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staroaming · 1 year

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Confessions

Vash x Reader tags: nsfw, plant-vash biology, female reader, smut, feelings.

// sorry for any mistakes, i'm sleep deprived lmao //

The first time that you saw Vash, you assumed he would be a passing thing, a person who would take up too much space in your mind before fading away like everyone else. That's how it usually goes, anyway.

Funny, you think, that you're so incredibly close to him now. The fact that the two of you happened to meet in a tavern the same night you saw him wandering through town and you helped him escape a gunfight, well, that surely cemented the fact that you would follow him practically anywhere.

Now, nights like this are nothing but an ordinary, pleasant routine. You've both been drinking a bit too much, both relaxing after a long day of travel. You laugh at him as he stumbles around the fire after digging through your pack to pull out blankets, his grin spreading when he finds you right where he left you.

"Good! You're not asleep yet!"

"Not yet." You yawn, "But it is getting pretty late."

He nods and plops down beside you after spreading out a blanket for you both to rest on, spreading his long legs out. You glance down at him, brow raised.

"You're not tired?"

He shrugs, "Nope."

Laughing, you splay onto the blanket beside him. Your arms brush and with that touch, like always, there is a spark, a live wire. You gulp and throw an arm over your eyes, wishing these damn feelings would just go away already.

"You feel sick?" He asks.

"No." You huff, "That's not it."

"What is it, then?"

You lower your arm and look at him, "Can't tell you. Secret."

He blinks in that usual way of his, all wide-eyed. Then, he drags you closer, wrapping his arm around you with gentle strength. You instantly relax, your head dropping to rest on his chest. This is always nice and you should accept it as it is. You should just accept that this is all you'll get and you're fine with that, especially if it means that you won't lose him.

A soft brush of his fingers on your lower back makes your stomach flip. A flutter rises and you gulp, shifting a bit at the tingles running up the length of your spine.

"I can't really go to sleep with you touching me like that."

He lets out a soft noise of surprise, "Oh! Right, sorry."

You chuckle, "I didn't mean that you should stop."

Soon, though albeit slightly hesitantly, the touch returns. He brushes his fingers along the curve of your back, against your ribs and you jolt. The movement brings your crotch closer to his thigh and you let out a soft noise, which leaves you slightly mortified. He goes very still, his touch halting before he continues with seemingly more confidence.

He runs his fingers lower until they're pressing a bit into the dip of your waist. Your hips move against his thigh and you shut your eyes, praying neither of you will remember this in the morning. But you know that, without a doubt, there's no way you won't. Regardless of the drinks, you're both very much aware of what is happening.

You bury your face against his chest as you grind against him softly, your voice more timid than it's ever been when you call his name.

"Is this too much?" He asks, quietly.

"No. No, this is fine."

He laughs, a deep rumble against you. It's different than any laugh you've heard from him before. There's nothing goofy or fake or self-deprecating about it. It's husky. It's heat.

Suddenly, as you begin to feel spikes of pleasure, he stops. You wince and go to pull away, thinking you've overstepped or misunderstood. But he simply keeps holding tight to you as he shifts.

You blink up at him, caged in by his arms, overwhelmed by the sight.

He's flushed, his cheeks rosy and his pupils dilated. His eyes are flitting around your face and dipping, his hand running beneath your thin shirt to travel against the skin beneath. You gulp and open your legs for him to settle better, gasping when he presses against your so fully.

"You make the prettiest sounds." He says, his voice soft and gentle and quiet between the two of you. "I've heard you before, you know. Late at night, when you thought I was sleeping. I never knew what you were thinking about but I hoped-"

He brushes his thumb against your nipple and you bring your hand down to place it atop his, feeling him explore, feeling the way his fingers curl around your breast.

Your voice wavers, "I usually think about you."

