#first time in my life where i was genuinely so happy to just be alive

[navstuffs]

hi!! i really love your writing and i would love if you could feed me with a request (only if you're comfortable with it, ofc) 👉🏼👈🏼 what about a leon x reader where reader is passing through a very tough depressive crisis and is really not fine mentally speaking — and leon just try to help and comfort them through this? 👉🏼👈🏼

anyway, thank you for your fics, they really helped me these days 😭💗

Anchor

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GNPartner!Reader

Summary: It is 1 am when Leon Kennedy knocks on your door. He shouldn't be there and you shouldn't have opened it. 

Warning tags: hurt/comfort, angst, leon almost died, reader is suffering with anxiety due to past events, can be read as platonic or romantic (you choose)

Writer's Notes: hello! first of all, im sorry i took so long to write this request for you. i changed some stuff and i hope you don't mind (reader is still depressed). thank you so much your kind words and i hope this fic serves as comfort for you!! <333 stay safe anon!

for more painful leon's fics, check my masterlist. i have some happy ones too :)

It is 1 am when Leon Kennedy knocks on your door. It is the third time that week only, the fifth of the month. 

It starts when you don’t appear at work after two weeks since his return, and no one knows where you are. HR informs you are sick, which means you are still alive somewhere in the world, just sick. Okay, but sick with what? Sick how? Are you in the hospital? Do you need any help? Leon knows you don’t have family around, like him, and you are pretty much alone - like him. 

So, as any regular worried friend would, he calls and texts. He wants to hear your voice and guarantee that you don’t need help and have everything you need. That you truly are okay. No answer. HR has guaranteed him you are not dead, but what if you—no, he shouldn’t think about that.

The next step is going to your house. He knows where your address is and wouldn’t be a complete weird appearing there in the afternoon. No answer. Leon won’t be a creep as far as looking at your windows, at least not yet. He won’t go as far as busting your door and checking how you are feeling because he needs to confirm you are okay. You might just not be home.

On the second visit, Leon got awfully close to kicking your door. Before he could do that or even knock, he saw a shadow pass over the window. Though Leon told himself he wouldn’t, he looked inside just in time to see you disappear to the second floor. So, at least you are really alive, Leon’s body filling with relief. It could have been a bad case of flu, and you don’t want to contaminate anyone.

One more week passes, and he visits your house two more times. Those times you didn’t even bother to hide yourself, lazily lying down on the sofa in a way Leon couldn’t see your face (oh yeah, now he is definitely peeking out your windows). So you are genuinely ignoring him or truly sick with some contagious disease. Maybe Covid?

The fifth time he knocks on your door, it is 1 am and Leon is deeply not only worried but bitter. He was sitting in his apartment alone, wondering what you had and why you didn’t open the door for him. You two are colleagues, and Leon would dare to go as far as to call you his friend if anyone asked. How many times have you brought him soup while he was sick? Brought him meds, kept him company? Checked on him until he was finally all better?

It would be only fair if he did the same.

Leon grabs his keys without even thinking: You will open the door for him tonight. And if you don’t, well, he will kick it open. To hell with the civil approach.

-x-

All the courage slips away from his body when he notices the kitchen’s light on. Leon can’t see anything inside since you decided to make his life harder and close the curtains. So, instead of kicking that door until it’s down, Leon goes back to the gentle approach (like the idiot he is): he knocks.

The door opens not even ten seconds later, and Leon blinks, surprised. You are there. You, not a trick of his eyes: a fluffy and long blanket covering your body, only your face peeking with a familiar expression Leon recognizes immediately - he had seen in his own mirror before.

“You won. What the fuck do you want?” Those are the first words to him in weeks.

“May I come in?” 

You ponder for a moment, your eyes red, and Leon wonders when you last slept. You walk away, leaving the door open, and Leon follows inside, locking the door behind him. 

Your house isn’t in the best state. He had been here before and thought you weren’t the most organized person (“I can find myself in my own mess, Leon.”). The mess had grown too much from normal. There were tons of take-out boxes on the kitchen counter, pizza boxes, and fast food bags. At least you had been eating—not the best food ever, but feeding. He could work with that.

And the bottles—oh, those Leon would identify anywhere. You weren’t a heavy drinker, and you mentioned plenty of times you didn’t know how he liked whiskey. Now, there were countless empty bottles of whiskey, beer, and vodka, so much so that the place looked like a bunch of frat boys had a party just the night before and didn’t bother to clean.

Leon follows you to the living room as you fall onto the couch. An old Simpsons episode plays on the TV screen. There are still some bags and bottles on the floor, but fewer. Your eyes focus on the TV, not really watching or paying attention to him.  Leon stands there, keeping a safe distance from you and gathering what to say. 

“I came to check on you.” Leon starts, his eyes glued on you. “You haven’t called or texted me back. The HR said-”

“I am sick. I wanted to be left alone.”

“I know, but-”

“I could complain about this to HR, you know? It could be considered an invasion of privacy, and you could lose your job. “

“I was worried about you.”

“You saw me in the window that day, didn’t you? I’m alive and breathing. Now get out.”

You hide your face in the sofa, conversation clearly done on your side. It feels like an impossible battle to win. Leon then tries again, “Do you need anything?” 

“No. Get out.”

He sighs, turning on his heels. Leon wants to say you can call if you need him, any time, but Leon knows you wouldn't. This is an impossible battle to win, Leon realizes as he starts to leave. But then he freezes, a memory piercing his thoughts. Leon comes back to the living room, your face still hidden.

“No.”

“What?” 

“I am not leaving. Not before I know what is wrong.”

“I am sick.”

“Yes. So I have heard.” 

You don’t turn to look at him, and that’s fine. If you want to be stubborn, so could he. Leon can wait. The episode on the TV finally ends, and as the familiar opening plays in the background, you slowly turn in his direction, one eye appearing first, then the other, as if expecting Leon would be gone by now. Unlucky for you, Leon S. Kennedy didn’t give up that easily, especially for his friends.

“I don’t know what you are feeling, but I know that face.” His voice manages to sound neutral.

Of course, he does. Of course, your partner, the legendary D.S.O veteran, would know. You, just a newbie, would have no idea what he went through, but Leon didn’t seem the kind of person to crumble for anything. Leon would probably be fine if you were the one to get shot, not him. He wouldn’t have panicked, he wouldn’t have started crying, screaming for someone to help them, losing themselves in a sea of despair and pain.

“Hey…”

Blood. So much blood in your hands. You are useless, you can’t help him as Leon’s face loses color-

“Hey.”

He deserved someone better—someone much better as a partner—not you, a weak agent who thought you were strong enough to stand by his side. Oh, how wrong you were.

Leon calls your name, more urgent this time, and your line of sight is filled with the face of the man you considered your friend right at your path—concerned blue eyes, his hair tickling against your face. His forehead is in concentration, the faint ghost of a beard, as he speaks soothingly. “Hey, look at me. You are safe. Deep breaths, come on.” 

The visions mix as you blink: Leon losing blood in your arms, unconscious, back to being safe, his worried eyes staring at you.

Your rapid breathing noise fills the room, your heart wanting to burst as the pain spreads over your body, the pain worse than being stabbed or punched. You keep your eyes on Leon - he is fine, he is safe, he is well, he is worried sick about you- as he continues to nod and tell you to breathe.

It takes a while, Leon’s hands on your shoulder as you finally calm down, the tears rolling freely from your eyes.

“I am sorry.” You manage to whisper. “I am so sorry.”

“You are safe. We both are safe.” Leon declares, and you take that in. Right now, yes. But what about tomorrow? What about-? “Hey, eyes open at me.” When had you even closed them? “Come on. There is no one else, just you and me. And we are safe.” 

You nod, not arguing back. Finally, you sit down, and Leon takes two steps back. “Water?” 

“I think there are some in the fridge,” you reply, cleaning your tears. Leon leaves and quickly comes back with two bottles, unbottling them for you. You shake your head, but Leon insists, and you drink in small sips, the cold liquid refreshing your dry throat. When was the last time you had any water? Or took a shower? Or slept?

Finally, you give him space on the couch to sit. Leon doesn’t, and you point your head to your side, and he sits, keeping a safe distance from you. You two say nothing for a while, simply looking at the TV to watch Bart Simpsons on his shenanigans. 

“I am sorry.”

“Would you stop that?” Leon sighs back, frustrated. 

“No. I am sorry.”

“Fine. I forgive you. Are we good now?”

“No.” 

“I knew it wouldn’t be,” Leon replies with a sad smile.

“You could have died, and I didn’t-” Leon says your name, but you continue “-let me finish. I didn’t help. I didn’t move. I did nothing.” 

Leon didn’t want to talk about this, knowing it was inevitable. The day he took a bullet for you: not one, but two. Leon noticed before you, his reflexes quicker than yours. It was his responsibility anyway.

You only watched, shocked, as the bullet pierced his leg, then his chest. You didn’t move or flinch; you just froze, your hands closing and opening nervously as Leon fell right in front of you. You had been fortunate that the backup team had arrived on the other second, finding in the middle of the swarm of bullets a screaming you protecting Leon with his own body, all training thrown out of the window. You two should have been dead. Life had given you and him another chance, since no other vital organ or vein of Leon had been damaged.

You don’t remember much after except asking for your resignation that same day and getting a “No” as an answer. So you decided to get on sick leave until some higher-up got tired and fired you.

“I did nothing.” Leon tries to interrupt you again, but you continue, “You could have died, and I did nothing.”

“It wouldn’t be your fault.” 

“What? Of course, it would!” 

“No, it would not.” 

“Can you fucking stop trying to make me feel better?” Your tone is so angry, so vile, that Leon almost flinches. 

Death is always in the back of his mind. Every time he is out there, he could die. He is expandable; they all are, but he couldn���t just let you die. You a much smarter version of what he once was during Raccoon City. The same bravery, but not foolish as his. Much sharper. Leon knew why he got paired up with you in the first place, the irony not completely lost in him. 

It would have been fine if Leon died that day he protected you, but not okay if you did. Not on his watch. Not now, not ever.

“I can’t help it,” Leon replies, a sad smile on his lips. “I can’t help it, especially when a friend needs my help.” 

A friend? 

Do not grow attachments. Wasn’t that your first lesson? It had been hard to be paired up with a man who hated it at first, then to learn how to laugh at his silly jokes or admire how far Leon would go for anyone. For anyone, except himself, stupid brave man.

You open your mouth and close it, simply lying against the sofa with your eyes closed. 

“So, let me help you?” His voice is warm and inviting. 

It would be best if you said no. You should kick this man out of your living room, out of your life, and never go back to that stupid job fighting an endless battle that would end with you dead or someone you cherished dead. You don’t know how Leon does it, but as you open your eyes, his blue eyes look straight at you awaits in hope. Waiting to comfort you, support you to the best of his abilities, and be your friend.

The pain is still there, vivid in your soul and mind, but there is hope. Right there, in that tiny spot you gave Leon S. Kennedy. That’s why you shouldn’t have opened that damn door, you realize, but it is too late. You limit on nodding.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fanfics #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy imagines #request #requests #asks #ask

[lunarharp]

various witch stuff of the day or whatever the heck

#witch hat tag #orufrey #uhh yeah just getting some stuff out of the way haha i like the first one tho. i drew something that scares me #iguin must have been involved in qifrey's thing somehow. The Lidless eye..the sight of the world..i mean i think [redacted] #and he'll be [redacted] and [redacted] will be forced to... [redacted]???!?!!? #I want to keep my theories to myself.......or do i. not being a fandom person (other than dropping my art and leaving) means i just.. #combust inside by myself with ideas and FEARS FOR THAT MAN.....CAN SOMEONE HELP HIM IM SO WORRIED IM SO... #CAN YOU LET SOMEONE HELP YOU #apparently tetia's expression in the last one is hard to understand =.= she's emotional bc she cant believe they remembered #the twin hat idea. and that she's so happy. i was thinking about how she was probably qif's first pupil so there must have been a time #where it was just her qif and oru... i DO think she is hinted strongly to be trans but even if not her mystery background is probably so sad #why would qifrey even become a teacher? his goal was the brimhats. but he keeps being distracted by kids with problem pasts so #he must have only been drawn to help tetia out of a deep sympathy. it seems at that point he and oru had drifted apart #did oru decide to be his watchful eye hearing about that or did qifrey ask him? he thought that qif had given up on brimhat stuff so.. #*mumble mumble* lately i also keep remembering oru saying something UNREAL in kitchen like 'we're finally living under the same roof' ???? #you can't just say that. what on earth. i..... whatever. i haven't even processed like 20% of my potential emotions about them #i feel so weirdly emotional today. i stopped thinking about witch hat for zuka even tho im SO hyperfixated it is genuinely PAINFUL to stop #i stopped just long enough to watch gatsby raku.... my haachan #i'm so grateful right now that i dont have any big issues in my life rn so i can get worried about manga men and sad about actors retiring #today at least i am extremely grateful. living and being alive is so so so so weird. i hope we all make it

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ my life with you (that’s way over now)

synopsis. some people get drunk calls from their exes, maybe even flowers with hand written apologies. you get a knock on your front door with two random kids and a murder case

length. 3.0k words (once more it was supposed to be short)

contents. exes to lovers, ex boyfriend! suguru, gn! reader, slightly deviated from canon (he doesn’t kill the entire village + doesn’t defect), slightly a fix-it fic, blood, murder, child abuse + neglect (canon events with suguru and the twins), angst to slight fluff with hopeful ending (pretty much happy tbh), mentions of family + kids, suguru pretty much being a broke and depressed lil guy lollll

notes. idk what this is but it was written for me i just wanted to write it so here. take it and look away

right before you graduate, you and suguru break up. you don’t want to, but he insists it’s only fair—he can hardly be there for you the way you need him to be, he says. something’s changed in him, it has since that day last year. but still—you don’t want to break up.

so you argue, he stays firm, you cry, he doesn’t change his mind, you break up, he leaves, and the world momentarily collapses.

it’s the way things work, you suppose. they don’t quite always go the way you planned. you graduate not long after that, leaving him behind to throw yourself into work while you toe into the baby steps of adulthood. real adulthood—the jujutsu world has a way of thrusting you into that faster than normal, anyway.

by the time it’s late summer, you get your first apartment. it’s a rundown place—the bathroom tiles look dirty no matter how much you scrub, the walls haven’t been repainted in what seems like decades, and the thermostat never works properly to feel like what the temperature indicates.

but it’s yours—you leave jujutsu high fresh into the real world, paying your taxes and buying your groceries all while you exorcise curses for a living. barely an adult, barely getting by, barely alive as you get up each day and live.

and then suguru comes knocking on your door half past midnight.

“hey,” he says nonchalantly, like there’s nothing wrong with standing there—but you know him better than that. you can hear that detachment in his voice as he stares between your eyes, but not quite in them.

“you—” you start, staring at him incredulously before you decide to give up. there are no surprises with suguru, not anymore you suppose. you don’t really know him anymore. “suguru, it’s midnight,” you sigh—and that’s when you see them: two small children that can’t be much older than five.

bruises are clear as day on their arms, even while standing in the darkness outside. there’s also the slight swollen curve of their eyes, and you can’t help but notice how they’re practically skin and bone. children who have probably not yet even lived for five winters, and you almost wonder if they’ve been through more than you have in you’re entire lifetime.

suguru clears his throat before you can stare at them any longer.

“this is nanako,” he gestures at the blonde, “and this is mimiko.” the brunette one seems more shy, curls behind his leg further as her name is uttered.

you don’t know what to say, so you settle for smiling—you’re not sure if it comes out too genuine, but you try. it’s all you can offer, really.

“hello,” you hum for a moment. and then you turn back to suguru, “it’s midnight.”

“i know.”

“you should be at school grounds.”

“i know.”

“suguru,” you sigh, eyeing the blood stained on his cheek. you don’t like where this is heading. there’s a sick feeling twisting in your gut, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling.

bile. you can taste it. something’s not right.

“where did you find these kids?”

“on a mission,” he says simply, “village heads were keepin’ em locked in a cage like animals. can you believe it?”

again, that casual tone. it almost as easy as humming your favorite tune, as smooth as your skin on freshly washed sheets, as quiet as the first day of snow when the world is still. but something about it is hollow—something’s not right.

“why’d you bring them here? instead of school? shoko should look at them—”

“i told them they’d be safe here.”

they’d be safe anywhere, you think. as long as suguru’s there too. as long they’re under his watchful gaze, nothing could hope to beat down on their youth like it already has their whole lives. but you don’t say that—something tells you he won’t believe you.

maybe not right now.

you don’t look at him. you can’t. something’s not right, but there are children present. so you throw on your best smile and open the door wider, offering them to come in.

your apartment is small, just one bedroom and one bath. there’s hardly enough food for yourself for tonight, you still have to go grocery shopping this week. the missions were lined up back to back to back—but that’s just life as a sorcerer, you suppose. most days you hardly have the energy to eat more than a few apple slices when you return home anyway.

you wave your hand at your place dramatically as you say, “come on in, ladies. your humble abode awaits.”

they giggle slightly at that—it’s the first time suguru hears them laugh. you have that effect, he knew you would. it’s why he brings them here and not there. and…well, there’s a more complicated issue at hand. but that’s for later.

right now…well, for right now, he lets you guide them to the bathroom.

“you have money on you right?” you ask. he blinks, staring at you for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

“spent the last of it on cigarettes this morning.”

great, you think, before sighing and trudging over to grab your wallet as you press a few crisp bills of cash in his hands.

“here.”

“what’s this for?” he raises a brow.

“go buy them clothes,” you look at him like he’s stupid. he might be, in all honesty. just a little. “i’m not putting them back in…those once they’re all cleaned.”

“wha—i’ve never shopped for children before,” he gapes, “and i don’t know what size they are, or—”

“figure it out, suguru,” you say tiredly. it’s half past midnight—by now, you’d be passed out from your mission. he seems to take the hint. “and bring some snacks too. should be enough.”

“fine,” he grumbles—and then he’s walking out the door.

for a second, it feels familiar watching him leave. but then you decide not to dwell on it—there are much more important matters at hand.

you turn to the two girls before crouching in front of them with a gentle smile, “who’s ready for bubbles?”

——————

nanako and mimiko have never had a bubble bath before. you decide to let them taste the first tendrils of youth by splashing in your tiny bathtub while you find suguru for some much needed answers.

he sits on your couch, shirt wrinkled and hair falling loose and blood still staining his cheek as he hunches over his legs, elbows resting on his thighs as he thinks. and thinks. and thinks and thinks and thinks.

you wonder about what—what could be plaguing his mind? a lot you’re sure, but this isn’t suguru. not the one you know, at least.

the one you knew, the voice in your mind hisses—do you really even know him at all anymore?

“so,” you sit on the opposite side of the sofa, curling your legs under yourself as you eye him from the side, “care to explain?”

“i killed them,” he mutters. you go still. “the village heads. i did it without hesitating. that’s bad, right?”

“well fuck, suguru,” you breathe, restless, “that’s certainly not good.”

“i had a reason,” he argues, “all i needed was one.”

“there’s nothing that excuses murder—”

“oh, but we can excuse locking kids in cages, is that right? why? cause they’re sorcerers? they’re not—they’re children.”

