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whiskygoldwings · 2 months

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The Tattooist

The first clone trooper client she tattoos is an act of remembrance.

The man stands forlorn and desperate in the reception area, his borrowed clothes fitting poorly on his slumped frame. His face is tight, like a man on the edge of screaming, holding it back by the skin of his teeth. She recognises this pain, and quickly ushers him into her workroom, calling for A'maa to take the front desk while she speaks to a client. He breaths slightly easier once they are no longer in public, and she gestures for him to sit on the well-worn sofa she reserves for guests.

“I haven't got many credits,” he admits straight up. “They don't exactly pay us. I just wanted to see what could be done for what I have.”

She nods and grabs a pad and stylus, settling herself into her armchair and crossing her legs. “Tell me what you want and how much you've got and I'll see what I can do.”

He swallows painfully, and reaches into his pocket. “I have exactly 134 credits,” he holds a handful of ingots, and she glances down before looking back at his face. “I looked you up; I know it's not much in terms of tattoos. It's just... It's all I could scrape together...” he stumbles over his words, embarassment curling his lips.

“And what you want?” She interrupts, halting his ashamed attempts at explaining himself.

He takes a deep breath, grimaces, then sighs. “My brother was killed in the last battle. His name was Star. The long-necks... The Kaminoans I mean, never let us mourn each other where they could see. But he's my brother. We were born of the same batch, he helped me when I struggled with the maths tests, we had each others backs... I have a million odd brothers, but he was mine...” He presses his thumb and forefinger into his tightly-shut eyes, choking back a sob. “I want to honour him forever. I want to carry him with me, in a way they can't take away from me.” At this he straightens, bringing his hand down to stare at her determinedly. “They can make us wash our armour off, take our possessions from us. They will have to flay my skin from me if they want to take this.”

She stares back, stylus against her lips, and feels a swell of righteous fury in her throat. She's always had a mild force-sensitivity. Not enough to make training her of any worth, but enough that she can get a feel of a person, enough she can get a taste of their emotions.

This is a proud, strong man. And he is not broken by the hardships he faces, as much as he should be.

She will honour his brother with him.

The design practically leaps from her stylus, as she coaxes little stories from him. Little tales of his brother. His name was Star, he tells her first, and she sketches the rough outlines of one. He named himself, the man tells her, not giving his own name. Named himself after the balls of fury in the universe that were always out of their reach of Kamino. He laughs quietly, painfully, as he tells her the first time they had snuck out on a rainless night, when there was a brief respite in the clouds of Kamino, and by chance, there was a meteor shower over head. They'd all been amazed, confused and delighted by the sight, their little squad of five. One of the trainers, a kind man named Kal, had chuckled and told them “That'll be a shooting star” when they ask him about the phenomena, and Star had whispered to him in their bunks that night that he had decided on his name.

“I used to call him a shooting Star when we were in sims,” the man admits, a crooked grin on his face. “He kicked me in the shin for it once. Think he actually kinda liked it though.”

She adds a trail of dust behind it.

“He was so proud of being an ARF,” the man whispers. “So proud when I was nominated for ARF training alone with him. I was never as good as him, but he always took me with him, wherever he went. When the Commander told us we were getting the training, he basically hugged him. The Commander just gave him a pat on the back and told him never to do it again or he'd demote him quick as sithspit” the man snorts. “He didn't mean it, but Star'd never moved so bloody quick back into a salute, I couldn't help laughing at him, the idiot.”

She tabs out and finds a reference for an ARF troopers helmet on the 'net, and draws the trail of star dust bursting out of it and curling round to meet with the star itself.

“Our battallion wears green. Mainly olive-green. The commander started it, reminds him of the General I suspect. We became Green Company.”

The dust trail gathers sprinkles of olive green, the Star limned in the colour. She hesitates for a moment, then asks. “What markings did he wear?”

The man startles; she'd been loath to bring him out of his memories, but she wants to make it accurate. Needs to make it accurate really. She can feel how important this piece is to the man, and she finds herself strongly opposed to disappointing him.

“He had two stars on the left hand side of his helmet, one within the other.” The man indicates a point on his crown, above his ear. “And his visor was lined in green. He had a stripe vertically down the right hand side, ending just under the visor itself. On his chest piece...”

She lets him continue detailing his armour, drawing another star in olive green within the big one, then delicately tipping the helmet to conceal where the star would have been on the left. She's good, but it would have been too small to depict without potentially bleeding into a solid line, and she doesn't want that to happen. Instead, she marks in the line on the right-hand side, and ensures the big star is representative of what she imagines was on the helmet.

He's trailed off, staring sightlessly at his hands in his lap. She doesn't want to shake him, suspects alarming a trained soldier out of his own mind would be a bad idea. Instead, she uncrosses her legs, and clears her throat lightly. He glances up at her, and she smiles and extends the pad to him.

“Is something like this what you had in mind?”

He blinks at her, than reaches over and takes the pad. She sees the moment when he takes in the image. His eyes widen, and a tear he's been holding back since well before he got here slides down his cheek. He presses his fist into his mouth, other hand shaking where it holds the pad and he nods, clenching his eyes shut. “y-yes... Oh yes...” He stammers, voice thick.

“Where would you like it?”

“Over my heart,” he whispers. “I will carry him always in my heart.”

She stands abruptly, making him jump slightly and reaches out for the pad. “Okay, shirt off and lie down on the bed for me please. I assume as a clone trooper you're routinely screened for any blood diseases?” He nods, standing up with a slightly dazed expression on his face. She nods back and turns away, beginning the ritual of preparing her inks. She's playing a game of avoidance now, knows she won't take this man's money, and if she can keep him from asking about it she may be able to get it finished before he finds out. She suspects he'd do the honourable thing and refuse to get the tattoo. It'll be harder for him to do if it's halfway done. And while normally she'd insist on a full disclosure form and signature, she gets the feeling having no hardcopy evidence of what is about to happen will be a very good idea. The pad will need reformatting after she's done, but she's been required to do that for other clients who want their body art to be completely untraceable, so she doesn't store anything of any import on it for long anyway. She hears the rustle of cloth behind her and smiles slightly to herself, pleased at a plan going well. “Would you tell me more about him please?”

The man takes a deep breath behind her, even as she hears the bed creak as he clambers onto it. “He was always good at slipping by unnoticed. It's how he kept us both out of trouble back in training...”

She finishes mixing up the colours she needs as he begins to tell her about their childhood, what little of it there was. Checks her machine and cleans the patch of skin above his heart as he laughs about a prank played on one of their batchmates. It warms her and chills her at the same time, realising how little they had, but what great things they made of what they did. She prints out the stencil and places it over his chest as he whispers about Star easing him through the tail end of a nightmare, checking quietly that he's happy with the position before pressing the needle to his skin. He breaths in through his nose once when she starts, and she glances up at him, but he smiles and continues on into a story about when they first met their Jedi, and how Star gushed about her afterwards. She sinks into the meditative process of stamping lines into being, bringing colour to life, all the while surrounded by the man's soft voice building a memorial to his brother in their room.

When it's finished, the man looks surprised. “I thought it would take longer than that?” He blinks at her, “And be more painful in all honesty.”

She grins, “You did your research well hon, I'm good at what I do.”

He laughs and sits up, wincing slightly as the skin stretches around the wound. She squirts cleaner onto a cloth and holds it towards his chest, pausing before touching the tattoo for him to give a nod of permission, then wipes carefully across it, removing excess ink and stencil gently. Looking it over critically, she's happy with what she's done, knows she's poured herself into this tattoo as well. The lines are clean and crisp, the colours deep and rich. The helmet tilts up to look at the star above it, the trail of stardust sweeping behind it and curling up to emerge from the opening of the helmet at the bottom. Olive green accents in the tail, the line over the right-hand side of the helmet and around the visor, and the outer and inner two stars. She nods to herself, and grins up at him. “Ready to see it?”

He swallows nervously, but nods. She feels her grin quirk into a proper smile, then holds out her hand to him. He looks at it for a second, then places his own in hers, and she helps pull him from the bed. She keeps hold of his hand as she guides him to the full length mirror just beside the couch, and gently pulls him to stand infront of it. The hand in hers trembles as he stares at his reflection, taking a moment on his own face to gather his courage, then looks down at his chest.

The noise that punches out of his lungs is almost animal, and she grips his hand tightly. He cries openly, other hand reaching up to hover just under the tattoo as he looks down at his own chest. It's several moments before he can say anything, and she stands next to him the whole time, holding his hand as he clenches onto hers. He cries and cries, grief finally allowed expression, as she gives him silent comfort in proximity. His first words are “thank you”, and she smiles at him, as he starts to collect himself and turns away from her to try and pull himself back together.

“I'll give you a few minutes to check it over and make sure you're happy before I bandage it up,” she murmers, and steps quietly out of the room, giving him privacy in his sorrow.

A'maa glances up at her as she steps out, raising an eyebrow. Strictly speaking, she wasn't supposed to be working today, and she hadn't considered that A'maa might have had to turn away one of her own clients when she committed to tattooing the man. But A'maa glances over at the door to her workroom and shakes her head. “Don't worry about it Elaah,” she whispers, “Whatever it was, it was clearly important.”

“Yes,” Elaah whispers back, walking over to cradle herself in A'maa's outstretched arm, seeking the comfort of her own found family. “Yes, it really was.”

It's a few more minutes before the man opens the door, glancing around the edge of it. She quickly cuts off her conversation with A'maa and smiles at him. “Ready to get bandaged up?”

He nods and smiles, face a little blotchy from the tears, though neither she nor A'maa say anything. She gives A'maa's shoulder a quick squeeze, then heads into the room, leaving the door ajar this time. The man stands infront of the mirror again, gazing down at his new ink, and she quickly grabs the bits she needs to finish off. He smiles at her as holds the fake skin bandage up to his chest, carefully sizing it up to fit nicely over the tattoo.

“How much do I owe you?” he asks, and she shakes her head.

“Nothing hon, you paid me in stories.”

He protests immediately, as she suspected he would. “Too late hon!” she grins at him. “It's already on your skin and I'll throw your credits out onto the street after you if you try leaving them behind. Good luck winning this one!” She winks and pats him on the shoulder, turning away to grab his top and thrusting it into his abdomen. He grabs it and gapes at her, clearly not quite sure what to say, before straightening and flashing a sheepish grin at her.

“You planned this from the start didn't you?” He asks, pulling the top over his head and rolling his eyes as she throws him a cheeky wink and nods.

“I've got to give you something, this means so much to me... You have no idea...” He gulps and shakes his head, blinking fresh tears out of his eyes. “Tell you what, I'll make sure anyone else who might be thinking of getting some ink heads this way?”

She shrugs. “I'm not going to turn down customers, but you don't owe me anything. I just hope you think of Star whenever you see it.”

“I will,” he murmurs, a hand going to rest over where the tattoo sits over his heart. He glances up at her. “My name is Trix. I just... wanted you to know that.”

She smiles at him, and gently rests a hand over his own. “Thank you Trix.” she says, smiling up at him, “Thank you for everything you and your brothers do for us.”

He grasps her hand with his other one and squeezes it tightly for a moment, before turning around and walking out the shop.

#the clone wars #clone troopers #fanfic #fanfiction #feels #tattoos #tattoos as healing #star wars #oc characters #also posted to ao3 #CentrauGuardian

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naomeii · 3 months

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Ambivalence.

—Pairings: Xiao x Reader

Content: Death, angst, f!reader, drabble (idk lmk if yall want a full fledged fic!)

(a/n: I have such a bad writer's block smh)

Xiao awoke to a world bathed in an ethereal darkness. The last thing he remembered was the relentless battle against his karmic debts, the echoes of each strike resonating through his memory. Yet, here he was, surrounded by an unfamiliar emptiness that seemed to swallow everything.

As his senses slowly returned, he realized he was not alone. Before him stood a figure bathed in a soft light - the one he thought he had lost forever. She, his late beloved, gazed at him with eyes that held a mixture of love and concern. Xiao couldn't believe his eyes; he felt an overwhelming surge of emotions, his whole body trembling.

Tears welled up in Xiao's eyes as he stared at the apparition of his beloved. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. She reached out a gentle hand, wiping away the tears that cascaded down his cheeks. Xiao's heart, which had once been shrouded in darkness, now felt like it might burst from the intensity of his emotions.

Unable to contain himself, Xiao leaned in closer, his breath catching in anticipation. Their lips were inches apart when she placed a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back. The concern in her eyes deepened as she whispered, "Xiao, it's not your time yet. You're not supposed to be here."

Confusion and longing flickered in Xiao's eyes as he searched hers for answers. "But… I thought I lost you," he managed to choke out, his voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled softly, her touch warm and comforting. "You fought bravely, Xiao. But your journey is not over. You still have a purpose in the mortal realm, and you must return."

Xiao's heart shattered at her words, and a desperate "No" escaped his lips. In a moment of anguish, he clung onto her, unwilling to let go. His soul, battered and broken from the battles he had fought, yearned for the solace of her presence.

She looked into Xiao's tear-filled eyes, witnessing the depth of his pain. Her heart ached at the sight of her beloved's suffering, and a torrent of conflicting emotions washed over her. She couldn't bear to see him hurt any longer, yet the cosmic laws demanded their separation.

With a heavy heart, she made a choice that defied the order of existence, gently cupping Xiao's face and whispering soothing words to ease his torment. "I can't let you suffer any longer, my love."

As she embraced Xiao's spirit, a profound sadness filled her eyes. In that moment, Xiao's physical form, now devoid of his soul, crumpled to the ground. Zhongli, who had been silently observing, sighed with a heavy heart, closing Xiao's vacant eyes.

Disappointment etched across Zhongli's face, he understood the sacrifice made for love. He had seen the depth of Xiao's struggle and the lengths to which he had gone to protect the ones he cared for. Though disappointed in the defiance of the natural order, Zhongli respected the strength of their connection.