At your confession, his eyes shoot up to your own. He presses against you harder, though you aren't sure that he's even aware of it. In a flash, he's lowering his lips to yours, taking over each and every one of your senses. You're consumed by him, by his mouth, by his roaming hands and his tongue. He pushes at your shirt and you loathe the brief moment your lips part as it lifts over your head, moaning when he finds you again. You pant when he begins to trail his lips down the slope of your throat, pressing his teeth and tongue against the rapid beat of your pulse. He brushes over your chest until he's taking a nipple into his mouth and you wish you could do something else with your hands. Instead, you bring them to your mouth as he travels lower and lower, pushing your pants down and off. "I'd like to hear you." He spreads your legs, holding tight to your thighs. He pushes his fingers into the plush of them, his breath ghosting over your core. "Please." You take your hands away and glance down, stomach curling pleasantly when you see him already looking back. He keeps his eyes on you during the first swipe of his tongue against your clit, smiling when you jolt and call out for him. "There you go." He kisses your thigh before dipping, his tongue running along your folds eagerly. You let out an embarrassingly loud yelp but he doesn't let up, not until you're dripping and leaving his mouth and chin shining. He flicks his tongue over and over, sucking at your clit, pushing in deep. Your thighs begin to quiver and he presses harder, no doubt leaving impressions and bruises. You don't mind. On the contrary, you hope they linger for days after this. Just as you're drawing close to the edge, he rises. He trails kisses back up, pressing his lips into your soft stomach, grabbing hungrily at your hips and plush sides. When you open your mouth for him, he tastes like you. The kiss is heavy and slick, breath hot between the two of you, both of you tasting like alcohol and sweets. You bring your hands down blindly, searching for the loops of his belt, for the pop of the button. When his shirt goes, you trail your touch over his scars. You shiver and you press a kiss pointedly against a deep one on his chest, making sure he knows that you aren't put off by any of it. When you look up at him, he is looking down at you. "Are you-" "If you're going to ask if I'm sure," You raise your legs, eyes fluttering at the touch of his tip on your entrance. "then, yes. I'm very sure. I've been sure for ages now." He snorts a laugh and nods, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead as he begins to push in. Immediately, you notice that his dick feels...different. You've only been with two other people and although each time had been less than extraordinary, you know what a dick feels like. You glance down between your bodies, eyes catching on the feint luminescent glow as it buries inside of you. Ridges catch and tug but it isn't unpleasant. Instead, as he seems to shift inside of you, you feel an intense burst of unexpected pleasure. You gasp and grab onto his upper arms, digging in, mumbling an apology but unable to loosen your grip. He presses your chests together, teeth brushing against your throat before he bites, just once, just hard enough to make you arch against him. This makes it much easier for him to push inside of you entirely, both of you pausing. You feel the shift within you and it's all hard and velvet and there's something moving against your clit- "Vash." You moan, "It's...I'm-" He begins to thrust but the attention to your clit doesn't leave and when you open your eyes, you see that his hands are planted on either side of your head. Whatever is brushing repeatedly over you is part of him, undulating and stimulating. "Feel good?" He asks breathlessly, jolting you up and down with his thrusts. "Do you need me to stop?" "No, please." You shut your eyes again, bursts of pleasure radiating throughout your body. "Keep going, Vash, please." He thrusts harder, his dick prodding at the plush, spongy part inside of you. His breathing has thickened as he buries his face against your throat, tongue brushing the bite, his teeth grazing it. "So pretty." He says, his hips snapping as your breasts bounce against his chest. "You're just-" You gasp loudly as he reaches a hand down and grabs hold of your hip, digging his fingers deeply. "You've always been so beautiful." You gulp, strong emotions swamping you. You'd never accepted what you've known for months now: that you like him immensely, that you love him deeply. "I think," You try to speak between the thrusts, eyes rolling as he pierces a part of you that makes you see fucking stars. "I think I'm in love with you, Vash." He speeds up, his voice a whimper, his lips finding yours. He breathes against you, he whispers things you can't understand and suddenly, all at once, you are falling to absolute pieces. Your entire body shakes as your orgasm overwhelms you. You tighten around him and he groans, pushing hard, pushing so damn deep. Your lashes flutter and your eyes grow damp with the overwhelming feeling. In a flash, which you will later blame on euphoria, you think you see the spread of the cosmos sprouting from his back. There are feathers and there are stars and whisps, dark like gunsmoke, spreading above the two of you. Blanketing you from the world. He spills inside of you. It's hot and it's thick and you feel him grind into you over and over as if chasing the feeling to the last possible moment. The entire world goes quiet, all a buzz and vibration, as slowly you return from such a height. When you're back to yourself, you feel him sliding in and out of you slowly. He's growing soft inside of you but neither of you wants to part. You wrap your legs around him, keeping him close until you can't anymore. You glance down and see the bioluminescence spill out of you. He drops his head to your chest, skin slick and damp with sweat. Luckily, the desert is always cold at night. It cools you both down until bumps are breaking out on your skin and Vash is grabbing another blanket, sliding out of you to wrap you both up within it. The fire has begun to burn low but you know he'll get up at some point to keep it going. For now, however, you're glad that you can turn in his arms and bury yourself against him. Your confession returns to the forefront of your mind and you think you might be sick, that you might wake up and find him gone now that the truth is out. You do your best to pretend that you've already fallen asleep, evening out your breaths and losing the tension in your shoulders. After a while, you assumed he would unwrap himself from you. But instead, he continues to hold you close, pressing kisses on the top of your head, his voice low and soft. "I love you too." He brushes a thumb against your jaw and traces the slope of your cheek. Those words, confessed beneath the stars and within the endless dunes, ease your worries. You nuzzle closer, hoping he thinks you're doing it unconsciously. Tomorrow, you're sure you'll both need to talk. But for now, as you allow yourself to be held so tenderly, you finally succumb to a deep, much-needed sleep.