“i didn’t say that,” you rub your forehead. this is all too much. too, too much.

being a sorcerer is too much. being in front of suguru is too much.

you finish your third year with a broken heart and graduate in spring—at one point you’d hoped graduating wouldn’t change anything between you and your friends, between you and the boy you loved. everything would be the same, even if you’d leave the place that held you all together—you’d still find a way back to each other, you liked to think. but then it all changes before you can even comprehend.

haibara is dead. nanami is hardly coping. gojo is everywhere but here. shoko is in high demand. suguru is hardly present even when he’s right in front of you. nothing is the same and you don’t think it ever will be. you lose the one thing you count on being yours forever, and now, he’s right here again. but not really here—not with you so much as near you.

suguru has killed people, sitting on your couch with you while the two children he finds are bathing happily in your bathtub.

there’s some irony in that—maybe in a perfect world, suguru and you would sit on the couch, much happier than right now, though. maybe you’d be tucked under his arm and curled into his side as you both chuckle at the happy squeals in the distance. maybe in a perfect world.

but this world is cruel. too cruel, in fact. it forces children to grow up too fast during some times and lets adults continue to be children during others. it’s sickening and all too much.

but this is the world you live in. there’s not much to change in that—not much you can change. maybe sitting on the couch with suguru is what you should be grateful for, whether it’s in this world or another.

“i came here because it’s safe,” he mumbles, quieter this time, “i don’t…i didn’t trust anywhere else.”

something tells you he’s not talking about the kids. you look at him for the first time that night—really look at him. you take in the lost weight, the sunken cheekbones and the bruised under eyes from the lack of sleep. the cracked lips from being chapped and the dry hair that’s lost its normal shine.

something’s not right—you won’t be able to mend it, but you think you can keep it from getting worse.

“it is safe here,” you murmur, nodding in assurance, “but you can’t…i can’t let you do that. not again.”

“what? kill people?” he snorts in dry amusement. it’s quiet for a bit—you open your mouth a few times like you want to say something, but nothing ever comes. he finally decides to fill the silence. “i don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. people shouldn’t kill. but some people shouldn’t live.”

“i think jujutsu is supposed to save people. not everyone will deserve it, but i suppose we wouldn’t be much better than them if we used it for anything other than that,” you whisper. he looks over at you at that, peers at you deep in thought as he contemplates your words.

“that’s funny,” he chuckles, “i used to think that too.”

“what changed?”

“everything.”

“then change it some more,” you shrug, “until you think it again.” he looks at you incredulously at that, eyeing you like you’re crazy.

“you’re an idiot,” he scoffs.

“says the killer,” you scoff back. you look at him this time, in the eyes and full of conviction, full of promises you couldn’t make before but fully intend to keep now. “don’t kill anyone else and i’ll help you. with those kids, i mean.”

“you want to co parent with me?” he chuckles.

co parent—the word makes your stomach twist. even after all this time, after all the hurt and pain, suguru is easy to imagine that with. he’s easy to imagine anything in the future with, really. he’s always been perfect like that, but you’re starting to realize there’s a lot more imperfections to him than you initially thought.

but it’s okay, you think. if you didn’t stop loving him before, you certainly don’t stop now. blood on his hands or not, he’s yours—even if he doesn’t want to be.

“don’t say it like that,” you murmur softly, hugging your arms around yourself, “please.”

you let yourself be vulnerable for just a moment—not because you want to, but because he needs to know. he needs to know how unfair he’s being and how patient you are with him despite it all. you deserve that much.

“sorry,” he mutters—he has the decency to look away and drop his smile.

“you don’t kill anyone, and i’ll look for a bigger place. deal?”

“for us…all?”

“yes. just until you figure it out, i’ll help you out with them. and then you’ll responsibly use your paycheck as a full time special grade sorcerer and maybe send a few checks my way to say thanks to my good will.”

he chuckles at that, shaking his head. “i’ll repay you,” he hums, tapping his foot. he does that when he’s nervous, you still remember—you could never forget anything about him. “i…i owe you, anyway.”

it’s quiet some more. you don’t know what to say, and quite frankly, you don’t want to say anything at all. but once more, he fills the silence for you after a while.

“what if…” he starts, “what if i want to co parent with you?”

“you dumped me,” you point out, unable to hide the bitterness any longer. it cracks from your tongue through your words like honey that went dry. “remember that? cause i sure remember.”

you’re an adult now, just barely, but an adult all the same. you should handle this the mature way—but you’re still young. still hurt. still blanketed in the fresh wave of nostalgia that leaves you aching with grief.

so you let yourself be bitter. suguru can handle that much after he left you to pick up your shattered pieces.

“i didn’t want to,” he says quietly. “i never wanted to.”

“but you did.”

“i didn’t…you didn’t deserve to see me unstable.”

“you’re not very stable right now either,” you pinch your nose tiredly, “you killed people, suguru. but somehow you can manage to have two kids now. but not me.”

“they need me,” he defends.

“i needed you too,” your voice cracks.

you did. you needed him—and you like to think he needed you too. maybe it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is, especially not when you fight curses and see their ugliness every day. but that’s the best part of having each other—having something pretty amidst the hideousness.

he left you with more ugly than you knew what to do with. it’s unfair, you think for a moment, unfair that two girls who hardly know him at all have more of him than you ever did. he’d never abandon them—that much you know for sure.

you’ve laughed with him, held him and wiped his tears and kissed him under the moon until it became the sun. you’ve seen him with his hair down and his guard lowered. you’ve seen him in every way possible but in the end, he walked away.

they’ve seen him for less than a day and somehow, he’ll be there forever. there’s something unfair about that and you hate that you’re bitter with children but the world in cruel like that.

suguru slowly inches over—it’s cautious at first, and then he fills the gap all at once. you pretend you don’t feel the way your thighs touch.

“i need you too,” he admits, voice small. there’s a small, shaky crack that eats away at your heart, trying to gnaw into the raw part. the easy to reach part. the part you shouldn’t let him see anymore. “i…i always needed you. i’m sorry.”

“we were supposed to need each other,” you sniffle.

“we do,” he slowly slumps his head onto your shoulder. you let him stay there—don’t dare move a muscle in case he pulls away. “you’re the only thing that keeps me stable. i don’t think that’s fair.”

“needing someone isn’t unfair, suguru,” you scoff.

“okay,” he grabs your hand, squeezing. for the first time, he lets it all go. lets tears slowly slip from the corners of his eyes as he slumps into your side. he cries for riko. for kuroi. for satoru and the time he lost him for a moment. for their youth. for haibara. for not being enough even when he shouldn’t have had to be. somewhere amidst all that, your arms wrap around him and he’s pulled into your chest—that familiar feeling of your fingers threading into his hair makes the world start spinning again. “i need you,” he chokes.

“okay,” you say shakily, nodding slowly as you let yourself hope, “as long as you don’t stop this time.”

he buries his face into your chest, and you kiss the crown of his head.

cruelty is an unstoppable force. your love for suguru is an immovable object. neither is going anywhere, but perhaps they can coexist.

“satoru’s gonna have a massive headache when he explains this one to the higher ups,” you snort after a while.

he laughs into your shirt, real for the first time in a long time. “i’ll buy him something sweet. should make up for it,” he hums. and then he looks up, smiles innocently as he asks, “wanna lend me some cash? i’ll pay you back when i’m a responsible handler of money.”

“you’re hopeless,” you chuckle, “but at least you’re here.”

————— BONUS —————

“okay,” satoru starts, holding his hands up in surrender as he stands before the higher ups. damn old geezers, he thinks. “so he did kill a person or two…but—”

“there is no excuse,” a voice hisses.

“he didn’t mean it,” he huffs indignantly, “it was an accident. those can happen sometimes.”

“what—”

“he’s going through a phase, okay? let him work through it, he’ll be fine.”

“that’s not—”

“i’ll let him off the hook this time,” satoru grins, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shrugs, “he’s got a family now, y’know? kids and a spouse, and they’re looking for a home. can’t take that away from them.”

“he’s not even married—”

“it’ll happen eventually,” he insists, “so let’s all just calm down, yeah? great, thanks!”

“gojo—”

“see ya!”

he walks out, flashing an obnoxious peace sign at the higher ups as they hiss at him to return as he’s walking out. that takes care of that, he thinks, as long as suguru doesn’t make his life harder and kill more people, he can handle it—you did promise him kikufuku if he does.

satoru is babygirl defender no. 1 ain’t nobody doing it like my guy 🤞🏽 he would be loyal to you while you were in jail no doubts

#teepods.writings #fics. #geto x reader #geto x you #geto angst #geto fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #geto suguru angst #geto suguru fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[robin374]

alastor x daughter reader angst If you do, you will be very happy. The reader does not know that he is his father and when he finds out, Alastora will be very angry. PLSSSS

ehem thanks <3

𝔊𝔢𝔱 𝔞𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔪𝔢

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯 : Alastor x Reader, platonic

𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰: Hola. I got too carried away sorry if it's too long. BRUH I JUST FINISHED AND I PASSED THE WORD LIMIT, let me just do a part 2 LMAO

Back when you were alive, you were an orphan. You couldn't remeber who your parents were, but you were angry. You were angry at everything and everyone, if they didn't love you when you were born why didn't they kill you? Was it necessary to abandon you? You didn't want to meet them and start over again as a happy family like your friends at the orphanage dreamed. You wanted to meet them so you could make sure you never talked to them again. Then, when you died, you wandered around Hell. You didn't exactly have a house, you just strolled around the city, maybe even killing someone to let your rage out. For someone who had deer resemblace you were quite agressive, to be honest.

You had died young, in your 17th birth to be exact. You bumped into a group of drunk men, they were drunk enough to pick a fight against whoever crossed paths with them, and you happened to be there. You just didn't survive. You may had born crying knowing nothing about life, but you died with that youth rage and you blamed it on your unknown parents.

One day, you were sitting on the floor reading a book you stole time ago when someone stopped in front of you. You didn't lift your head, you just flicked your gaze to the black dressing shoes and red pants that the person was wearing. "What do you want." You didn't ask, you demanded. "I...I have been informed that you were alone and homeless. So, I've decided to give you a room at my hotel, The Hazbin Hotel!" It was a girl's voice, the Princess of Hell's voice. You recognized her from seeing her singing around the streets not long ago. "Why would I want to go there?" You asked closing the book and putting it inside your bag. "It's just a hotel with a porn star and a pathetic victorian snake. I would prefer to sleep next to a rat with rabies than that, so, thank you but no, thank you." You started to walk away from her, you didn't even want to see her face. You knew you just had been mean to Lucifer's daughter, but she didn't even seem like it. You scratched a spot near your antlers, since you became a demon you didn't manage to get used to them. Then, a shadow appeared out of nowhere and it transformed into a tall man, who smiled at you.

"Now, that's not the best way to talk to someone, sweetheart." He said, his voice was accompanied with a stereophonic effect, it sounded like the radio you used to have in your room when you were alive. "Do I know you?" You said as you straightened your back to look more challenging. He just laughed, which clearly offended you a bit. "You should."

How did he manage to smile for so long? You couldn't remeber the last time your lips drew a genuine smile on your face. You were always with a frown on your face, angry, furious. "You seem to be quite the rebel, aren't you?" He said and before he ruffled your hair you flinched away. "Don't touch me." You hissed. "Ooh the fawn is angry," he laughed causing you to frown even more. "Where is your mother? Did a hunter shoot her?" He smiled even more -if that was even possible- you clenched your teeth and your ears curved downwards, you were trying so hard to not to hit him right then and there, who did he think he was? "Okay, let's calm down. How about you come to my hotel, stay one night and then you decide if you want to stay or not?" The princess smiled, her smile was kinder. You scoffed, "if that means that you won't bother me anymore, alright." They started walking down the street with you, it was the first time you walked with someone by your side. You expected it to be a silent walk but you were wrong, the blonde girl talked you about how she planned to redeem a lot of demons when she got the proof that they were able to do it.

While you were walking up the hill that led to the hotel, your gaze fell on the radio tower coming out of one side. You didn't pay attention to the strange Zeppelin or the huge letters that spelled 'Hazbin Hotel' you just looked at the radio tower. You heard a radio static near you, you didn't pay attention to it though, thinking that it was the coming for the tower. Once you were inside, you were greeted with more people that you thought. Of course, the porn star Angel Dust was there and wasted no time in flirting with you not even knowing you gender. "Oh you're the quiet type? Let me see what that mouth does, pretty please." He pouted and you raised your brow. If that was what he wanted, he would get it. "Get the fuck away from me." You said, shoving him away. Then, you heard a deep chuckle and you turned to your side, you noticed a black cat with wings laughing at the white spider. He had a bottle in his hand. Charlie, made you greet everyone there, but her brows frowned in confused way the moment she didn't find someone called Nifty.

You were about to walk towards the bar when you hit something with your foot. You heard a high pitched voice laughing and telling you to hit her again. You stepped back from the small woman with a scared face and your ears curved downwards. "Hi! I'm Nifty, I clean." She quickly climbed up your body and stopped at your face, her big eye looking intensely at you, you swore she could read your mind. "You are very young to be dead, what happened to you? Oh! What's your name?" She shook you, she was surprinsingly strong considering her small body. "Tell me everything." She growled. "My name's Y/N." You said, and ignored again the radio static, had it been sounding this whole time?

After greeting everyone, you told Charlie that you wanted to rest and she showed you your room. You closed the door and let your body fall in the bed. Even though you didn't want to admit it, you had the feeling that this couldn't be as bad as you thought. It had an old-fashioned aura that made you feel at home, somehow. You hadn't felt like this for a long time, you were always running away from demons that wanted to kill you, harass you, make a deal with you... You were at peace here.

PART 2 HERE

I AM SO SORRY

#alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #platonic #i loved this request #denial is a river in egypt

[sl-ut]

always

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader (also kina platonic!joel x ellie)

description: things didn’t exactly end up the way ellie wanted them today, but she wouldn’t give it up for anything.

warnings: UNEDITED, swearing, slight nsfw implications (i literally just mention that r and ellie have had sex), alcohol and marijuana consumption, slight angst

words: 1.1K (super short but i like it)

date posted: 10/01/24

For the first time in her life, Ellie longed for it to be wintertime. She wished for cold air to cut through the bitter warmth, allowing her a breath of relief for even a moment, having stepped out onto the front porch of the Tipsy Bison to take a moment for herself. To be fair, it had been partially her own fault, winter had ended only a few months prior, why hadn’t she asked sooner? It had been under a gentle descent of snowflakes that she had fallen in love with Y/n, after all, but she also hadn’t expected there to be anything official beyond the trading of a few vows, the sharing of a joint, and completed with the rest of the night rolling in the sheets together. Though, it would seem that that was far too much to ask for. 

She really should have known better than to expect that Jesse would keep his big mouth shut, though she really did try to keep it a secret until the ring fell out of her pocket and onto the cold floor of their outpost. Jesse had teased her relentlessly, but seemed genuinely happy for his friends, promising to keep the secret until he knew that Jesse asked. However, as soon as she had, Dina was pounding on their door, demanding to see the ring and to know exactly when the wedding would be. 

She was not overly thrilled for the wedding to have become such a large spectacle, but Maria had been just as enthused as Dina had been, stating that there was a desperate need for something like this to boost town morale. Ellie had immediately declined their offers of throwing a party for them, she was suddenly aware of the twinkle in her fiancée’s eyes at the idea of wearing a pretty white dress and dancing the night away at the Bison, leaving her little choice but to agree.

She had to admit, her heart had never felt quite as content as it had when she first spotted Y/n striding towards her, dressed in a horribly ugly wedding dress that was probably found in the attic of one of the houses, her smile radiating nothing but happiness as she met Ellie underneath the large willow tree. 

Even now, watching her get passed around on the dancefloor, now wearing a simple white blouse and a pair of jeans that she had cut into shorts, but still as beautiful as ever. Ellie shook her head, letting out a large puff of smoke as a smile broke through her normally monotone expression.

A figure sidled up next to her, letting out a low whistle as they both stared through the large glass windows, eyes following the bride’s joyful movement closely, “I never got to say congratulations.”

She huffed a laugh, not taking her eyes away from her wife, “Thanks, I think I got pretty lucky.”

“You sure did. So did she,” Joel quipped, “You’re a real catch there, kid.”

“Please,” Ellie shook her head, “I’d be dead if it weren’t for her,” She was quiet for a beat before she continued, “And you.” 

“Now I don’t know about that…”

“Shut up,” She chuckled, “What you did…I was–am angry with you. You took my choice away from me.”

“I know,” He nodded, “And you’ll never know how sorry I am for making you feel that way, but I’ll never feel sorry for keeping you alive.”

She nodded, “I know. I both hate you and–”

He sighed when she paused, “I know kid, me too.”

Ellie turned her emerald gaze to the man, her vision growing fuzzy as tears gathered along her waterline, “I wish you could have been here.”

His figure seemed to begin to fade into the darkness, but his voice was clear and true, “Me too, baby girl.”

“Ellie?” Y/n’s voice drew her attention to the front door, where her bride was standing with curiosity on her face, “Everything okay, babe?”

When Ellie glanced back at the spot next to her, “Yeah, everything’s good.”

The girl came closer, a smile growing on her face. She wrapped her arms around her wife’s neck, playing with the wispy ends of her short auburn hair. Ellie had also dressed up for the occasion, wearing a youth sized button up top and a poorly-tied tie hanging around her neck, which had been loosened throughout the night, even more so as Y/n pressed her body against hers. Ellie’s long fingers dug into her fabric-covered hips, leaning her head forward to accept the kiss that was being offered to her forehead.

“What are you doing out here on your own?”

The redhead shrugged, “Just needed to get away for a second. It’s hot in there.”

Y/n nodded, plucking the joint up from where she had set in on the railing next to her and taking a long drag, “I know this isn’t really what you wanted, but it really does mean a lot that you put in some effort to enjoy it.”

“I did enjoy it,” Ellie responded, “Maybe not all of it, but I wouldn’t trade today for anything.”

She leaned forward, capturing her wife’s lips with her own in a long and slow kiss, a small moan vibrating through her throat at the taste of cheaply made whiskey and cake from her lips. 

“How much longer do I have to wait to get you in bed?” Ellie whined as they parted, earning a loud laugh from her wife’s lips. 

“A little longer,” She shrugged, “Maybe after you come in and dance with me.”

Y/n made a break for it, only glancing back at Ellie once before disappearing behind the doors of the bar, leaving Ellie alone on the front step. The auburn haired girl chuckled at her, mentally trying to figure out a way to get her out of the bar sooner rather than later. As she stalked towards the door, her ears perked up at the sound of the voice once more.

“I’m happy for you, kid.”

The figure did not appear when she turned to look over her shoulder, but she knew he was there, watching over her. He always would be. A small smile graced her lips, uttering one last sentence before pushing through the doors and allowing her wife to drag her onto the dancefloor.

“Thank you, Joel.”

#reader insert #x reader #imagines #lesbian #ellie williams x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou

[irkimatsu]

I love your Husk works! Could you please write one where fem!reader gets along with everyone and Husk doesn't even realize that he's catching feelings, but maybe on a night out with everyone, someone comes up and starts heavily flirting with her. Ends with confessions and sugary sweet tooth rotting fluff please. 😍

God damn, anon, do you have any idea how hard it is to wring a confession out of this man? I was going along at a steady pace and then I got stuck for hours! I genuinely hope you like slowburn, because Husk doesn't go from zero-to-love easily. I think he's gotten a nice start here, though. It's definitely fluffy!

Husk/Fem!Reader starting a relationship. Mentions of drinking and attempted sexual assault that Husk interrupts before things get too heavy. SFW, 2.8k words. Enjoy! I hope this is what you had in mind, anon! Thank you so much for reading my works!

Your first few months staying at the Hazbin Hotel have gone quite smoothly; as smoothly as anything there can ever go, anyway. Charlie took an instant liking to you - she takes an instant liking to everyone, so it’s nothing special, but still. She can be a bit overbearing, but you know she means well, and she’s grateful to have someone who doesn’t immediately write off her trust exercises from the start.

Still, after all the sharing circles and art therapy, you occasionally find yourself craving more “adult” fun, and that’s where Angel and Cherri come in. It’s not that you don’t want to be redeemed, but what could be so sinful about enjoying yourself a little? You’re not doing anything dangerous or drastic, no drugs and no getting involved with the wrong people; you’re just having fun drinking, dancing, maybe smashing up some abandoned property if the opportunity strikes. Charlie can’t get mad at destruction if no one cares about the thing you just blew up, right?