In the spirit realm, Xiao's soul found refuge with his beloved. The pain that had plagued him in the mortal realm began to ease, replaced by a sense of tranquility in her embrace.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin impact x you #genshin fluff #genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #reader insert #angst to comfort #xiao fluff #genshin xiao #xiao genshin impact #zhongli #genshin #xiao x you #xiao x reader #xiao x y/n #genshin impact drabbles

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mvrtaiswriting · 11 months

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Hi!

I’m wondering if I could request a sanjixreader about the reader taking a hit that was meant for Sanji but he didn’t realize, yet the reader kept fighting? I’ll leave the ending up to you.

Thank you, and I hope it’s ok

Keep fighting x Black Leg Sanji ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

i'm really sorry for the amount of time this request took me?? it had been sitting in my drafts FOREVER and I kinda forgot about it I am so DEEPLY SORRY. this was so fun the to write and literally one of my favourite requests ever, so I hope this matches your expectation and that it would be worth the wait!! thank you for being patient with me. hope you enjoy this <;33 +1k words | gender neutral | mention of needles? | usual one piece violence. feel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee.

A soft breeze blew out Sanji's burning cigarette, brushing through his blonde hair almost revealing his left eye. There was no way he could have survived the next attack - he was exhausted from the battle, his enemy being the strongest he had ever met before. Trying to take a puff from the cigarette he kept holding between his lips, Sanji wanted to taste nicotine one last time. As death approached him, all he wanted was the bittersweet company of his dearest friend; he wanted to feel his lungs being hugged by the warm smoke entering his airways, like a mother holds her child. That was it - he didn't have any strength left. Maybe that stupid marimo was right all along, maybe his captain deserved a stronger wing by his side.

Sanji stood still in the middle of the battlefield, waiting for his final act. He kept his eyes closed, his mind wondering what could have been if only he had a better father, if only he didn't let everyone down.

"Wake up, you useless cook!"

Was this death? Did Zoro follow him into the afterlife? No, no. It couldn't be.

"Sanji!"

Zoro screamed again, the metal sound of his swords almost serving as a background melody for the horrors of the battle. Passing an hand through his hair, Sanji noticed he wasn't bleeding - he wondered where was the headache coming from. Running his hands over his body, he noticed how he didn't feel any excruciating pain: no broken bones, no bleeding. Yet he passed out - maybe he just overestimated his enemy; maybe, he underestimated himself. Finally regaining conscience, Sanji looked around the battlefield - and a part of him wished he never did.

Your figure was moving swiftly on the battlefield, but your attacks were slower, weaker than usual. All you could do now was avoid any fatal blow, trying to recover from the one you just received. It didn't take long for Sanji to notice how you were covered in blood, your usual combat style being impeded by the metal piece stabbed in your leg, crossing your limb from one end to the other.

Biting his bottom lip, Sanji lit another cigarette. He was furious, rage galloping through his veins and giving him a rush of adrenaline he never felt before. He felt his muscles tighten, full of a strength he didnt believe he possessed - you protected his life with yours, using your own body as a shield. How could he be so weak? How dare he put you in so much danger? A sea of emotions flooded Sanji's thoughts; he was proud of you and your strength, yet he was scared, frustrated - mad at how he failed to protect you. His eyes were filled of admiration and worry - you endured a critical hit yet you kept fighting.

"Let me."

Sanji was quick to step in, putting his body between you and your enemy. Winking at you with the sexiest smirk painted on his lips, Sanji finally put an end to the battle you both had been fighting for too long. Before he could realise it, you were already lying on the floor unconscious, exhausted from the battle and all the wounds you endured.

The next thing you saw when you opened your eyes was a torchlight, pointed directed at your pupils. Too confused to follow the light as Chopper just ordered you, you tried to stand up. An heavy hand on your shoulder stopped you from moving, forcing you to lay on the mattress.

"Not so fast, mon coeur."

A familiar voice finally said, the French accent in his words revealing his identity straight away. You smiled weakly, realising the hand on your shoulder was Sanji's. Sighing, you stayed still whilst Chopper finished his job. You were full of bandages and stitches, an IV drip connected to your arm.

"Was it really that bad?"

You whined, when Chopper finally closed his medical kit bag. You saw the reindeer nod, dragging one of his little hoof onto his face.

"You're lucky to still have your leg!"

Chopper whined, frustrated with the way you were minimising your injury. Tears started forming in his tiny eyes, making you nod and fall silent - you knew he was genuinely worried and he was probably right about it.

When Chopper finally left the room, you felt Sanji slowly sitting down on the side of the bed, your mattress slowly sinking.

"You shouldn't have done that."

Sanji finally says. His tone is calm and full of worry, yet his words stung like salt on an open cut. His hand slowly reached your face, caressing your cheeks, his fingertips delicately tickling your skin. Biting your tongue, you hold back your explanations - he probably knows you were only trying to protect him, yet he was ready to scold you like a little child. You were fine, injured but alive. And you would do it again if you had to - protecting the love of your life from a potentially fatal blow? You would do it again in an heart beat.

"I love you."

These three words slip out of Sanji's mouth in a whisper, almost as if he didn't want to let them go. But now they were out in the open, filling the hospital room you were lying in.

"I love you and I want you to stay alive."

Sanji reiterated, clearing his throat. The words almost got stuck in his throat - flashback of the battles coming to him again in a blur. Seeing you collapsed on the floor, covered in blood with countless wounds all over your body. It was too much to take. He always thought nothing could scare him anymore, he always thought that there couldn't be a bigger pain than the one his father inflicted on him. But that was before this, it was before always losing the love of his life because he wasn't strong enough.

"I love you too, stupid cook. I love you and will stay alive to save your ass." You giggled, causing him to blush. Sanji stared at you for a second, the softest of smiles forming on his lips before he leaned down, placing a sweet kiss on your lips. You were safe, you were his.

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hopelessromantic5 · 1 month

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Arthur is found by a little old witch in the woods, and is cared for.

But the witch realizes that her magic is no good on him.

She hovered her hands over Arthur’s body, with her eyes closed. Arthur could see the light cascading out her fingertips but he could not feel anything.

“Ah.” She said, smiling at him sweetly. “You are protected by one very great indeed, young warrior. My magic cannot even help you, let alone could it hurt you.” She giggled, as if this was something funny.

Arthur, high on pain and unable to move at all without searing hot flashes of it, was a tad put out.

“Is there something wrong with me?”

She shook her head.

“The opposite. The magic that protects you is more powerful than any I’ve felt, in all my years. And there were a lot of years, believe me. The person watching out for you, Arthur Pendragon, must care for you a great deal. Especially in knowing how you feel about the subject of sorcery.” She rattled these things off as if it were idle chitchat, as she went about the room collecting herbs and creams and throwing them into the pot in her hands.

Arthur was extremely confused. About everything that was said, but definitely one thing.

“You know who I am?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t invite anyone into my home without knowing who they were.”

“You helped me anyway? Knowing my father executes magic users?”

Arthur could not find it in himself to be afraid, he knew he was in no danger, and she’d just said she couldn’t hurt him or heal him with magic. So that’s good at least. She could’ve left him for dead, another reason to be thankful.

He had no intention of mentioning any of this healing excursion to his father.

“You would not turn me in. I know you have a true and noble heart. You are the Once and Future King.” She smiled over her shoulder at him and continued on her way.

Arthur played back the entirety of what she’d mentioned previously and his brows furrowed even more, if possible, giving him a slight headache.

He didn’t mean to appear rude but the question just came tumbling out of him.

“Someone powerful is stopping you from using magic on me? With magic?”

She turned back to her work station, which faced Arthur’s bed, and nodded again.

“Your guardian angel.” She smiled again, very sweet but also secretive. A smile of knowing things that Arthur had yet to even begin to comprehend.

Arthur was struck back to his fathers voice saying that same phrase. And all the numerous times he’d come away from a battle he thought lost, with nothing but a few scratches.

Someone was saving him.

Time and time again. Someone was always there.

But who?

The woman’s head snapped up from her working hands as if reading his thoughts. But still no malice was found in her eyes, only concern.

“Heed my words.” She began. Nothing good ever started with that. “They are not your foe. They have been there time and time again, you know it. In your heart of hearts. A moment will come when you must make a choice. If you turn this into a war, as your father did, everything you hold dear will be lost. Your kingdom, your happiness, the color of the world through your eyes. You will see nothing but grey ash.” A tear slid down her cheek and Arthur could feel them welling in his eyes, though he didn’t know why.

“But,” she smiled wetly. “If you choose to trust your heart, and open it to them willingly, you will prosper. Even in death, you will not truly die, as so many men do. You will be the Once and Future King, and your soul will live forever.” Arthur blinked, and he felt the wetness because he knew he was crying. But he didn’t feel sad, he felt ecstatic. Like it was bursting out of him, but he couldn’t move. Because everything was still broken and sliced open, making him vulnerable to everything. Even the feelings in the air, which Arthur usually held a dutiful immunity to.

“Who?” He managed to croak out, when he regained his princely manner.

“I will not tell you, Arthur. And you would be wise not to go looking. The answer to your question will come in its own time. For now, keep learning.” And then she winked, like Arthur was supposed to know what that meant. And how was he supposed to just keep going with the knowledge that someone close to him, or someone who thinks highly of him, has protected him even in knowing they could be caught at any second, knowing they would die. All to save Arthur.

At the thought, he wondered why his life was worth so much. Yes, knights uphold their honor and would fight and die for Arthur or Uther. But Arthur didn’t meet many sorcerers with loyalty of that kind.

Or maybe he didn’t really meet any sorcerers. Unless they were heading to the pyre and looking down their last minutes.

Of course, the sorcerers he’d come in contact with didn’t fancy a chat, because Uther never offered it. There was never a question. Magic equals death. It didn’t matter if it was healing, or helping a dying crop, or growing a shade tree for the children.

In the low light of the old woman’s tent, everything made perfect sense.

But it didn’t.

Because, not very many people knew that Arthur didn’t always agree with his father on these matters, Uther would never allow that to be made too public.

Maybe guards had heard something and whispered their secrets to handsy maids, or stable boys. Whatever the preference.

It would be entirely possible for the staff of the castle to know things that they shouldn’t.

So that narrows it down to about…three hundred people give or take.

Lovely.

Arthur took a deep breath and heard the old woman’s words in his head.

So he stopped thinking of it, stopped trying to find an answer and just waited for it to come to him. Or for death. Whichever came first.

The next day, as he woke, he almost startled realizing he wasn’t in his bed, and wouldn’t see Merlin first thing, but then didn’t because it hurt too much.

“Do not fret. It is almost time for you to go, Arthur Pendragon.”

“What do you mean?”

Then he heard it. A faint voice. Like music to his ears.

Yelling his name.

Oh thank heavens.

Merlin found him.

He always found him.

A pang of…something hit his heart before he could stop it and it upset him deeply.

But then the smile returned, because he was about to go home.

The woman came and helped him up, dressed his various wounds with her mysterious poultice once more, and then turned to look him straight in his ocean blue orbs. Right into the very depths of him. Hers were almost clear, like the sky.

“I know you have love for your father, but he lives in fear every day of his life. All of his decisions are made out of that fear. You cannot be the King your people need you to be if you follow in his footsteps. Choose love instead. Always. Even when it’s most difficult.”

She walked him out of the canvas tent and into the cool winds of spring morning.

“I wish you the best of luck, my King.” She bowed her head. The first sign of respect for any title, she had ever shown him. He almost blushed because of it. And he felt proud. To have someone like her rooting for him.

He would think about that old woman and what she told him, for years to come.

“Arthur?” The voice was getting closer. Then a lanky body burst through the line of trees and found him standing there, strapped together with bandages.

Arthur turned back to introduce the woman to Merlin, but she was gone.

And so was her tent.

It had all vanished.

For a moment he thought he was insane. But looked down at the helpful linens that were holding ointments on his carved skin, and knew that he hadn’t made it up.

“Arthur!” Merlin ran straight for him, but stopped a few feet off, clearly seeing he was hurt.

“Thank God you’re alive. I mean I knew you were, I knew you wouldn’t leave without sending me to the stocks one last time for good measure.” Arthur was smiling, he could feel it. He’d missed his friend. More than he should’ve.

He wished he could hug him, but as previously stated, he could barely move.

“I could go for a hug,” he admitted. “But I can’t really move anything without…ya know, pain.” He was still a little woozy and wanted to just get on with the journey.

“Guess I’ll have to help you on your way then.” Merlin sighed, but smiled anyway and looped Arthur’s good arm around his shoulders.

Then they walked.

And walked and walked and walked.

And neither of them said anything.

Arthur was lost in his own thoughts about destiny and the people that would one day rely on him for protection and peace.

Merlin had issues of his own he was meddling through, Arthur assumed.

And when the limping boy realized they’d been walking all day in complete silence, and hadn’t stopped once.

He finally voiced a question.

“Were you wounded?”

“What?” Merlin asked quietly.

“In the battle. Trying to get away, were you wounded?” Arthur’s eyes scanned his body and did not see any marks on his pale skin.

“No, I got away unscathed. Can’t say the same for you though.” He looked down, assessing Arthur’s own wounds.

“Did someone help you?”

“Yes.” He answered shortly. “An old woman. She was very kind.”

“She looks like she knew what she was doing. So I’m glad.” Merlin didn’t ask any more questions, Arthur was grateful.

“How did you find me?”

Merlin looked sheepish for a moment, but schooled it, and managed to get the redness out of his neck before it spread to his face.

He shrugged.

“I’m not really sure. I just had a feeling. Like I said, I knew you weren’t dead. So I just, kind of, followed my gut. And it led me to you standing in a field all by yourself.” He chuckled, as if the scene were funny.

“Hmm.” He said. Then looked around, and noticed there was water running somewhere.

“There’s a stream nearby, and it’s getting dark. We’ll stop and finish the journey tomorrow.”

“Alright. I’ll gather wood for a fire.” Merlin led him to a log and leaned him up against it for support.

Arthur could only watch as Merlin went about gathering dry wood where he could find it.

In the process of that, Arthur fell fast asleep.

In the darkness, Merlin crawled to Arthur and began to heal all his many wounds. Black smoke rising from them as they closed and left nothing but a scar.

