a book steepled open in her lap.

“Rob?”

She startles awake and locks eyes on him before exclaiming with a smile that goes instantly tearful, “Holy shit. Steve.”

From a lumpy bag by her feet, she unearths a walkie-talkie, nearly flinging it at him in her haste to use it. Her hands are shaking when she brings it to her face.

“Hey, uh, everyone. We’re… We’re having a good hair day.”

There’s a chorus of voices, all of them expressing some kind of joy and relief, all of them saying they’ll be there as soon as they can.

“Already in the van. Munson over and out.”

He’s there within five minutes, hair in a messy bun that implies he might have genuinely thrown it up while steering with his knees.

Standing in the doorway, he pauses, eyes on Steve. Steve feels like his entire stomach might drop out under the weight of that gaze. If he’d had any reason to wonder if Eddie remembered all the loops, he’d have no doubt now.

“Hey Rob, can I have a minute with Stevie boy here before the entire Scooby Gang shows up?”

“Uh…” Robin looks back and forth between them, furrowing her brow at Steve before getting up. “Yeah, sure.”

She softly closes the door on the way out, and just like that they’re alone.

“I should kill you all over again for what you pulled, you know?” Eddie says, sitting down and reaching for Steve’s hand.

“You should.”

“But then again, here we are.”

“Here we are. How long was I…?”

“Dead? Or here? Because you did die. I checked your pulse, listened for a breath, fucking everything. And then the girls showed up and out of the blue, you twitched a fucking finger, so Nance and I… You’ve been in the hospital for a week.”

“I had a dream. Maybe. Or maybe it wasn’t a dream at all. I don’t know.” Steve thinks about it again, the infinite peace of the void. “There were, uh, voices, and I think they were saying you and I both had to be willing to die for each other. Like specifically two people in love. To undo Vecna. Are the gates…?”

“Closed, but that could be because Nance and Robin flambéed him alive.”

“Yeah.”

“More things in heaven and Earth though, Stevie. We did just repeat March 27 for a month and a half. Maybe someone was looking out for us. Or they just really fucking hate Vecna. There are many options for motive here.”

Steve rubs at Eddie’s knuckles with his thumb. He hadn’t even taken the time to put his rings on. “So many.”

“It’s over though,” Eddie says. “All of it. The suits cleared my name in five minutes and Hopper ripped the local PD a new asshole. Only question now is…” Eddie gives the spot where they’re holding hands a pointed look. “Now what?”

Steve thinks for a second, mouth twitching at every stolen happy moment in those 42 days of hell. Every smile, every kiss, every sneaky sweaty fuck. Every little conversation that made him laugh, made him feel, made him fall. “Do you remember Day 19 when I asked where you’d go if you ever left Hawkins?”

“I do. By then we’d already given each other hand jobs so I had exactly zero qualms about saying I’d go to San Francisco where I could be gay as hell and also make the heaviest of metal.”

“Yeah, well.” Steve shrugs. “I’m assuming I have to stay in this hospital for a little longer and probably sign, like, another pile of papers that say I won’t tell anyone the government broke Hawkins because they were experimenting on little kids. But after that, why not?”

“Why not? Just like that? ‘Eddie, let’s move in together and also let’s do that in California.’ That easy, huh?”

“We just lived through the end of the world 42 times, Eds. Why the hell can’t it be?”

Eddie laughs quietly and looks down at his lap, shaking his head, a few tendrils falling out of the bun as he does.

Outside of the room, Steve hears a series of sneakers squeaking on linoleum. The door bursts open and Eddie quietly pulls his hand away. But he’s smiling ear to ear when he leans back to let a gaggle of teens throw themselves semi-gently onto Steve for half-hugs.

“Well okay then, Stevie,” Eddie says over the sound of six other people talking at once. “If that’s what you want.”

#steddie #fanfic #mine #spotify wrapped but make it fics #time loop

[ofmermaidstories]

DONT MIND ME IMMEDIATELY RUNNING TO YOUR INBOX AIFHEJAKALA what about 🥺 um, um 🥺 poorly timed confession + mutual pining ?? 😌🩷✨️ MERMIE SENDING YOU ALL MY LOVE ALWAYS 🥺🥺🥺🪻🪻🦋🦋🦋

“I’m—” you swallow, your shoulders hitching, and then try again. “Katsuki. I’m in love with you.”

He freezes and the moment stretches out and you waver—caught on the edge of illusion, of hope—and when he finally replies his voice is rough. Sawed in his throat.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. I know.”

Your face crumples and he can’t let it end like this—despite himself and everything he’s been told he moves forward, just one step. You flicker back, surprised, your eyes growing big when he adds with a bite of desperation, “look. I know. I know you do—fuck. I know you do, okay? I know you do. And you ain’t—you ain’t—you ain’t alone with it, or whatever. D’you… you get it?”

Katsuki’s always thought of you as soft; but your mouth pulls taut.

“Say it,” you say, quietly. “Katsuki. I need you to say it.”

His temper flares; he hates this, he thinks wildly. He should’ve never asked—

But you’re standing there, whole and warm in the light and it’s—this is the culmination of everything, he thinks. Everything coming to a head. The early morning starts at the agency. You waiting back in the office with him, the both of you silently doing your work. Him walking you home in the later-summer nights. The hesitation, at the foot of your stairs—before he lets you go, lets you walk away without saying a word.

Katsuki thinks of the look on your face, the last time you parted. The hope on it. The skimming of your fingers against his, on the railing.

His throat tightens.

“I love you,” he says, low. “Always have. And—‘m always gonna.”

The smile you break out with is brilliant and lances through him like a spear and he feels his heart crack in response as he goes to touch your cheek, the rules be damned—

—but it can’t hold. The quirk falls away like glitter and you, in the sunlight, are gone; leaving Camie standing there, unusually somber. Waiting.

Katsuki nods, his grief like a vice around his throat.

“S’good,” he manages, his voice cracking. “I—yeah. Thanks, Camie.”

The other pro-hero smiles but Katsuki can’t handle the sadness in her eyes, not for him, and not for the fragments of you she just saw, that he asked for—

I’m in love with you, you had said, whispering it weakly, your fingers skimming over his jaw.

The bitterness in his mouth is slick. He should’ve told you first. He should’ve told you it first.

#prompts and drabbles and other things #🥺👉🏽👈🏽

[sugarpasteltmnt]

Hi there! I've read a lot of ROTTMNT fics, and I mean. A LOT. But holy fuck The Neon Void is literally the most amazing thing I've ever read.

The pacing is FANTASTIC? I'm way too impatient for reveals to take so long in my own writing, the fact you've managed to make it last 20 chapters (so far)? INSANE. /POS.

The characterization is absolutely phenomenal, it genuinely feels like this is something that could have happened in canon. It FEELS like the characters in every sense, even with Leo being the way he is! Its genuinely amazing.

Not to mention the ANGST. Presumed death is my favorite trope ever, and the fact all of their grief feels so palpable? The way you described Raph's grief in one of the chapters stuck with me so much, I forget the exact wording but it was like "He couldn't be more grateful to have had Leo for a brother, or more proud of the fact he had been his big brother" I don't know something like that AND IT FELT LIKE A KNIFE TO THE CHEST. WONDERFULLY DONE.

AND THE TELEPORTATION THING- making true teleportation so difficult in such a smart way was such a great move. I LOVE that aspect so much.