The bartender, Husk, isn’t nearly as keen on those nights on the town, but you’ve still managed to bond with him on nights where you prefer to stay in. He’s a surprisingly good listener underneath his gruff exterior. (Perhaps too good of a listener; you hope he keeps ignoring whatever bullshit you might have spouted off after one too many of his cocktails.) He also has plenty of stories of his own, mostly from the time he spent alive. When you could get him talking, he’d weave incredible tales of nightlife, both from his home city in Las Vegas and all the other places he’d visited in his life. He seemed especially wistful when talking about a woman he knew back then. He could talk for hours about all the famous sites he was able to take her to, all the songs he would sing for her, and all the starry skies he’d dance with her under.

“It’s not like I blame her for leaving. I’m the one who screwed it up. But being in love… it was nice while it lasted.”

You try to encourage him with the hope that he could fall in love again, but he shakes his head with a bitter smile.

“I lost the ability to love years ago.”

—-

Your friendship with Angel and Cherri is so different compared to your friendship with Husk, so it took a few months before you could have a night out with all three of them. Charlie is once again less enthused about the idea of you four going out to party, but you promise to be relatively well behaved.

You promise, anyway. You can’t make promises for Angel’s sake, and as much as you love her, you know better than to have any faith in Cherri.

You’re surprised Husk agreed to come to a sex club at all. He never seemed like the type to be into that sort of thing. You’re less surprised to see that he has no intention of flirting with anyone and is instead perfectly happy to sit by the wall and knock back shots as quickly as the bartender can pour them.

Couldn’t he drink himself stupid back at the hotel, though? Why did he even come?

Is it just you, or has he been watching you the whole night?

The hours tick by, and you, Angel, and Cherri become progressively more wasted. Angel is currently hanging off of a muscular bull demon - damn, good for him - while Cherri tells you about another resident who used to stay at the hotel before he tragically lost his life during the last extermination.

“He was such a fucking idiot that it was charming, ya know? God damn I should have gotten to know him better when he was still around! I heard this rumor about him and never even got to find out if it was true!”

As she speaks, Cherri catches sight of a cobra demon who is currently chatting up a cluster of punk girls.

“Well, damn… maybe I’ll get to find out tonight. Don’t wait around for me, I’ll find my way back!”

With that announcement, Cherri is gone, leaving only you and Husk with about a dozen bar stools between you. He’s definitely keeping an eye on you; there’s still liquid in his glass, and  he’s watching you instead of guzzling it.

What’s his deal? If he wants to spend the night with you, why doesn’t he just come over here? You decide not to go over there yourself; no sense in rewarding him if he’s playing mind games.

You instead turn your attention to a handsome wolf demon who has taken Cherri’s seat. “Drinking all alone, love?” he says, his deep voice smooth as butter. Right away this man gives you the air of a natural-born charmer who can win anyone’s trust within seconds, only to break their hearts within hours.

He’s hot, and you’re drunk. You’ll let him break your heart a little.

Your conversation starts normally enough, with low stakes topics like the music and the drink selection in the bar. You’re in no hurry to tell this man anything personal or leave this spot with him, but you’re enjoying looking at him and hearing him enough that you don’t mind being a bit of entertainment.

He bumps your knee with his at one point, but you pull your own knee away. At first he seems to take the hint, and time passes without any more advances.

Soon, however, he grows more bold.

“Why don’t we go somewhere else, baby?” he asks as he lightly squeezes your thigh. “Somewhere more private?”

“No thanks,” you say as you jerk your leg away, though the motion doesn’t make him let go. “I’m fine talking here.”

“You know this is a sex club, don’t you?” he says. His smile and voice haven’t changed, but somehow he seems much slimier than he did five minutes ago, and the strong paw gripping your leg that seemed so enticing in your head feels suffocating in reality.

“I’m not here for that, I’m just hanging out with friends-” You try to leave the stool, but the man throws his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in.

“Come on, babe! What did you think I was after by chatting you up like this? You’re not gonna leave me hanging, are you?” He’s holding you closely enough that his hot breath is hitting your face, and the stench of his cologne is making you gag. “C’mon, baby, I’ll show you a good time. You won’t regret this-”

“She said no.” Husk had somehow snuck his way to your side without you noticing, and was now glaring daggers at your pursuer. “Back off.”

“Who are you, her grandpa?” the wolf laughs, refusing to unhand you. “Or just a nasty old man who likes ‘em young?”

Your captor’s laughter is quickly interrupted by a high-pitched howl. His face is now adorned with four jagged, bleeding lines.

“What the fuck, old man?” he yells as he unhands you. Just as quickly as you’re unhanded, you’re grabbed again, this time by Husk grabbing your waist and pulling you away.

“I knew I fucking hated this place,” he growls. “Where are Cherri and Angel?”

You have no idea, but your first guess has you looking toward the sex rooms in the back of the club.

“Jesus Christ… they’ll find their own way home. Come on, we’re going back to the hotel.”

You don’t appreciate being dragged out of the club like a misbehaving child, but as the alcohol clouds your thinking, you can’t quite formulate a protest.

Considering how pissed off your admirer must be right now, maybe it’s for the best that you don’t stay.

—

The walk back to the hotel is blurry; if Husk had anything to say to you besides pissed off obscenities muttered beneath his breath, you don’t remember it. Your next memory finds you laying on the couch in the lobby, your head aching from a combination of a hangover and the time spent laying on the couch’s arm with your neck at a weird angle.

“What time is it…?” you murmur as your eyes try to adjust.

“About noon,” answers Husk from the bar. 

As you continue to look around the lobby, he appears to be the only one here. “Where is everyone?” you ask through a yawn.

“Angel and Cherri still aren’t back, but I’m sure they’re fine. Charlie and Vaggie left to give you some quiet. Alastor and Niffty…” Husk shrugs after their names, then falls silent.

You groan as you push yourself into a sitting position, one that has you facing Husk. He doesn’t appear to have anything to do, and is instead standing with his chin resting on his crossed arms atop the bar. An awkward silence falls between the two of you, giving you plenty of time to observe Husk’s body language, particularly the way his tail is lashing behind him while his ear gives the occasional twitch.

He is not in a good mood.

“Are you okay?” you ask. Your well-meaning question only seems to piss him off further; he answers not with a word, but with a growl. “Is this about last night?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists.

“I’m sorry I caused you trouble…”

“Wasn’t your fault.” His tail lashes even harder. “Just don’t worry about it, all right?”

You’re going to keep worrying about it until he stops looking so on edge.

“Thanks for getting me away from that guy last night,” you say, just in case you didn’t thank him in your drunken haze.

“Hey, it’s what a good bartender does. When you see someone starting shit with another patron, even if it’s not your bar, you take care of the problem. That fucker had no right to put his hands on you after you told him to cut it out.”

He may be gruff, but at least he has standards.

“Can’t believe Cherri and Angel left you alone in there… those two better not take you to anymore fucking sex clubs, you don’t need to be around shit like that…”

“I’m a grown adult,” you protest. “I didn’t want to sleep with that guy, but if I did want to get with someone at that club, that’s my business.”

Husk’s eyes widen for a moment, before he returns to his original dour expression. “Yeah… guess you’re right.”

“And what about you? You didn’t look interested in picking up anyone last night. Why’d you even come?”

“How do you know I wasn’t interested?” he shoots back. “Maybe I was interested in someone! Maybe I just… didn’t have the balls to go for it.” He stands up straight and shakes his head. “Look, can we drop this? Hang out in sex clubs if you want, I don’t fuckin’ care.”

He’s speaking with the tone of voice of someone who very much cares.

“I’m done with ‘em, though. You’re right, you’re an adult, you don’t need me hanging around like some fuckin’ guardian angel.” He pours a glass of clear liquid, and you expect him to down it himself, but he instead steps out from behind the bar still holding the full glass. “I overreacted last night. Shouldn’t have made it your fuckin’ problem.” He approaches the couch, takes a seat, and offers you the glass. “Here, one last favor. Drink this and I’ll get off your ass.”

You take the cup, wondering if for some ungodly reason he’s trying to get you to down straight vodka.

“Why are you looking at me like that? It’s water. That headache’s only gonna get worse if you’re dehydrated.”

You take a sip of the water, and after only a few swallows you’re already regaining a bit of your desire to live. “Thanks,” you say before taking another large gulp.

“No problem,” he responds. You expect him to return to the bar, but he remains next to you on the couch. His body language has gotten no less agitated. What is going on with him?

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you doting on Angel or Cherri like this,” you observe before finishing the glass.

“They’re used to it, and they’ve got each other,” he says as he takes the glass from you. “You want some more?”

You shake your head, and he remains seated with the glass.

“You, though… I don’t know, something about that guy just pissed me off,” he says. “Even before he started touching you I didn’t like him. Bartender’s intuition, maybe? I’m still not over the awful feeling he gave me.” He sighs heavily. “I just… hate the idea of seeing you get hurt in a place like that. I know Angel and Cherri can take care of themselves, but you’ve never seemed as wild as they do, so I wasn’t sure…”

“Is that why you were watching me the whole night?” you asked.

Husk’s body jolts. “Shit, you noticed?”

“I kept looking over there wondering if you’d ever move from that spot, and if you weren’t actively drinking you were staring at me,” you said. “You weren’t subtle.”

Husk groans as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I know you’re capable. I was just…”

“You weren’t there because you were interested in someone at all, were you?”

“I never said I wasn’t. I mean it when I said I just didn’t have the balls to say anything to ‘em. Instead, I just wondered… what I’d do if someone else asked ‘em. Knowing it’d be my own damn fault for not speaking up sooner. Trying to tell myself it wasn’t that big a deal if they went with someone else… until someone started flirting with ‘em, and touchin’ ‘em, and-” His body tenses as he growls, but relaxes after a moment. “Damn it, I haven’t had to do this in years...”

“Done what?”

“You know what I said about losing my ability to love years ago?” He turns his head and looks directly at you for the first time since he sat down. “...I think I’m remembering how to do it again.”

Things are starting to fall into place. “And the person who helped you remember is…?”

The slightest of smiles crosses his face. “Who do you think?”

You wouldn’t have guessed it before today, but it all seems so obvious in retrospect. He’d spent so many nights with you when he could have been in bed, just chatting with you or comforting you after a bad day. You’d really grown so fond of his smile, and Angel had told you before that he used to never smile.

But surely, you thought, he couldn’t have been smiling because of you…

“What am I even saying?” he asks as he turns away from you. “You died in the prime of your life, and down here you can have that prime forever. You could do so much better than a washed up old drunk.”

“You’re not washed up,” you assure him as you place your hand over his. “I think it’s great that you got to live such a full life! You have so many stories to tell, and so many talents… I bet there’s so much you haven’t told me yet.” You try to reassure him with a smile and a light squeeze to his hand. “So much you haven’t shown me, either. You talk a lot about when you were in a band, but I’ve never gotten to hear you play…”

“I haven’t touched an instrument in years,” he says. “I bet I don’t even remember how to play anymore.”

“Well, you don’t know if you don’t try, right?”

You don’t think you’re just saying that about instruments.

“It’s been such a long time… what if I screw up?”

You don’t think he’s just talking about instruments either.

“It can’t hurt to try. Maybe… maybe you’ll enjoy it even more than you remember.”

“Hmm…” He doesn’t seem fully at ease, but he hasn’t taken his hand back yet. “If I can get my hands on a saxophone, and I really haven’t forgotten how… sure. I’ll play for you.

…you just have to give me some time, okay? I’m not used to it anymore… especially with another person…”

“Take all the time you need,” you assure him.

He turns his hand around so he can hold yours back, and his smile seems to grow slightly. “Just gotta start slow… get used to things again…”

“You’ll be fine, I know you will,” you assure him. He seems content to leave the conversation there, but there’s one more thing you need to say. “Husk?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think I’ll be going back to that club. No point when I’m not interested in picking up dates anymore.”

He squeezes your hand. “Glad to hear it.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #irk blubbers about nothing #irk got asked a thing #irk talks to strangers #irk huskposts

[lanadelnegan]

My Past, My Future - Part 4

Negan x Reader x Daryl

Read part three here

Read part 5 (final chapter) here

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, mentions of hurting self

Note: this one's short I'm sorry. also, every time I think I'm working on the final chapter, it just keeps going. this story is writing itself at this point lol.

Let me know if you're #TeamDaryl or #TeamNegan !!!

6 months later...

You never found Negan. You looked for three days straight before you finally headed back to Alexandria defeated and exhausted, and spent the next three weeks alone in your house moping, crying, and wishing he'd come back. You can only hope he's okay and that wherever he is, he's happy.

If it weren't for Daryl checking in on you daily and making you eat, you probably would have starved yourself.

"Babe, ya okay?"

"Huh? Yeah.. You ready?" You smile back at Daryl, throwing your backpack over your shoulder and pushing the negative thoughts out of your head. You can only focus on the present now, forgetting your past and ignoring what the future holds. And you have to remind yourself of that every time your mind drifts to Negan, wondering where he could possibly be.

Did he find someone? Does he still think about me? Is he.. even alive?

Sometimes your thoughts keep you up at night until the guilt eats you alive, but when you look at the man sleeping next to you, you realize how good you actually have it. And you're thankful for him.

You climb on the back of Daryl's bike, hooking your arms around his waist as he drives off, beginning your weekly run together. This time you're planning to go further West, towards territory you've barely explored, hoping to find food and if you're really lucky, more weapons.

Your hands roam underneath his shirt, rubbing his stomach as you lean your head on his back. He drives until it starts to get dark before guiding the bike through an opening in the woods and parking next to a nice open spot.

"Kinda looks like where we had our first kiss." You say, hopping off the bike and noticing a stream up ahead.

Once you both have things set up for the night, Daryl insists you sleep first while he keeps lookout, being the gentleman that he is.

You kiss him goodnight and shut your eyes while snuggling the sleeping bag. Your thoughts drift to Negan again, wondering what he's doing at the moment until Daryl's voice gets your attention.

"Can I ask you somethin?"

You lazily open your eyes. "Always."

"You still think about em?"

Your eyes look down, unable to look at him as you contemplate your answer. If you say yes, you'll hurt him. But if you say no, you're lying to your best friend.

Daryl nods at your silence, knowing your answer already. "Still love em?" He asks.

"I - I dunno.." You answer truthfully. You've had so much time to process things, that you're genuinely unsure if you still love him in that way or not. Of course you'll always care about him, but you also love Daryl now.

Is it possible to love them both?

Morning:

Daryl snores lightly as you watch the sun come up and decide to explore a little. Neither of you spotted a walker the entire night, so you decide it's safe enough to scope around.

You follow the sound of the water nearby and come to the edge, eyes widening when you see a medium-sized waterfall in the distance. The water even looks.. clean. No walkers in sight.

"Baby! Wake up!" You call back to Daryl, ripping off your clothes. You don't wait for him as you run into the cold water. You swim to the waterfall, letting it fall over you as your nipples peak at the coldness. You spot Daryl from across the water, watching him strip down before joining you.

It's not often that the man smiles, so you treasure moments like this, admiring the happiness on his face before he dunks himself under the water completely. You swim to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kneels in the shallow water, gripping your thighs around his waist.

"Life is so fun with you." You whisper before he crashes his lips into yours.

You grind yourself into him as your tongues dance together, feeling his bare semi-erect cock press into you. You allow your hands to run through his long wet hair, leading his head towards your chest. He takes the hint and immediately sucks a nipple into his mouth as you feel him harden completely under the water.

He groans into your mouth before leading you to a large boulder on the edge of the water and lifting you up onto it. His hands spread your legs apart as his head dives between your legs, immediately lapping at your pussy.

You lean up on your elbows to watch him and his blue eyes meet yours as he licks a line from your hole to your clit. You bite your bottom lip hard, trying not to moan out and draw any attention from the dead, until his lips wrap around your erect clit, sucking hard repeatedly.

"Fuck, Daryylll." You moan, letting your head fall back. Your eyes close shut from the bright sun as Daryl stands suddenly, lining himself up to your entrance.

He's not as long as Negan, but wider, and never fails to stretch your walls to the max. You cry out as he pushes all the way into you with one thrust. He pulls you closer to the edge, making the rough rock scratch your back, but you enjoy the pain. You both moan and pant for each other as his hips slam into you.

He's also not as verbal as Negan and.... fuck. You're thinking about him again. You lock eyes with Daryl as he fucks you, wanting to forget about Negan and only concentrate on the man in front of you.. your best friend. Your boyfriend. The only man that should be on your mind.

When his finger finds your clit, it doesn't take long before you're coming apart around him. Daryl feels your walls tighten and pulls out quickly, watching as your juices spray out. He realized he could make you squirt a long time ago, and now it's his new favorite thing.

He pushes back into you, fucking you through your orgasm as his own builds up. His hands rest on the rock as his head drops, watching how your soaked pussy splashes with each thrust of his dick.

He groans hoarsely, pulling out of you as his cum spills all over your stomach and you both breathe heavily as he lazily falls over you.

"Damn girl, never get tired of you." He says before kissing your lips and pulling you back into the water with him.

You both clean up and enjoy the water a little longer before getting out and letting the hot sun dry you off. Once you're dressed, you both hop back on the bike, driving a little further until you decide to pull off to the side of the road.

"Looks like another path." He nods to the wood line before parking the bike out of sight as you both begin walking through the brush.

You continue for what feels like a mile before coming to an old house. The two of you look at each other, silently agreeing to scope it out. It's quiet as you approach the front steps, carefully making your way to the front door. You nod to Daryl as he pushes the door open, surprised to find it unlocked. That's usually a sign that no one's home.

You follow in behind him, holding your knife up as you scan the place. The two of you enter through a tight hallway, passing the kitchen until you come to a small living room. Your eyes widen when you both notice the lit fireplace, telling you that someone's either here or has been recently.

"Shit.. Daryl, we gotta go." You whisper.

"Go wait outside, gonna grab a couple things. Didn't come all the way here for nothin'." He says and you try to argue but he cuts you off. "Go. Be right behind ya."

You kiss him before tiptoeing through the house and finding the front door, quietly pushing it open and closing it shut behind you. You turn, instantly colliding with a tall hard figure.

"Hey sweetheart." The familiar voice makes your mouth drop open as you look up at him, seeing him grin down at you. "God I fuckin' missed ya."

tagging my babies: (lemme know if u wanna be added) @loganlostitall @chaospossum @negansbabydoll66 @redqueenphoenix @n3g5nx @crustyweirdo @youngpersonaathletebear @sadgirlzluvdilfs @ilovebill-and-gustav @neganscumbucket @manipulatorpoem @im-a-goddamn-cat @raininhell @mahogany-cherry-wine @daryldixmedown@munsonslovergirl @sanctuaryforthelost @thelauraborealis @carlgrimesbbg @c3linesworld @blueheisenbergtragedy @dekuumademecumm

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan #jdmorgan #jdm x reader #negan fanfiction #twd negan #jdm fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #jdmfanfiction #negan smith #negan x daryl #negan x reader #negan x you #negan x oc #negan x y/n #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x you #daryl twd #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fluff #negan smut #negan smith fanfiction #negan smith x reader

[radiance1]

You know I had this real random au I made on discord on my other account that I logged out of and subsequently lost!

Where Vlad was a priest and Plasmius is his contractually obligated partner.

Except, said contract is actually 50-50 all the way on the scale of a good deal, but meh.

So baaaaaaasically, Plasmius was (I think) a demon that appeared before Vlad while he was in the hospital suffering from Ecto-acne and basically gave him a:

"Bind yourself to me or die."

Offer.

Like, literally. Vlad became Plasmius' vessel in the mortal world and Vlad is free to live his life. Well, whenever Plasmius wasn't living his life that is.