Arthur would think the old woman’s poultice worked well. And they would be able to get home that much quicker.

Before Arthur opened his eyes the next morning, he knew something was different.

He tested his leg and it moved without delay or surging pain. His arms in the same strong condition.

His eyes flung open, and he ripped the bandages off to reveal closed skin.

Arthur might be a bit dull sometimes but he knows fairly well that nothing of any mortal nature could heal him so quickly.

But the old woman. She’d said no one could touch him with magic. Helpful or otherwise.

So what had done this?

His eyes glanced his surrounding and found only one clue.

A body curled in on itself with dark curls springing out.

Merlin.

But it couldn’t be. Merlin might not be as much an idiot as Arthur usually claimed. But he was no sorcerer.

Was he?

The pieces started clicking together. Merlin was always the one to conveniently drag him to safety.

He’s always the one there when unexpected victories are won.

Merlin.

Of course.

Something in Arthur must’ve known. Because he was not surprised even for a second. It almost seemed right in his mind. Merlin. Magic. Of course.

But that means Merlin’s been the one risking his life every single day, just to do what? Muddle about and polish armor? Muck out the horses?

If Merlin was as powerful as the old woman said, why did he stay? And why didn’t he trust Arthur with his secret?

Merlin started to rouse.

Arthur had to make a decision.

Confront him or act oblivious?

#merthur #merlin #merlin and arthur #arthur pendragon #merthur fic #merlin bbc #hurt Arthur #wise old woman in the woods #sorry it’s a bit long #from the drafts

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blarefordaglare · 6 days

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Faults and Secrets

Or Sky is a failure and cue dad time.

Or Sky does embroidery because I say so. He and legend chill while sewing ‘n stuff but legend ain’t the focus he gets reprise from the torture I have for him… 😈

…

The chosen hero hated secrets.

His hands ran through the embroidery, over and over again. He could feel the faint burn of skin peeling from the harsh fabric, leaving behind pieces of red flesh not ready for the world yet.

Over a dozen eras of pain and dystopia, and it was all his fault.

The pattern is all his fault.

Sky was tough, he could go a whole life knowing the land his feet were stuck on will never remain peaceful, but he put his family in danger. That, he could not live with.

“What have I done?” His wings gone matte as the words slipped off his tongue, “What have I done?” His fingers increased in speed as he rubbed against the fabric, soft droplets of now-blood staining the once courageous tunic. He wasn’t courageous, he was selfish. Sacrificing the people he loved for a short lived peace.

He was a monster.

“Everything alright over there?” The soft yet put together ringing of Legend’s voice broke through the once quiet evening, towering over his own thoughts.

Sky gave him a teary-eyed look, one of sympathy and apology, “I’m sorry.” With that, the ‘hero’ exited the lit clearing, leaving nothing but a stained tunic in the once gathered spot. He shouldn’t think it’s his fault, he knows that, but his brain rings out that it is. And when was his brain ever wrong?

By the time the fairy arrived at the goddess statue, he was almost certain the mud would stay on his legs forever. He didn’t deserve the wings, the light, or the magic. He found it fascinating how his Zelda’s said appearance changed over time. They never seemed to get her features quite right, like how her eyes glow ever so slightly when she smiles, or how her hair has a feeling of silky gold.

Or maybe it was just him, he didn’t deserve her anyway.

And so the Skyloftian sat, staring blankly at the hand carved stone. I wish you were here, Zel. Maybe you could have saved me this time. Sky doesn’t deserve the freedom of crying, he has nothing to cry over. The pain that was inflicted on everybody was enough-

A soft chime bounced through the water surrounding the statue, startling the boy. It wasn’t his own, he didn’t deserve connection, not after what he done. The Skyloftian looked behind him, only to be met with a hero, who was forced into battle too young, “Is everything alright?” He knew his voice sounded force, strained. He held back the urge to echo back to the fellow fairy, “Nobody is hurt, are they?” They probably were, he left them. Forced them to live a terrible fate.

The fairy in question simply stepped over, until he fluttered and landed softly onto the others shoulder, “The champion made dinner.”

“Not hungry,”

Time sighed, looking at the other hero, “You know, I defeated Ganon before.”

“I know.”

“And despite that,” The bright flutter of the man’s wings began to settle, switching for a more melancholy feeling, “I lost my best friend.”

Sky looked skeptically at the voice next to him, confusion flickering through his eyes. “But,” he scrambled through his hands, as if trying to catch the thoughts, “But you saved Hyrule.”

The mostly green wings flashed a glow of what looked like accomplishment, before quickly returning to normal, “There is a difference between saving the world, and creating a utopia,” Time paused, collecting his thoughts, “It’s not your fault, son.”

Sky could feel his face crack and crumple, his shoulders tensing and relaxing at a fast rate. Hot tears dripped down his face as he dropped himself it the other’s embrace. He wanted to chime out all his pain, but instead he just sat and cried. Somehow that felt better.

“It’s not your fault.”

#lu fairy au #lu sky #lu time #lu legend #but legend isn’t rlly included this time #I’m so sorry this is late #I fell asleep while tryna upload this 😂

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fairyringsandwings · 10 months

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Nashuri Fanfic Recommendations

Check out these amazing nashuri fics! Please make sure to read the tags/rating before doing so! And remember to leave the authros some love!

Crowns Lost and Gained by neonal

Summary: When the avengers successfully brought back the missing half of the universe, Shuri felt happier than she had in years. Her umama and ubhuti had returned. The two people she loved and cared about the most in the world - the two people she had lost all those years ago - had finally returned to her, unharmed and healthy. She was so thankful she even spared a prayer to Bast, the goddess she had long since turned her back on. But now, barely two weeks later, they seek to uproot her life and take her throne.

When Shuri loses her crown, she finds she's willing to do just about anything to get it back. Even if that means going against her own family.

Sunglasses by tacotime

Summary: Ixchel, the Mayan goddess of love, fertility, and childbirth, is desperate for an offering. Upon Bast's advice, they plot a positively devious plan.Worried about the goddess' displeasure, Namor visits Ixchel's temple on the surface world. Shuri volunteers to help him - only to regret it when they find themselves trapped, as Ixchel requires more than a simple prayer for her to release them...

You Belong To Me by DaisyBuchanan143

Summary: Namor is Talkon's youngest head scientist at age 25 and heir to his mother's billion-dollar vibranium mining company. He's sent to study under Dr. Shuri Udaku, the most decorated scientist in the world. What could go wrong?

Aqueous Incandescence by La_Maripoza

Summary: A subtle spark in his obsidian orbs, Shuri blinked, and it was gone. The Water King’s fingers gripped her chin, nudging it upwards. Shuri’s skin tingled mercilessly at his touch.

“Sacrificial lamb stuck in an underwater kingdom.“ He tilted her head up further, boring into her eyes. “Wakanda’s only saving grace from my wrath is the maiden fighting for her life upstairs.”Jerking away her chin from his grasp, she took a painful step back.

“I am no sacrificial lamb. Do not demean me.”

He mimicked her action and also stepped back. Shuri let out a breath, her heart beating against her chest like that of a talking drum. From what? Fear? Closeness? Or the understated threats? The Water Serpent’s eyes raked over her form, painfully slow.

After a failed rescue attempt in Talokan, only one hostage is returned to Wakanda, resulting in Namor only trusting the youngest member of the Royal family. Old and new enemies emerge as the Feathered Serpent Gods' desire grows for the Princess. With a tenuous agreement, the two Kingdoms must work together under the eventual threat of the US government’s insatiable search for vibranium. Takes place during Wakanda Forever and will follow major canon events.

to show you the whole sky by A_Spark_Of_Hope

Summary: Shuri agrees a political marriage to Namor is the best option for their two kingdoms, even though every time she sees him, she is torn between budding feelings and the knowledge that he's responsible for her mother's death.

Namor is eager to make his new marriage work. But how can he do that when every time his wife looks at him, her eyes are filled with confusion and pain?

Or: a marriage of convenience where everyone catches feelings at different speeds

The Promise by Toonmili

Summary: After the intense battle with the Princess of Wakanda, Namor finds himself in the throes of an all-consuming obsession that is believed to be tearing him away from his people. He recruits Princess Shuri, the object of his preoccupation, to help him execute a dangerous plan that will reaffirm or slowly dismantle their complex relationship in the eyes of the Talokanil.

Yueadu by Nocturne1980

Summary: Shuri turns to Namor to save Wakanda just as he predicted she would. But can she honor what he demands in exchange?The one where Shuri flakes out on her promise and Namor is Namor.

#nashuri #seaprincess #namor x shuri

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sobeautifullyobsessed · 2 months

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some Khan headcanons

based on my Khanbatch fics

Khan is actually the title given to him by the scientists who created the Augments--for by the age of nine, he had proven himself superior to all his brothers & sisters in all the ways they prized the most. The title signified his destiny to lead them.

Augments dreamed as easily as lesser men, but—courtesy of their superior minds—their dreams were far more vivid and literal than the fuzzy, symbolic dreams of ordinary homo sapiens. And blessed as they were with nearly picture perfect memories, Augments dreams seldom evaporated like mist upon awakening.

Khan had recognized long ago his predilection for women of a softer sort; Augmented women—brilliant and beautiful as their biology dictated–were the worthiest of consorts, but they lacked a softness, a feminine vulnerability, which he had always found appealing, as far back as the first time he experienced the stirrings of sexual desire. Females of his kind could be as selfishly cunning as he was himself; cold and calculating, which made them perfect compatriots in battle and in governing—but in intimacy, he had found that they usually lacked the willingness to let him fully lead; to give themselves over to the act completely and surrender to his will. With such women, there was mutual satisfaction, but no marrying of spirit, no sacrifice of self to please their partner more than to achieve pleasure of their own. Oh, they would meet his passion with equal heat and ardor, but the tenderness that he kept well hidden—and which he longed to receive as much as to give, in the depths of his secret heart—they would spurn as pure weakness. Only in the beds of ordinary, impractical, flawed– yet beautifully human–women, did he find the satisfaction of connection at a deeper level than the physical. On this matter, though, he had always kept his own counsel, letting his brothers believe he preferred such simple women as mere playthings, just temporary conduits for pleasure.

The fragrance of jasmine & honey held the power to break through Khan's usual vanguard of stoicism to open the floodgates of his most secret and bittersweet memories...

This was the scent he would forever associate with the last time in his life he was truly free of care–before he was forced to fulfill the destiny designed for him by scores of others. None of whom had ever grasped the simple fact that inside his superhuman body—and despite his formidable brilliance and cunning—dwelled the very human doubts, vulnerabilities, and confusing jumble of hormones and adolescent emotions, of an average fifteen year old boy.

Khan had been schooled in the act of pleasure and procreation, as befitted his station, first by grown women of his own kind, and then by lesser females—all sterilized, to prevent conception of a hybrid—to slake the tidal force, the powerful hunger, of his burgeoning adolescent lusts. His mistake—his crime—was to feel a tenderness for a creature as far below him as a street mongrel was to a Himalayan wolf. That tenderness had burned like a flame in his chest, shocking him and rivaling that biological imperative that all teenage boys experience. No one had been wise enough to warn him that such feelings only led to pain.

He’d been fifteen the first time he fell in love with a seventeen year old girl, who was well outside of the strictures laid down upon his kind. His seed was not to be wasted in breeding with inferior stock. But that one—his dear little Inaaya—had spirit and beauty worthy of a prince. Had love in her heart enough to fill an ocean. Love enough to see past the monster which many believed the genetically engineered to be. His little Inaaya, gentle as a lamb in service of his household, but fierce as his own flame in the lovemaking they had shared. Unashamed she had been, unabashed, to moan confessions of her love for him, each time he had taken her. That was a secret he had buried deep; deeper each year he had moved away from those callow days, onto the destiny he’d been taught awaited him. She had loved him unselfishly, and ever seemed a well of giving, always aiming to please him, guilelessly believing their trysts were part of some ridiculous, romantic fairy tale.

When she had eventually ripened, Khan had felt an irrepressible, youthful pride in that physical manifestation of his virility. Inayaa’s abiding love for him was enough to make her bravely bear the child that inevitably took her life. He’d been forced to watch the labor, to learn the lesson well; to strengthen him, toughen him; to teach him not to make that same mistake again. The doctors could have taken the child by Cesarean, but had not, allowing instead for his dear, sweet flower to be torn fatally inside—howling in pain as she brought the boy forth—and then falling silent as her lifeblood gushed from her shredded womb in the poor baby’s wake. He had wanted to hold the mewling thing in the aftermath, to feel its strong, steady heartbeat, a living remnant of their passionate affair, but they had whisked the child away even before Inaaya’s body had grown cool. Not as punishment, but simply as another lesson. When he finally set his eyes upon the boy again, Joachim was an adolescent himself, a total stranger to his sire—and Khan himself the leader he’d been groomed to be, with no time for such attachments, as he fought the wars that mankind razed against his people.

Even in his youth, Khan had never believed in the old religion which many of his contemporaries had chosen to embrace. Of symmetry and the circle of life; of death and return and rebirth. Losing Inaaya in so cruel a manner had cured him of even the faintest belief that there was any sense or order to the universe, especially that which might have been set in place by a benevolent power beyond the visible world. And he was a man of science and reason after all--leaving no place in his life for the comfort of such a philosophy and faith that dominated the culture he came from.

But Khan eventually encounters a woman so like his Inaaya in such vital ways (see A Khan By Any Other Name), that he finds himself reconsidering those ancient myths. That Inaaya had been lost to him hundreds of years ago--it was madness to believe that a woman born centuries after him could be Inaaya returned. And yet he wished with all his heart that it could be so.

Anyone interested in reading my WIPs A Khan By Any Other Name and Man of Passion, Force of Nature, can find them on AO3 under the author name BeautifullyObsessed.