I'm gonna cut this ramble off here before I further go off the rails, I just wanted to say this is my all time favorite fanfic EVER. Even long when this is over I expect myself to come back to reread it VERY often. You're doing an amazing job, and you're a really awesome writer!

Have a wonderful day! :D

SOB THANK U SO MUCH

But seriously, that means a lot ;w; I’m always worried that my pacing is too slow, or if I’m hitting the marks on the boys’ personalities. ESPECIALLY with Leo fighting between insane giggle fits and self-loathing. It's been a challenge for sure. The reassurance that it’s somewhat believable makes me incredibly happy ;w; The story beats of this fic are honestly new territory for me—so it means the WORLD to me that you took the time to let me know you like my silly story!!! Especially since this is the first fic I’ve ever published—it’s a huge relief knowing that people enjoy my brain worms LOL

Honestly the amount of positive feedback I’ve gotten just from my silly little fic has totally floored me. Everyone has been so sweet and so kind and honestly writing this fic has brought me so much joy and I’m so happy that it makes other people happy too ;w;

But like??? The fact you feel like it could be canon?? THAT IS SUCH A HIGH COMPLIMENT THANK YOU 😭😭😭 I will admit I am proud of the teleportation aspect, and while I have some other silly particle physics lessons planned I just hope it all makes sense to readers in the end ;w;

Thank you again so so so much ;w; I love big dramatic reveal fics too, so it’s been VERY painful for me to have made it this far without a reveal LMAO. Seriously, I can’t wait to get this silly guy written and moved out of my head to free up rent space for some fanfic READING again (I WILL get distracted if I let myself read other fics rn SOB) I’ll def have to check yours out too because it sounds DELICIOUS 🤤✨

#thank you again so much ;w; #TNV asks #pastel prattling #this was such a nice pick me up while struggling to polish this chapter #[do it for her meme but it's all my readers] #writing action is hard af but hopefully it sounds cool in the end lmao

[dira333]

To sing and to listen - Present Mic x reader

TW: grief, although lightly mentioned - Song is The Old Therebefore by Suzanne Collins

The first time you called in was out of desperation.

Little Tobio was inconsolable in your arms, his loud cries turned into whimpers as you held him close in the night. He refused to fall asleep and you feared he would wake up the rest of the kids if he started screaming again.

“I want my grandpa.” He whimpered into your neck as you held him close. 

“I know, Tobio. I know.” You rubbed circles into his back and turned the knob on your radio, hoping the music would calm him down a little even though singing to him hadn't helped.

Instead, you were greeted by a cheerful voice.

“Welcome back, Listeners! Tonight we’re answering all kinds of questions around the topic ‘heroes of the day’. I’m excited to hear from you. This is Present Mic with Hands Up Radio!”

Tobio pulled back his head to squint at the radio.

“Who’s that?” The little boy asked and you propped him up a little.

“That’s Present Mic. He’s a Hero who does Radio Shows as well.”

“What kind of hero?”

“I think he has a voice quirk… Wait…” You pulled your phone from your worn-out cardigan and pulled up the hero stats. “See? That’s him.”

Tobio giggled, the first happy sound of his today. “He’s got funny hair.”

“He does, doesn’t he?”

While an old ACDC song played on the Radio you managed to capture the boy in silly small talk but soon his eyes darkened again and you could feel him slip into his grief yet again.

“Shall we call him? Present Mic? We can ask him about his own grandpa or whatever you want.”

“We can?”

“Sure we can. But it’s pretty late so he will surely ask you to go to bed after that.”

Tobio pondered that for a moment until he nodded, blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Yes! I wanna ask him.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s see if we can get through.”

You turned the volume down on the radio and tapped around on your phone until you found the number. After two rings, the call connected and a friendly female voice called out to you. “Hell there and welcome to Hands Up Radio. If you’ll hang on for a second, you’ll be the next caller on air. Can you give me your name please?”

“Uh, yes. Sure. It’s ___, I’m here with my little friend Tobio.”

“Oh, how nice. And, you’re up.”

You get little time to steel your nerves before you hear Present Mic’s voice. You don’t know how old he is but his introduction to the world of Heroes has been rather recent. His voice sounds young though, and reminds you of someone your age.”

“Hello, Listener! You called in with a question and we’re excited to hear it! Let’s rock and rrrrrumble!”

Tobio giggles next to you and you press on, if only to keep him happy for longer.

“Hello, I’m calling with my little friend Tobio who wants to ask you something.”

“Well, hello there, Tobio! How are you tonight?”

“I’m fine.” Tobio squeaks and giggles. “How are you?”

“Absolutely fantastico, now that I’ve heard you! How old are you, my friend?!”

“I’m five and a half!” He exclaims proudly.

“This old already?! My my, I’ll have to watch out for your hero debut! Are you planning to become a hero?!”

“NO!” Tobio cries out happily, laughing along with Present Mic. “I’m gonna be a teacher like my grandpa!”

“A teacher?! What a grand idea! And what do you want to teach?”

“Volleyball!” Tobio’s scrambling in your arms now, almost as if he wants to crawl into the phone. “And other sports too, like grandpa, but mostly volleyball.”

“Sports education, what a great plan! Now, what do you or your mother want to ask?”

You laugh, embarrassed by the assumption. Tobio’s quick to handle it.

“___ is not my mom! She’s my best friend!” He corrects. “And I wanna ask… Do you have a grandpa too, Mr. Present Mic, Sir?”

“A grandpa? Well, of course, I have, and two of them as well! Both fabulous men, you know, but sadly they were not teachers like yours.”

“No?” Tobio’s eyes are big. “What did they do?”

Present Mic's voice now carries an almost lost touch to it, as he delves into his past.

“My mother’s dad was a singer and he was fantastic. He died very young, so I never met him. And my father’s dad is a rice farmer, with hands so big he could scoop you up and throw you around like you’re nothing but a bag of rice.”

“Can you give them a hug from me?” Tobio asks, his small voice loud in the quiet room. It’s quiet on the other side of the phone and when Present Mic answers, his voice is thick with emotion.

“Will do, little Tobio. Sadly, I have to answer more questions, but I guess it’s time for bed now for you, right?”

“Yes.” Tobio agrees. “I promise I’ll go to sleep. Sleep tight Mr. Present Mic, Sir!”

The call cuts off and you turn the volume on the radio up again, catching the emotion still clinging to Present Mic’s voice.

“My, my, what a boy.” He says. “He reminded us all to appreciate our loved ones tonight, wouldn’t you say? Let’s think of them with our next song, shall we?”

-

“Oba-san!” Little Toruu pulls on your pant leg. “Can we listen to the radio tonight?”

You agree willingly, heart still a little raw from Tobio leaving this week. 

Sure, you were more than happy that they found his father’s cousin, a single woman in her thirties, who was more than willing to raise him now that his parents were dead and his grandpa in a nursing home. But you missed him, with his shy smile and blueberry eyes. 

Toruu, two years older than Tobio, was dreaming of becoming a Hero himself. Sadly, his Quirk only seemed to allow him to increase the power of the Quirks around him.

He was a problem child, too smart for his own good and too stubborn to accept any advice.

“Bedtime was hours ago,” Toruu has the decency to look ashamed as he sits on a pillow in the middle of the room, three other boys crowded around him. Three more boys are sleeping, undeterred by the radio playing.