Which is pretty rare but anyways.

Vlad was a goddamn workaholic who spent most of his time working away on whatever little thing he could, before the rest of that time was spent with Plasmius taking over his body and doing whatever he wanted.

Most of which, due to having a mortal vessel and not as durable as his demon body, ended up with Vlad being injured a few times than not before Plasmius got a grasp on what Vlad's body could and couldn't take, well, compared to his other human vessels he's had in the past of course.

Then, a few years later, or whatever, Vlad and Plasmius have been going around killing a multitude of priests. Mostly the ones that have a high position and the like, and having Vlad replace them and work there for a while.

Why?

Because Plasmius wanted to find a suitable vessel for his son.

Which Vlad was totally a-okay, the killing priests part and taking their place he means. Taking over their roles were surprisingly easy, and he's memorized enough verses that he could recite the entire thing back-to-back from book to book with no real difficulty.

Oh, and he also found how to make holy water! And he could even confidently say that it works because, hey! He's literally the guy being possessed right now, and if it works against him then it'll definitely work on your probably possessed child, miss Samantha!

(He doesn't tell about the demon possessing him part of course, because that would be more paint something that most surely works in a negative light.)

It quite literally never even became a thought in his mind to try and use said holy water against, well, you know. The literal demon possessing him.

But hey, Plasmius brought it up once and Vlad just gave him the most, blank-eyed stare he's ever seen, and then just moved on with his life.

And Plasmius?

Well shit, he's realized he's picked a wonderful vessel.

(Usually, they would try to eject or kill him at their first opportunity, which is quite rude since he helped. But y'know, past is past and what not.)

So then comes time, after Vlad's like, 25th switcharoo they managed to find a picture perfect vessel for Plasmius' son, and he's like:

Plasmius: Kill him.

Vlad: What-

Like, kill priests? Sure no problem Vlad legit does not care, but killing a child? Not something he can do, he gets some shade for his decision, of course, but he's adamant about it.

So Plasmius, powerful demon from hell who is used to taking what he wants.

Lets him.

At the cost of the boy becoming his son's newest and first ever vessel of course.

And Vlad was kinda on the fence about this, but due to the contract- in which he stated that he'll do anything so long as he lives- is, well, there, he had to chose between the two.

And that, was how one young Daniel Fenton, was made the vessel of demon going by the name of Phantom.

Of course, he wasn't happy about such a thing, but it was going to happen eventually, so at least compared to the original plan he'll live.

(Can't remember if Danny's fam was alive or not here, so I'll just say they dead as hell in that Nasty Burger explosion. Cept it was more of a celebration thing, and Danny was running a little late on his way there and then BOOM.)

Vlad tries to make Danny as comfortable as possible after the possession, and of course Danny isn't happy about it, give all three of them snark and sass and being a genuine little shit. Except Phantom doesn't like that, and since Danny is the equivalent of a newly gotten toy, it doesn't end well for him.

Mostly, in the form of numerous injuries that leads to Plasmius lecturing his son about how fragile mortals are and some- looking at Vlad- even more fragile than some others

You know, since he was trapped in a bed for years and all that.

So then Plasmius and Danny wander around, dragging their vessels along behind them. Vlad and Danny do get a quiet a bit closer during this time, Vlad explaning that hey, he didn't want to subject a child to his fate, but it was either that or death so.

And that kinda thaws the ice a little between them.

Vlad says that it'll eventually get better, he's been at this for years and Plasmius regards him as either his most loyal henchmen.

Which is an upgrade from being viewed as a pet since he can actually add his opinions now, well, he could before but now Plasmius would actually take them into consideration if Vlad doesn't wanna do this or that.

Danny is very obviously bummed out about that, and also kinda pitying Vlad but is also still dealing with the trauma of his family and friends exploding and then having to share (Not really even THAT) a body with a demon who leaves him injured far more often than not because of his stunts.

Well, you could say he isn't having a good time.

Then, cut to a while later, and Vlad managed to make these things that allow for them to be separated, but not past a certain point.

Why?

Because Vlad was getting tired about Plasmius' wants for his body getting in the way of working through Vladco (a business idea he pitched and Plasmius backed once he found out he needed money) and there's only so much mental calculations he could do before he tries to find a way around this.

Plasmius thought that Vlad was finally about to do the expected 'fight back against the possessor' and was even a little hurt, before realizing that no, said thought still hasn't crossed his host's mind and he's just upset that he couldn't work on Vladco because of Plasmius' need of his body.

Plasmius, once again. Realized he picked a wonderful host, though this time he thinks there may be a little something wrong with him.

But that's okay, he still loves his henchmen regardless.

Meanwhile, Danny and Phantom are ecstatic, more so Phantom than Danny, and instantly use them. Thankfully, unlike the rings Vlad and Plasmius have, they have bracelets, the point extends city wide comfortably, a fair bit while past that if they strain it though.

So, Danny has been having the best time of his life now, able to spend it doing normal teen things instead of stunts that'll injure him or kill him and having fun.

Phantom?

Well.

He joined the Super scene.

If I remember correctly, he was a hero and his father played the villain, mostly because Phantom wanted to play as a hero, but he didn't have a nemesis like everyone else or something so-

Then for Phantom and Dann's birthday (Phantom kinda declared Danny's birthday his because it was the day he came to the mortal plane), Plasmius decided to kidnap various heroes to participate in an escape game that's really just an elaborate ploy for said party.

Some balloons here and there, confetti, a few gifts and a lot of things you wouldn't expect when kidnapped by a villain. Then at the end there was a birthday cake and a Happy birthday sign hung up there.

Then a Tv turned on and it showed Plasmius, sitting there in a classic villain chair with Vlad standing next to him- a surprise to most heroes there since Vladco was relatively clean actually- and then Plasmius going Happy birthday and then waving over at Vlad saying that he planned most of it.

Kidnapping various heroes was his idea, of course.

But everything else, from the design of each room to the traps to gifts and all of that, and Phantom excitedly shouts a thanks Dad and Papa, with Danny giving a quieter thanks Dad, which leaves the two of them shocked. Then Vlad, who was currently standing to Plasmius' side and working through Vladco investments and business opportunities, tries to play it cool but everyone (heroes included) can see the pink dusting his ears.

While Plasmius is just laughing his ass off at Vlad's reaction.

That's all I can remember right now, of course with a few tweaks here and there because, well, you can probably tell why.

Oh right, there was also this funny thing where, because of the matching rings that Vlad made and the two were wearing. The heroes thought they were married lmao.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover

[m4tthewsgf]

Moonlight (pt 1)

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo x y/n

A story where a boy who is terrified of love lays his eyes on a girl who's determined to save everyone else, but herself.

prologue, pt2

Warnings: language, death of a loved one

_______________

“As long as the moonlight shines, you're not unseen or unknown. You are just as important as the moonlight and as long as you shine, you'll never not be enough” I repeated to myself as I gathered my books and put them in my school bag with shaky hands. I have found myself repeating that exact phrase over and over again for the past few months, hoping it would bring me some kind of solace. Well, it didn’t, but I just couldn’t stop myself from doing so. It was the last thing I had from him.

First days of school always made me anxious, however, this one specifically was totally different from the rest of them. I felt as if my whole life had been demolished and reconstructed within 6 months. Actually, that would be a lie; it wasn’t reconstructed at all, I just pretended that it was. There were still obvious pieces of my shattered heart around, pieces of myself that were left behind at home, pieces of myself that died with him the night he did. I felt as lost as ever, as empty as ever. I didn’t know how to move on. Shit, I haven’t even processed the fact that he’s not here anymore. I didn't think I could feel safe again, happy again. Genuinely happy.

I stared at my new, blank, almost empty bedroom and sighed deeply with a heavy, hollow heart; a feeling that had been living in the empty rooms of the beating organ that kept me alive for months, rooms where they were once filled with laughter and joy. I didn’t feel like I could be strong anymore. I didn’t feel like I was someone. No, y/n. Remember.

“As long as the moonlight shines, you're not unseen or unknown. You are just as important as the moonlight and as long as you shine, you'll never not be enough” his voice echoed through my head. I shook my thoughts away and finally grabbed my bag and headed towards the kitchen where my mom was. I had to be okay.

“This is how you’re going to school?” she judged while her criticising glare scanned me from head to toe. It hurt, but she wasn’t completely wrong; I had no makeup on, didn’t even attempt to style my hair or find a cute outfit to wear like I would normally do, having always wanted to make a good first impression. I couldn’t bring myself to care this time. I just threw one of my brother’s old hoodies and a pair of leggings, my dark circles and tired eyes being the only accessories.

“Yes,” I bluntly replied and went to grab an apple for lunch before leaving. I didn't want to deal with her at the time because if I did, I would corrupt into tears right then and there. In front of her. Embarrassing.

The moment my feet stepped out of my door, I put my headphones on and started blasting music from my phone. I’d rather be consumed by that than my own thoughts. Not that I didn’t like music. In fact, it has been my pharmacy and my escape from reality these months and one of the things I’ve been passionate about my entire life. It’s just that I had lost interest in it for a while.

School wasn’t that far away from my house, only 10 minutes by foot. Yet, the walk there felt like an eternity. At least it was a pretty walk. The birds were already singing, the bees were already searching for pollen in the already bloomed flowers and the aroma of wet grass could be smelled. Even though spring wasn’t my favourite season, there were some elements of it that were truly beautiful, just like everything else in life. Even the things you don’t really like can be beautiful, you just have to accept the fact that they have that potential.

I faked a smile. I had to be strong. I had to be okay.

“Everything is okay. You're okay,” I whispered as I reached the corridors of the school. I took a deep breath and finally stepped in after a moment or two of hesitation.

There were already kids in every corner of the school. Some were on their phones, some with their friends and some already making out with their partner.

‘It’s 7 in the morning,’ I thought to myself with disgust and went to look for my locker. I ended up doing circles around the same corner of the building.

234. 234. 234.

Where the fuck is that goddamn locker?

I probably have seemed like a creep or a weirdo as I was looking for it, because a lot of eyes were on me and a few giggles could be heard from, what I assumed to be, the popular kids. My heart tightened at the realisation, but I still shot them a smile. Not a sorry one or an awkward one. A nice, genuine smile. Soon later, the chattering stopped. Before I could continue my search, a voice was heard right next to me.

“Do you need any help?” a guy from my right asked and I jumped.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, you just looked very lost,” he chuckled at my reaction. I placed my hand on my chest, trying to calm my breath and heart beat down while chuckling faintly with him.

“Do you do that often?” I sighed and looked up at him. His eyes were pretty, a shade of brown I had never seen before. A golden brown, just like honey.

“I guess you’ll have to find out,” he shrugged and I hummed. We just looked at each other for a few moments before I spoke again.

“I actually do need some help, I’m looking for my locker. It’s 234,” I said, shyly.

“Oh, so we’re neighbours!” he beamed and motioned me to come with him. He was nice.

“I’m 232,” he added and looked down at me. I smiled.

Our lockers were just down the hallway, a spare one the only thing that separated them from each other’s.

“I'll see you around often, then” I joked while trying to unlock it and failing miserably. I couldn't make myself seem more of a fool than at that moment.

“Here,” he giggled, “let me do it,” the boy reached his hand towards the little piece of paper I held that had written down the code.

“I'm Austin, by the way” he smiled and unlocked the locker for me.

“I'm y/n,” I grinned back at him. “Thanks for the locker,” I tilted my head towards it and reached for the books in my bag to place them inside. He kept looking at me and stayed with me, even though his friends were calling out for him from around the corner.

We kept talking for a while until the bell rang. That was when anxiety washed all over me. I'd rather go back home than get inside a class with other teenage people I didn't even know and who'd probably be judging me just from my appearance. I didn't even know where the classroom was.

“I'm sorry but, could you show me where Mrs Whitley teaches? I'll probably get lost if I go on my own,” I shyly asked him, already feeling like a burden to him.

“It’s the class right there,” he pointed his finger to the door right across from where we were. I thanked him and quickly got on my feet. The last thing I wanted was to be late.

Austin was a nice kid. He seemed kind, and rich, something I definitely wasn’t. I felt small in front of him, almost like an ant that was met with a boot, but his soft features eased my nerves. Plus, I needed friends, even though socialising was the last thing I wanted to do. I honestly didn’t even feel like talking or even existing. But, that’s just how life is; you got to get over shit, shallow it, bury it six feet under the ground and keep the show going.

When I reached the classroom, cold sweat gathered on my forehead. Too many kids. Way too many. Too pretty, too rich, too not me. I was intimidated. I felt my breath hitch as I scanned for any empty seats. My shoulders relaxed when I found one next to a boy that wasn’t like the rest. He wasn’t surrounded by other people or talking loudly. He was instead focused on something under the desk, his eyebrows furrowed and tongue slightly sticking out in concentration with messy, brown hair plastered all over his forehead. Maybe he wouldn’t mind.

“Is the seat taken?” I approached him and his head immediately turned towards me. He just looked at me startled, his eyes darting to my features and clothes. He didn’t say anything. Small. I felt small again.

“I- I guess I’ll sit somewhere else, sorry” I sheepishly apologised with my gaze on the floor, too embarrassed to even look at him. I was about to walk away when I heard the screech of the chair. I turned my head to him, seeing him having pulled out the chair for me and having returned his attention to whatever he was doing before I interrupted him. I sighed in relief and placed my bag on the floor before sitting next to him.

“Thanks,” I whispered, “I’m y/n,” I smiled at him.

“And why would I care?” he harshly replied, making my jaw drop.

“O-Oh I just- I thought you might want to know,” I innocently said. Okay. Not as different as the others, it seems.

“Well, I don’t. This isn’t kindergarten, sweetheart. No one’s friends with anyone here, grow up,” he chuckled at my cluelessness, his eyes never meeting mine. I just shook my head.

“I was just being nice,” I mumbled, my fake confidence slowly disappearing.

“Go somewhere else to be nice to ‘cause it ain’t working on me, angel” he cocked with a smirk. I just stared at him with an open mouth.

Before I could reply to that, the teacher entered the class, making the whole class stop talking. I knew what was coming and I wanted to crawl up into a ball and pretend like I wasn’t there.

“So, where’s our new student? Come on honey, we don’t bite!” she looked around the room, trying to decipher a new face.

‘You may not, but he might’ I thought to myself, talking about the boy that was sitting next to me. I chuckled at my thought.

I hesitantly raised my hand and breathed in deeply.

“There you are! What’s your name, sweetie?”

“It’s uh,” I trailed off and saw a couple of heads turning towards my direction, “It’s y/n y/l/n.”

“And what brings you to Somerville, y/n?”

‘My brother died,’ I almost blurted out, but thankfully caught myself before doing so. I didn’t want anyone’s pity. I didn’t want people to pay attention to me and my problems. I didn’t want the attention. I didn’t need any of it.

“My mom found a good job here, so we moved out from Long Island,” I lied. I hated lying. I hated liars. But I’d rather lie about that than have people feel bad for me.

The teacher went on talking about my home place, telling me random facts about it that I didn’t care about. I just nodded at whatever she was saying just to not come off as rude and disrespectful. I wasn’t listening. I was just acting like I was.

What was the point of any of this? School is shit, high school even more so. I didn't even have any plans for college or my future in general so, why was I even going through this? Nothing fucking mattered.

“Made friends with our photographer, I see” she suddenly commented, making me snap out of my thoughts. I felt the boy next to me stiffen at that. “Matthew right there has been making our yearbooks this whole time, isn’t that right?” I turned to look at him with a surprised expression. My eyes darted down to his hands that were still under the desk, which were holding a digital camera. I was surprised. And intrigued.

“Yeah,” he breathed and shot an almost insulting glare at the so sweet teacher, before lowering his gaze once again at his gadget. I almost slapped him across the face for that. I felt bad for her.

----------

The day was miserable. I was exhausted. The whole masking-my-feelings thing made me ill, both mentally and physically. I felt like throwing up. I didn’t know why, though. Maybe because I haven’t eaten properly in weeks, or maybe from my visible exhaustion. Whatever it was, I felt sick.

I sat alone at lunch, looking soullessly at the apple in front of me before I pulled out my notebook. I could hear my stomach rumble from hunger, but I knew that if I actually ate the fruit, I would actually throw up. And that was something I really didn’t want to do. As I started writing on it, I took a glimpse at the cafeteria, observing how other kids laughed and smiled with their company. I smiled too. I loved seeing people happy. Maybe I could experience it as well one day again. But, who on earth would want to willingly spend their time with me? No one. Not even my own mother does.

A clicking sound startled me. I looked towards it, seeing Matthew nearby, with his camera again in his hands. He stared blankly at me, seeing that I had heard him taking a photograph of something. I looked behind me, seeing what that something could be. I sighed at myself. There was a gorgeous, blonde girl who had a smile that radiated so much warmth and love that I almost felt close to tears. She was breathtaking. The complete opposite of whatever the fuck I was. I turned my head back towards him, him still being in the same exact place, with his eyes stuck on me. I gave him a soft, sad smile, and continued writing and scribbling on my notebook.

“So you're a nerd too?” Matthew suddenly asks me.

“Uh, no, I don't think so,” I kindly said.

“Well, you look like one,” he laughed. I just looked at him blankly.

“There's nothing wrong with that,” I simply replied and went back into my sketching. He just stood there, looking at me.

“Anything else?” I asked, slightly irritated at his constant, unapologetic staring.

“Well, I think-”

“Y/n!” Austin greeted from behind Matthew. I smiled at him, mentally thanking him from saving me from Matthew's presence.

“Hi, how was class?” I asked with a soft voice. “Boring as fuck, I almost fall asleep,” he faked a yawn, “You got anyone to sit with? You can come to our table, if you want to,” he added.

I shot a glare at Matthew who was observing the whole interaction, not having interfered once.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” I happily accepted and gathered my stuff before going to sit with them.

------//------

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[mywritingonlyfans]

Cornerstone.// Alex Turner X Reader! (Non-smut)

prompt: Alex used to date your sister, but now that she has passed away, you're the only thing that can keep her alive for him, making him not worried that he might forget her face.

words: 3K.

a/n: I have a habit of revisiting some old fics of mine, as is the case with this one. It helps me improve my vocabulary. I thought it was fair to repost this one in particular, now with Alex.

You vividly recall the first encounter with him.

It happened at the inaugural party of many to come in your life, precisely on your 18th birthday. Given your introverted and reserved nature, your sister, despite the physical resemblance, had a personality that stood in stark contrast to yours. With a two-year age gap, she possessed a demeanor at parties that belied her years. Able to handle drinks effortlessly, her charisma was perfectly suited for celebrations. While you had always imagined her to be that way, having grown accustomed to her returning late on weekend nights, witnessing it firsthand was both fascinating and slightly intimidating. Parrot's Beak, it seemed, was made for her.

Approximately 45 minutes into the party, your gaze landed on Alex, engrossed in conversation with some friends. His adorable cheekbones and striking eyes were prominent, and the effects of the drink had bestowed a lovely, flushed pink hue on his face — almost as if his skin begged to be kissed. The memory of that moment remained etched in your mind, easily replayed without closing your eyes.

Over time, you found yourself mustering the courage to smile at him, occasionally adjusting your hair between shy glances, attempting to present your best self. However, the anticipation and hope in your smile quickly transformed into disappointment as he approached. It soon became evident that his occasional sweet eyes between sips of beer were not directed at you but at your sister. He hadn't even noticed your presence, and then a discomfort sensation enveloped your entire being.

That night, you accepted being an outsider as they walked away to the bathroom, deciding it was best to keep your initial impressions of Alex to yourself. It seemed like the wisest course of action, even after four years of witnessing their relationship and continuing to find him captivating.

"You need to stop calling me," you sighed, running the back of your hand over your eyes. The dawn unfolded around you, and in her absence, you imagined how she would have already roused you, taken the phone from your hands, and playfully sprawled on top of you, eliciting laughter until you both drifted into sleep together. "It's been almost a year now; you need to stop calling me."