#my writing #Khan headcanons #Khan head canons #Khanbatch headcanons #Khanbatch head canons #Khan #Star Trek Into Darkness #STID #Star Trek: Into Darkness #Khan Noonien Singh #my dark magnificent prince #Khanbatch #Star Trek Kelvin Timeline #Kelvin Timeline #Star Trek fan fiction #Star Trek fanfiction #Benedict Cumberbatch #My Muse #My Constant Muse

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ciaossu-imagines · 10 months

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Are the vongola guardians protective of Y/N? How? Do they get a bit posessive from time to time? And what is their reaction when they find out y/n actually likes it when their partner is a bit clingy and posessive (i mwan eho doesnt like to be wanted?)

Okay, this was a great request but super challenging for me to write, so the headcanons aren’t exactly the best and, again, it took forever to get back to you. I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway and thank you, as always, for the request!

TSUNA

I do see Tsuna being protective of his partner. He knows that his association with the Vongola does mean that his partner can be put into some dangerous spots. His lived experiences show him that, with how his friends and loved ones really were put in danger and hurt during the Ring Battles and the Ten Year Later arc especially, just by being associated with him. Because of this, he really does worry a lot about his partner’s safety, but mostly it gets really bad when there is a threat to his family or loved ones because of someone opposing the Vongola or trying to take over, etc. Those are the times it gets really bad and the times when he’ll be most likely to get into fights with his partner, since his form of protectiveness is really to push them away in some ways. He spends less time with them, urges them to stay safe and away from any situations he’s involved in…to really ‘stay in the kitchen’ type of way. Don’t try to stand beside him, just stay put like a good person and let him handle everything and he gets really frustrated if they won’t do that, but it’s anger and frustration borne out of great fear for their safety and what would happen if they got hurt or, even worse, if he lost them.

However, I do not see Tsuna being possessive in any way, shape, or form. He just doesn’t have a possessive bone in his body. He feels lucky to have his partner and there are still times, no matter how long he’s been with them, where he kind of wants to pinch himself because he can’t believe that someone so wonderful wants to be with him, no-good Tsuna. To have that sort of confidence of being possessive, of claiming his partner as only his and his alone…it’s not Tsuna, it’s not who he is. That’s not to say that he won’t experience jealousy at all but there’s a HUGE difference between feeling jealous every now and then and a partner being possessive.

Honestly, Tsuna would be really confused if his partner wanted him to be clingy and possessive. Are they not happy with him as he is? What’s he doing wrong? Is it that they think he doesn’t care about them? Are they going to leave him??! It will really just stress the poor guy out, because he’s not really sure of what they want or what he’s doing wrong.

GOKUDERA

Much like Tsuna, I do see Gokudera as being really protective of his partner, because he’s protective of anyone he cares about because he knows, with losing his mother and with knowing he lost Tsuna in the Ten Year Later arc, the pain that comes with losing someone you love. So, he does get fiercely protective of those he trusts and lets into his life fully, ready to defend them to the death if need be, though he does get better and better throughout the years as to not attacking rashly or putting himself into dangerous positions to defend them. Much like Tsuna as well, I do see Gokudera’s brand of protectiveness as being one that banishes his partner to the sidelines, far away from him during a bad situation, safe and sound where he knows they won’t be in nearly as much danger. He’s not fond of having his partner on the battlefield with him, just because his worry for them will cloud his mind, will make him anxious and will make it that much more likely that he’ll slip up and not be able to protect them. Hell, if it wasn’t for the fact that Tsuna is Gokudera’s boss and he can’t really do it, there are time Gokudera would even rather wrap Tsuna in bubble wrap and stick him someplace safe when there’s danger brewing, leaving it to Gokudera to take care of the dangerous situation, just for his own peace of mind.

Now, I do see Gokudera as being really prone to jealousy and I can see him, in his younger years, really being very possessive of his partner. He’ll get jealous and upset at his partner paying attention to any other male, except for Tsuna, Lambo, Fuuta, or Ryohei, and he’ll get possessive, clingy, and will tend to start picking fights with the other male that his partner is talking to. He gets jealous if they spend a lot of time with their friends or family instead of wanting to spend that time with him because, in his mind, it does mean they’re really not that serious about him and that, if they truly loved him, they’d want to dedicate every spare moment they had to being with him, like he feels towards them. He’ll get pissy about it all and give his partner the silent treatment, hoping that they’ll feel guilty and then dedicate their attention to him to ‘make up for it’. But the thing is that that will ruin any relationship quickly and it’s really, really not healthy, something that he will learn as he ages and that he does work on, though he will always have a jealous streak borne out of some self-esteem issues he’ll never fully work on.

Now, if his partner really does want him to be jealous, clingy, and possessive, and actually encourages all that bad behaviour he’ll exhibit?? It leads to a toxic, unhealthy, codependent relationship that will honestly fuck both of them up and will be unsustainable in the long run.

YAMAMOTO

I see Yamamoto as being somewhat protective, but just in a very simple, common-sense way. Like, if his partner is in danger, he’ll protect them. They’re about to cross a road and don’t see a car speeding towards them? He’ll pull them back super quick. Someone wants to beat them up? Yamamoto will step in and try to defuse the situation with jokes and talking things through. Someone’s plain out and out attacking them, probably because they are with Yamamoto, the Rain Guardian for the Vongola? Of course, he’s pushing them behind him, telling them to stay back, and fighting whoever’s attacking them. But other than that, he’s not really all that protective because he really does trust his partner to be smart and stay out of danger.

Yamamoto isn’t at all possessive and he’s really not that prone to jealousy either. Again, it really boils down to the fact that he does trust his partner. He wouldn’t be with them if he didn’t. He trusts them to be loyal to him, even if they’re not right beside him, even if they’re out doing their own thing. And honestly, if his partner does end up wanting to be with someone else instead of him, Yamamoto isn’t the type who would want to make someone stay with him if they didn’t want to be.

Honestly, his partner wanting him to be possessive or clingy would just confuse Yamamoto because he doesn’t see the appeal or the need. He thinks their relationship, and the way they are together, and the trust they have in each other, is all working pretty well, and he honestly thought his partner felt the same way. He’s a little sad that he didn’t realize that his partner wasn’t entirely happy and while he’s definitely not going to start acting possessive of his partner, because he doesn’t want to be that kind of guy, he’s going to talk to his partner and see where that want for him to do so is coming from. Is he not spending enough time with them or giving them enough attention? Do they feel like he doesn’t really care about them and the relationship? Is this some weird kink of theirs and if it is, is it a kink that they can manage to do without, because otherwise, as much as he loves them, it might be better to end the relationship if it’s something they absolutely need, because it’s not something he can do or wants to do.

RYOHEI

Ryohei is very protective of any romantic partner he has and really, he’s not going to view any romantic partner he has as being equal to him in strength. Ryohei does have some very ‘toxic masculinity’ traits that way and he does believe that, as the man of the relationship, it’s his duty to protect and take care of his partner, who is supposed to sit back, live their life, and stay out of danger or let him take care of any danger. His brand of protectiveness can honestly come off as a little bit patronizing at times if I’m being completely honest.

I do see Ryohei being possessive. Again, it’s very much the toxic masculinity parts of his personality shining through, in that he believes that once he is dating his partner, they are ‘his’ and his alone and that other people should just instinctively know that. It doesn’t help that he’s so bad at flirting and recognizing flirting himself that he really does assume that any really kind gesture from any male to his partner is them trying to flirt with his partner, so he gets all heated up and starts yelling at the other person or plain out starting fist-fights, and it’s not really something that improves a crap ton as he ages, but more a part of who he is and who he’ll always be. To be fair though, he also considers himself to be his partner’s fully once they start dating, and would take any jealousy they feel very seriously and work hard to make sure he took care of any situations where his partner make have reason to feel jealous…mostly by loudly declaring that he has a partner whenever he thinks someone might be flirting with him.

Honestly, his partner is never going to have to ask him to be clingy or possessive, because again, it’s just something he really naturally is. As long as neither of them takes it to unhealthy levels, where they really make each other the only important thing, forsaking other friends or family ties, I don’t see Ryohei’s possessiveness having that really toxic element to it, though I also don’t think it’s really an incredibly healthy element to the relationship either.

LAMBO

Lambo honestly isn’t all that protective of his partner, especially if he knows they’re pretty strong. Even if he is stronger than them, when danger comes, he’s more than likely going to grab their hand and run away and, if worst comes to worst, he’ll urge them to run ahead of him while he stays back and either leads the enemy away or does have to fight. If his partner is strong…well, there is the chance that Lambo might leave the fight to his partner, because he likes having them protect him.

Lambo can get really childishly possessive; in that he gets very clingy with his partner and really does want their attention all the time. He wants to be the most important person to his partner, and he wants them to be with him all the time, and he can get a little temper tantrum-y, like a child might get, when they start paying attention to other people, or he’ll get really attention seeking and act a fool, just to get their eyes back on him. He’ll get really sulky if they pass up on date days or even just spontaneous hangouts to spend time with friends without him or to take self-care days. However, sulking is the most he does – he doesn’t give the silent treatment and he doesn’t hold grudges about it, but he also doesn’t handle it healthily, though that is something that he becomes better able to do as he ages, with it being something he masters in his late thirties to early forties.

Again, much like Gokudera’s, encouraging Lambo’s brand of possessiveness is going to lead to an unhealthy relationship for both Lambo and his partner, where they’ll make each other the only truly important people in each other’s lives and will become very codependent.

HIBARI

Hibari is protective, though it’s in his own very quiet little way. As I’ve mentioned countless times, but will always repeat, Hibari does fully expect his partner to be able to take care of themselves and to handle shit in their own lives. He doesn’t get into relationships with people who can’t take care of their own selves, because he does view people like that as weak and weakness repulses him. However, he does know that choosing to be in a relationship with him does bring new dangers that his partner might not be equipped to handle, because of Hibari’s reputation and standing in the Vongola bringing enemies who would hurt his partner to hurt Hibari. In these cases, it’s a good thing that Hibari does kind of keep an eye on his partner’s going on’s, even when Hibari himself isn’t around, through a very good network he has in Namimori and through the use of his birds. If danger does threaten his partner that he knows they cannot take care of, he will take care of it for them, either himself or through sending Kusakabe to help them.

I do see Hibari as someone who is possessive in a way. He does believe that, once he does settle into a relationship with someone, as odd as that relationship might be, that they are his and his alone and he will expect their utmost loyalty, both emotionally and physically to him. However, he will never expect them to make him the most important person in their lives and he will want them to have friends, family, and a whole life of their own outside of him. There just has to be that knowledge, both in his mind and in his partner’s mind, that his partner is Hibari’s. However, in a hypocritical turn, Hibari will never consider himself to be his partner’s. He’s always his own and nobody else’s.

Hibari’s reaction to his partner wanting him to be clingy and possessive over them? Simple. They can find another partner. Them wanting that or asking him for that just shows him that they’re not someone who is going to be compatible with Hibari in a relationship and he won’t waste their time or have them waste his any longer.

MUKURO

Mukuro is protective, but you really have to look very hard, and understand how he works, to see it. He’s not overtly protective. There’s no big grand ‘I’ll take care of you’s’ or stepping in to fight his partner’s fights. He’ll happily leave it up to his partner to sort out their own messes or issues, because he’s interested in seeing how they accomplish it, because he knows they can accomplish it. However, if his partner finds themselves needing his help, all they ever need to do is ask…or, if Mukuro does know that his partner cannot handle the situation they’re in, he will step in to help, though he’ll tease them about them owing him one now.

Hot take here, and a controversial one, I know, but I don’t see Mukuro as being possessive so much as just expecting complete loyalty from his partner. It’s not that he considers them his or wants them to be his and only his. I could honestly even see Mukuro as being okay with polyamory, as long as their first loyalty was to him. He wants his partner to almost worship him in some ways, but at the same time, he wants them to have a life, a network of friends and family, goals and ambitions, and things of their own to keep them busy when he doesn’t have time for them. He’s very contradictory in that way, but then Mukuro is a very contradictory person overall.

Honestly, Mukuro would be amused if his partner asked him to be more clingy and possessive over them. He’d find it a little cute and a little funny, and he’d love seeing how things turn out and how they react when he gives them exactly what they ask for…because clingy and possessive, when taken seriously, like Mukuro will, and to the levels of things that Mukuro is capable of?? It’s actually going to become terrifying and mentally damaging for his partner, though they only need to tell him to stop and they take back their request for him to do so.

CHROME

Chrome hasn’t had many people she wanted to protect or was able to protect, so now that she can both protect her precious people and has those precious people to protect, her partner among them, I do see as someone who is very quietly protective, ready to take on her partner’s problems as her own and work hard to solve them for her partner so that they can take it a bit easier.

That being said, Chrome is the least possessive person. She does consider herself very lucky to have her partner in her life and thanks whatever powers brought them into her life for them every day. However, if her partner left her, she would accept it and probably chalk it up to her not being good enough, rather than blaming her partner for it or feeling like her partner was ‘hers and only hers’.

Chrome really doesn’t get what her partner means when they request that she be clingier and more possessive, but she really doesn’t want them to think she’s dumb, so she won’t really ask them to clarify either. She’s likely to nod and quickly find an excuse to get out of the situation and just try to spend more time with them moving forward.

#event asks #katekyo hitman reborn #khr #headcanons #tsunayoshi sawada #gokudera yamamoto #yamamoto takeshi #ryohei sasagawa #lambo bovino #kyoya hibari #mukuro rokudo #chrome dokuro

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animatorweirdo · 3 months

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The lost kingdom of tales

The second son of Feanor, Maglor, ends up at the death's doors after falling into the river and barely escaping the dragon's firey breath. He then ends up rescued and finds himself in a kingdom that had vanished from the face of the earth, rumored to be ruled by a half-monster princess.

(Alternative universe for the Frozen Heart. I hope you enjoy)

Warnings: mentions of deaths, curses, vanishing from existence, severe burns, nearly freezing to death, one snarky elf, confusion, and wonder.

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

The story goes that there once existed a kingdom in the northern lands of Beleriand, the kingdom of Eldorel. It was a realm where the people lived in snow-covered plains, and the lights danced across the skies amongst the stars. The people of Eldorel adored the lights and the songs and valued crystals, which they would trade with their neighbors. The herding of reindeer and the art of skiing were their specialties, and they held many traditions in honor of their queen of snow.