“We wanna talk to Present Mic too!” Takahiro explains, his hair a mess of pink locks and ripe strawberries growing out of them. 

You sigh. Something like that happening should have been clear from the start. Tobio had never been one to keep a secret to himself.

“You too, Hajime, Issei?” Hajime has the decency to blush and curl into himself, almost resembling a turtle. Issei just stares at you with deep dark eyes. He’s learned not to talk too much, the birds taking flight from his mouth with every word hurting his throat.

“Alright, alright.��� You take a seat in their circle. “Does everyone have their own question or do you just have one?”

Issei hands you a paper covered in his messy handwriting.

“You want me to read your question?” Issei nods.

“Mine too.” Hajime puts another note on top of the first, followed by Takahiro who’s suddenly not so convinced he can pull off talking to a radio host.

Toruu however, has his arms crossed over his chest. “I will talk myself.”

“Alright. But quietly. We don’t want to wake the others.”

-

“Welcome, Listener! What question do thee have for us?” Present Mic’s voice rumbles from the phone and Toruu presses against your side, suddenly shy.

“Hi, it’s me again.” You start, cringing at your own awkwardness. “Tobio had so much fun the others want to talk to you too.”

“The others? My, how many siblings are we talking?!”

“We’re not siblings!” Toruu complains angrily, not liking it one bit to be compared to little Tobio. “We live in a children’s home.”

“Toruu.” You chide him softly, before explaining. “I’m a caretaker at a children’s home. I’d rather not have the name aired on radio but the kids love your show. I’m here with the older boys tonight, Toruu is 8, Hajime is 8 and a half, and Issei and Takahiro are both nine. They all have a question each but want me to ask you for them.”

You’re a little breathless from your ramble but Present Mic just cooes excitedly over the phone.

“No way! I didn’t know I had such dedicated listeners! What do you guys want to be when you grow up?”

“I wanna be a hero!” Toruu calls out. “The best there is.”

The other three look up at you with big round eyes, only Takahiro brave enough to whisper “I want to work at a zoo.”

“Takahiro loves Zebra’s,” you explain. “Hajime wants to travel. And Issei wants to be a photographer.”

“My, my, what dedicated fellows we have here! Now, lets hear your questions, young Listeners! I’m so excited.”

Toruu, suddenly shy, nudges you to read the others first.

“Hajime wants to know if you’ve ever been outside of Japan.”

“I have! What a great question, Hajime! I went to England once and it was a-may-zing! Promise me to go there for me one day and think of me when you sit in the London Eye and look down at the city.”

“I promise,” Hajime whispers into the phone before pulling his head back into himself again.

Another look at Toruu who’s still shaking his head. 

“Issei wants to know what your favorite bird is.”

“My favorite bird? That’s a tough question, little Listener! There are so many wonderful ones to choose from! But there’s one, with white feathers and a great haircut, if you ask me, who can talk back. That one should be named Present Mic’s favorite bird but I’ve forgotten its name, I’m afraid.”

“A cockatoo!” Issei calls out and a little sparrow springs from his lips, fluttering around the room. You whistle softly and it lands on your hand, settling in as if for the night.

“A cockatoo? How smart you are, my friend! Now, I believe we have two more questions to go?”

You know you’re taking up a lot of time. Grateful that he’s not rushing through this, you read out the next question. “Takahiro wants to know if you like strawberries. He grows them on his head.”

“I loooove strawberries!” Present Mic calls out excitedly and Takahiro blushes a perfect shade of strawberry red. “What an excellent quirk to have, my friend!”

“Do you need a sidekick?” Toruu interrupts him, voice a little breathy, eyes wide. “Because I have a quirk that enhances other quirks and I-”

“Wow, my friend, that is your quirk?!” Present Mic sounds thrilled as always, his tone just right to have Toruu beaming at you as he listens. “What an amazing quirk to have! Sadly we cannot take in any sidekicks under the age of fifteen, but I’ll be more than happy to have you by my side if you still want to be my sidekick then. Does that sound like a deal?”

“DEAL!”

-

The next week, you’re home in bed with a fever and a raw throat.

Next to your bed is the note that the girls scribbled onto, not wanting to miss out on questioning Present Mic. You’re sure they won’t mind waiting another week for their chance but half an hour before his show starts you wake up and are unable to fall asleep again.

You turn on the radio, telling yourself that you’ll only listen to his show until you feel tired enough to fall asleep again, but to your surprise, Present Mic sounds a little off today. His voice, usually cheerful, sounds almost timid today. You wonder if he got hurt in a fight or if he’s sick as well and before you know it, your phone is already in your hands.

The call connects almost instantly. You state your name and the female voice greets you cheerfully.

You miss half of Present Mic’s greeting because you have to sneeze violently. 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” You begin before realizing that you’ve just sneezed AND cursed on live radio. He laughs and it sounds a little lighter than before. 

“No worries, the weather this week must get to everyone, am I right?”

“About that!” You say, aware that your voice sounds a little rough right now. “I’m without the kids tonight because little Hitoka got a cold and therefore I got it too. I just wanted to ask… How are you?”

Silence follows your question and for a second you fear they have kicked you off the call until you hear a heavy sigh.

“I- I have to preface this by saying that I’m healthy, not hungry, not in want of clothes or a home or anything, but… it’s nice to hear a question like this on a day like today. You couldn’t know this nor anyone else out there but today is the anniversary of a good friend’s death and-” You can hear him swallow thickly and wonder how he might look right now. 

You picture him like on of your kids. Maybe he turns grumpy when he’s sad, like Kei. Or he blubbers in tears like Asahi. Maybe it’s that picture that loosens your tongue, because Asahi only ever cheers up when you sing with him, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself, scratched up on the edges and a little breathless from the cold, but unmistaken.

“You’re headed for heaven, the sweet old hereafter, and I’ve got one foot in the door…” You sing, the melody too well-known to you after years of helping mourning children, “But before I can fly up, I’ve loose ends to tie up, right here in the old therebefore…”

He doesn’t interrupt you, and you keep singing, the words flowing a bit smoother now as if they’re coated in honey, soothing your throat.

“I’ll be along, when I’ve finished my song, when I’ve shut down the band, when I’ve played out my hand, when I’ve paid all my debts, when I have no regrets, right here in the old therebefore. When nothing is left anymore.”

You sing the whole song, wondering if your quirk might work through the radio, or if the words might soothe someone in all those listening.

When you end, it’s quiet again, until you can hear Present Mic mutter a quiet “Thank you.” The call ends and you know you’ve probably embarrassed yourself on live radio right now, but if you’ve soothed his pain, if only a little, you’ll be more than happy about that.

-

There’s a man waiting in the entryway of the Crimson Riot Children’s home when you come in for the night shift.

He’s tall, blond, and good-looking, his long hair tied up in a bun.

“I’m sorry, visitation ends at five p.m.” You explain softly and he nods. 

“I was… I wanted to… talk to you.”

You blink, searching your memory for his face. He’s not a relative nor on the list of possible parents. But he looks familiar and you need an embarrassingly long time to connect the dots.

“Mr. Present Mic.” You blurt out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you.”

He laughs softly. “That was the plan, actually. I… I know you’re just about to start working but I wanted to… get to know you, maybe? Have a coffee together?”

“With me?” You point at yourself, spellbound. 

He smiles. 