"But you always make it better," his inebriated voice resonated in your mind. Oddly, you found solace in listening to him. After spending numerous years making her happy, hearing his voice felt akin to experiencing her broad smile after buying a chocolate cake at the corner coffee bar where you now worked.

"What do I make better, Alex?" You asked, elongating a conversation that felt uneasy.

"Me," he sighed deeply, prompting a mirrored response from you. "I like your voice, especially after you've just woken up. It's so calm and crystal clear." He continued speaking until your voice fractured into a sharp sob, and you attempted to bite your lip to contain yourself. If she were there, a single word from her would have pacified him. But she wasn't, and he was like this because he no longer had her.

"I like you, Al. I genuinely wish you nothing but the best, but I can't do this anymore," you expressed, aware that there was a chance he remained oblivious to the fact that he sought you out because you reminded him of her. "I miss her too, and it's becoming too painful."

With those words, you ended the call, pressing the phone against your chest, fully aware he would call again the next night, and you would pick up. You'd exchange a few words with him, feeling miserable afterward for allowing him to repeat the cycle. Yet, the truth was, the following day, you'd feel a strange sense of contentment—not in a healthy way but in a nostalgic manner that trapped you in a cheerful image of your sister. Whenever she had the chance to describe how wonderful a date with Alex was, you would endure the day.

As you drenched your pillow, the pulsating music from The Rusty Room, coupled with dancing figures, prompted Alex to moisten his lips. His night would unfold like countless others since she departed – he'd drown himself in alcohol, envision her face in someone else, and either find solace in the arms of a new acquaintance or get ousted for being too much, leaving him no choice but to dial your number. On nights when his emotions surged more intensely than before, he would do both. He'd call you, harboring the hope that, upon hearing your voice, you would magically transform into her. Then, he'd share the details of his day, lamenting about how no one in the band seemed to tolerate him anymore, and wait for your reassuring words. Obviously, reality didn't align with his expectations. You were as resilient as she was, which, although beneficial for him to picture her, wasn't what he needed in those moments. Especially because the two of you had never spoken for more than five minutes. Consequently, he had no option but to persist in his search for her.

In the light streaming from the window where she stood gazing out, her hair shimmered like yours, yet somehow it seemed to complement her better.

"Do you think he'll come in the cute blazer?" She asked dreamily, evidently already envisioning the date like a movie. Witnessing her enthusiasm brought a sense of joy to you.

"Yeah, and 'comfortably' smelling of cigarettes," you laughed, mimicking air quotes as you repeated what she had confided to you the night before.

However, her expected laughter never came. In seconds, as soon as she spotted him approaching, she flung the door open and leaped into his arms. Her limbs encircled his neck, and so did her legs. He held her securely, accustomed to this routine, and kissed her head with a broad smile.

"I missed you," he sighed, muffled against her shoulder, embracing her tightly as she nestled into his black blazer. The words carried such weight that you almost believed they hadn't seen each other the day before.

They continued murmuring sweetly under your observant eyes until you realized how awkward it was to linger there. Forcing your legs into motion, you retreated from their line of sight.

"Sis, babe. You want some cake? We’ll bring you some!" She shouted, causing you to glance back at them before truly departing. He waved at you. Apparently, they hadn't even noticed your presence. Even if you declined, she would bring the cake, knowing you'd indulge regardless. You nodded.

"Fine, we're going to deliver some pieces of red velvet," he declared, his focus already back on her face, causing your stomach to flutter with the realization that he remembered your favorite — as inappropriate as that was.

Still absorbing your dry words, he caught sight of her shiny hair and perfect skin bathed in the strong red light. She smiled at him, huddled up in a wicker chair, her eyes at the same level as his as he wandered up for a closer look. It felt like the first time, so he came close and kissed her, stealing all the air from her lungs; the random girl wouldn't mind having another name tonight.

Alex returned home the next morning in his car, swearing he could still smell her scent on his coat, transferring it to his seatbelt as he extended his trip to the next coffee bar just to feel her presence for longer.

"He's all yours today!" Your manager said in mock animation.

His eyes were lazy, his lips rosier than usual trapped in a perfect pout, stubble on his face, and yet he looked like an angel; but smelling of booze and sleep-deprived.

"What do you want?" You asked, observing him up and down; putting on your best character to try to fool him, or yourself. "You need to stop harming yourself like that, Al." You let your eyes dip into his, and what a regret, now your whole body tingled.

"I just want a nice coffee, I need to be alive to work," he raised his hands in redemption, giving you a cute half-smile. His voice as melodic and sweet as on the phone. "I just need to calm my mind down, buttercup."

His whisper ran down your spine, making drops of coffee from the machine splash onto your hand instead of into the cup; your body knew it was wrong, but your mind had liked being called that.

"How's life?! How are things going, huh, after all that, y'know..." He went on while you gave him his usual hot coffee.

In response, you shook your head, looking around you, cursing the place for not being so busy so that you could have more customers.

"Fine, no more talk, buttercup." He sounded low and careful this time. You had to take your eyes off him because you felt like you were going to cry.

No more smiles on his tired face, he straightened his clothing, handing you a crumpled currency. Avoiding his eyes, you took it in your hand, taking his change and writing it out in Letraset for him.

"Thank you," he said, this time without repeating the pet name, since both you and him were now being watched by your manager. Even in front of others, his eyes filled with tears as he looked at your writing; so similar to hers in form, yet so cruel.

“She deserves a better job.” You heard her speak even though you were away from their table. She was in his lap, not in a vulgar way, they were just enjoying each other's presence like that. Couples passing by whispered about how cute they were; you didn't deny it.

“She seems to like it ‘ere. It's super cozy; you love it too,” he said in his husky voice, running a hand through his dark hair. He was right; you didn't hate it there.

“I know, but I think she can do better. I trust her. She has potential; she just needs help.”

You dodged it, even though you knew she only wanted your best. Hearing her talk about it made you feel smaller, and seeing her talk about it to other people—Alex—made it worse.

“And...?” Al pouted, letting her kiss him. His smile grew, face lit up, and for a minute, you thought she wouldn't speak anymore as she focused on his lips.

“I wish you could ask her to do some marketing for the band, like around here and Twitter. She would do fine. You know I wouldn't lie. She likes these things; could be a good try.” She winked at you, and you smiled excitedly. It was a good idea; she knew you well. You loved her.

“That sounds good for the band too; we could have more people listening to us,” Al said in agreement, beaming just as she was. You would be the first person working for them. “That’s wonderful, buttercup.” He added, making her hug him tightly, nearly knocking them off the chair.

Your tongue flicked over your lips, repeating the endearing nickname silently. It was adorable and suited her. Running a hand over your hair, which now had a dark coloration, you wished you hadn't dyed it. Not that that would change anything.

"You shouldn't let him call you the same way he sweetly called her," the manager warned when he saw him leave. Your sister was always around with Alex; they were completely in love with each other and never hid it from anyone. It was evident he had noticed.

"He just needs to heal."

"So do you."

'No, you can't call me the way you used to call her' was marked on his change.

Next night, at Battleship.

Rum had already become a vital elixir to oxygenate his blood. By the 4th shot, his mind swirled with thoughts of you, from the tip of your nose, seemingly tracing him as he spoke, to your conflicting voice when you expressed that you didn't want him around. He craved you.

He glanced around the room, searching for his daily fix of sex for the night but soon changed his mind, taking his cell phone in his hands and punching in your number that he already knew by heart.

"I'm sorry, you're by yourself?" A serene voice awakened him from his trance. The shiny hair and lips drawn in a perfect shape that made him forget about his cell phone.

"Yes, I am," he confirmed, his throat going dry. Every night the same thing, but he still got carried away by a vision trick; given that the reality was way too difficult to face. "All by myself, yeah."

She chuckled at his despair, and even though the sound didn't resemble hers, he decided he could play pretend in his mind. The girl remained silent, planting the image of her in his head as he tightly shut his eyes. For a moment, he swore he couldn't feel his feet anymore, wondering if it might be the effect of being close to her ghost. However, when he spoke it out loud, calling the random girl by another name, all he felt was a pair of hands pushing him back while she cursed him in as many ways as possible. Did the girl say her name to him? He couldn't tell; it wasn't like he cared.

"I need you," tears streamed down your chin, your voice reduced to sobs.

His smile broadened, scratching the affected spot, his body easing as he listened to your voice fill the phone call. You needed him, so you called him, just like every other night.

"A nightmare again?" he asked cautiously, not even needing to inquire about its content; he already knew.

"Yes," you looked tired, as much as he did. "I need you, Al. I can't stop thinkin’--."

"I'm on my way, buttercup."

The shared room still carried her scent; he recognized it as you dispersed the remnants of her perfume across the bed she once slept in. The ambiance shifted in her absence, a palpable change felt by both of you. Strangely, it felt comforting to be there, surrounded by the lingering trace of her false presence.

"You're drunk again," you sighed as his fingers grazed your cheekbone, wiping away some tears. "She wouldn't like that."

He nodded, "she really wouldn't." Alex smiled, observing a shy smile form on your lips.

In the ensuing silence, your movements were sudden. Your arms encircled his waist, compelling him to embrace you tightly. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he found solace in the fact that you were no longer shedding tears. The absence of words rendered the atmosphere more comfortable, clearing his mind and relaxing his muscles. As you buried your face deeper into his shirt, he let his chin rest on your head, and you sought comfort in the scent that had once clung to her clothes.

“Sis?”

“Huh?” You mumbled in pain.

“C’mere,” she replied before you vomited again. You were seated in the bathroom, facing the toilet—for the third time this week. “You have to promise you won't drink like that again—or I'll have to let our parents know about it.” She pulled you into her arms, her voice shaky with concern.

“I’ll try,” you said, the words sounding funny and somewhat meaningless. She furrowed her brows, uncertain about how to handle the situation. “I promise.” You buried your nose in her sweatshirt, which belonged to him but had been in her possession for a long time. The scent was potent, with lingering traces of cigarettes that infiltrated your mind. It brought a mix of sadness and comfort, akin to having him somehow. She didn't say anything else, just squeezed you.

The weather mirrored your mood—grey and somber. Finding motivation for work was the last thing on your mind today, and on many other days.

"What’re you doin’ outside? Weren't you supposed to be workin’?" Al said, tucking you under his umbrella. His eyebrows turned into an adorable concern.

"I can't work; I'm very sad and sleepless," you imitated your manager's voice, displaying pure irritation.

"Not a good day, I see," he remained in high spirits, even with your angry face as your Uber request was denied on the screen in your hands.

"Wouldn't you go get a coffee?" You deposited your disappointment in him. His face still in a smile, he was never one to be shaken by so little; just like her, in fact so alike to her that it was quite annoying at times. She wouldn't be giving hate to anyone for her bad day.

"There's no point; I only come ‘ere for you." Your mind knew well; it was already used to his tricks, but you still couldn't help but melt.

His words softened your body, and you allowed yourself to look at him. He didn't seem to have had a rough night; his eyes were as intense as she had described the night she met him. "Cornerstone doesn't make any sense without me, I agree with you." His lips spread; you were happy to be the cause of it.

The comfortable silence wrapped around you. He brushed your hair back from your eyes, getting so close he thought you might understand. "Can I get much closer?"

You nodded, feeling the tears blurring your vision. You knew he saw in you a way not to forget her face, but letting him go would hurt more. "Look, I'm really not supposed to – but yes, you can call me anything you want."

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taglist? !forms!

#alex turner x reader #alex turner #arctic monkeys #fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #alex turner x y/n #alex turner fanfic #alex turner imagine

[webcorelino]

anything | hwang hyunjin. 

After flying out to visit your online best friend for the first time, you're hopeful that the obvious tension between the two of you will finally find it's resolve, since Hyunjin is always so open about his feelings. Turns out you'll have to take the matter into your own hands. 

Best Friend!Hyunjin, female reader. ~4.4k words.

WARNINGS: smut, sub!Hyunjin, slight degradation, orgasm denial, cum eating, reader spits in hyunjin's mouth (yay), unprotected sex. MDNI. 

Author’s note: another one of my old works!! please reblog if you enjoy it :))  i'm praying the tags work properly this time lol

Don't interact with my work if you’re a minor or have a ageless/default/empty blog. 

It's been five days. Five whole days since you've arrived in Seoul and was staying at Hyunjin’s house, and although part of you–the decent part of you–wants to believe you've been having the time of your life, the honest part of you feels like it has been eating itself alive. 

You've met Hyunjin online and have been talking to him for a little over a year now–the blond haired boy being the only genuine friendship you've came across on the internet. The constant bickering between the two of you in the first few weeks was lighthearted, but it seemed that as you both grew closer, it would get a bit more risky. That along with the frequency in which you FaceTimed each other–that being every single day–meant it wouldn't be long until lengthy text messages start to get exchanged. Very heartfelt, and of course, platonic messages seemed to pop up in your phone late at night. Something he saw, or a thought that crossed his mind just made Hyunjin feel like picking up the phone and telling you how good you make him feel, how he appreciates having you around every single day. How no one has ever made him as happy as you do. All of his feelings were reciprocated, but that's always where you left it. Platonic text messages. One got too overwhelmed with unresolved feelings during the nighttime, would love bomb the other and wake up the next day, bickering, like nothing ever happened. 

When you both were arranging the things for this trip you were guessing, hoping, all of these unspoken feelings would violently boil to the surface–and, at least for you, they did. 

It feels so embarrassing how every little thing Hyunjin did turns you on–the way he spread his thighs when he sits down, the way he crosses his arms over his broad chest, how he throws his head back when he laughs, and specially when he shows you his dance routines, which he seems to enjoy a lot. You felt disgusting for feeling such things while he was doing nothing but being a good friend for you–there was no malice behind any of his actions, and your frustration would quickly turn into guilt. 

You guys walked a dangerous, confusing line. You were staying in his room, sleeping in his bed, and still no moves were made. You were full on cuddling to sleep but for some reason he just wouldn't make the first move–you blamed it on how fast you could feel his heart beating on your back as it touched his chest each night. 

The raindrops play a calming melody outside, muffled by the walls of his bedroom. Hyunjin lays on his back and you on your stomach, head on his chest as he runs his palm through your back. At that moment, you felt so safe and grounded you didn't see a reason to hold back your bluntness. 

“Your heart always beats so fast when we're like this.” Your middle finger traces a delicate line along his chest. “Do I make you nervous?” 

Your soft whispers suddenly made the boy hyper aware of your lingering touches on his chest, the hairs on his arms rising in attention. He stutters before forming a coherent sentence. “A little, I guess.” 

You smile as he shudders. The roaming finger becomes a palm, lightly running through his entire torso. Your head finds the crook of his neck, lips touching his skin as you reply. “Why's that?” 

Your lips leave quick, shy pecks on the skin. “I don't know.” Your tongue tastes his neck for just a second and a small gasp leaves the boy's lips. He can feel your smile on his skin as you resume your kissing, now pressing a little harder, opening your mouth just a little wider to suck on the tinniest bit of supple skin. Hyunjin couldn't tell if you were testing the waters or purposefully teasing him. 

You stretch your neck, kissing up the length of his own until you reach his jawline. “How come you don't know?” 

His nervous stutters didn't match the way he lifted his chin, giving you space to kiss his jaw as your lips neared his. You lift your head after you reach his chin, gaze fix on his as there's less than an inch separating both of you. Hyunjin looks enthralled, frozen–curious eyes look back at you with such intensity it encourages you to lower your hand from his abdomen to his hips–touch still feather-light. 

You don't kiss him just yet. You inch just a bit closer to his full lips, his neck rising to meet yours, but you pull back before he meets you in the middle. Hyunjin lets out the smallest of whines as his head touches the pillow again. “I asked you a question, hm? Talk to me.” You encourage, lips touching his as you whisper. 

Hyunjin’s afraid you've noticed him swallowing the lump on his throat, eyes avoiding yours. “It's just weird, being this close to you. It makes me nervous. I've dreamed about this for so long that actually having you here feels unreal.” 

You kiss the softness of his cheek. “What have you been dreaming about?” 

The boy's eyes flutter shut, immersed in your aura, only to open again in confusion when your lips suddenly weren't on him anymore. 

“Why'd you stop?” He asks, voice breathy. 

“You didn't reply.” 

Your eyes gleam with something Hyunjin has never seen on them before, eyelids hanging low and lips with a smirk so devilish they don't look like they belong to the kindhearted girl he's been spending his days with. He isn't complaining, but he sure is surprised. Your lips feel electric even with how briefly they touch his. “How can I give you what you need if you don't tell me what you've been thinking about?” You continue. Your words indicate a simple need for instructions, but your demeanour told Hyunjin something else, something dirtier. Your gaze was evil–he felt like a deer caught in headlights, incapable of doing anything besides watching what you'd do to him next. 

“I thought about feeling your hands on me.” He hates himself for sounding so fragile, but continues when he feels your lips on him again. Your small hand lazily inches closer to his clothed crotch. “I thought of your mouth- how much I want to kiss you.” 

Hyunjin's abruptly interrupted by a gasp, eyes shutting close when you finally palm him. Your hand firmly grips his cock through his sweatpants and you try to look unfazed by his girth. He can't help but hide his face with his arm, eyes covered by his bent elbow, embarrassed by his reaction to such minimal stimulation. Your mouth finds his neck once again, now intentionally leaving marks. You can't help but giggle at the loud and needy moan the tall boy under you lets out, his cheeks and neck so red you'd be worried if you weren't having so much fun. “You're so sensitive.” 

He swallows again. “I'm sorry.” 

You look at him once more, hand still working his girth as you speak. “Stop hiding. I wanna see you.” 

Hyunjin's chest swells with deep breaths, but he doesn't move his arm away from his face. “I'm just embarrassed, I'm sorry.” 

“I'll touch you properly if you let me see you.” 

Reluctantly, he allows his arm to fall by his side. His other hand, that was once smoothly running down your back, now grabs a fistful of your shirt. 

Hyunjin's voice is breathy when he replies, desperately trying to sound composed. The boost of confidence you get when he visibly shivers as your gaze finally meets his is unreal. You get lost in his sleepy brown eyes for a couple of seconds–the boy's heavy breathing and fluffly, messy hair were a sight impossible not to get caught up on. His quiet voice brings you back to reality shortly after. 

“You told me you would-” You shift closer to his face after the moan he lets out, desperate to get more pretty noises out of him after you reached under his underwear, getting hold of his cock. Hyunjin feels hot and heavy in your palm as you firmly stroke him, completely hypnotized by the movement of you hand under his sweatpants. 

Throughout this entire time, if your lips weren't on Hyunjin's skin, they were hovering just above his. The boy watched your expression, entranced by the way your hand moved on him, and he tried his best to contain the embarrassing whines his throat threatened to let out. Your small hand worked wonders on his shaft, squeezing on the way up, gathering the leaking precum on the tip and spreading it over his cock. The way you're so focused on his rock hard erection flusters Hyunjin to no end–the fact you didn't even look at his face again after his erection called your attention made him feel neglected. It felt like you weren't worried about pleasing him, you were simply touching him to see how his body would react. An experiment. Hyunjin didn't dislike the idea of being merely used by you. 

“You have such a pretty cock.” You breath out, earning a faint moan of your name, “It's a shame you don't know how to use it.” 

“I do-” 

“You do? So if I put it in my mouth right now are you gonna fuck my throat, or just lay here and squirm as I take my time with you?” You say, hand now focused on massaging his tip. 

Hyunjin had his free hand grasping his pillow–the other one, that once was grabbing on your shirt, now found it's way under it, seeking comfort on your skin. Your face hovered over his and he didn't try to hide the adoration with which he looked at you. His body was responsive and your eyes locked him in a trance that convinced him to do absolutely anything you asked him to, your lips barely touching his for so long but never committing to kissing him was pure torture. His brain couldn't grasp what you just told him, unable to process anything but how soft your lips would feel, how he desperately needed you on his tongue. 