Their queen was fair and loving, rumored to be one of the Ainurs of the West as she held power over the ever-cold winter. Despite the loss of her beloved king, she fought through the grief for the sake of her daughter and family.

Their life was harmonious, and the queen shared a close bond with her grandchildren, the young princess, and the prince. Their births brought immense joy to the kingdom, and the people celebrated their coming to the world.

However, darkness soon followed the family. A hidden evil sought the fall of the queen and her family.

Her beloved daughter and son-in-law perished in a vile attack. The young prince's life was taken by a beast, and the princess, the last living family member of the queen, fell to a terrible curse.

The kingdom was devastated by the darkness and the attacks that followed. Some of the people decided to flee, unable to handle the grief. Some remained out of love for their princess, who had hidden herself inside the walls of her home.

Enraged, the queen cast a spell to hide the ruined kingdom to protect her last grandchild and those who chose to remain. She then vanished, rumored to have gone to war with the darkness as a vengeful winter.

The kingdom forever vanished from the face of the earth, but the stories of it and the tragedy of the royal family lingered for years to come.

No one knows how the kingdom had disappeared or about the curse the princess suffered, only that horns grew out of her head like a terrible crown and vicious darkness awakened within her during the highest darkness of the night, turning her into a beast unlike any other.

But as the years passed, the mystery remained unsolved until the start of the First Age and the birth of the sun and moon. The arrival of the Noldor came swiftly, and the war against Morgoth began. Most of the elves who came from the west were ignorant of the tales of the lost kingdom until the Battle of Sudden Flames— when the second son of Feanor was tossed into the freezing river after the destruction of his fortress and land.

Unknowingly, the river had opened a path for him, and he was swallowed by the very spell that made an entire kingdom vanish.

Freezing upon the snowy banks of the river, wet and wounded. In his last thoughts, he would gain help from an unexpected individual.

-------

Maglor crawled out of the water, struggling to pull his weight over the snowy bank. He dropped down against the ground, shivering from the cold and the stinging pain his burns caused him.

The blizzard howled around him, making him unable to hear the sounds of the fire or yelling of his men, who surely would have seen his fall into the river when the dragon had spewed fire toward him and his horse.

He looked at his surroundings but he saw nothing but an empty forest and the darkness that threatened to swallow him whole.

He winced in pain as he felt his fingers freeze from the cold. Removing his gloves, he tried to breathe warm air into his freezing knuckles, summoning all his strength to keep himself warm, but it was no use. He barely had the strength to even keep his head up. Not to mention, his armor was not making things any better. He felt like he was wearing a suit of rock that firmly kept him down, rendering him helpless to all the dangers.

Maglor laid his head down against his arms, feeling the piercing pain of the cold numbing his legs and arms. Despair and sorrow crippled him from within. He was going to die alone and away from his brothers.

Death is what he expected to meet sooner than later when he had come to Beleriand, but to die alone in the dark, cold woods. He at least preferred to pass away somewhere warm.

Prepared to die by the fangs of the cold, Maglor gave up, lying against the ground and feeling his consciousness slowly slip away.

His ears then caught the sound of swift footsteps approaching. It jolted him slightly awake, and through his blurring vision, he saw a figure running toward him. The person was shrouded in a cloak that concealed their face, and they did not carry a lamp, which felt strange to him. All he could see were the two glowing white orbs beneath the stranger’s hood.

The cloaked stranger kneeled beside him, looking over his wounds before pressing their fingers against the side of his neck. Maglor nearly jolted from the coldness of the stranger's touch. Their fingers were cold, colder than ice.

Noticing his reaction and feeling the faint pulse of his heart, the stranger carefully turned him around, lying his arm around their shoulder before slipping their arm beneath his knees and hoisting him up.

Maglor felt lightheaded from being lifted like that, and he then felt the wind as the stranger carried him through the forest.

Maglor tried to remain conscious, but soon, the exhaustion and the pain caught up to him, and he could not help but give himself to the realm of slumber, silently praying the stranger was a friend and not one of the enemy.

The crackles of the burning wood were the first thing he heard as he started to wake up from the sleep the pain had induced him into.

He found himself lying in a bed, covered with warm blankets. A fireplace near his bed illuminated the room, and he was able to take in the room around him. There were strange paintings on the wall. He found his armor lying near a cabinet, and bottles and bandages were arranged on a nearby table. As he picked himself up, he noticed his arm wrapped in what appeared to be vines of blue flowers.

They were lovely to look at and had a cold touch on their petals, but he was slightly spooked as he could feel the roots attached to his skin. He decided to pull them away, feeling the roots slightly pinch him as they detached. He uncovered himself and was shocked to find his burned arm free of all burns and scars. It was like he never got burned in the first place.

While staring at his arm in shock, he failed to notice another presence in the room.

"What are you doing?"

Maglor nearly jumped as he saw an elleth staring at him with a judgemental glare.

“Don’t just rip them off! They’re still valuable even after healing you,” the elleth marched over to his bed and began picking up the flowers and roots he had ripped off.

Baffled, Maglor stared at the elleth, not knowing what to say.

"I know you must be confused, finding yourself in an unfamiliar place, covered by flowers, but that is still not a reason to pull them off and let them wither. You could have waited for us, so they wouldn't end up going to waste,” the elleth lectured Maglor like he was an unruly elfling while storing the flowers and their roots in a jar of liquid.

Maglor stared at her awkwardly.

"If I may ask, my lady. Who are you, and where am I? This doesn't look like Himring, " he asked.

"Himring?” the elleth looked at him confused, “Is that a new place in the outside world because there was no such place when we still existed?" she questioned.

Maglor stared at her with a frown, "What do you mean still existed?" he asked.

"When we were still visible to the outside world," she sighed in annoyance before looking at him in the eye. "You are in Eldorel, the kingdom of the north," she answered. "Eldorel? As in..." Maglor felt shock as he recalled the old tales he had heard.

"The lost kingdom of tales," he uttered.

"Yes. But lost? Not quite. We're in the same world, just in a different reality. That is what our queen did to hide us from those who sought to destroy us," she looked at him.

"As for your second question, I am Camilla, one of the kingdom's head physicians," she answered.

"I..." Maglor tried to recall what happened, but nothing sensible came up. "I fell into a river. I do not know what happened next. I was alone and at death's door," he explained.

"Well, not anymore. But you were lucky to even live through the night," Camilla stated before frowning at him. “What in the Illuvatar’s name happened outside that made you sustain those kinds of burns?” she questioned, but Maglor did not hear her question as his mind then remembered the stranger, who found him at the river and most likely saved his life.

"There was someone before my mind fell into darkness. The one who brought me here. Was it you?" Maglor looked at Camilla. She scoffed. "Oh no! I do not go outside, especially when the night is at its darkest. That's highly idiotic," she remarked.

"The one who saved you and begged me to heal you was (Name), the princess of this castle and the last royal member of our queen's family, " she answered.

"Princess (Name)..." Maglor uttered to himself, having heard the name before.

"Before you start asking, we hadn’t had a quest from the outside world over hundreds of years, so whatever you need, just ask me or the other servants, and we shall handle it for you before figuring out what to do with you," Camilla explained. “And do not ask for (Name). She’s currently not in any position to receive any guests. Not that she would show herself to you in the first place,”

"Well— I would like to thank her for saving my life," Maglor stated.

"Some other time. You still need to rest,” Camilla set the vials down on the table beside his bed. “I have the servants to bring you some warm bread and soup. Do not leave this room till we say so. You will end up getting lost if you go wandering on your own, and I will not come to find you if you do that,” she glared at him before walking toward the doorway. Maglor stared at her, nearly frightened by her threat.

“And do not pull off those flowers. They will fall on their own when all your wounds are healed," Camilla called out before slamming the door shut.

Maglor was left alone in the room in his thoughts and the things he had just learned. The kingdom of Eldorel? He was in the lost kingdom of the northern elves, who disappeared after the terrible darkness swallowed them. Even the Sindar elves spoke so little about them.

He then noticed something glowing behind the window of his room. He crawled closer, and his eyes widened when he saw brilliant green lights dancing across the sky, covering the snowy land with their lights.

The northern lights— they were absolutely mesmerizing.

He had heard tales of them even before he and his family departed to Middle Earth to chase Morgoth and try to reclaim the silmarils. How they could be seen from all the corners of Beleriand, and how they could even keep the creatures of the darkness at bay.

They disappeared along with Eldorel, and now, here they were in their magnificent glory.

Maglor couldn't take his eyes off them, but then he noticed something in another window, a passing shadow. It was quick, so he didn’t catch a proper look at it, but he noticed the glowing white orbs he saw in that forest. Could it be… his host?

Maglor recalled everything he had heard about you, the terrible curse that made horns grow out of your head, the imagery of a savage half-beast princess that feasted on everything. A lot of people had that image in their heads, but it didn’t quite feel right with him. You did save his life and apparently even pleaded with your physician to heal him, especially when she seemed most reluctant to even talk to him.

There was no way you could be the monster the tales made you out to be.

#silmarillion x reader #middle earth x reader #silm fic #silmarillion #tolkien #silmarillion fanfiction #middle earth #maglor #silmarillion imagines #maglor x reader

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autisticasgore · 3 days

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sorry but i will be FOREVER confused and annoyed at the way steven universe future was received as a show for its realistic portrayal of mental illness. i already loved steven as a character, and i saw so much of myself in steven, and it pissed me off so much when i saw armchair therapist-type people online calling it "unrealistic", that steven "never showed signs of trauma" (hello??? did we even watch the same show??) and that he was "acting out of character", and that the ending was cringey or unrealistic or bullshit or something

these are such insane criticisms to me because i felt so seen by su:f's portrayal of ptsd, and i've never felt the same way with other shows that portrayed ptsd. ptsd is different for everyone, obviously, but when you go through childhood trauma, sometimes you tend to look at your childhood through rose-colored glasses (literally, in steven's case), and when you gradually grow older and mature, you start realising that no, it wasn't all that rosy actually. even so, steven still displayed symptoms of ptsd even before steven universe future. what his character growth was throughout steven universe was also a child being forced to grow up quickly, to mature so he could handle traumatized space war veterans' emotions and forcing the diamonds to fix the mess they had caused, all at the age of around 12 to 14. all the while blaming himself. literally a line he says in season 2 is that he's used to dealing with life or death situations.

mental illness isn't fucking pretty. steven universe future isn't afraid to tackle the ugliness of it, and i think that's why people took such issue with it. im tired of ppl romanticizing mental illness. sometimes it DOES make you an asshole. eventually, when you spend so long being the nice, happy-go-lucky kid steven was, burying your emotions and pain for the sake of others, you begin to crack. and that's why i felt so seen in steven. because when i was dealing with my own ptsd, i was also a fucking asshole. i wasn't myself. i was angry at everyone and everything, including myself. i didn't want to deal with facing my own pain. i couldn't even watch some of the episodes because they hit too close to home, even for me.

but the biggest reason i love su:f so much is for its ending. i dont care if there wasn't some big corruption battle with steven's kaiju form, because to me, if they had fought him like they did with the diamonds and the corrupted gems, it would have reinforced his belief that he was a monster. he saw himself on the same level of the diamonds once he had shattered jasper (made only worse when she acknowledged him as 'her diamond'. ouch.) that group hug where they helped him to calm down, when steven broke down, got me, ok.

#pixie.txt #steven universe future #steven universe #i'm still in the midst of rewatching SU and i just- girl. ok. some of you really need to rewatch it tbh #the way the episodes were released played some part in people's frustration i think #but that was bc of production issues. CN screwed them over so many times i'd be surprised if they returned to them #anyway. steven universe. i love him. i want to be his friend #holds him gently in my hands

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weird-is-life · 2 years

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Hold me close

Pairing: Steve harrington x fem!reader

Sumarry: When anxious thoughts become too much for you, Steve holds you close to him

Warnings: like 1 swear word, angst, fluffy ending, anxious reader, mentions of food

Words: 1.9k Masterlist

(English is not my first language, so please excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes)

"I'm fine."

That was your answer everytime somebody asked, how you were doing.

Most of the time it was the truth, but some days it wasn't, some days you felt like the world was ending and you just wanted to curl under your bed sheets and stay there forever.

It was one of those days. You hadn't felt like yourself for a few days, but today, it hit you hard.

You were overthinking and anxious about everything, you knew it was probably just your mind playing tricks on you, making you feel hopeless and helpless, but you didn't know how to stop it. You felt despair, that you wanted to just stop.

You barely managed to get out of your bed in the morning, to even just brush your teeth.

And after doing so, you immediately got back to the bed, not having the strenght to do anything else .

Steve knew something was definitely wrong when you didn't show up to the weekly movie night.

Apparently, you called Robin, saying you were sick, but Steve wasn't buying that, he knew, it was more than that.

You had been acting weird for the last couple of days.

When he asked you, if you were okay, you just shrugged it off as being tired and that you were fine. But it was obvious, something was wrong.

As soon as the movie ended, Steve excused himself with some lame-ass apology and went to see you.

Your whole house was dark except for the low-lit light in your room. Steve remembered, your parents were gone for the weekend.

He didn't even bother to knock, he took the hidden spare key and unlocked the door.

"Y/N, it's me, Steve, i came to see if you were alright" he half-shouted, so you wouldn't get scared of him.

"Y/N?" he tried again and no response.

"You here ?" he opened the door to your room and found out, why you weren't responding to his shouts.

You were asleep, letting out soft breaths. You didn't look okay, you had big bags under your eyes and you were a little pale.

"Sweetheart" he sat down on the bed next to you and lightly touched your cheek. You stirred awake and it took you a few seconds to realise, that Steve was there.

"Steve?" you blinked at him in confusion. You thought he was at Robin's.

"Yeah, i'm here. How are you feeling ?" he asked worriedly. He could see your tired and bloodshot eyes.

"I'm fine, but what are you doing here? " you lied without missing a beat. Steve just sighed, he wanted to know, what was weighing you down.