“Yeah.”

There’s a rumble on the stairs and the newest addition to the family, purple-haired Hitoshi, turns up, looking anxiously between the two of you.

“Hi there, buddy.” You offer him your hand for the elaborate handshake he came up with this week. “Are you already done with dinner?”

He nods, sliding up to you and taking your hand, staring up at Present mic with curious purple eyes. 

“You have a voice quirk too, right?” He asks, direct as you’ve learned him to be.

“Yeah, I do. You too?”

Hitoshi nods but refrains from using it before he points at you.

“Oba-san has one too.”

“I figured as much.” Present Mic offers with a grin. “Had the whole studio smitten last week.”

“Oh, it’s not like that.” Your face burns under his praise. “It’s only a weak quirk and works mostly on animals.”

“Still.” He falls quiet after that, the three of you standing around in awkward silence.

Present Mic is the first to break it.

“You might be curious how I found you and why, but, as I said, I was very touched and I’d like… if you don’t want though, that’s completely fine.”

“When does your show start?” You ask. “It’s Friday, right? You have your show later.”

“Oh, I have to be in the studio at nine.”

“And when do you get out?”

“I usually leave at six in the morning.” 

You nod, before looking down at Hitoshi who looks curiously back up at you.

“If you want,” you tell him softly, trying to keep your voice from shaking, “You can come up and get to know the kids before the show. The girls wanted to ask questions anyway and Takahiro would love to meet you as well. And if you still want, we can… we can get a coffee in the morning. My shift ends at six as well.”

Present Mic smiles. 

“Takahiro, the boy that grows strawberries on his head, right?”

You nod and his smile morphs into an excited grin.

“I’d love to. Oh, and call me Hizashi Yamada.”

-

Almost a year later…

Hitoshi has curled into a ball on Shouta’s lap. He’s tired from today’s events and past nights that lack sleep, but he’s refusing to go to bed.

One of Shouta’s cats has curled up in your lap and you caress its soft fur periodically as you listen to the radio, waiting for the time to drip past you, as if today is a bathtub that can only be emptied drop by drop.

“You should go to bed,” Shouta tells Hitoshi for the umpteenth time but his son - newly adopted - curls into an even tighter ball.

“Do you want a hot chocolate?” You ask, watching and waiting as Hitoshi unfurls, capturing you with his big purple eyes. 

“Can we have mini marshmallows in it?” He asks and you snort.

“We’re at your place, baby.” You remind him. “All the mini marshmallows are at my place.”

“I have some.” Shouta croaks out. “But they’re hidden. Don’t go around telling Hizashi that I own something like that.”

“Never.” You and Hitoshi say in unison, sharing a wink.

When the hot chocolate is assembled and father and son are sipping from their respective cups - Hitoshi already back in position as Shouta’s personal weighted blanket, you keep standing, too anxious to sit, your hand soothing through Shouta’s hair as you nip on your hot chocolate.

It’s the anniversary of Oboro’s death today and your boyfriend, no, fiancé, isn’t home. 

He’s doing a show, even though it’s not Friday, because he promised not to go on patrol today, and standing still is not in the Cards for today.

You know they both are hurting and there’s only one thing you can do to help.

You call the well-known number and wait for the call to connect.

“Hi Darling,” Hizashi greets you, “Will you sing for us again today?”

You had talked about this before. You don’t like to be on his show any more than you have to, even though the kids still love sending in questions. But if you singing is something that could help Hizashi and Shouta and so many more grieving souls today, you will do it.

You think of Tobio and Toruu, of Hajime and Issei, Takahiro and Hitoka. You think of the boys and girls that left Crimson Riots children’s home and of those that stay behind, without a family to take them in. 

You think of Hitoshi’s purple eyes that still go dark sometimes and Shouta who’d taken one look at him before deciding his decision to not have children ever did not include adopting Hitoshi.

You think of Hizashi and sing, your quirk lacing every word and every note, soothing the hurt only absence can bring.

“I'll catch you up

When I've emptied my cup,

When I've worn out my friends,

When I've burned out both ends,

When I've cried all my tears,

When I've conquered my fears,

Right here in

The old therebefore,

When nothing

Is left anymore.”

tagged: @alienaiver @misfit-megumi

#my writing #Present Mic #Present Mic x reader #Hizashi Yamada #Hizashi x reader #Hizashi Yamada x reader #Present Mic fluff #Dad!Aizawa #Hitoshi Shinsou #mha fluff #mha x reader #my hero academia

[moonlight-prose]

from the F. Scott prompts, how about Tommy Miller and "in my heart I love her all the time" ? <3

HOW STARS SHINE IN DARKNESS

a/n: i took a small writing break, but before i did i wrote half of this and knew where it was going to wind up. i focused on the angst honestly and it sort of flowed really well with that. but again that's thanks to my angst playlist in the background. i've sort of set this in my upcoming tommy series: first light, but it can be read as a stand alone.

summary: in darkness stars shine. in pain...your love glows. and when all hope feels lost, tommy miller thinks of you.

word count: 0.8k+

pairing: tommy miller x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, angsty as fuck, grief, joel miller suffering, painful memories, hope in the bitter darkness of the apocalypse.

He couldn’t see the moon from where he was on the ground. Back pressed to dirt and rocks, head leaning against his bundled up jacket. Summer was always warmer in the middle of nowhere and for the first time Tommy was happy to feel sweat bead along the back of his neck. He didn’t have to worry about the freezing cold temperatures. Or the prospect of dying from fucking pneumonia.

For tonight he could simply relax.

Joel lay on the ground a few feet away, his eyes turned towards the sky too. Only Tommy knew he wasn’t looking at the stars that shone in the distance. He couldn’t care less about seeing the moon when it was full—giving off a light that would help if they needed to move quickly. Joel’s mind was somewhere else as it always was for the past year.

He’d been stuck in a dark hole with no chance of escaping—thoughts of Sarah plaguing him every morning, noon, and night.

More often than not Tommy felt like he was traveling with a ghost. The man beside him…no longer his brother. But merely a figment of what used to be; memories stacked one on top of the other to look convincing enough to pass off as human. Only there was nothing beneath. No sign of a beating heart anywhere, no matter how far deep he looked.

“Moon’s full,” Tommy said, cutting off the silence that threatened to choke him.

He felt selfish for wanting Joel back. What a fucked up thing to feel as his brother went through a grief he’d never experience himself. Losing Sarah hurt. He could remember the numbness that came in the days after, the heart wrenching pain with the memory of her smile or her laugh. But for Joel…it would always be worse. He saw that in the moments after as he contemplated living without his kid.

“Joel?”

A grunt let Tommy know he was still breathing. Which was more than what he got most days.

“‘M sure we’re gonna have a feast waitin’ for us when we get back.”

Tommy could picture you in his mind. Setting up the cabin with the best you could find. You’d gathered what you could before he left, but the promise of something on this hunting trip was what you were waiting for. He wasn’t sure how you fucking did it, but you managed to turn nothing into a meal that kept the both of you going. Tommy hoped that in some way you’d do the same for Joel.

“You love her.”

Joel’s words should have caught him off guard. They should have left him scrambling for something to say. Perhaps an excuse, because that’s what he would have done in the past. But tonight they settled into his chest with ease. No more discomfort at the notion that he might just get that chance to be happy while his brother suffered. No more feeling like he was jumping to conclusions too fast, and that what he had with you was temporary.