#vash x reader #vash x y/n #vash x you #trigun stampede smut #trigun stampede fic #trigun smut

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towards-toramunda · 8 months

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Thinking about more iconic lines from the show over the years instead of going to bed and created a list that is far too long:

- What’s my mother’s name?

- My best. Finally.

- I have so many flowers to bring to her.

- You were not born with venom in your veins. You learned it. You learned it.

- Don’t get on my ass about it! All I heard is that its pretty easy to do here thats all I took from what you said. (Bonus: its for the god of arts and crafts)

- At dawn, we plan.

- Doo doot doo doo doot doooo donuts!

- What matters more, the dream or the dreamer?

- Sleep well with your bad decisions.

- Nothing happens for a reason. It’s absolute fucking chaos.

- Patience is fine, but it can curdle into apathy.

- I’ve met the devil, thats not him.

- You never take copper. That's just kicking someone while they're down. You take silver if they're an asshole, and you take gold regardless.

- Time is one of my specialties.

- It’s entirely off-putting how disarmingly charming you are.

- How lucky I am to have had all of you. How lucky indeed.

- I smell like a crayon.

- I could tell by the bone structure and the contempt.

- I think I can punch ghosts now.

- Big moon, little moon.

- Pop, pop!

- I need chaos. I have faith in chaos.

- Molly said not to steal from happy people.

- I am going to tell you the story of how I murdered my mother and father.

- Smiley day to ya!

- I killed my family, I’ll throw you under a bridge.

- We’re on the moon bitch.

- She throws it. I shoot it. It explodes! NO STRUCTURAL DAMAGE! (FLUFFERNUTTER)

- I am all for faith, and I'm not going to pick a god. They can pick me. It'll be the first one that actually praises me and then maybe I'll fucking answer. I'll wait. They can fucking beg. And I will listen, which is more than they ever fucking did.

- I would like to RAGE!

- The worst thing that has happened to me has already happened.

- We're running; it's bad.

- You can reply to this message.

- Dagger, dagger, dagger.

- Opinions are like opera. Sure, you can listen to them, but why would you, really?

- There is no god that strides this world that I worship more than I worship your heart.

- I would like to live long enough to be someone else.

- Help, its again.

- Whoever it was, just put it back. I think they've earned it. Put it back.

- I’m fun scary.

- Sorry, babe. Gotta handle these ninjas.

- I’m the cleric? I’ve never traveled with a bunch of people I thought would die in front of me.

- He thinks I’m gonna go into the water for some fucking buttons.

- You are, at the moment, the luckiest person in Whitestone. Do you know why? Because you’re at the bottom of my list.

- You need me more than I need you.

- I protect him. He’s my boy. And I keep him safe.

- I made the earth remember him.

- Come correct or get corrected.

- Do not go far from me.

- Are you worth saving?

- How do I want to do this?

- Heaven to some, and hell to others.

- Fix him!

- Why do we tell stories?

- Do you spice?

- Listen you fucking jungle! I'm a paladin of the Wildmother. You're going to move or we're going to bust you wide open! We'll wreck this place. Don't make me fucking tell you twice!

- I am your god, long may I rein, eat of my fruits.

- Anybody can make lights. Anybody could send a message through a wire. I want to bend reality to my will.

- Would you like to talk before or after?

- What the fuck is up with that?

- To reach a hand down to somebody, they need to be beneath you! And I'm beneath nobody.

- The one eyed monster slayed my pussy.

- Time is a weird soup.

- I’m killing someone. Hold, please.

- Gold is a resource by which mortaldom climbs.

- Why are you so mean to me?

- Yours is the face I saw when murder entered my heart.

- This one time I saw a bug carrying a piece of bread that was like five times its size and he was carrying upstairs, like up and then he would turn, and then up, and then he would turn.

- I live as long as Whitestone lives.

- Vox Machina! Fuck shit up!

- I’m not disappointed, I’m just angry.

- Someone prayed for a miracle and there you were.

- We don't leave people behind. That's just the rule. You do not leave people the fuck behind.

- Call me child one more goddamned time!

- Finish it, Champion.

- I am of the Empire. But I am no friend to the Empire.

- I think it has been a long time since anyone has pointed out to you that you're a fool. Pain doesn't make people, it's love that makes people. The pain is inconsequential. It's love that saves them. And you would know that but you have none around you. You said so yourself, you surround yourself with lies and deceptions. And I wish for you, in the future, to find someone to mourn you when you are gone.

#critical role #cr3 #bells hells #cr2 #the mighty nein #cr1 #vox machina #there are so many good ones #by all means reblog with more keep them coming #my god taliesin has so many good ones they’re insane

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mythicalmyles · 4 months

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step brother Toby 🧍👀 (also i hope tomorrow gets better💗 )

After this ask im gonna have too much in my mind lmfaoo

Stepcest/dubcon/manipulation/tobys gross n toxic/bottom male reader

You huffed out, turning to look at the man that was now your brother. You hated the fact your dad had remarried but there was little you could do, he had made his mind up and moved her and her hell spawn into your home.