“Please, kiss me.” He doesn't remember ever sounding this weak. 

“That's not what I asked, Hyune.” 

“I know, I just- please. I need you to kiss me.” 

The smirk haunting your lips fill him with fear you won't have mercy anytime soon. Your free hand reaches for his jawline to open his mouth as Hyunjin omplies–shy, hooded eyes watch your spit drip towards his mouth. You notice the way he tilts his chin up, impatient, chasing the spit that's still halfway down. But he doesn't close his mouth when your saliva finally reaches it. Instead, he sticks his tongue out and you use the opportunity to move your hand faster on his cock–your wrist's pace picks up, restless, ripping out of Hyunjin the whiniest moans as you let your spit dribble down once again, making sure to quickly lick his tongue before closing his mouth shut, allowing him to swallow. You can't help but smile at the way he moans louder as soon as he feels your tongue on his, even for a split second. 

“This will have to do for now.” 

Hyunjin's brain is too mushed to feel embarrassment as your hand brought him close, closer to the edge with each harsh stroke. You move so fast on him his brain couldn't keep up with the pleasure–his moans become shorter and higher as his thighs suddenly freeze beside you. The boy's mouth hangs open and that's your sign to stop, removing your hand completely from him. He instinctively grabs your wrist, hips bucking into nothing. 

“No! Please, don't- what did I do wrong?!” He whines, leaning into you, seeking some type of comfort. 

You coo, kissing his cheek gently as the boy goes off on an incoherent mumbling tangent. “You didn't do anything wrong, baby. I'm just having fun. Are you feeling good?” 

He nods reluctantly, shifting his needy gaze from your eyes to his cock. It was impossible for you to ignore it–it looked messy with his own slick all over it, demanding attention as the tip leaked a small puddle onto his stomach. 

“You don't seem so sure…” You drift off, but your train of thought is interrupted when you move your hand, realizing how sticky he left it. “Clean me off.” You mutter as you bring your hand to his mouth. 

Embarrassment seems to find it's way back into Hyunjin, eyes closing shut as he licks a long strip from your palm to the tips of your fingers. The feeling of his tongue is distracting, but you're able to trace back to your original thought. “Are you sure you're feeling good? Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

Hyunjin looks up at you, tongue still licking at your palm before he replies. “It felt good, but I didn't-” he's abruptly interrupted by the feeling of your index and middle fingers shoved in his mouth, knuckles touching his lips. “You really made a mess out of my fingers…” You mumble, cooing. “Make sure you clean it up real nice, alright?” The boy nods shyly. You could feel his eyes on you when your attention was on his mouth, but as soon as your gaze met his, he would look down to your hand. Cute. 

“Keep going, baby.” You remove your fingers from his lips but his hold doesn't falter–your hand still hovers over his face as Hyunjin replies, taking breaks to talk in between licking the rest of his precum off your fingers. “You're feeling good?” 

The way he stumbles over his words, clearly uneasy, makes you think he's about to ask you to let him cum. “I am, but I really wanna kiss you.” 

You're taken aback by his passive request. Hyunjin notices how the light in your eyes flicker, and he's sure he said the right thing when your smirk softens, melting into a huge smile. His hazy mind is completely enamoured of you–there could be a fire starting in his room but he simply wouldn't be able to pry his eyes away from your face. 

“You wanna kiss me?” He nods before you even finish, making you giggle. The hand you had on his mouth now rests on his cheek, thumb stroking his skin softly. “Do you think you deserve it?” 

“I think I was good.” You raise your eyebrows, making the boy under you justify his claim. “Wasn't I? I promise I tried to be good.” 

“I guess you were… But I don't know, Hyune...” The nickname makes his head spin. “I'm scared you might cum as soon as I kiss you…” You drift off. He doesn't understand how you could wear such a sweet smile while torturing him like this. 

You giggle at his panic. “No, I promise I won't! I promise I'll make you feel good, just, please let me kiss you. I've been wanting to kiss you this entire time.” 

You lean towards his space again, leaving nearly no distance between your lips and his. “You're more eager to kiss me than to cum. Cute.” 

Your words make him shiver, Hyunjin's eyes are fix on your lips as he raises his chin, chasing them. You giggle as you pull back and his voice sounds shaky, a weak mutter of your name getting your attention. “Oh my God. Just- please.” 

He moans as soon as you close the distance between the two of you, showing absolutely no resistance as you all but shove your tongue in his mouth. His desperation bleeds into the kiss, hand coming up to cup your cheek, obsessively pulling you as close to him as he possibly could. 

The kiss seems to give him a boost of confidence, or maybe it just completely pushed him over the edge, because Hyunjin's hands start to roam through your entire body. His tongue stays insistent in yours as he eagerly caresses your back, chest, ass–wherever his hands landed with his rapid, anxious movements. He whines as you sit up, lifting off of him to remove your shorts and underwear. Hyunjin feels like his sanity is slipping away as you mount him, wet core dripping right above his cock as you lean down to kiss him again. His hands find your hips, groping, kissing you like his life depended on keeping your lips on his, and right now, it felt like it did. 

Hyunjin grips your hips hard as you position yourself on him, slowly sinking down, grunting as he watched you completely sit on his shaft. You lean forward again, hips staying completely still as you make out, tongue abusing his panting mouth. Hyunjin's eyes roll to the back of his head when you rock yourself gently against him, mind completely gone to pay attention or think about anything else but your warm cunt. That's why, although he can't possibly force himself to look at you, his ears perk up as your whiny voice whispers above his lips. “You're only allowed to cum after I do. Do you understand that?” 

The amount of effort it takes for him to simply nod is embarrassing. You position your forearms to rest by his head, your hips starting to bounce on him. Hyunjin's breath is immediately knocked out of his lungs, the squelching noise of your dripping cunt sinking on him is intoxicating–his entire being, all of his senses feel completely engulfed by you. 

Suddenly, your hand comes to the boy's jaw, bringing his gaze back to yours with a tight grip. “I asked you a question, Hyunjin. I expect an answer.” 

Overwhelmed, Hyunjin nods rapidly, but he's able to force a reply out of himself shortly after. “Yes. I'll only cum after you do.” 

Your countenance melts into a pleased expression as you finally move your hips as fast as you like, riding him with purpose. Hyunjin seems to be in the verge of tears all times you look down at him, his grip–he wants to grab onto something to ground himself, but right now he doesn't want to touch anything else but you–was sure to leave dark bruises as you bounce on him with no regards to future soreness.

Hyunjin simply can't keep still–he had to fight the urge to bite his own fist in an effort to hold back his orgasm, eyes constantly rolled to the back of his head even though he was trying so hard to watch you, mouth constantly hanging open with the most embarrassing stream of sounds he never imagined he was capable of making. Hyunjin always cringed at the exaggerated moans he'd hear when watching porn–he is mortified to find out he's capable of sounding even worse than that. 

To you, though, his loud, needy noises are heaven. Hyunjin looks like a painting beneath you–toned chest bright red, heavy with fast pants, every vein in his neck visible due to his effort, head constantly thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, opening every now and again to show you how teary they were. Hyunjin chanted your name like a prayer and endured the consequences of your demands like a devotee. Your hand finds his cheek, and that immediately calls the boy's attention. He opens his sharp eyes, cheek pressing to your hand as he peppered kisses all over your palm. Your hips slowed to nearly a stop, gently rocking against him to give yourself a break. 

Now with both hands placed on his face, you trace your thumbs over his eyebrows, sliding to his cheekbones and resting on his pink cheeks. The boy looks at you with an adoration that would take you aback if you weren't trapped in the same hypnosis as he is. He hugs your waist tightly as your lips meet his, tongue moving as slow as your hips were, savouring his taste. Your now glacial moves gave Hyunjin the chance to actually feel you on him. Feel your weight on top oh him, the heat of your hands on his cheeks, soft lips now finally, finally kissing him with the care and softness he's been craving since he first saw you at the airport. The break on the power dynamic gave Hyunjin the confidence to mutter his request against your lips. 

“Can we switch positions?” He asks, and you smile against his mouth. 

“You wanna fuck me? That's sweet.” You reply, humoured. His shy gaze avoids you. “I don't know if you'll do it right, though.” 

His hands tremble where they hold you. “We can switch back if you don't like it. Please, let me try.” 

You humm, still peppering kisses on his lips. “What if you can't make me cum? What do you suggest I do to you?” 

Hyunjin's shy agitation makes you smile again. “Then I'll let you do whatever you want to me. Anything.” 

You scoff as you lean towards the side, Hyunjin's cue to flip you on your back. “You'd let me to that anyway.” 

He's cock is still inside of you as he lays you down under him, burying himself as deep as he can when your back is on the mattress. Hyunjin's body feels hot and heavy above you, hips snapping with such desperate pace that lets you know he's been dying to get you underneath him. You claw at his shoulders as he gropes your breasts, your nails purposefully leaving marks on the pale skin. But you want to leave marks on his ego too. His forehead is pressed against yours when you speak up, careful to suppress the loud moans that threaten to leave your lips every time you open your mouth. 

“Is this really all you got?” You ask, breathless, but it still seems to get to him. “What did you have in mind when you said ‘anything’?” 

The boy presses his lips shut, suppressing a whine. “I can make you cum.” 

You scoff. “Keep telling yourself that.” 

Hyunjin's pace changes from fast and desperate–which was already driving you dangerously close to coming–to timed. Deep. Strokes. His cock hits the deepest area of your cunt and you try your best to not contort your face in pleasure, but you were only so strong. You want to scream his name at the top of your lungs, your torso squirming under him, back arching uncontrollably. Yet still… 

“It's a shame that you're huge, you really don't know how to use it.” Your gaze bores into his. “I bet any other guy would have me climbing up the walls with a size like yours.” 

Hyunjin grunts, eyes squeezed shut and thighs trembling with how much effort he's putting on slamming into you. Your core pulses around him, you know you're close. He hides his face in your neck, hugging at your waist so tightly it hurts. It inches you closer to your orgasm. 

“You don't need another guy…” 

“Seems like I do. I made you feel so good earlier and this is what I get-” You're cut short by a loud moan as his fingers find your clit. 

It's so unexpected that you're unable to stop the way his name leaves your lips multiple times as his hands moves in sync with his hips, the boy shakily reassures himself in whispers against your neck. “I can make you feel good.” 

Your orgasm hits you hard and violent–legs spasming around his hips as your back arches, nails clinging into his back as your vision turns completely white and blurry, reality slipping from your grasp as your abdomen tightens impossibly before going completely limp. You feel tears on your neck as Hyunjin continues to fuck into your spent body, waiting for your permission. It takes you a few moments but you're finally able to wrap your legs tightly around him, hands on his lower back pressing him against your pelvis, stilling his movements. Hyunjin sobs, helpless, grabbing desperately at your shoulders, hips, torso, anything–the way you were both his torturer and savior driving him insane. 

He doesn't even mind the way his voice breaks and falters anymore. “Please, let me move. Please. You have to let me.” 

“I have to let you?” 

He removes his head from your neck, and you take in the sight. His face is all wet with tears, red from both shyness and lack of air due to how hard he was pressed against your neck, lips plump and wet from how passionate you both were every time your mouths touched. He kisses the corner of your lips, “please.” your chin, “please.” your nose “please.”. Every inch of your cheeks, your lips, all followed by small begs. How the hell can you say no to that? 

The smile you give him this time makes him shiver–not because it was devious, but because it was lovely. You drop you legs from his hips as you wrap your arms around his neck, mouth inches away from his. 

“Cum inside me, baby. You've earned it.” You smash your lips against his, kissing him slowly, deeply. It was both a praise and a thank you. 

Hyunjin fucks into you for a few more seconds, tongue intertwined in yours as he finally releases his load inside of you, a stream of moans leaving his muffled mouth, all swallowed by you. He couldn't possibly support his own weight with his spent legs, dropping himself completely on top of you as he rocked his hips, eyes squeezed tight as he filled you up. Feeling his own slick leaking out of you while he was still stuffed inside was heartwarming.

You both panted for what felt like minutes on end, Hyunjin laid on top of you as you caressed his back and he mouthed on your neck–kissing and sucking the skin lightly, not with any purpose, just because he can. 

“You're such an asshole.” He mutters, making you smile.

“Thanks. And you're a fucking whore.” You caress his scalp gently, tugging the hair falling on his eyes behind his ear. 

“… You could've called me that.” 

“I know. Didn't want you to cum right away, though.” 

“Shut up.” You both fall into comfortable silence, until he speaks again. “Could've taken me out to dinner first, damn…” 

Your laughter lightens up his dark room, and Hyunjin cuddles further into you with a lovesick smile, feeling your chest falter under him. 

“The only dinner you're getting is pussy.” 

That makes the boy raise his head, eyes looking for your smiling lips with a smirk of his own. “Is it eight yet?” 

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin smut #skz smut

[fruitysoupy]

100 years later I finally drew all of my AU Links

Say hello to my lads! They're going to be in a comic I've been scripting and planning for about a year now I think? I'm calling it Link and the Links, latl for short!

More info under the cut :]

(please don't tag as LU/Linked Universe!!)

The Plot

The Links find themselves in a mysterious forest that seems somewhat familiar to all of them yet none of them know where they are. Now they have to work together to find their way home. On the way they'll discover a thing or two about each other and grow closer!

The Cast

I could talk about these guys for hours, but to keep it digestible I'll make it short

A bit of info before I get into it - all of them are taken from different points in time after the end of their adventure(s)!

Birdie (Skyward Sword)

18

Roughly 6 hours after defeating Demise

The start of it all. Unbeknownst to himself and the others, the space they find themselves in was created out of his desire to meet the heroes after him. He feels terribly guilty about the curse and very much blames himself for the possible suffering of future heroes. His main goal is to check up on everyone and help where he can!

Grasshopper (Ocarina of Time and Majora's Mask)

10

4 days after leaving Termina

Somewhat disoriented after his journey still, he tags along simply because he thinks Birdie is an idiot who would get lost without him. He doesn't talk a whole lot but he likes listening to other people's stories

Seagull (Wind Waker and Phantom Hourglass)

13

6 months after leaving the domain for the ocean King

He's a real genuine pirate, yarr!! Or so he'd like you to believe. He talks a great deal about his strength and bravery, but really is just afraid and terribly homesick most of the time. He wants to fit in with Tetra's and her crew's toughness so much he might go a little overboard on the act in a way that may or may not end up biting him in the butt.

Choo (Spirit Tracks)

14

6 months after peace returned to new Hyrule

He wouldn't call himself a hero, in fact he'd say it's a miracle he made it out alive. Self-esteem and confidence really aren't his strong suits, he often finds himself dragged along and unable to say no. He is very friendly however, and if you just give him a little space he might even open up to you.

Wolfie (Twilight Princess)

21

4 years after defeating Ganondorf

Left Ordon after intrusive thoughts convinced him he was a danger to his village, now works at Telma's bar as a waiter in exchange for a room. He's responsible well liked, though he's not too fond of himself. He has some complicated feelings about the whole turning into a wolf thing

Apple (A Link to the Past, Oracle of Ages/Seasons and Link's Awakening)

20

Just a few seconds after Koholint disappeared

From one dream right into the next (sorta?) he's understandably disoriented at first. He pushes that aside pretty much immediately though, much more interested in getting to know everyone. He's a kind and soft spoken, weirdly wise sort of guy and near instantly becomes the heart of the team

Wallflower (A Link Between Worlds)

19

4 years after wishing upon the triforce with Zelda

Bitter doesn't even begin to describe this uh.. Pleasant fella. After being bossed around for the better part of his life he doesn't take orders from anybody and is this close to quitting his job as a blacksmith. He hates being stuck here, he hates these strange people, really there's not much he doesn't hate. But that can't be all there is to him...

Puzzle (The Legend of Zelda and Adventure of Link)

18

1,5 years after waking Zelda II

Confused, disoriented, but still happy to help and ready for adventure. Though some of the others don't really like him around he's still just as friendly to everyone. Since he struggles to communicate he tends to stay quiet. He appears to be simple minded on first glance, but he'll prove to be a valuable member of the team.

Sprout (Minish Cap)

23

13 years after defeating Vaati

After his grandfather died he retreated into his house and dedicated himself to improving his blacksmithing skills to live up to his grandfather's name, he was quickly forgotten by his community and faded into obscurity. Now he may be the best blacksmith in Hyrule, so good that even the royal guard hires him, but among the general castletown population he's nothing more than a forest cryptid. He only leaves the house when he has to, carefully avoiding people. Not because they disgust him, he just has a major case of social anxiety!

Squire (Breath of the Wild)

14

3 years pre calamity

This absolute rascal couldn't be happier about his current circumstances. These unknown woods are his playground and all of these weirdos are his friends now! Though everyone's pretty sure he's a knight trainee, he insists that he's just a stable hand for the guard. His chaotic and carefree nature surprisingly doesn't get in the way of things as he's eager to help out wherever he can, seeing the whole journey as an impromptu camping trip.

Some funfacts :]

Most of them are neurodivergent in some way!

Birdie and Seagull have ADHD, Grasshopper and Choo are autistic, Squire gets the combo platter AuDHD and Wolfie has OCD

Additionally, Birdie has auditory processing disorder and dyscalculia, and Squire has dyslexia

A few of them also have speech disorders

Choo stutters and Puzzle has cluttering speech disorder

Apple has a weak voice, so after a while his voice gets tired and gets hoarse

Choo enjoys drawings and cartography, two skills that will be very important!

One of Seagull's hobbies is photography! He takes his pictobox everywhere

Wolfie also does entertainment at the bar from time to time! He sings or does card tricks

Sprout knows HSL (hylian sign language) because his grandfather was deaf

Seagull's piratey way of talking is 100% for show and painfully inconsistent

Wolfie speaks in a thick southern (in universe ordonian) accent but he's trying hard to mask it since he moved to castletown

Wallflower absolutely hates Puzzle

Squire's special interest is horses

Birdie is a bit of a doormat so he has the ideas but Wolfie is the one to actually get them through

A number of them are blood related (has nothing to do with the colours of their names in this post, I had to reuse some because there weren't enough orz)

That's all I have for you today! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! :]

If any of you have any questions about my Links or AU you'd like answered, my inbox is open!

Have a lovely day everyone!

#links meet au #tloz #legend of zelda #tloz fanart #tloz au #legend of zelda au #link #artists on tumblr #not lu #link and the links au #LatL au #my art #triangles #IT IS DONE FINALLY #Apologies for my handwriting also orz I tried #LatL #the lads

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

Alex’s feelings being symbolized as fire and Henry’s being symbolized as water

I made a post like this time ago, but this one is better.

The first example you can see is their zodiac signs. They immediately link Alex to fire (Aries) and Henry to water (Pisces).

Alex’s feelings are fire, intense, they can burn him, strong, when he feels them, he feels them in an intense way (She doesn’t worry about going public with it; feelings don’t consume her the way his do.)

Henry’s feelings are water, deep, they can drown him, clear (genuine), when he feels something, he feels it deep (Every time something terrible happens to you from then on, it doesn’t just stop at the bottom—it goes all the way down.)

Now going directly at the book. It’s present through all of it but specially during chapter 9-10.

Alex is paired with phrases like “having a fire under his ass” or “you’re flying too close to the sun”.

In chapter 9, there are sentences like these “I kind of can’t stop thinking about you all sunburned and pretty” and “with fingers that smell like smoke” and “He watches a drop of water roll down Henry’s perfect nose and disappear into his mouth” Those are little sentences, little symbolism not exactly important to the plot (except maybe the last one, although it might be a reach from my part).