Tonight the words finally felt right.

He let out a breath, eyes glancing up at the sky in the hopes that you were doing the same miles away. “In my heart I love her all the time,” he murmured, lips curving up into a smile.

A slight nod was all Joel could offer him. Yet even through that Tommy saw the torment that emanated from his body. The ache that spread from the very top of his head to the tips of his toes. Joel wanted to feel that. He wanted to know what love felt like again. Shit, he just wanted to feel. Anything but that mind numbing hurt that continued to eat away at his fucking soul without mercy.

Tommy knew the feeling well enough. He’d contemplated ending the pain, ceasing the constant torture of living in this god forsaken hell. But then he found you. You and all your light.

The one thing he grasped onto with the assured knowledge that you’d keep him above water. That when it came down to it…you’d pull him free from the darkness all over again.

“Keep that,” Joel finally said. His refusal to even look Tommy’s way told Tommy enough. “Love like that…it’s as rare as the fuckin’ hope for a cure.” He turned, eyes glassy with tears that would never fall. Joel was pretty sure they had dried up years ago. “Take that love and live. You hear me?”

Tommy nodded, breath caught in his tightening chest. “I will.”

He watched as Joel shifted to his side, eyes falling shut. Which left Tommy with nothing else to do but look up at the stars, tracing a familiar constellation. He wondered what you were up to. Hoped that you were thinking of him, and for the first time…thanked his lucky stars that you crossed his path.

“I will,” he whispered, allowing his eyes to shut—the image of you clear in his mind.

#tommy miller x reader #tommy miller x f!reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x y/n #tommy miller #tommy miller angst #the last of us fic #my writing #a dream within a dream week🍷

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

The Elevator

can you imagine the sheer chaos that would happen if Thomas (and therefore, all the sides) got stuck in an elevator? – amateurmasksmith

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic i don't care

Word Count: 1364

The five stages of grief, as explored through what happens when you get stuck in an elevator.

    Denial

  "No," Virgil groans, slamming his head against the wall, "there's no way we're stuck in an elevator."

"Of course not." Logan folds his hands patiently. "We heard this elevator move, it clearly had to travel to reach the floor we were on, so we are not stuck in an elevator, it is simply delayed."

"That's right!" Patton claps his hands. "All we have to do is wait for it to start moving."

They wait. And wait. And keep waiting.

"I don't know if you've noticed," Roman says after they've waited for a considerable amount of time, "but, uh, we don't really seem to be moving all that much."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Janus drawls, leaning against the wall next to Virgil and examining his fingernails, even though he's wearing gloves, "this is clearly the fastest elevator I've ever been on. Truly, I don't know how your ears haven't popped yet."

"Oh my god, will you shut up?"

"What was that, Virgil? Sorry, I can't hear you over how fast we're going."

"Guys," Logan interrupts, "enough. We just have to be patient."

          2. Anger

  "How in the hell did this elevator manage to break while we're on it?"

"This is ridiculous," Logan mutters, beginning to tap his fingers against his wrist, "do they not think people have places to be? How are we expected to make our appointments if we are stuck in this infuriatingly small metal box?"

"They really should pay more attention to them," Patton agrees, crossing his arms too, "after all, what if someone got really stuck in here? Or if it got caught between floors?"

"Not helping, Pop Star," Virgil growls, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"Oh, sorry, kiddo."

"Well, clearly we have to recommend this place to everyone," Janus drawls, but a hint of steel undercuts the worst of the sarcasm, "for their stellar service and impeccable elevators."

Virgil grits his teeth and thunks his head back against the wall again. "I swear to god, I'm gonna punch our way out of here in a moment if this thing doesn't start fucking moving."

"You'll just hurt your hands, pry the doors open instead."

"Roman, no—"

Roman's fist slams into the wall with a thud. When he looks up, Patton makes a noise and takes step back.

"This elevator," he snarls, "better start fucking moving."

          3. Bargaining

  "What if I cut the cables?"

Patton yelps and Virgil swears as Remus drops down from the ceiling, looking far too eager and holding way too many tools. "Don't scare us like that, Remus?"

"And also don't kill us," Janus remarks, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder before he can get all the way to the control panel on the side, "we are still in the elevator."

"We can fix that!"

"For fuck's sake—no, Remus!"

"Language," Patton calls from where he's hiding behind Logan.

Virgil shoots forward to muscle Remus away from the elevator's control panel too, knocking some of the tools out of his arms and helping Janus hold him against the wall. "Stop it, Remus, you're scaring Patton."

"I should be scaring this elevator, but if the beast won't give up its guts, I'll eviscerate the monster!"

"It's an elevator, dude, calm down."

"I don't think asking Remus to calm down is going to work, Virge."

          4. Depression

  "What's the point," Roman groans, making everyone look around for him before realizing he's sitting on the floor, "what's the point in trying to ask him to calm down, what's the point of trying to get out of here? We're not going to make it in time, we're just going to be stuck in this elevator forever and we'll die of being stuck in a metal box."

"Roman," Logan says, surprisingly gently, "don't think like that, it's going to be alright."

"You said it yourself, Specs!" Roman throws his arms out. "We've already missed the bus by now, and the next one won't get us there in time. We missed it, it's over, we don't have another shot at it."

His face crumples miserably and Remus sags, letting Janus and Virgil wrestle the rest of his tools out of his grip before wriggling free of them himself. He scurries across the elevator to crouch next to Roman's side. Roman looks up with his eyes welling up with tears and Remus sits down, holding out his arms and letting his brother bury his face in the crook of his neck.

"Hey, Roro, it's gonna be okay," he murmurs, rubbing his back, "it's okay, Ro-Bro, it's okay."

"It's not," Roman sobs, "it's not okay! We worked so hard on this, Re, and now—and now—"

"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay, Roro, you're okay. I gotcha, okay? I'm right here."

The elevator fills with the soft sounds of Roman crying, even as he tries to bumble through apologies for being so emotional, or getting so upset, only for Remus to shush him and the others to follow suit.

"It's alright to be upset, Roman," Logan says softly, crouching by the two of them and reaching out to card his fingers through Roman's hair, "just give yourself a minute."

Roman sniffles and nuzzles against Remus's shoulder.

          5. Acceptance

  It takes Roman a little longer to compose himself, but Remus just holds him until he sags into his arms and bonks their heads together affectionately.

"You feeling a little better, Roro?"

"I mean," Roman sniffs, "not really, but I'm not going to cry anymore."

He looks up at the others, at their concerned faces and small smiles, and he sighs.

"Guess we're just stuck in here until someone comes to get us, right?"

Virgil slumps down in the opposite corner, an odd mish-mash of limbs and hoodie as he toys with the strings. "Yep. Guess so."

Janus sighs dramatically—which is saying something, seeing as both Creativity Brothers look at him as though they think he's being excessive—and slinks to the floor in a way that would make most animated Disney villains jealous. He props one knee up and flounces against the railing, looking every bit the inconvenienced overlord until Remus reaches out and pokes him in the ribs. Then he hisses and curls up into a more normal seated position and Remus cackles.

"Well, we might as well get comfy," Patton says, sitting down too, "who knows how long we're gonna be in here?"

"Until someone else notices the elevator is broken, I guess."

"We should play a game!"

"No," Janus groans, "no games."