"What's wrong Y/N? " he looked at you with demanding, but loving eyes.

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong, i'm fine" you lied again, but it was getting harder and harder for you to speak with the growing lump in your throat. You didn't want Steve to worry about you.

"C'mon Y/N, i know something is up. You've been acting weird and distancing yourself from me. Did i do something? If i did, just tell me, okay? I'll fix it" he quickly said. It pained you, that Steve thought, he somehow hurt you.

"Y-you didn't do anything Steve" you insisted, "I'm-i'm just tired, that's all. "

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" he was clearly not convinced by your responce and he was patiently waiting for you to say something.

You battled with yourself, on whether to tell him the truth or just lie. Again. But the trembling of you lip decided for you. Steve immediately pulled you into his arms.

"Oh baby, it's okay, i'm here, i'm here" he whispered to your ear.

You finally let out the tears and quiet sobs, that you were holding in and nuzzled your face into his chest. Steve instinctively pulled you even closer to him.

He tightly hugged you as he whispered sweet words of assurance in your ear. Every few minutes, he would plant a kiss on your forehead, while you tried to steady your breathing.

Steve didn't ask you or say anything , he just held you until you finally stopped crying. He hated seeing you so miserable. But he wouldn't push you to tell him what was wrong.

"You don't have to tell me anything. You can do it, when you are ready" he saw you looking up at him, trying to figure out your words.

"I want to, i just don't know how, it's hard" you explained.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Take your time, i'm not going anywhere" he looked down at you with such an adoration, that it made you forget the worry of telling him.

"Okay, " you took a deep breath, "i don't even really know what's wrong with me. I guess, i just sometimes get so tired of life and just so anxious. It makes me want to for the ground to swallow me whole. I don't know why it happens, but it does. And when i feel like this, i push everybody away. I'm sorry for not telling you" you didn't dare to look at his face, you felt a little ashamed of being so weak.

"Hey hey hey, look at me please" he gently lifted your face up .

"It's okay, we all have some bad days. It's nothing to be sorry about. I'm not mad at you for not telling me, i know it must have been hard for you to even tell me now. It's nothing to be ashamed of, love. I'm here for you, yeah?" he spoke oh so tenderly the words to you, that you thought you might cry again, just from that.

"Can you hold me ?" you asked and he didn't even hesitate to hug you again. He had no idea, that you were feeling that way, it made his heart break, seeing you so broken.

"Have you eaten anything today ?" he asked and just from seeing your face he knew you haven't. He couldn't let you starve yourself.

"Okay, come on" he stood up from the bed.

"Come where?"

"Don't ask, just come" he smiled at you. He noticed, you were wearing his hoodie and took you by the hand.

He walked you both to his car and made you sit in it, while he ran inside one more time to grab 2 blankets.

"Where are we going?" you asked when he got back.

"Just wait and see" he smirked at you.

He hadn't said anything the whole drive. He put on the cassette with your favorite songs and held your hand in his. Occasionaly, he would glance at you, to make sure you were okay.

You were quietly looking out of the window, still in your head as you tried to figure out where he was taking you. You were completely oblivious to his glances.

"We are here" he announced as you neared the fast food restaurant.

"Steve, why are we at drive-thru?" you were so confused.

"Well, you said you haven't eaten anything, so I thought we could grab something to eat" he smiled uncertainly at you. He hoped you were okay with that.

"Thank you" you spoke after a few seconds.

"Okay, so what do you want? Your usual, maybe we can take extra ice cream?" he scanned the menu, that was next to the road.

"Yeah, that would be great" you didn't feel much like eating, but you agreed anyway.

After getting the food, you thought you were going back to your place, but Steve drove to completely different direction than your house.

"Uhh, where are we going now?" you asked.

"You know the place, where we can see the whole city and the stars? I thought we could go eat the food there" he thought, it would take the things off your mind.

"But we don't have to, we can just go home" he added, he wanted to just see you happy and comfortable .

"No no, it's alright, i like the idea " you assured him. You loved to look at the stars and Steve knew that very well, that's why he thought of that place.

Steve spreaded out one blanket on the hood of his car and helped you climb on it. Then he took the other blanket, wrapped it around your shoulders and sat down next to you.

"So here are your fries and the soda" he handed you the food,"ahh and we can't forget about the ice cream, of course" he said as he took it out of the bag along with his own food.

You slowly ate your fries and sipped on your drink, admiring the stars. Steve had his hand around your shoulders, snuggling you close to him.

"Are they good?" Steve pointed to your fries and you nodded.

"Can i try?"

"What for, you have your own fries" you pointed out.

"And? I want to try if yours are better" he said and nicked a few fries from you.

"Hmm, they are better than mine" he frowned.

"Steve, they are literally the same as your fries" you chuckled at him.

"Nope, i like yours better, can i take a few more?" you shook your head, but that didn't stop Steve's hand, from trying to steal your fries.

You moved them from his reach with a giggle.

"Stop, you have your own, don't steal mine" you were giggling as he didn't stop and you tried to guard your food from him as well as you could .

"Oh come on, just one more?" he gave you the puppy eyes, that you couldn't say no to. And to be honest he didn't really care about the fries, he just wanted to make you smile.

"Okay, but just one no more" you gave in, but that was a mistake as he grinned at you and quickly took a handful of fries.

"You little shit, what will i eat now?" you pretended to be angry, but your laughter revealed the truth .

"You can have mine" he said with full mouth.

After your laughter quieted down you looked at Steve and found him already looking at you.

"I'm sorry about your fries, just wanted to see your gorgeous smile" Steve admited. He loved your smile and your laugh, especially if he was the reason behind it.

"You could have just said so, you didn't have to eat my food" you were teasing him now, your anxious thoughts completely forgotten.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" he nudged your arm.

"I'm sorry for not noticing, that something was wrong, love" Steve spoke again, learning closer to you.

"I'm sorry for not telling you" you replied.

"Don't be, i understand. Just next time, maybe tell me, yeah? I'm here for you. Always" he softly spoke.

"Thank you, Stevie. For everything" you were so so thankful for him. He made that hard day so much better. Much more better than your previous hard days.

"Anytime, i mean it" he kissed you on top of your head.

"I love you" you whispered.

"I love you, too, sweetheart." he held you close to his side and rubbed slow comforting circles on your shoulder.

You stayed like that for a while, just looking at the stars and enjoying each others company.

You forgot about everything else with Steve close to you.

You told him about all the stars you could see and he attentively listened to your voice. He was glad to make you feel better.

And over time, it became a tradition to come there. Whenever you felt down, Steve would drive you two to this place and held you tightly in his arms as you talked with him about anything, that crossed your mind.

....

Hey guys, thank you for reading. I think we all feel down sometimes, so I thought this could be comforting. I hope you liked it. If anybody is interested in being my beta reader for Stranger things fics, dm me please.

If you feel down and have no one to talk to, my dms are always opened💜

Have a great day and stay safe everybody. Peace out ☀️

#steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #Steve harrington x y/n #Steve harrington angst #stranger things imagine #Stranger things

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space-phonetic0 · 4 months

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The first thing that he becomes aware of is the chill. The second, is the soft cushiony fabric of which he is lying on.

He opens his eyes to pitch blackness, seeming to stretch on forever. He raises his right hand intending to touch his face, instead he crashes into something soft and silky, yet hard at the same time.

He opens his eyes only to see darkness. He reached out his hands and felt soft fabric. Upon further inspection. He realized he was trapped in a box, a coffin. Vomit rose in his throat, his head ached. As he began to claw at the ceiling of the coffin. Several fingernails were pulled off. Words slipped past his lips. quiet at first. Then a bit louder. “Bruce….. Bruce…..”.

What is this? where am I?

(Struggling to remember what happened.)

flashes of memories burned through his mind. blurry images of a purple suited man. with a horrific white face and blood red lips.

numbers counting down

pleading for the man who he considered his father to come and save him. wishing he could say goodby. wishing he could say thank you.

Where has Joker put me? Where is Bruce?

His mind was a blank. Everything was fuzzy and he was so dizzy. His whole body ached. All he could think was “OUT, I must get out”.

muscles and nerves remembering his robin training. he searched around for anything that would aid his escape. discovering his belt buckle. Jason, griped it between his index and middle fingers.

angling the buckle with the prong pointed up. Jason began stabbing and scratching the lid of the coffin. Ripping the soft silk and creating indentions in the polished oak.

Breaking through the top of the coffin. Dirt spilled on top of him. The dark earth was heavy. He took a gulping breath and swallowed only dirt. Desperately clawing his way to the top. blood leaking out of him colouring the earth. his throat burning

After what felt like eternity. He finally made it out into fresh air. Coughing up dirt. He gasped for air. Breaths coming in painful burning his lungs

He heaved himself up. Out of the ground. Rain was pelting down soaking him and making the dirt slippery and hard to grasp.

He fell over onto the muddy ground. Overwhelmed by the fuzzy thoughts coursing through his impaired brain. The sensation of the sludgy dirt beneath his skin was almost sickening. Making his skin crawl.

His suit was itchy to his oxygen deprived skin. His tie almost choking him.

Lurching and shivering, he slowly got to his knees. Shaky feet sinking into the ground as he stepped forward.

Jason moved his left foot forward. Nearly stumbled when his foot sank up to the ankle in mud.

His body felt numb and awkward. Like it was not his own. Close to vomiting he continued on. Walking slowly, stumbling around. The rain was still coming down mercilessly. Heavy drops slamming down onto his body.

Rain water was in his eyes. nearly blinding him. Thinking nothing, He continued through the graveyard observing the dirty stones sticking out of the earth.

His confused mind thought only one thing. "Get to Bruce"

Reaching the gate. He stumbled over the threshold.

Blindly reaching out he gripped the side of a brick wall. Following the wall until it ended. Next to an old church.

With difficulty, Jason raised his head toward the sky. spotting the moon over Gotham skyline.

suddenly, a ninja star flew past Jasons view of the moon. startled, Jason refocused his gaze onto the church. A young dark haired Arabian looking woman. was fighting several men dressed in assassins garb.

muscle memory took over. Jason sprang onto the nearest ninja. quickly disarming and knocking him out.

in a matter of minutes. Jason and the woman had subdued the assassins. Exhausted, the boy fell to his hands and knees, breathing heavily.

Talia, curious as to who had aided her in battle. Walked over to the disheveled boy. Kneeling down, she grasped the boys shoulders and lifted his head. Shock coursed through her. "Jason!!!!!!!"

The boy was resting fully against her now. How could this be? Questions swirled through her head. One thing was certain she had to take him back home with her.

the end.

id like to write more to this. when Talia puts Jason in the pit. his training and his time in Gotham. an idea I have is Jason doesn't go back to Gotham to seek revenge. but stays with the all caste. something happens and he has to come back to Gotham. he doesn't want bruce to find out he's alive so does his best to lay low.

im making no promises. so we'll see.

#batfamily #Jason todd #Jason todd crawling out of his grave #Jason todd red hood #batman under the red hood #batman #bruce wayne

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kaminocasey · 2 years

Text

My Trigger

Summary: You and Fives don't exactly make a great first impression.

Pairing: Fives x Medic!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI; Angst, Embarrassed Reader

WC: 1.1K

A/N: So, I was writing a Rebels!Rex fic that includes sex on the hood of a speeder and then Fives just popped into my head in only the way that Fives does lol. So here is this. There will be a part two.

Part Two

“Fives, this is our new medic.” Captain Rex tells the arc trooper your name and you smile at him, warmly.

“Nice to meet you.” Fives nods and walks away.

You look up at the Captain, clearly perplexed. He’s obviously confused by Fives’ interaction as well. You’re glad it’s not just in your head.

You’d been looking forward to meeting Fives, as you’d only ever heard good things about the man. You’d heard he was charming and silly and good company.

Maybe you just caught him on an off-day, you think to yourself.

A few months later…

You’d gotten used to traversing through the heat of battle, tending to the wounded 501st soldiers. You’d made friends with most of them. Except one…

“Fives. Sit. Still.” You force the arc trooper down so that you can check his chest wound.

You could tell he was going to be down for a bit and he was definitely not going to be happy about it.

You’re at a weird angle, so you straddle his thighs, unclipping his plastoid chest piece so you can peel his shirt off. He gasps in pain and you look up at his face.

“Pain scale, 1-10?” You ask, pulling your kit off your back and setting it down next to you.

“Don’t let him tell you it’s only a one.” Echo tells you, trying to lighten the mood.

You and Echo had become immediate friends, whereas Fives would hardly speak to you. You smile up at Fives’ “twin”.

“Got it.” You tell Echo as you tend to Fives. “So?”

“So what?” Fives winces as you go over the wound with a bacta spray.

“Pain scale. 1-10.” You look at him only for a second and he’s staring at you for once. You can feel your face go warm and you look down at the wound as you dress it.

“Six. Is sitting in my lap really necessary?” He asks you, trying to situate himself underneath you a little better.

“Oh… I’m sorry. I was just trying to get a better angle.” You explain, quickly scrambling to get off of him. “Echo will get you to the med tent where Kix can check you out.”

You feel yourself go hot in the face with embarrassment and nod to Echo to help him up. You quickly grab your pack and start heading toward a group of wounded soldiers. You decide right then and there to never go near Fives again. Clearly, the things you’d heard about the man were incorrect.

Present…

You hear obnoxiously loud moaning coming from the women’s bathroom at 79s and you can’t help but roll your eyes, really needing to use the bathroom. You’ve been standing there waiting for what seems like forever, so you decide to walk in and just ignore the couple who clearly couldn’t find a better place.

“Don’t mind me.” You hold a hand up and then accidentally look at the couple fucking against the sink.

You see Fives buried in some gorgeous twi’lek and feel your lips part in surprise. The warmth immediately floods your face like it always seems to do when you see Fives.

“Uh, sorry.” You quickly rush back out of the bathroom and then back to the table that various men of the 501st sit at, fumbling for your bag.

“What’s wrong?” Echo asks you. “Where are you going?”