I kind of can’t stop thinking about you all sunburned and pretty

Sun symbolizes life, brightness, positivity, etc etc. This is Alex saying than he can’t stop thinking about Henry happy (and away from the palace). The sun is also made of fire. Who is deeply tied with fire all around the book? Alex.

with fingers that smell like smoke.

Henry spent the day with Alex and his family (Nora is basically family too), on a place really important to him, where not everyone gets to go. This could be Alex being all around, kind of seeping through him. Being obviously in love with him, and that having an effect in him.   

He watches a drop of water roll down Henry’s perfect nose and disappear into his mouth.

The drop of water (Henry’s feelings) disappear into his mouth, he doesn’t say them.   

There’s also this one

“I guess that makes you the North Star?”

Stars are made out of fire, in some way. This is Alex seeing Henry like how Henry sees him (alive, bright) because when Henry thought than Alex loving him would set him on fire, is not only because Casey enjoys symbolism, but also because Alex was “happy and animated and fully alive, a person living in dimensions I couldn’t access”.

Stars shine in the same way the sun does, but they don’t appear like they do because of the distance between us and the stars. This is Alex seeing Henry like how Henry sees him (I talk more about it at the end of this post), Henry is as bright as Alex, it’s just harder to see because he’s more guarded, he keeps his distance, he keeps himself to himself. Alex is more open compared to Henry, so it’s easier to see Alex as a sun rather than Henry. Meanwhile Alex is fire and Henry is water, through the book Henry gains fire elements. A representation of Alex’s influence on him.

Then at the lake, the symbolism really starts.

The lake is made out of water, the lake is Henry’s feelings (a parallel to Alex on chapter 11 saying Sometimes I feel like a funny-looking rock in the middle of the most beautiful clear ocean when I read the kinds of things you write to me.)

The water ripples quietly around him as he slides his hands up to hold Henry’s face in both palms, tracing his cheekbones with the wet pads of his thumbs.

In this scene, the lake is Henry’s feelings. They were surrounded by Henry’s feelings, so strong (a mix of his own feelings for Alex and how he felt about Alex’s confession) than it was the width of a lake. That’s why they were inside the lake when this confession happened.

The water ripples quietly around him, Henry’s feelings being shown through their surroundings.

Tracing his cheekbones with the wet pads of his thumbs. Alex is touching Henry with wet hands. Wet by the lake, wet by Henry’s feelings. He’s surrounded by them, Henry helped him not take it ten years into the future, and just be, even if unknowingly, so during Alex’s confession, he was swimming on Henry’s feelings. The credit was not Henry’s, obviously, but I think than if Alex never started going out with Henry, maybe this change would have took longer to happen. 

His hands are wet, he is affected by Henry’s feelings, and he touches Henry while being affected by his feelings. He tells him about having a fire under his ass and slowly getting rid of it, to which Henry had something to do with, and he tries to confess. This whole line explains the entire scene perfectly.  

 

Abruptly Henry shifts, ducking beneath the surface and out of his arms before he can say anything else. 
He pops back up near the pier, hair sticking to his forehead ///  Henry spits out lake water and sends a splash in his direction,  

Henry gets away from Alex, but he’s still in the lake, still on the water. He’s feeling here, he doesn’t ignore his feeling for “Alex’s sake” (what Henry was probably thinking). 

Hair sticking to his forehead, the water, his feelings, are still present. Henry spits out lake water, he tries to get rid of them, somehow. To ignore them, to not focus on his own feelings at the moment.

and sends a splash in his direction, he pushes his feelings away from himself.

as he turns and starts hauling himself out of the water and onto the dock.

Henry is the first one to get out of the lake, apparently, running away from Alex’s feelings, but using the symbolism, also running away from his. Not denying himself what he felt, since he already knew, but trying to ignore it. Trying to ignore his feelings and the fact than Alex reciprocated because that just couldn’t work out. It didn’t make sense than Alex loved him back.   

Now chapter 10, this one has the most fire/water symbolism.

It’s dark and pissing down rain when they land in London / Fat raindrops are pelting right into his eyeballs.

Basically, Henry breaking down. Henry's feelings being too much for him to handle, too deep, too bottomless, to keep inside of him anymore.
Now, his feelings are the rain. It was dark and pissing down rain. Strongly raining. Henry knew Alex loved him back, and he couldn't deal with that. He couldn't deal than, when it all would
eventually end, as he thought it would, he would not only break his own heart, but Alex's too. 

At the moment, he still believed than he deserved nothing, than he was only born to be a puppet for the crown. Than he didn't deserve happiness, didn't deserve Alex's love because, what was there of him to love? However, even if he didn't feel deserving of happiness, of Alex's feelings,
he still loved him. He loved him strongly like the rain outside. 

Rain outside, than, by the way, was soaking Alex.

Alex was soaking in Henry's feelings the moment he arrived at Kensington. One, because Henry's feelings were so deep and strong than occupied all of London, and two, because those feelings were directed specially towards Alex.

Henry paces over to the elaborately carved fireplace across the room and leans on the mantelpiece.

The fireplace. The fireplace has a big part in this scene omg.

The fireplace, who is continuously being described with fire-related elements? Alex.

So the fireplace is a tangible representation of Alex’s feelings, he paces over it. He’s deciding whatever he should accept Alex’s feelings or not. Whatever he should let Alex confess or not. Deciding exactly what to do with them. Because giving Alex up nearly killed him, but if he accepted his feelings, everything else would be so much more complicated. They would have to fight, and as we see later in the scene, Henry doesn’t think of himself as a fighter, but a coward.    

 

“I fucking love you, okay?” Alex half yells, finally, irreversibly.     
Henry goes very still against the mantelpiece.

Alex said it, Henry can’t just ignore it or deny it anymore, he goes still against the mantelpiece, he doesn’t pace over it anymore. Alex said it, there’s no turning back.

 

A small click cuts the silence: Henry has taken his signet ring off and set it down on the mantel.

He takes of his signet ring (a symbol of monarchy, something than probably was passed down to him, which means than it’s also a symbol of history. The prince of Wales signet ring [Charles ring] reads: Ich Dien. I serve. A tangible representation of his service to the country. Of his responsibilities) and he puts it in the fireplace.

The fireplace, which represents Alex’s feelings.

He takes off his ring, takes off monarchy and that sense of expectation than comes with it, and sets it on top of the fireplace. Leaves the two possible futures for him side by side. The ring, meaning monarchy, having to pretend someone he’s not, probably marrying a woman and stay in the same place and system than caused him so much pain. But than, nonetheless, would be the easier choice.

Or, a possible future with Alex. A future they both would have to fight tooth and nail for, and maybe, will not even happen. Maybe they will not be accepted. Maybe it all would turn out wrong. Maybe Alex would regret in the future. But than, even if it’s the most complicated and unknown path, is the one where Henry would be able to be himself for once, and where he would have Alex at his side.    

He holds his naked hand to his chest,

He’s not used to not wearing the ring, to have a choice, to decide for himself.

his naked hand, bare, exposed, the real him, how he actually feels about the whole situation, about the choice he has to make. Just Henry, not Prince Henry.

He holds his hand to his chest, to his heart, here we have a little bit of foreshadowing you could say, than he makes the decision based on his heart, on his feelings. He chooses what he feels.   

Alex yanks the soggy note out of his pocket, I wish there wasn’t a wall,

Soggy, wet by the rain. Wet by Henry’s feelings. After all, he did put his real feelings on the note. But this is not what it is about. It’s because then more than ever the note was true. Henry did wish there wasn’t a wall, Alex loved him back, if only Henry could accept it, if only there wasn’t a wall.

    

staring at a point on the mantel somewhere

He stares at the mantel meanwhile he confesses. He talks about how “it was never supposed to be an issue” while staring at the mantel, at the two possible futures for him. 

“I never thought I’d be standing here faced with a choice I can’t make, because I never . . . I never imagined you would love me back.”

He was still staring at the mantel. What was he supposed to choose, the path than was written since before he was born, the easy path yet the unhappy one, or the unknown path, the one he didn’t know where would led them but than, still, it would led Henry to a more happy place, even if it will be more complicated.

He never had to think about what he would do given the situation, given than he thought than said situation would never happen. He never had to think, because he thought than he would always continue just as he was, than nothing would come and change it all.

He realizes, suddenly, Henry’s crying.

Henry’s feelings getting out, showing them, not being able to ignore them anymore.   

the fire gone out.

This fire could refer to Alex’s feelings, or it could refer to the strong emotions subsiding, before, they were screaming, crying, now it’s calm, in some way.

If it refers to Alex’s feelings, it doesn’t change much. Alex’s feelings before were angry, irritated, he was screaming, trying to understand and make Henry understand than he should have control over his own life, now he’s calmer.  

there’s a violent rain lashing against the big picture window, half-revealed by parted curtains.

What if I said than I actually adore this line?

Violent rain, lashing against the big picture window. Henry’s feelings being violent. He’s thinking things through, making a decision, and his feelings are strong, like a violent rain.

Half-revealed by parted curtains. He isn’t showing Alex all of his feelings, but he’s showing him some of them, which is more than he did the previous days, since here Alex is seeing the rain, even if it’s half-revealed by parts curtains. Before Alex came, in the USA it wasn’t raining, it was raining in London. Alex wasn’t in London, so Alex didn’t know about the rain until he came. Henry didn’t tell him about his feelings until Alex went for himself to talk to him. Now, it rains while Alex is in London, where he can see the rain. Henry shows him some of his feelings without Alex having to talk to Henry in order to understand them. 

Alex says this some lines later: It’s time, he realizes, to start accepting only what Henry can give him.

He says it referring the Le Monde newspaper, but Alex also doesn’t open the curtains, he settles with the rain he can see through the half-revealed window.

Next to the clock on the mantel, Henry’s ring still sits.

He left it where it was the night before, meaning he’s still pondering over what to choose, except, Henry isn’t in the room anymore. He’s thinking outside, and he left the ring inside.

He makes this decision without monarchy in sight. He leaves the ring behind, it’s weight no longer in him. It’s a decision he has to make for himself, untouched and uninfluenced by monarchy, just him for once. 

Just what Henry decides (he chooses his own happiness over what is decided for him) before Henry explains his decision.

Also, clocks (next to the clock on the mantel) can symbolize emotional overwhelm, caused by things like lack of time, or deadlines (Henry was on a deadline, in some way. He had to choose what he wanted to do, he couldn’t put it off any longer). Henry was emotional overwhelmed.  

”I honestly have never thought I deserved to choose.” His hand moves, fingertips brushing a curl behind Alex’s ear. “But you treat me like I do.”

Not regarding fire/water but I wanted to add this.

Henry is not talking about how Alex told him than he deserved to choose, but about how he treated him like he deserved to choose.

Is not “but you make me feel like I do”, or “but you convinced me than I should” or anything else, is Alex treating him like he deserves to choose what did it to him. 

Surely people told Henry about how he should choose over his own life, but they never treated him with the respect and understanding than one should receive when is in charge of making decisions. Alex held him accountable. He went to Kensington, went off on him for ghosting him, told him than they could figure something out, called him an obtuse fucking asshole, the whole deal.

Sure, the blame was on the monarchy (specially Henry’s grandmother [do not speak the devil’s name]) but part of the blame was also on Henry. Henry decided to run from the lakehouse, Henry decided to ghost Alex, no one forced him to do these things. And Henry endured a lot of brainwashing and manipulation from monarchy, which led to him making decisions like these ones, but at the end of the day, the decision was his. I feel like because of these brainwashing from monarchy most of his actions were excused, people (like Pez or Bea) felt bad for him, understood what train of thought led to these decisions, didn’t told him “hey that was an asshole move”. Alex did. He held him accountable for what he did.

Henry being held accountable this time might have made him realize than he did, in fact, choose to do all that. Mary didn’t force him to do it. Sure, she’s the reason why he did it, but Mary didn’t ask him to, she didn’t force him. Henry did it himself. Which means he can choose for himself, and than he should start choosing good things for himself, not choosing what will hurt him out of fear and resignation.

When Alex told him about how he could choose, how they could figure something out, he was serious. He genuinely believed it could work (and it did). I think than the lack of realism regarding Henry's decisions is what made him believe than he shouldn’t choose, than he didn’t deserve it. Aside from Henry probably never being granted a chance to have a voice regarding matters growing up (like which clothes he wore, etc which led him to believe he just couldn’t choose, shouldn’t choose, than everyone else knew what was better for him [given his position (he didn’t have the same responsibilities as normal people, he had the weight of a country on him, etc etc)] and also since very little his ideas and thoughts were probably dismissed, not only because that’s what almost everyone does to kids, but because if Henry had little control over his life now, in his 20s, imagine as a kid. His parents listened to him, surely, but did his grandmother? For years, since he was a kid, to a teenager, to now, she probably just smiled or frowned her lips regarding if she agreed or not, but never actually took anything he said seriously), it’s the way everyone else viewed what Henry wanted for himself. They viewed it as something unattainable.

For example, I imagine Bea and Henry talking about the future, and it’s always if. Imagine if this happened, if it went like this, if we did that. Never talking about a realistic future, because they didn’t realistically expect a good future (specially Henry) where they could actually choose. Alex makes it real, he genuinely believes it. It had been a long time since people genuinely believed Henry could have a good future made up of choices about his life he made by himself. I feel like even if Pez tried to be positive and talk about how it all would be okay eventually, he didn’t exactly believe it. Pez had been with Henry for years, he knew how monarchy was up close, something Alex didn’t truly know (for this part of the book. Alex heard stories, heard Henry complain, but he didn’t see it up close yet). Even if he tried to be genuine, to bring some positivity, some light to Henry’s thoughts, Henry saw right through him. However Alex genuinely believed it, which made Henry stop on his tracks and actually consider the possibilities.

Alex treats him like he deserves to choose not only because he does deserve to choose, but because Alex doesn’t see why he wouldn’t be able to choose in the first place. Alex has a supportive family, he doesn’t know monarchy first hand, he’s used to making decisions regarding his life, and even though he has heard Henry talk about how constricting and controlling monarchy, he didn’t really thought it would be as bad as it actually is. The idea than Henry literally has no decision over his own life (because he doesn’t. If he wants to do something other people have to approve of it. If they don’t approve, he has to deal with it) is crazy to him, because of own different that situation is to his own. His family supports him, he talks and gets along with everyone in his family (immediate family, at least), and the idea than Henry’s life is not only so so different, but than also, is like if it wasn’t his at all, is baffling to him.     

listening to the rain slow to a drizzle

Henry’s feelings calm down, he’s happier, calmer, serene, no longer feelings the same emotions he felt before.   

(These below have nothing to do with fire/water, but I wanted to add them)

Alex exhales a laugh. “Aren’t you gonna ask if I know how to waltz?” 
“No waltzing,” Henry says. “Never cared for it.”

Waltzing is this traditional dance, normally between men and women. Heteronormativity, you could say.

It was expected for him to waltz with Alex in this moment, as something romantic, but he doesn’t cared to follow these unwritten rules. He makes his own rules. He doesn’t cared for monarchy or appearances, this is him choosing a new life and a new start, making his own decisions rather than what’s expected of him, what’s appropriate.   

He removes his hand and there, sitting in the center of Alex’s callused palm, is the signet ring. /// “Keep it,” Henry tells him. “I’m sick of wearing it.”

Henry is sick of having monarchy on him all the time, of wearing the ring, Ich Dien, I serve. When Henry wears it, it means he serves monarchy, he obeys, he gives all of himself to it, he’s part of it. When Alex wears it, is different. Not only Henry giving it to him is a representation of Henry giving away his position, a beginning to Henry fighting for himself, but of Alex wears is, I serve belongs to him now.

Alex doesn’t serve monarchy, he’s not even part of it. Even if Alex and Henry marry (which they do, but Henry abdicates before they do [Henry’s chapter]) Alex is still not welcome inside of monarchy. This is not about Mary, or even Philip, is about monarchy as a concept and what it stands for, and has always stood for. Alex, brown, American, bisexual, Mexican, is not welcomed inside of monarchy, but the ring is not about monarchy being on Alex now.

When the ring was on Henry, it was monarchy, when the ring was given to Alex, it stopped belonging to monarchy itself, and passing to just be Henry’s ring. This is Henry giving a part of himself to Alex. I serve has become not about Henry and monarchy and his country, but about their relationship. Fortifying their relationship, in some way.   

he takes the chain off his neck and slides the ring on next to the old house key. They clink together gently as he tucks them both under his shirt, two homes side by side.

Monarchy is Henry’s home, so this can be both of their homes (Alex’s old house, and Henry’s life in the palace) being side by side, or about Alex’s both homes. Again, the ring no longer represents monarchy now it just means Henry, it became Henry’s ring, so Alex here is implying Henry is Alex’s other home, which I believe is the real meaning, what Casey intended.

In chapter 11 there is

If someone like that ever loved me it would set me on fire

Henry thought of himself as incapable of being loved, and the idea of being loved specially by someone like Alex (someone who, in his mind, was the opposite to him—happy, bright, alive) seemed so unreal, than he felt like it would probably set him on fire. Alex was the sun, happy and bright, so full of life he shone. Alex was someone who could be loved. And Henry loved him. And the idea of being loved back by him was impossible. It wasn’t mean to happen, and if it ever happened, it would burn Henry. Because Henry could not hold all of Alex’s form in his hands, since, in his eyes, he did not deserve to hold him, to have him. It would burn him, because Alex was the sun and Henry was nowhere near to deserve him.

This also parallels Alex in chapter 15 describing looking at Henry’s face like staring right into the sun (almost makes Alex want to look away, like he’s staring into the sun. He called Henry the North Star once. That wasn’t bright enough).

Alex describing Henry’s face as looking directly at the sun, parallels this. Alex is describing Henry as the sun, now, Henry is the one who’s bright, happy, and full of life. That’s how Alex sees him vs how Henry’s sees himself. They are each other’s suns. They see each other as the sun, even if the other doesn’t see themselves as the sun. Here, Alex is proving Henry wrong, because Alex’s love is not setting him on fire, since in Alex’s eyes, Henry is the sun, made of fire itself. You can’t burn fire with fire. Henry is fire itself, Henry is made of the same things Henry sees Alex being made of (example: life), he just doesn’t see himself as being made of that, as being worthy of that (example: happiness), and Alex comparing him to the sun proves him wrong, given than that’s how Alex sees Henry, rather than how Henry sees and describes himself.

Meanwhile I said and repeated a hundred times than Alex is fire while Henry is water, this is different, given than this is not based on symbolism, this is a direct parallel.

And if someone like that ever loved me it would set me on fire and the it was like looking straight at the sun are directly connected. The sun is made of fire, and Alex set Henry on fire with his loving. He made a sun out of Henry, changed him for the better.

And there’s also the “He wants to set himself on fire, but he can’t afford for anyone to see him burn” from chapter 12, where Alex just wants to give in to his emotions, to stop tying to hold everything together, but he can’t. He has to keep it together.

#rwrb #casey mcquiston #red white and royal blue #firstprince #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #red white & royal blue #literary analysis #pez okonjo #nora holleran #june claremont diaz #bea fox mountchristen windsor #rwrb movie

[thosehallowedhalls]

The 2 AM Christmas Tree Farm (2/2)

Pairing: Trystan Thorne/MC (Emma Rose)

Summary: Trystan is haunted by regrets. But when he's granted a wish to undo the worst of them, he finds that the price might be more than he's willing to pay.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

It’s the most surreal experience.

Juliana suggests that he spend today with her, since he took the day off anyway. Good thing, too, because he has no idea what he's supposed to be working on. He trails along as she irons out last-minute details for the ball, her signature charm and kindness ensuring that everyone receives her commentary with a genuine smile.

Every once in a while, he looks at her and his heart fills with joy at seeing her alive and obviously happy. Every time, however, a stab of pain and guilt follows. Pain, because he has lost the most important part of his life. Guilt, because wanting Emma back means wanting to go back to a life where two people he cares about died horrific deaths.