"Ooh, what about Find The Organ?"

"No, Remus."

"I don't think I know that one, what's—" Patton squeaks as his hand claps itself over his mouth.

"I'm saving you from a far worse fate," Janus says gravely, with a look of utmost sincerity and honesty on his face, "trust me."

          +1. Realization

  Logan's deep sigh from the other side of the elevator draws their attention. Roman frowns as he sees Logan take off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Logan? You okay?"

"What's up, L," Virgil asks too when Logan doesn't respond, "is something wrong?"

Logan still doesn't say anything. After another moment of the others trying to figure out what's got him so upset, he replaces his glasses with a forced calm and reaches out.

The button glows.

The elevator rumbles and lurches into motion.

"Whoa, Logan!" Patton scrambles to his feet. "You fixed it!"

"Wait, wait, what?" Remus gets up too. "How did you do that?"

"He's Logan," Janus says, getting up as though it was his idea to sit down in the first place, which it was, but out of necessity, not choice, "are you surprised?"

Virgil narrows his eyes at Logan's back for a moment before he bursts out laughing. "Wait, did no one push the button when we got in?"

Logan's silence is telling.

"Oh my god—"

"What the fuck—"

"How the hell did no one—"

"Remus!"

"What did I do?"

The elevator carries its passengers down to the lobby, rumbling and whirring all the way.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #patton sanders #logan sanders #viirgil sanders #fic

[ovobawrites]

𝐵𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽: 𝐸𝓅𝒾𝓈𝑜𝒹𝑒 𝐹𝒾𝓋𝑒 ♡ 𝐹𝒷𝑜𝓎𝓈 𝒜𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓈

disclaimer: this has already been posted on ao3 and quotev, i'm just reposting this beach episode special as a promo for the fic. after this is all my previous author notes.

this is a fem!reader and also a half chinese!reader insert.

previous ♡ next

Crewel stood ominously by the door to the lodge, looking over you all with a critical eye. 

"I hope you mutts are planning to clean yourselves off," he started, "and Trey, Lilia," the two perked up. "you two will be cooking tonight's dinner."

Who decided to let Lilia cook... at least there's Trey?

The contrasting reactions would be funny were you not at risk of food poisoning. Lilia beamed, so excited he started floating. Meanwhile Trey was already working up a sweat, running through every possible future in his head. Silver, for once, was wide awake and looking horrified, face awash in a nausous green. Malleus, on the other hand, faced this death sentence with a grim look on his face, ready to meet his end fighting. 

Cater and Riddle were hurriedly whispering at the back, Riddle's face slowly growing more and more defeated as Cater continued on with his gossip about Lilia's poisonous cooking. Jamil frowned in disapproval, holding Kalim close to him as his housewarden started to pale in worry. You had already gone through the five stages of grief, accepting of your impending doom. The rest, however, weren't so quick.

Crewel frowned. "What are you all looking so deathly for? Go on, shower! Dirty dogs must be cleaned."

"Y-yes professor." You managed to stutter out, offering a shaky smile before treking up to your room, doing your best to avoid the other boys. For all you can act like everything was okay, you still felt that clench of fear in your gut as you closed your door behind yourself.

This would be hell. 

How could I have been so- so stupid! You bemoaned to yourself, Idia's gonna hate me for this, I just know it! It was completely improper and juvenile of me to yell at him. And over something so meaningless! Why did I- How could I- Wait. Why were you so upset? Why were you wholly embarassed? The other boys yelled and fought all the time and yet, for you to do such a thing. Why did it make you feel this way? What caused this fluttering of butterflies in your stomach, the angry buzz of bees in your head? 

You crashed your head into a pillow and let out a muffled yell. This trip was already shaping up to be a disaster. They already saw me in such a state. To get angry like that... how could I be so foolish! I should die for this. No one will ever look at me in the same way again. I was so utterly uncouth- to the point that none of them will ever even want to see me again. Sure, Floyd said it wasn't a big deal... but the moment any of them look back upon this moment they'll- they'll-

And that was the root of the problem, wasn't it? You weren't ashamed of getting into a silly little argument, you were afraid. 

They'll hate me.

But that was fine, right? People have hated you before, and people will for evermore. There's no point in crying over spilt milk, what's done is done. You should've thought thrice before you acted, but there's nothing you can do now but learn and pray for them not to think any different of you. 

You smiled sardonically, Like that'll ever happen. Who would like me after seeing me act like that?

...

These intrusive thoughts were getting you nowhere. Best to shower, fix up your makeup, and try to calm down. Let them despise you and look down on you. It's not like you cared anyways.

You finished up your shower on autopilot, routine muscle memory taking over as you sank further into your melancholy thoughts. If brother had been there... what would he have said? He'd disapprove, I'm sure of it. Getting close to others when you're an Aster is always a gamble after all. But... is it so wrong to want friends? I don't know anymore. It would have been better if I had just refused Crowley's offer.

Your face remained flat, never betraying your inner turmoil as you brushed through your hair mechanically in front of your vanity. (H/C) locks tugged at harshly as you brushed through the knots. A self flaggelation, of sorts. The pain both grounded you and sent you further into a self-depreciative headspace. It wasn't healthy but it was all you had. How foolish of you. 

I don't know what to do anymore. Should I just leave? Maybe I need to talk to-

A knock on the door. 

"Uh-um. (Y/N)? It's... it's Idia. C-could you maybe let me in?" His voice floated over from the door, the warble to it showing his nerves.  

Ah. I see. He's here to yell at me and tell me to never talk to him again. That's why he's so nervous, Idia's never liked confrantation after all. 

The silence rang out as you remained seated, frozen in place. What do you do? Opening the door means accepting a broken friendship and- you didn't want that. You didn't want to hurt anymore. 

"I-it's fine if you don't w-want to let me in!" Idia mumbled, "I-I just wanted to apologise, I sh-shouldn't have..." he trailed off before groaning in frustration. "Agh I'm so-" he halted, before hesitantly speaking up once more, "Could you p-please open up? I-I heard apologies are more genuine when you- you look at someone and Ortho said that..." Idia muttered rapidly, his words too quick for you to understand. 

Maybe hearing that he wanted to apologise was made you stand up and open the door. Maybe it was his obvious anxiety. Maybe it was out of pity. Who knows? But you let him in, like an idiot. 

Idia stumbled back as you opened the door, shock painted on his face. A nervous laugh. "I-I didn't think you'd actually open the door..." He turned his head away. "This was easier when I practiced... ahhh." He covered his face in his hands for a moment, then slapped his cheeks and straightened up, looking you in the eye. "Can I come in?"

Your throat was dry. Your stomach in knots. Greens and blues pulsed in your veins. "...Sure." You stepped to the side and closed the door behind Idia.

IDIOT! Your instincts screamed. Now you're trapped inside with him, you're not gonna be able to run away and get safe. You can't hide! What is wrong with you! He could-

"S-so, firstly, I'm sorry." Idia spoke up, fidgeting with his hands as he sat down on the chair, turning it to face the bed as you went to sit on it. You had no idea what to say, but this silence seemed to only spur Idia on. "I-I know you get... upset when we're loud and I- I shouldn't have yelled in your face. I know you hate it when that happens, and I should have respected your boundaries."

Wait, what? He wanted to actually apologise? Not yell or scream some more? You were too stunned to speak. 