Echo has always been good at picking up when something wasn’t right with you. Right now, you just want to get away from 79s… away from Fives…

“Back to base. I’m tired.” You lie, trying to walk away but not before you hear an angry voice.

“What the hell?” Fives is suddenly near you and you look up at him, embarrassment clear on your face as you avoid his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Fives. I didn’t mean to-” You try.

“Woah, hey. What happened?” Echo stands up between you and Fives, placing a hand on your shoulder.

The other 501st guys start tuning into the conversation, clearly concerned. You’re so obviously embarrassed that you just pull away from Echo and walk quickly through the crowd trying to get out of the bar and into the fresh, cool Coruscant air.

You hear your name right before you get into a cab but you don’t turn around. You don’t want Echo to see the tears in your eyes. You don’t want anyone to see you tearing up over Fives.

“Not now, Echo. I’m sorry.” You’re about to get into the cab.

“Not Echo.” You hear.

Fives.

You turn around to face the man you’d repeatedly embarrassed yourself in front of, unsure of what to say other than…

“I’m sorry…” You murmur. “I didn’t mean to walk in on you buried in some beautiful woman… I just had to pee.”

You internally groan. How did you make it even weirder? He didn’t need to know that.

Fives chuckles. “I wasn’t ‘buried’ in her… We were just kissing.”

“Her moans seemed to say otherwise.” You let out a humorless chuckle.

“That was the couple in one of the stalls.” He explains.

“Oh…” You feel yourself go warm in the face. “Well, thanks for clearing that up even though you definitely didn’t have to.”

He nods. “I’m sorry for being so…”

“Dickish?” You offer.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Dickish. I’m sorry.”

“I guess I just… don’t understand why?” You ask him.

He sighs, looking back at the door.

“Go back to your date. You can tell me another time.” You get into the cab, telling the cabbie to take you to your base.

“Wait. Please.” Fives places his hands over the open window. “I’m not going back to ‘my date’. She wanted to start a fight with you but I told her to essentially fuck off. I’m going back in to tell Echo that I’m leaving. You know how he gets. Don’t… don’t leave without me, okay?”

You feel your eyebrows go up in surprise. “Um… alright.”

Fives flashes you a quick smile and then disappears back into 79s as you tell the cabbie to wait a few minutes. He grumbles about keeping the meter running. When Fives comes back a few minutes later, he gets in next to you. You try really hard to not stare at him, so you just look out the window at the Coruscant skyline, but when you sneak a peek at him, he’s smiling at you. You feel your heart start to race slightly and your stomach starts to flutter.

“What?” You ask him.

“I’m just thinking of all the ways I’m going to make it all up to you.” He shrugs, clearly amused.

You can’t wait to see what he has in store for you.

TAGS: @livi-s @studioramekin @brynhildrmimi @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @zoeykallus @wolveria @misogirl828 @rexandechosandwich @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @twistedstitcher27 @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid

#TCW #The Clone Wars #TCW Fives #Arc Trooper Fives #Fives x Reader #Fives/Reader #Fives x You #Fives/You #TCW Fives x you #TCW Fives x Reader

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prismatica-the-strange · 4 months

Text

I'll Forgive Your Sins | I'll Reach for Your Hand and Convince You You're Not Completely Alone

Warnings: 18+, blood, death, angst

The moment Aleksander realizes he's truly in love with Fryce and the moment he loses her. (The Italics indicate flashbacks, first a party then a battle)

Word Count: 1.4k

Reasons by Beth Crowly| Picrew Link | Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The flowers are dead.

Every single flower and plant in the Little Palace is withered and dead.

He falls to his knees at the sight, tears in his eyes and pain in his heart.

These parties are incredibly dull.

The same boring nobility, the same boring conversations.

The only thing that had kept him from leaving outright is the thought of their newest Durast making a fool of herself and, by extension, him.

So far, she'd done a marvelous job of staying quiet and civil, all polite smiles and simple talk.

His eyes caught her form in the crowd, finding an almost melancholy look on her face, nothing like how she is in their more private meetings.

He'd almost not recognized her without a grin spread across her lips.

He'd long given up telling himself he didn't care about her at all. The winter had brought a kindred warmth between them, and after the long months he'd spent studying her abilities, he admits that she has become a friend, of sorts, to him.

To see her looking so dismal like this made his heart ache in a way it hadn't in centuries.

Then he saw it. The longing in her eyes when she looked over at the couples dancing in the middle of the ballroom.

Very few of them were Grisha, most nobles finding it beneath them to fraternize in that manner with one like them.

He set his glass on the tray of a passing server and weaved his way through the crowd in her direction.

He cleared his throat when he was behind her to get her attention.

"General Kirigan," She'd greeted with the same practiced smile, though there was a small spark of genuine joy in her eyes now.

With his hands clasped behind his back, he gives her a small nod and asks, "Would you care to dance?"

"I- What?" She seemed genuinely confused by his offer.

"With me," He clarified, "Would you care to dance with me?"

Her startled look melts into a small smile that makes his chest tighten.

"I would," She replied softly. He took her hand in his and led them toward the dance floor, "Though, I'm not sure I know the steps."

The band was playing an old Ravkan folk song, the dance to which he'd learned so long ago he couldn't forget it if he tried.

"Just," He turned to face her, free hand finding her waist, "Follow my lead."

She does. Albeit clumsily, she managed to follow his steps in time with the music.

She'd fallen into him slightly in a turn that caught her off guard and the scent of lilac and violets washed over him.

The room still smells like her.

The bed sheets reek of what he'd once had and he lays in them, drowning himself in her scent before it's gone forever.

His tears soak her pillow when he buries his face in it, breathing in what's left of her.

He won't touch the clothes in her drawers of the dresser, and he figures it will be about two months before they start smelling like the wood and varnish of it.

The book she'd been reading sits on the table on her side of the bed.

Dead vines wrap around the headboard and posts, withered petals falling onto the bedspread and floor around him.

His chest warmed when she giggled, righting herself in his hold again.

She may not have had a grasp on the dance yet, but she was beaming as they went.

That smile. The things he would do to see that smile.

She moved to step away when the song came to an end, but he held fast to her, pulling her into the next dance with him. A waltz this time and she's far more graceful than she had been in the last.

"You look beautiful," He'd comment, and her cheeks darkened.

She hadn't done much for the party, no new gown or blouse since her kefta would cover it anyway. Her hair is pinned up in a milkmaid braid, but she remained otherwise unchanged. Not that he meant just that night, her beauty had often left him breathless.

"Thank you." By then she'd noticed the eyes on them and the murmurs that accompanied their looks, making her face warm further.

Her growing blush and bashful look caused him to trip over his own feet. It's a momentary fumble that has him clinging to her tighter, but she'd taken it in stride.

Her kefta is a striking brightness against his hanging in the wardrobe,

Purple isn't her color. He'd noticed not long after meeting her and, of course, she looked lovely in it, but the shade she wore as a Durast washed her out.

White was her color. A light to his shadow, leading him from the darkness.

His eyes, red and swollen from crying, stare at their wedding stills, where her smile is immortalized and taunting him.

This had been a mistake.

He never should have asked her to dance.

With every step, a warmth enveloped him and he knew he couldn't deny these feelings any longer.

This longing, this adoration, this need.

Something came over him and he leaned in, his lips pressing lovingly to hers, catching her pleasantly off guard.

It's not their first kiss, far from it in fact, but it's the first this public, this... open.

As though he was admitting to, not just himself, but the world, how much he truly cares for her.

And it's the way she'd kissed back that let him know she felt the same.

Shadows cascade and swirl around him, the darkness she's shooed away crashing around him like the tide.

Whatever lamplight there may have been flickers out, leaving one last shine to the glass flowers on a cluttered corner of his desk.

Snowdrops. She'd made them from pigment and glass one day when she'd been bored.

Of all the little trinkets she'd presented him over the years, they were his favorite. Snowdrops, just like her. His Snowdrop.

He'd begged her not to come. Insisted it would just be a small skirmish and that her time would be better spent at The Little Palace, watching over his Grisha.

But Krynn, his stubborn, pigheaded bride of five months, told him they'd be home in half the time if she came along.

In a way, she was right.

They'd been greatly outnumbered and overwhelmed and, if she hadn't been there, he knew the rest of them wouldn't have stood a chance.

That's part of what made it so unbearable.

He'd have given the life of his most well-trained Grisha to stop what had happened.

The scream is what haunts him the most.

The terrified sound of his name being the last sound on her lips.

And, before he could do anything stop it, he watched the druskelle behind her slit her throat.

It was as though everything around him had frozen. Everything besides her, falling to the ground and her hand reaching up to press against the bloodied gash.

His feet had moved before his brain could register what he was doing, only to be thrown back by a shockwave when her knees hit the ground.

He got to his feet as fast as he could, rushing to her side, but before he could get there a group of trees sprang to life, growing rapidly and twisting around her protectively.

He threw himself against them, nails digging into the wood as he shouted her name.

His shadows couldn't penetrate the barrier.

There was nothing he could do to save her.

He'd stayed there for hours, fingers bloody and torn from the rough bark.

When David had finally arrived, his most capable Durast, second only to Krynn, he allowed himself the faintest glimmer of hope, even if the Heartrenders said her pulse had long since faded.

But even he couldn't manipulate the material.

The world has lost all color.

The sun has ceased to shine and the flowers no longer bloomed.

The days become monotonous and repetitive.

Each morning he sits on the edge of the bed after another restless night and stares up at her portrait.

It's not the first time he'd lost someone so close, but after all they'd both been through and promised and admitted, he thought he'd finally found his eternity.

And now, in a single heartbeat, she was gone.

#prisma self ships #prisma writes #aleksander morozova #shadow and bone #grishaverse #self ship story #I'll Forgive Your Sins

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streamafterlaughter · 1 year

Text

Fundamental Differing

gif credit

masterlist | playlist | chapter vii

Chapter VIII: It’s Enough To Startle Us

tags/warnings: brief descriptions of wounds, rockstar!eddie x rockstar!reader, slow burn, mutual pining, mutual heartbreak, angst (though this chapter is sufficiently less angsty. but i guess y’all deserve a break. but it’s not gone forever hehe)

summary: The events of the night before send Eddie into a panic, and you into even deeper confusion. lots of eddie’s pov in this one bc we love watching him writhe and suffer. This chapter is pretty short, but i think it’s necessary to break between this and when shit Goes Down soon. so stay tuned! feedback is always appreciated!

a/n: idk what happened but when i titled this fic i was so sure Schism by Tool had come out by 1992. Jokes on me, it didn’t until 2001, so we’re gonna ignore that (and not mention the song in the fic, even though it is the title. Bc i can’t change the title now! and i like it anyway! so there!) Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!

—

April 1986

“Hey, hey. Easy now.” Eddie throws his arm over your shoulder for support as you help him sit up. “This is gonna sting, okay? But that’s because it’s working. We’re gonna make you feel better.”

“I know what’ll make me feel better.” Eddie’s words string together, a blissed out smile on his face. He’s on a lot of painkillers, making him far happier than he should be right now.

You give your boyfriend a sad smile. “That would make me happy, too. But the doctor said no strenuous activity for at least six weeks. We can’t prolong your healing process if you wanna walk at graduation. Arms up.”

He obliges, wincing as he raises his arms above his head. You take the hem of his shirt, gently pulling it up over his torso, revealing the stained and sticky bandages that cover his wounds. The sight hurts your heart, seeing the man you love in so much pain. You get to work undressing the wounds, careful to peel slowly as not to irritate the scabs underneath. Once he’s bare, Eddie looks down to see his scarred and serrated flesh, frowning at the gore. “Think these will scar?” He asks, going to poke one of his black and blue spots before you swat his hand away.

“Oh, I dunno, probably not too badly.” You dig around in your bag for the fresh gauze.

He frowns at your words. “If I’m gonna be impaired like this, the least I could get is some sick battle scars.”

You giggle at him, grateful he’s still himself even after such a traumatizing experience. “Okay fine. They’ll be the most gnarly, metal scars anyone’s ever seen.”

“That’s more like it.” Eddie looks up at you with glazed, sleepy eyes. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” You wet a piece of gauze with bacitracin.*

“For loving me. Takin’ care of me in my battered state. What’s a freak like me done to deserve such a beautiful companion?”

You blush at his words, knowing they ring true even through his fog. “You didn’t do anything. I just like ‘em freaky.” You lean in, and he meets you halfway connecting his lips to yours. “Now hold still, this is gonna suck.”

*a/n changed rubbing alcohol to bacitracin bc why tf would u use rubbing alcohol on healing wounds supposedly assessed by a doctor. it’s not like they’re dirty jfdkjccj anyway.. moving on

—

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

The sun streams in through the haphazardly drawn shades of his hotel room, rousing him from another uncomfortable sleep. Eddie groans, the pounding in his head increasing as he shifts to lie on his back. He’s still fully clothed, sans his boots, left with indents on his arms made by the denim of his vest. He tries, desperately, to recount the events of last night. I gambled, I lost, I came back here, I went to see… Oh no.

He shoots up in bed, regretting it immediately as the sharp pain in his head jabs him again. What the fuck did I say to them? He squeezes his eyes shut, begging his brain to let him remember. He only sees the look on your face, a pitying concern as you yank his shoes off, leaving him to fight the hangover the next day. He remembers mumbling to you as the door opened, one foot already in the hallway. Shit.

It’s probably the most honest he’s been with you in years, but he didn’t want it to happen that way. It isn’t fair, after you finally got everything you’ve ever wanted, to drop what probably was a huge bomb on you. He assumes it was, at least.

—

Your POV

Ugh. You rise from your bed, kicking the comforter off as you try to ignore the pounding in your head. Memories of last night flood back like a tidal wave, and you're helpless in stopping them. I'd still choose you. Eddie’s words repeat in your head like a broken record, a mantra you desperately want to believe even though you know you shouldn’t. You need to tell someone. You need to talk to Steve.

You caress the hotel phone between your ear and your shoulder, dialing Steve’s room number and tapping your socked foot on the carpet. Pick up, pick up, pick up. “Hello?” His voice is groggy, you must’ve woken him up.