“Trystan?” Juliana tries to keep her tone light, but he can hear the concern underneath. “Are you all right? You’ve seemed distracted all morning.”

He gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m fine. It’s like I told you earlier, I didn’t sleep well.”

She clears her throat. “Thinking about Vasili again?”

His gaze swivels to meet hers. “What?”

“It’s been eight years since… well, since it happened.”

He’s unwilling to let this chance go. “I’ve been thinking about it, yes. It was a difficult night.”

“That’s an understatement. I’ve never been as relieved as I was the moment you walked out of the cabin and knocked him out. I don’t know what he would’ve done if it had been just us.”

I do, Trystan thinks grimly. “It must have been so hard for you.”

“It was hard for both of us. But I try to count my blessings.” She kisses his cheek. “I have plenty of those.”

He hesitates for a moment, trying to think of the best way to bring up his next question. “It affected Sebastyan, too.”

“How could it not? Finding out that the person you trust most in the world is capable of murder…” She shakes her head sadly. “Well, it’s no wonder he’s never been the same.”

“Still, it appears that Bas has plenty of blessings himself.” He wonders if Juliana still knows him well enough to pick up on the jealousy he can’t quite keep at bay.

“Behave,” she says. “I know you don’t like him, but you know he has changed.”

“I do. Moving out at twenty certainly isn’t something the old Bas would have done.”

She fidgets, looking uncomfortable. “Do we have to talk about it?”

“Why shouldn’t we?”

“Come on, Trystan.” She lowers her voice. “He got over me a long time ago. It isn’t fair to him or Emma to bring that up.”

Understanding comes in a flash. “He moved out so he wouldn’t have to see us together all the time.”

“And it was the right choice for all of us. That distance is one of the main reasons we were able to repair our friendship.” She smiles. “And the fact that he wasn’t living in the same palace as most of your siblings is why he was able to convince Emma to give him a chance.”

He takes a deep breath. He doesn’t want to hear this, but he knows he has to. “He’s lucky she did.”

“Oh, without a doubt. This is the happiest I’ve ever seen him. It might have taken them some time to get past the initial personality clash, but they’ve made up for lost time.”

“Right, yes. I never imagined they would get together when they first met.”

“Really? I could tell from the start. Whenever they got within five feet of each other, sparks flew.”

It’s suddenly hard to breathe. Stop talking. Please. “Did they? I never noticed.”

“Marguerite and I certainly did.”

“You talked about it?”

“Of course. She was the first to see it. She jokes that she would’ve paid more if she had known, when she hired Emma to find out who stole the designs from her collection, that she was hiring a future sister-in-law too.”

His heart in his throat, Trystan sinks his nails into his palms. “Sister-in-law?”

“Bas hasn’t said anything yet, but I know him. We’ll have another royal wedding soon.”

He can’t do this anymore. “If you have this covered, I think I’m going to lie down for a few minutes. It really was a bad night.”

As they stand in the parlor with their drinks that evening, he can’t help but remember the last family dinner he attended here. He couldn’t hold Emma’s hand or kiss her back then, either. But they exchanged covert smiles full of meaning – and promises for later.

This time, he’s standing with Juliana, something that would have made him inordinately happy once, as she chats with Marguerite. He supposes that he’s meant to be part of this conversation too, but all he’s managed so far are moderately well-timed monosyllables when they ask for his opinion on a topic.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Emma and Sebastyan standing close together, whispering to each other. They look lost in their own little world, and if he thought he’d been jealous before, it’s nothing compared to what he’s feeling now. She smiles at Bas the way she always smiles at him. Like he’s the only person in her world.

Feeling ill, he excuses himself and walks away.

He seeks shelter in one of the countless balconies in the palace, trying to breathe past the sheer grief of being thrust into a life he himself asked for without understanding the implications. This isn’t his life. He doesn’t want this to be his life. He wants New York, his friends, his job. Above all, he wants Emma.

As if conjured, she walks out and pauses upon seeing him. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I didn’t realize anyone was here.”

“No need to apologize. This balcony is big enough for both of us. And I told you to call me Trystan.”

“So you did.”

Apparently, Alternate Universe Emma can make him smile as easily as Original Emma. “But you’re planning to ignore me.”

“Yup.”

The single word amuses as much as it hurts. “Can I ask why?”

The look she gives him is so full of disdain, it feels like a punch to the gut.

“I deleted the mind-reading app from my phone, so I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to use actual words.”

It would’ve made his Emma laugh. But this is Sebastyan’s Emma. The one who has given her loyalty to his brother, so she has no love lost for the irresponsible older brother who pawned his responsibilities onto Bas and treated him like an annoyance on top of it.

“Tempting, but I’d rather not get deported today, thanks all the same.”

“Consider this a free pass to tell me what you think of me. Deportation is off the table.”

“Fine. You’re an adult-sized toddler who’s spent his entire life dumping his responsibilities onto others. First your siblings, now your wife. And to top it all off, you have the gall to judge Sebastyan for not liking you.”

The words stab like knives. His lips twist into the mockery of a smile. “I did ask you.”

Emma’s eyes narrow. “You’re actually upset.”

He gives a humorless laugh. “Do you know many people who would be unbothered by that character assessment?”

“Astrid, the twins, Patryk.”

“And now you’re comparing me to them. It’s like a giant hug.”

Her lips twitch. “I’ll give you this, you’re probably not as bad as them.”

“Probably. Well, I can die happy now. Probably not as bad as a bunch of sociopathic narcissists is exactly how I want to be viewed.”

The look on her face… It reminds him of the way she looked at him when they were first getting to know each other. Reluctantly amused. Intrigued against her better judgement. Whatever happens next, he wants to fall to his knees and thank the universe for once again giving him the chance to see her look at him without animosity.

“It’s good to have goals.” She walks to the door, stops for a moment. “This has been… illuminating. Your Majesty.”

He watches her go, his heart aching.

“Oh.”

He jumps at the surprised sound, his head swiveling to meet Juliana’s eyes. There’s no mistaking the hurt in them. Guilt churns in him as he easily imagines what she saw on his face when he looked at Emma.

Longing.

“Juli…”

She turns on her heel and leaves.

Juliana doesn’t say a word – at first. She talks and laughs like nothing has happened, giving nobody any indication that anything’s amiss. But when his parents and siblings retire to their suites, she whirls on him.

“Is there something between you and Emma?”

“No!” Not in this universe, anyway. But he must have hesitated for a split second too long because twin sparks of fury and pain light up in Juliana’s eyes.

“How could you do this? She’s Sebastyan’s girlfriend!”

“Juli, there is nothing between me and Emma.”

Something in his tone takes the fight out of her. Sorrow fills her eyes. “Do you realize how sad you sound when you say that?”

What can he say to that? Deny it? It’s devastating to him that he and Emma aren’t together. This was supposed to be their Christmas. The first of their lives together.

“I don’t… I’m not sad.” He’s not. He’s heartbroken. And from the look on Juliana’s face, he’s not the only one.

“You forget, Trystan, I know what you look like when you’re in love. I would recognize that look in your eyes anywhere.”

“I’m not…” The words die in his throat. He can’t bear for her to think that her husband is in love with another woman. But everything in him revolts at the idea of denying his feelings for Emma. He’s not doing that. Not ever again. “Juli, I swear to you, the man you married only has eyes for you.”

It isn’t a lie. He’s sure that the Trystan who married Juliana has never stopped being in love with her. But… that’s not him. He stopped being the Trystan that Juliana knew eight years ago.

“I’ll sleep in my rooms tonight.”

Her little sidelong glance tells him that she’s hoping he’ll protest. But he can’t. Different universe or not, the only person he wants in his bed is Emma.

He retires to his own suite and tries not to think that somewhere in the floor below, Emma is sharing a room with Sebastyan.

Firs and spruces. Hot cocoa and candy. This time, Trystan recognizes the Christmas tree farm immediately. Relieved, he wanders off in search of Jacob.

“Looking for me?” He appears out of thin air, dragging a Douglas fir.

“What have you done?”

“I gave you what you wanted.”

“This is not what I wanted. I wanted to save Juliana and Sebastyan, not lock myself into a completely different life!”

“You wanted to make different choices, and I gave you the opportunity to do that. Different choices lead to different lives, Trystan.”

He grits his teeth. “Undo it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have that power.”

“Are you saying I’m doomed to spend the rest of my life watching the woman I love be in love with someone else? That I lost my best friends and my job? And there’s nothing I can do about it?”

“You misunderstand. I can’t undo it. You can.”

“How?”

“You have to accept.”

“Accept what?”

Jacob smiles. “Everything.”

The Christmas ball is magnificent.

It meets 21-year-old Juliana’s expectations and then some. Trystan has never seen the ballroom so exquisitely decorated, or actual enjoyment on the faces of their guests.

He finds himself sitting at the main table, next to Juliana and right across from Emma and Sebastyan. He was worried at first that Juliana’s behavior towards Emma would be different, but he should have known better. Juli would never hold someone’s feelings against another person. Regardless of who either of them is.

As the night unfolds, conversation turns to Emma’s job. Private investigators are unusual enough to perk their tablemates’ interest.  

“What was your worst case?” Markarov asks.

Emma’s hand tightens on the stem of her wine glass, her eyes shadowed. Trystan knows, without a doubt, what she’s about to say. “Have you heard of the Heartache Killer?”

Some of the people at the table gasp. Others simply look confused.

“It’s the serial killer who murdered Sonja Dormer,” Juliana explains somberly.

“Oh, I remember that. The killer was never caught, were they?”

Trystan sucks in a breath.

“No,” Emma says, her expression shuttered. “As far as I know, the police never even got a real lead.”

“It’s a shame you couldn’t take the case after you found her,” Marguerite says. “You would’ve found the killer.”

“Yeah, well, I was hired to find Sonja. I wasn’t hired to find her murderer.” She sighs. “I wish I had been though. Her mother never got the answers she needed.”

Trystan stands up and excuses himself. It’s utterly unbecoming of a king, but he can’t be in this room any longer.

He makes his way to the same balcony where he and Emma talked yesterday. He needs the familiar to deal with the awful information he’s just learned. Eleanor and Tony are still out there. How many more victims are there now that the only people investigating are the likes of Morris and Holbeck?

He closes his eyes. How did he fail to consider that he and Emma only ever met because of Sonja’s murder? That the only reason she ever agreed to see him again after that first day was because he hired her to catch the killer? Without him and Emma, Sonja, Bethany, and Reese would never have gotten justice. Without the two of them, working side by side, Tony and Eleanor would still be at large, adding to their tally of victims.

It turns out he can’t undo his original life, the one he looked back on with such regret, without undoing the good he did for other people along with it. And if that’s the case… Does that mean he shouldn’t feel guilty in the first place? That he should accept that all lives come with good and bad experiences, that all choices lead to mixed outcomes, and you never know how far the ripple effect will reach? That it’s pointless to linger on "bad" choices unless it’s to learn from them?

Suddenly, something envelops Trystan. It’s a strange sensation, unusual enough that it takes him a moment to recognize it, break it down.

Relief.

Acceptance.

Peace.

The balcony, the palace, Drakovia, it all blurs around him. He feels a floating sensation for a second. Then it all goes black.

He awakens with a jolt. A quick look around tells him he’s half-seated, half-lying on the couch, the remote still in his hand. The Christmas tree he decorated with Emma glitters in the dark.

He’s home.

He stands, shoves his keys into his pocket, and leaves.

A quick visit to the bar lets him know that Emma already went home. He redirects his steps towards her apartment, knocking urgently on the door once, twice, three times when it takes her more than five seconds to answer.

“I’m coming! For the record, it’s too damn late for this.” She yanks the door open. “Trystan? What are you doing here?”

He drinks her in. She’s wearing the Christmas sweater that Ruby gave her after Thanksgiving, the one she made her promise to wear a few times before relegating it to the back of her closet. For all of Emma’s grumbling, he’s convinced that she secretly loves it.  Her hair stands on end around her face, and her eyes are bleary with sleep.

It’s Emma. His Emma.

He takes one long step, gathering her to his chest with crushing force. “I missed you.”

“O… kay. Trystan, it’s been, like, three hours.”

He holds her closer. “It felt longer.”

“Hey.” She runs a hand up and down his back. “What’s going on?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“I will, but… let’s just stay like this for a while.” He buries his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her. “Please.”

She says nothing. Instead, she tugs him into the apartment and leads him to her bed. They curl up together, not speaking, simply holding each other. It’s exactly what he needs.

“Emma?”

“Hmm?”

He cups her jaw and looks into her eyes. “I love you with every beat of my heart. You know that, right?”

She turns her head, kisses his palm. “Right back atcha.”

They lie there together until they fall asleep. For the first time, he doesn't regret a thing.

#trystan x mc #trystan x emma #crimes of passion #trystan thorne #detective rose #emma rose #playchoices #the 2 am christmas tree farm

[cybercore-creations]

All good things

Summary: Life played him for a fool again, he was stupid for thinking he'd get a single good thing

Tw: Suicide, Kidnapping, implied Stolkholm syndrome

He thought everything was okay. He thought you finally accepted this was where you were staying. Giving him a kiss every morning, helping Vincent with the sculptures, taking Jonsey on walks with Lester. You didn't scream or cry anymore. Didn't have to be locked up. Everything felt normal. A normal spouse, A normal family, A normal life.

But nothing ever went right for Beauregard Sinclair. He could never have a normal anything. Never had one normal thing in his life.

Maybe it was hopeful thinking or straight denial. Just playing pretend. But he didn't expect when he entered your shared bedroom to find you with bleeding wrists and one of his knives weakly clutched in your hands. There was no note. No closure. Not a simple thing to tell him it wasn't his fault.

You didn't have to say it, but he knew it was his fault. He shouldn't have kept you alive. Shoulda just threw you in the museum like everyone else, but he didn't. You were a spitfire from the beginning. That's what he liked about you. He never expected a victim to hot wire Lester's truck and try to run him over but there you were smiling as you pushed the old thing as fast as it could go. He laughed when you'd slammed your face onto the steering wheel when he shot out the tires. It wasn't even a sadistic one, he genuinely found it funny.

You saw the man. He was distracted, looking off into the distance, probably trying to find you but you hit the gas hard. The pedal slammed to the ground as you changed gears (He always liked someone who could drive stick) Bo heard the truck before he saw it. The loud rumble of the thing much too old to still be driven. It was like second instinct as he hopped out of the way, shooting out the tires. The truck spun out and all he heard was "FUCK" and then the slam of your forehead on the uncoushined wheel accompanied by a "ow"

His eyes drifted towards the now bloodied silver band on your finger. You were supposed to get married. You'd been in Ambrose for a little over a year when he popped the question and he remembers the bright smile before squeezing him tight. The memory would make him happy but instead he felt nothing but betrayl.

As the night draped itself over Ambrose, The two of you found yourselves perched on the rooftop of the old, weathered church. The stars above twinkled like glitter strewn across a velvet canvas. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees, and the only sound that echoed through the quiet night was the faint chirping of crickets. Bo took your hand in his, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You know, Peaches, I've been thinking about a lot lately" You raised your eyebrows "And what does that thinking gotta do with Hun?" He fiddled with the ring in his pocket before taking a deep breath. For the first time in his life, he was nervous. "Our future together. How I wanna turn ya into Mx.Sinclair." "W-What?" You stuttered. "Peaches, the second I laid eyes on you went you came in for that fan belt, I was hooked. Every second since then I've been falling harder. So uh, will you be my spouse?" He pulled out the ring, hands shaking. You grabbed onto him. Squeezing him tightly, he could feel your smile against his shoulder. "Absolutely. I wouldn't want anything else."

He went soft and he absolutely hated you for it, well thats what he tried to tell himself when he ran to your side trying to find a pulse. It was obvious you'd been gone for awhile. Blood was already dried on some places and your body was cold to the touch. He was frozen in time like one of Vincent's statues as he stared before he dropped to his knees. Bo let out a scream. A noise so deep in his chest that it didn't even sound human. An animalistic sob that you could probably even hear the town over. The one good thing in his rotten life was taken from him

"I hate you. I hate you. I HATE YOU." He yelled. Tears now rolling down his face. "Why did you have to leave me?"

#house of wax #house of wax (2005) #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #slashers

[flockofcrowsinaturtleshell]

Why I like Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

(my part of the letter from my last reblog)

Up until about three months ago, I disliked the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I saw the trailer for the Bayverse live-action TMNT and quickly decided I hated it. The live-action designs and the turtles’ attitude towards April felt gross, and I suppose that I, a young teenage girl at the time, felt like I didn’t fit in the target audience.

Flash forward to four months ago. I’m scrolling through my Tumblr feed – looking for Ninjago fanart and completely disregarding the target audience for lego ninja – when I see something under the “For you” tab.

It’s a Rise comic, but I don’ recognize it as TMNT yet. It’s a drawing of a scruffy-looking teenage boy, with long black hair and a hockey stick. He appears to be underground, looking a little lost. He turns, and before him sits a giant robot, deactivated and covered in moss. It’s a turtle, I realize, but I still haven’t realized that it’s a TMNT comic.

Then the boy calls his Uncle Donnie, who’s a turtle in purple. It’s then that I realize; I’ve been tricked. I’m reading a TMNT comic and genuinely enjoying it. I begrudgingly give the comic a like and go on with my day.

Over the next few weeks, I keep seeing more of the comic. To my horror, I’m actually enjoying reading it. One month after discovering the comic, I give in. I go to the first page of the comic and read from the beginning. 

It’s the story of a family trying to survive in a world overrun by invaders. Their family is made up of four color-coded turtles who make up the nebulous concept of uncle-dad, their entirely human older sister, and the scruffy-looking teenager they-re all trying to keep alive. This family dynamic is one I quickly grow to love, and the comix earns itself a place in my heart.

And then I watch the Rise movie.

Skip ahead to the present. I just watched the Rise movie two days ago (it had me in tears). As I write this, I’m also trying to figure out a plothole in the seventh chapter of the fanfiction I’m writing. Just yesterday, I finished designing the skeleton of my yokai character (because why not. I love speculative anatomy). I’m still reading the comic, which just updated yesterday. I’m happy with my new interest.

I love Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles for the family dynamic. I’ve always been a fan of unconventional families, and I’ve grown a liking for color-coded squads. I enjoy how April is more like a sister than a crush for the boys to fight over. I feel a certain kinship with Donnie, as an autistic-coded middle child who loves to learn. I absolutely adore Raph, the person who’s had to step up to care for their siblings and yet hasn’t quite grown out of the stage of life where he’s just a kid. Mikey is so silly and adorable, and he reminds me of my younger sister; the youngest and somehow the wisest at times. Leo feels just like a character from the first show I ever had such an interest in (Lance from Voltron: Legendary Defender) and I think he’s pretty awesome. 

I also enjoy the show’s unique takes on some things. I find it cool how the turtles are all different species. I love how this iteration’s version of Casey Jones is an energetic young woman from a rival clan. I find it interesting how Karai is a loving ancestor instead of an enemy. I love the artstyle of the show, where each turtle’s design is unique (compared to other shows where the only way I can tell them apart is by the color of their mask). I think it’s cool how the backstory is different from some of the other iterations, how the turtles were mutated on purpose and how Splinter used to be a famous actor. I think the yokai are awesome, how they’re like mutants but were there long before. I enjoy finding the little references, like the pictures of other TMNT shows on Donnie’s conspiracy board, or the fact that the source of yokai power is a Kraang. 

I have so many questions left unanswered about the show, and I’m sure others do as well. I would love to see the return of Rise. I have no doubt that it would be awesome.

#unpause rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles

– Crow

P.S. The comic I am referring to is by @somerandomdudelmao on Tumblr. I have no words to describe how much the comic means to me. Cass, if you’re reading this, thank you. 

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