"And-and secondly!" He got braver now, raising his voice from the soft volume of before. "I'm sorry that I escalated that argument. If it wasn't for me getting so heated, it would've been fine but I just- I felt- I was-" He groaned in frustration, covering his face with his hands. But something made him reveal himself and open up once more. "You were right, I was... you know. I felt... of Ruggie." His voice was so quiet at that point that you couldn't make out what he said by the end of it.

"I- you were... what of Ruggie?" You spoke up, and Idia made eye contact with you, hair glowing pink, eyes glaring. "...Sorry, I shouldn't have asked, I was being-"

"No-no it's fine! I was-" Idia sighed. "I was jealous. Of Ruggie. That's all." He turned away, looking at the trinkets on the vanity. "And again, I'm sorry for acting like that. You don't have to forgive me or anything, I just..." he slowed down as he turned to look at you, your (E/C) eyes still on him. "I just. wanted. to. apologise." The words came out stilted as his hair went more and more pink, cheeks flushing a brilliant red. 

You just sat there, hands on your lap, still as can be. As the shock simmered down and bloomed into reds and pinks in your chest, you started to chuckle. Idia froze as you started to full on laugh, a sound he'd never heard before. 

"I-I" You tried to say in between giggles, but you couldn't stop laughing, tears starting to run down your cheeks. "I apologise. I'm just so-so happy." A watery smile. "I thought you would- never mind. I'm sorry too." You looked Idia in the eye. "It wasn't just your fault. I also escalated the argument, you know. And I was the one who started raising my voice. I shouldn't have- no. I'm sorry that I did so, I shouldn't have drawn so much attention to us when I knew you dislike that many eyes on you."

"I-Don't cry!" Idia fluttered his hands around, leaning forwards and brushing the tears off of your cheek. "I- I really am sorry, you know. And even if it wasn't just my fault, I still should take the blame. I scared you. T-that's like totally an incel move on my part." He offered a weak smile, hands still on your face. "And I accept and forgive your apology. Really."

"I-I forgive you too." Your laughter quieted down and you beamed. "I'm glad that we can still be friends. Even though I acted so- so horribly." That's when the two of you realised what position you were in. Idia towered over you, hands on your cheeks, as you sat on your bed. It was highly improper. Your face went hot at the thought, steaming at the proximity. Idia's hair went from a light pink to a bright fushia, he stuttered and stumbled back, crashing into the dresser. 

"I-I'm s-sorry!" He yelped, cowering away from you. "That-that was so lame of me!" He muffled his embrassed yell with his hands. 

"No-no it's fine!" You stood up and tried to comfort him, hands hovering over his back. "Really, it's fine I don't mind!"

"You sure?"

"Yeah." 

Idia looked you in the eye, trying to gauge the verity of your statement. You stared back, eyes steady. The two of you stared at each other, silence enveloping the room. And for a single, halting moment, you wished that the moment would never end. 

Then- 

A knock and Silver's voice from behind the door. "(Y/N), Idia? I know you two are resolving things but dinner's ready. Just wanted to make sure you two are prepared..."

You jumped back and started to pat yourself down, avoiding eye contact with Idia. The boy laughed weakly and ran a shaking hand through his hair. 

"Guess we gotta do that boss fight now... Idk if I have the stats to survive Lilia's food..."

You gave a small chuckle at his joke. "Does anyone?"

"Silver and Malleus, they have to brave it like every week, right?"

"I thought they just magic it away when Lilia's not looking..."

"...That makes a lot more sense."

It was akin to a walk of shame as you and Idia entered the dining room, side by side. Crewel was absent once more, likely ordering an actually edible meal for himself. While the rest of the boys tried not to make it obvious, it was clear that they were all looking at you, trying to guess whether you both actually made up. 

"Koi fishie!" Floyd waved you over excitedly. "I saved you a seat!"

"Absolutely not!" Riddle snapped. "You'll only stress poor (Y/N) out! Come, sit with us, Trey and I saved you a seat!" Riddle smiled kindly, puffing out his chest like a robin would. It was adorable. 

Trey smiled at you and shrugged, face as bright as day.

"Would your high strung nature not stress the poor dear out even more?" Jade hit back. "Let her sit with some fun people, for once."

"(Y/N), want to sit next to Lilia and I?" Silver blinked innocently at you, offering an out from the cat fight.

"Ah- sure, I'd love to." You quickly sat down before another argument would break out.

Riddle puffed his cheeks out and Trey drooped down slightly. Maybe you made a mistake. Floyd and Jade looked unhappy too, but... asides from sitting like how cultists circle their prophet, there was no pleasing everyone.

Lilia offered you a fang-filled grin and gestured excitedly to the centerpiece meal on the table. "Gentlemen and dearest (Y/N), Trey and I have created the most scrumptious meal for your consumption this twilight. Methinks you all will enjoy it greatly."

Side-eyes were exchanged as you looked over the main dish with a critical eye. You could only hope Trey managed to rein Lilia in. A large platter of seafood sat on the giant plate, grilled fish and shrimp lay on a bed of decorative lettuce, the colours lacking the normal ashy black that Lilia's meals took the appearance of. But who would take the bait and reach for a bite?

Leona elbowed Ruggie and gestured to the platter. The hyena sighed, shrugged, and grabbed a slice of fish. You all watched on, concerned, as the hyena chewed on the piece of seafood. His face went through many expressions, suspense, shock, pleasant surprise, and finally, a look of joy as he swallowed down the fish. He gave a sharp grin at Trey in thanks for his service and immediately went to spear more and more fish for his plate. 

Ruggie's reaction encouraged you all to partake in the meal, and thank god. It seemed Trey's godlike cooking skills managed to triumph over Lilia's lack thereof. The chefs of the night glowed with pride as you all lavished praise on both of them. Silver and Malleus making the executive decision to find Trey's secret before the night was over. Money was exchanged under the table as you all betted on how Trey managed it, the secret groupchat flooded with messages as the group enjoyed the delicious meal.

☆Kay-kun☆: i bet trey locked up lilia in a kitchen cabinet!! he totes did all the cooking on his own lmao

Vil Schoenheit: No, obviously he took Lilia's cooking and threw it away while passing his dishes off as both of theirs. Lilia must have fell for it.

gamer-idia-1812: no no no its obvi tht trey cast a spell on lilia so hed be frozen + unable to unleash that horrible beast upon the world lolol

(Y/N) Aster: Maybe he had Lilia do the prep work while he handled everything else? Or got Lilia to wash the dishes while he did all the cooking.

❀✧★KALIM★✧❀: Maybe Lilia learnt how to cook!! I think he'd be a great one!!!

Silver: Kalim, I guarantee that is not the case.

Malleus Draconia, Crown Prince of Briar Valley: LILIA WILL NEVER BE GOOD AT COOKING.

Malleus Draconia, Crown Prince of Briar Valley: WHY ARE MY WORDS IN UPPERCASE?

Silver: Ah, young master, your caps lock button is on. Press the upwards facing arrow on the keyboard to turn it off

Malleus Draconia, Crown Prince of Briar Valley: THANK YOU SILVERJSKA;DLKDJLKLDLJKSKLGLHJKFDSGKDFLKHAHKL

(Y/N) Aster: Ah. Silver, maybe you should go help him?

Silver: (￣^￣)ゞ

Trey: Oh, I just asked Lilia to make the dessert while I cooked the main course. 