“Rise an’ shine, buddy, I have drama I need to spill.” You rush the words out and Steve responds with a sigh.

“What happened? You get back okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Well, I'm not fine, that’s why I’m calling. But I got back okay.”

“Okay, so what’s the problem?” You can almost hear him place his hand on his hip.

“Eddie came to my room last night.” The line is silent. You hear Steve inhale sharply, but nothing else. “Earth to Steve?”

“Hey, yeah. Sorry, I feel like this is my fault.”

“How is Eddie drunkenly banging on my hotel room door your fault?”

“I may have told him to do it.”

“YOU WHAT?!” You can’t help but bellow the words, surprised by your best friend’s idiocy.

“I didn’t tell him to do that, but I keep telling him he needs to talk to you.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers, squeezing your eyes shut as Steve relays this news to you. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you two need to fix this shit! I’m tired of playing messenger when one of you gets drunk and sad and talks about the other for hours. You two need to start acting like adults!”

“Steve, who is asking you to play messenger? I’m asking you to play, I dunno, best friend? I never asked you to tell Eddie anything, I only need you to listen to me whine!”

“You ever think I’m tired of listening to you two whine?!”

You chew your bottom lip. “The thought may have crossed my mind. Whatever! He shouldn’t have come to my room drunk. He said some weird shit.”

It’s Steve’s turn to go meek. “What kind of weird shit?”

You debate whether to tell him, whether Steve really needs to know the gory details. You eventually decide he does, as your hired caretaker. “He pretty much told me, if I’d give him the chance, he’d drop everything. Be with me.”

Steve groans into the receiver, and it pulls a breathy laugh from your nervous throat. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“You think he meant it?”

“Has he ever lied to you?”

You take a second to answer. He’s hidden things from you, but he’s never outwardly lied. Eddie’s known for his blunt truthfulness, in fact, and it’s one thing you admire about him. “No, he’s never lied to me. Even while drunk.”

“Okay, then he’s probably not lying. The real question is if he remembers saying that.”

“Chances are he’ll act like he doesn’t, regardless.” Your eyes drift to the digital clock on the nightstand. “Shit, I gotta go. I promised everyone we’d get breakfast. Will you check on Eddie for me?”

“You could check on him?”

“Haha, good one! No, thanks.”

“Yeah, I’ll check on him. Take it easy on him if you do talk, though. You know as well as I do he hasn’t been doing well.”

“Yeah, I got it. Thanks, Stevie.”

“Of course, Y/n. See you later.”

“Bye.” The line clicks, and you hang up. Ugh!

—

You relay last night’s events to your bandmates and stylist at breakfast between sips of mimosas.

“He said that?!” Robin almost chokes on her pancake, causing Sylvie to snort orange juice through their nose. “And you just left?! Y/n!” Robin scarfs down another bite between sentences, eager to finish her thought.

“Honestly, I can’t believe Steve told him to talk to you!” Harley scoffs, her pretty eyes rolling. “Men are so dumb!”

You shrug. “I wish he’d just talk to me like a normal person. Only ever happens when he’s drunk, or I’m drunk, or some weird third party pisses one of us off enough.”

“Do you miss him?” Sylvie asks between nibbles of bacon.

You aren’t sure. Of course, you miss the people you were. You miss how real that love felt, how Eddie always felt like home. Until he got signed, a year out of high school, and let the fame eat at his heart slowly. “I don’t know.” You shake your head sadly.

“Maybe you two need, like, an intervention.” Lilith suggests, earning a baffled look from you in response. “What? You guys were in love, that’s super close to being addicted to something. And Eddie could probably use a real intervention, all the drinking he’s been doing.” She adds sadly, “Death and rock ‘n’ roll go hand in hand. I'd hate to see him end up like that.”

You think back to high school. To the Upside Down, and Eddie almost dying. For him to go through that and survive, only to be taken out by too much whiskey, would destroy you. You nod. “Maybe we do need an intervention. But isn’t part of the point for us to be surprised by it? What good will it do if I know?”

Lilith shrugs. “I'm not a doctor!”

It causes an eruption of laughter from your table.

—

Eddie’s POV

“Dude.” Steve whacks him on the arm as he sits down at the table. Hotel guests bustle around them, picking from stale muffins and cold eggs for their so-called continental breakfast.

“Ow! What?” Eddie’s nursing an orange juice, playing with the bacon on his plate that’s burnt and cold.

“I made sure you got to your room last night. I watched you go inside. When did you go see Y/n?”

“Steve, I know you’re used to being the babysitter, but I’m a grown man. I can go on a nightly excursion or two if I feel so inclined.” Eddie takes another sip of his juice as Steve pours himself some coffee.

“Okay, but those little side quests shouldn’t include embarrassing yourself, right?”

“Did they say I embarrassed myself?” He can’t help the worry that colors his tone.

Steve shakes his head. “No, I added that. But you know that isn’t what I meant when I said you should talk. That’s probably the last thing I meant.”

“Yeah, see, my drunk brain doesn’t really care what someone means versus what they tell me to do. You said talk, I talked. Nothing happened.”

“And you don’t know what you said?” Eddie shakes his head. “Do you want to?”

“I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me anyway.”

“Y/n told me you said you’d drop everything for them. If they’d give you that chance, you’d choose them over this. Over Corroded Coffin.”

Eddie suddenly feels like he’s underwater. He’s drowning, Steve’s voice sounding more muted as the seconds tick by. He only blinks at his friend, offering no hints of what he’s thinking. He knows he means the words, but knowing he’s said them aloud is a whole different game.

“Ed?”

“Hm?” Eddie drags his eyes away from the wall in front of him, slowly bringing his attention back to Steve.

“Did you mean that?”

He looks into his best friend’s eyes. They’ve grown tired, not with age but with increased proximity to terror and now, two very immature adults.

Eddie throws his hands up, waving them like a white flag of surrender. “Maybe I do! Does that mean it’s logical? That I should give up everything to be with them? I don’t know! They’ve done little more than put up with me so far, I can’t gauge the way they feel about me. I just know that I-“

“You love them. Yeah. That’s been established.”

Eddie drops his head into his hands and groans. It’s a sound of utter defeat, tinged maybe by a bit of acceptance. “What am I gonna do now?!”

It’s Steve’s turn to throw his hands up. “I’m staying out of this one.”

“Fine,” Eddie brings himself to his feet dramatically, somehow not toppling over as the room spins slightly. “Then I’ll ask someone I know can help me.”

—

Eddie finally finds her, sitting by the hotel pool with a thick book in her lap. Eddie steps up to where she’s lounging, her freckled skin damp from the moist air. She looks up at him, cupping her hand over her eyes to block the rays of sun escaping behind Eddie’s wild curls. “You’re blocking my light.”

“Hey, Bobby.” Eddie plops down on the plastic chair next to Robin, clasping his hands together as if to plead with her. “How’re things?”

Robin makes a show of snapping her book shut, angling her body to face Eddie. “What the hell do you want, Munson?”

Eddie feigns offense, clutching his chest with one hand, mouth agape like she’s told him Metallica don’t make good music anymore. “Why, it’s lovely to see you, too!” He scoffs, tossing his hair over his shoulder.

Robin doesn’t respond, her lips remain pursed as she waits for him to get to his point. It deflates Eddie, someone he was once so close with acting so coldly towards him. Though he supposes he should be used to the treatment by now. “I did a dumb thing.”

Robin lets out a laugh, but she lacks any trace of humor in her face. “On what planet would I want to help you cover your own stupid ass? We aren’t like that anymore, Ed. Get a grip.”

“Please, just listen to me. It’s about Y/n.” He recoils at his words, like saying them causes him pain. “I said something I shouldn’t have. I don’t know how they took it, I was drunk, it kinda just slipped out.” He rambles on, much to Robin’s amusement. It’s not every day Robin isn’t the one letting her tongue flap on its own. “Wait. Did they tell you?” He takes in her smug expression, the way her arms cross over her chest. “Oh my god, they told you.” He’s mortified, jumping back into the air like an exterior force has ejected him from his seat.

“They told me. Of course, they told me!” Robin stands up to meet Eddie’s eyes. “They aren’t the one who left me when they got signed.”

Eddie’s heart cracks at her words. You’re not the only one that feels he left them. “Well, hang on. That’s different, you and Y/n are in the band together. Why would they leave you?”

Robin sighs. “That’s not the point, dingus! You broke both our hearts when you got signed. We barely heard from you for months at a time, and when we saw you, you were mean! And god, don’t get me started on Steve.”

“What about Steve?” Eddie’s almost sure she’s fucking with him now, Steve has never actually liked him that much.

“Never mind. Why do you need my help? What’s done is done, right? You said the thing, they probably didn’t believe you anyway.”

“What did they say?”

Robin shakes her head. “That’s for me to know, and for you to hope they’ll trust you enough to clue you in.”

Eddie hugs his arms around himself, shielding his vital organs from Robin’s magazine of words hurtling toward him. Each one stings more than the last, but he powers through. “I wanna make it up to them. I want to be normal around them.”

“Try not drinking an entire bottle before you see them next time. Just hang out. Don’t play mind games with them. Be a fucking normal human.” She ticks the suggestions on her fingers. “You can’t make a grand gesture after two years of not seeing them. It will take time for them to trust you again. Especially with your later track record.”

Eddie huffs, trying to calm himself as Robin berates him. “Okay. Okay, you’re right. This will take time.”

“Don’t do it for their sake. They’re okay without you, y’know. I don’t wanna see them hurt like that again. So if you’re gonna try to be in their life, in our lives again, you better fucking mean it.”

Eddie nods so hard his head pounds. He means it, he swears he means it. Robin nods back, doubt still painted on her freckles. She doesn’t believe him.

“Rob?” She looks back into his eyes, and he can read the hurt in her expression. He’s been so caught up, living what he thought was the only dream he had. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

She scoffs, this time less convincingly. “‘Course ya are.” It takes everything in him not to wrap his arms around his estranged friend, muttering apologies until the sun sets. But he has other things to fix now, more amends to make.

—

Your POV

You’re smoking a joint in the dressing room of the club. The openers tonight are some Vegas locals, you forget what they’re called. Your friends are socializing somewhere backstage, waiting for the show runner to summon you to the stage. Usually you’d have joined them by now, but you’re marinating in Eddie’s words of last night, trying to find a hint of truth in them. You don’t know if there is any, if anything would convince you Eddie would choose you over his dream. You’d never asked him to, you never wanted him to have to choose. Being with him through it all was the point. But he chose to stop making you a priority the bigger Corroded Coffin got. The more attention he received from the public, the less you received from him.

Your eyes are closed, joint between your lips as My Drug Buddy plays quietly on your little radio when there’s a knock on the open door to the room. You mumble a “come in,” expecting Harley to touch up your makeup, or Steve to give you your pep talk.

“Hi.” His familiar voice sends a chill down your back, and your eyes shoot open. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame like an out of place mannequin.

“Hi.” You shift on the couch, sitting up and crossing your legs as if to look more awake than you feel. He doesn’t say anything else, and you’re not sure why he’s here, but you’re tired of walking on eggshells any time he’s in front of you. You offer the still lit joint in his direction, not moving so he’d have to walk to you to get it. “Smoke?”

He can’t resist, he pushes off the wall and walks toward you, plucking the burning herb from your fingers. “Mind if I sit?”

You shrug, scooching over slightly to make room for him. You watch as he inhales the smoke, closing his eyes as he fills his lungs. He’s already dressed for the show, his shirt a plain white tee he’s cropped so it sits just above his navel, and his jeans majorly ripped at each knee. Sylvie’s question rings through you again. Do you miss him? Based solely on this moment, his proximity to you, his knee daringly close to brushing yours, you think you have your answer.

Before you can ask, Eddie speaks again. “Look, about last night,” He pauses to ash the joint, bringing it to his lips once more. “I was wasted. That wasn’t fair to you, having to listen to all that. I didn’t mean for you to see me like that.”

He passes the joint back to you, and you inhale deeply before responding, tasting the remnants of his own mouth on the filter. “It’s okay, I get it. I know it’s hard being around me like this.” You look to the floor, trying to ignore the way your heart continues to bang in your chest.

He shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. I mean, of course it’s hard, seeing you again. But not because you left, not because anything you did hurt me. It’s just, being reminded of what could have been. What I did wrong.”

You look back into his eyes, and they’re misty, sparkling in the harsh lights of the room. He doesn’t blame you for leaving him? “Did you mean what you said? Last night?” You’re not sure what you want his answer to be.

He hesitates for a second. When he responds, it’s like he’s ripping the rug out from under you. “I think I did. I do, I mean. I do mean it. But that’s all hypothetical. I don’t expect you to trust me, I did a lot of things wrong when we broke up. But maybe we could just, I dunno, be friends? At least for the tour.” His smile is sad, but his words make your heart flutter. Friends. It’s more than you could ask for, all you’d wanted was civility, peace of mind. But “friends” sounds so hopeful, so promising.

You nod, plucking the joint from his fingers again. “I really, truly, would love that. Friends.”

He smiles again, this time an ear to ear, giant smile that you’d missed seeing.

“Hey, Y/n-“ Steve pauses in the doorway then, cutting himself off to take in the sight in front of him: You and Eddie smiling at each other, sitting so close you’re almost touching. “You uh, you guys okay?” You both nod, and for the first time you’re sure you mean it. “Alright, cool. Death Dance goes on in ten. See you out there.” You catch the knowing smirk Steve sends you, and you bite your lip in excitement, or embarrassment, you’re not sure. When Steve leaves, you chance another look at Eddie, who averts his eyes quickly to the couch space between you.

“I should finish getting ready.” You don’t want him to leave, you’re afraid to lose this mirage of calm with him.

He nods, bringing himself to his feet and offering his hand to help you out. You take it in yours, ignoring the chill that once again shoots through you. “Break a leg.” He says, still standing awkwardly close to you, unsure of what to do with himself. You nod, thanking him silently, and he turns on his heel and leaves you again, alone in the room with several confusing and contradicting thoughts.

—

chapter ix

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