Jamil Viper: sorry, you WHAT

leona: if i die cuz of u, green haired bastard, i'll haunt you to your grave

Riddle Rosehearts: Perhaps it won't be that bad? Maybe the rumours were exaggerated.

Trey: Personally, I'd use the word understated

gamer-idia-1812: goodbye cruel world... maybe i'll meet the Premo in heaven

leona: a radish sprout like you will be fit in hell

gamer-idia-1812: lolol i'll see u all there

(Y/N) Aster: My mother paid the church a lot of money so that I wouldn't go to hell. I'll just roam the earth as a calamity-level ghost. 

Ruggie: The power of rich ppl astounds me...

❀✧★KALIM★✧❀: Oh! I should do that for all of us! So no one will go to hell ＼(≧▽≦)／

Jamil Viper: Kalim, don't waste your money doing something so stupid. Some people deserve to go to hell.

Azul Ashengrotto -50% off at Mostro Longue, Order today!-: Please, Jamil. You shouldn't be so antagonistic towards your upperclassmen! Maybe you should transfer to octavinelle to learn a bit of kindness from our Sea Witch.

Jamil Viper: I'd rather rot in hell.

Floyd >^)))&lt;;～～: so no one won the bet? o(TヘTo) who does the money go to? (・・ ) ?

Trey: I think we should save it for the hospital bills

☆Kay-kun☆: ye just took a look at the kitchen, great idea trey!! 

Mini Theatre Trey: I looked forward in time, I saw 14,000,605 futures. (Y/N): In how many of those did we survive? Trey: 1. - (Y/N), monolouging like a drama queen: 。゜゜(´Ｏ`) ゜゜。 Everyone else: Wow, that fight got a little intense! I'm glad no one got hurt :) - Idia, in the common room: EMERGENCY MEETING! PLEASE HELP ME APOLOGISE TO (Y/N)!!!! Azul: But- Idia: I'll pay you like 3000 thaumarks Azul: Done!  Cater: Should this be, like, a group discussion?  Ruggie: Shut up I wanna see how much of a trainwreck it'll be.

and here is the fifth part of the beach ep. if you'd like to read the rest of the fic, you can read it on ao3 here, and on quotev here.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #floyd leech x reader #trey clover x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #jade leech x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #cater diamond x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #rook hunt x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #silver x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #twst x fem reader #female reader #reader insert #fboys anonymous #ovobawrites

[dragondemoness]

Ultimate Cuteness Reader - Persona 5/Royal Edition - The Mansion of Grief (Part Two) (The Boys)

It was a long and difficult battle, but your partner finally managed to defeat the demented cognition of your grandmother.

After defeating her, she let out a shrill roar and sunk back into the ground.

Your partner took a moment to catch their breath before looking over at you. You were completely silent and you fell to your knees, staring at the ground with a blank expression. The tears didn't fall physically, but dark tear streaks appeared on your face.

"So... She really is gone."

Ren Amamiya/Joker

He wasted no time in running over to you and pulling you into his arms

"(Name)... I'm sorry I had to do that. But it was the only way."

"I finally found her... She wasn't dead after all. But you killed her."

Hearing you say that made his heart broke

How could he have let your heart reach this state?

"(Name), this place isn't real. I'm sorry, but she's gone. Once you leave this Palace, it'll fade. The only that will remain is your memories of her, hung up on these walls. And I know it hurts, but running away from it is only going to hurt worse."

His words finally seemed to sink in, and the tears started falling for real

He pulled you closer and guided your head to lay against his chest

"I know you miss her. And I know she was truly a parent to you. But she isn't all you have left. You have me, and you have our friends. Please, remember that. If you feel lonely again, you can come to any of us. It doesn't have to be me, but I am always available for you. Understand?"

He wiped the tears from your eyes and paused to hold your face in his hands, hoping you would see the sincerity in his eyes

It seemed to work, and you nodded

"Okay."

He smiled and gave you a kiss on the forehead

"Good. Now, would you happen to know where the Treasure is?"

Behind them, your bunny plush appeared

He picked it up and handed it to you before lifting you into his arms and carrying you back to the Palace entrance

The Treasure was a photo of you and your grandma dancing in her garden together, as he expected

The wait was agonizing

Morgana warned him that your change of heart may take a long time, and the two of them waited outside of your house to see if you'd come

When you did, he ran to you and gave you a tight hug

Morgana jumped off his shoulder and into your arms, purring as you pet his head and scratched his ears

He climbed up to your shoulders and Ren took your hand with a smile as you walked to Leblanc together

Ryuji Sakamato

"Hey..."

He cautiously but quickly approached you

"Listen. I know that wasn't easy to watch. But you gotta understand... She's gone, hun. She's not comin' back. And you can't keep runnin' away, y'know? It's just gonna hurt worse."

When the tears started falling, he immediately took you into his arms and held you until you calmed down

"I know I ain't the brightest, but you don't gotta keep holdin' all this in. If you're feelin' depressed, you can tell me. Or the others. I'm not gonna judge ya. Ever."

He lifted you up to your feet and took the Treasure before making a run for it

He waited outside your house patiently for you to come out

When you did, he flashed his signature stupid grin at you and gave you a tight hug

Then he slung his arm around your shoulders and took you to go get ramen

He knew the grandma thing needed to be addressed later, but for now, you could relax and enjoy your time together

Yusuke Kitagawa

He walked over to you and kneeled down in front of you

"My dear... This Palace is a manifestation of your grief for your grandmother. It does not exist in the real world. These beautiful memories, however, very much do. But I'm afraid that once we return to the real world, your grandmother will not be there."

Once the tears started falling, he rested a gentle hand on yours as he murmured words of comfort

When it finally sunk in, he took the Treasure and left a soft kiss on your hand before leaving

He awaited your change of heart and once it came, he walked to you and pulled you into his chest

Then he took your hand and brought you to Leblanc, so you could take your mind off things for a bit

And so he can finally show you the artwork he was so excited about

Goro Akechi

He kept a safe distance from you as he recovered from the battle

He was used to killing people, not changing hearts

He didn't want to anger you or make things worse

But this had to stop

"(Name)... this place isn't real. Your grandmother is gone. This Palace is nothing more than a manifestation of your distorted desires caused by grief."

He doesn't mean to sound dismissive, but he really needs you to see the truth

Once you break down crying, he finally decides to get closer to you

He kneels down in front of you, trying to find a way to better phrase his emotions

"I... I should have noticed sooner. I was completely blind to your grief, and I allowed your heart to become distorted. I'm sorry that this happened under my watch. I didn't imagine that I would resort to the Phantom Thieves' method of doing things, but... As long as it works, I suppose."

Once you recover, he helps you to your feet

"So, erm... Is that all? Is there anything else I must do to finally put this behind us?"

The rabbit plush appeared behind you, and he gave you a sheepish farewell before taking it and leaving

He waited outside your house and gave you his signature charming smile before hugging you

He then offered to take you on a date to Kichijoji to help take your mind off things

He never thought he would find himself changing someone's heart, let alone his significant other

But he's glad that it all worked out

#persona 5 #persona 5 royal #persona 5 x reader #persona 5 royal x reader #ren amamiya x reader #akira kurusu x reader #ryuji sakamoto x reader #yusuke kitagawa x reader #goro akechi x reader #ultimate cuteness reader #ultimate cuteness series