Toby stared a lot. Especially when you wire nothing but a towel after a hot shower, you tried to push back any thoughts that tried to weasel into your mind. You couldn’t deny his lifeless brown eyes would easily pin you in place, he always had a smirk on his face, like he knew something else no one else knew.

You were stuck alone with him, he sat on his bed, hair messy and unkempt. He’d likely ran his hands through his locks, deciding that was enough. He wore grey sweat pants decorated with stains that showed off his boxers, he was well defined which had initially surprised you. His glasses sat crooked on his nose, his dark bags hanging down his eyes as he stared at the screen infront of him. He had his shirt off, leaving his mouth watering chest on display. He was toxic as hell, always shouting obscenities down the mic. Even if he had done something stupid he’d still blow his top on those around him.

You were usually quick to make yourself scarce during the times he was gaming, instead you lay on your stomach and watched him lazily as anger seared over his features. “Yo-you fuh-fucking bitch!” He suddenly screamed out, throwing the control off the wall and nearly causing you to leap out of bed. It was too late once you’d realised your mistake.

Something evil took over Toby’s face when his eyes landed on you, his lips pulled into a snarl and a horrifying look in his eyes. You felt like a little fawn that had been dropped into the line of sight of a starved wolf. He moved to strike, jumping up just before your brain finally clicked. He was pissed and you must’ve looked like a target.

Fear flooded through you as you scrambled up, desperately praying for escape. Toby literally slammed the thoughts out of your head, sending you fly into the wall. You let out a cry as your body hit the wall, head slamming against the plaster and leaving your head spinning.

He had always scared you, he disappeared for days on end and always came back just that little bit extra terrifying. It was almost like every time he came back he left a little more humanity behind. You had tried so hard to stay out of his way despite sharing a room, you knew he was a ticking time bomb and yet you had stayed any way. You’d long given up on having your room look nice, he always tore it up anyway.

He grabbed your wrists, slamming them against the wall so hard you yelped. “T-Toby, ple-please.” The look on his face let you know just how big of a mistake you had made, he held your arms above your head with one hand while the other wrapped around your throat. His grip was tight and unforgiving, you were positive his nails would leave scars along your neck. You choked out a whimper, tears dripping from your eyes as he choked you to the point of blackout. He stopped just before you fell over the edge and into darkness, pulling away watching as you fell to your knees grasping your neck and choking.

Toby didn’t have any interest in you at first, intent on keeping the worst parts of himself until he was ready to leave. But when he caught sight of that dumb little look on your face it went straight to his cock, he knew you feared him and he relished in it. He was enraged from his game, the idiots in his team sucked. When he caught sight of you after his rage he felt something stir in him, the fear on your face, the way you bit down onto your lip eyeing him like you were about to bolt. He couldn’t have that.

That was how you’d ended up biting onto your sheets, Toby’s cock smashing deep inside of you. You felt your tears rush down your cheeks and soak into your sheets. “You like tha-a-that? Getting fuh-fucked by your big bro-brother?” Toby was insane, his words were lewd and disgusting. Yet your cock leaked between your legs, body shaking as he nailed into you. He left deep scratches in your hips, slamming you back onto his cock.

You couldn’t breathe, he loved the way you struggled underneath him. “S-stop To-toby-y.” You choked out one last time, he knew you didn’t mean it. He knew by the way your back arched, letting his cock slide deeper into you. Your choked moans filled the room along with the sound of him slamming into you, his cock abusing your prostate.

He ripped himself out and flipped you over, baring down at you with a shark toothed grin. He looked terrifying, drool dripping from his mouth as he stared down at you. The sight of his cock slamming into your tight hole was almost enough to spur him over the edge. “Ye-yeah that-thats it baby, ta-ah-take my cock.” He slammed your lips together, tongue forcing its way into your mouth and wasting no time in exploring. You whined into the kiss, feeling both of your saliva dripping down your face and neck.

“Do-dont wor-ry ill take go-good care of you, li-lit-little bro.” Toby’s words left you whining, hands grabbing desperately against his shoulders. You barely had a moment before an orgasm ripped through you, tearing you apart at the seams and leaving you clenching around Toby’s cock.

You clenched hard around him, sobbing and whining as you felt his cum flood your stomach. He flopped down onto you, his weight keeping you pinned down as he lazily ground into you. He ignored your overstimulated cries, content to keep his cock buried in your tight ass. “Suh-such a good b-boy.” Toby muttered, petting your hair as you came down from your high.

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milkywaydrabbles · 7 months

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Number 15 for Alucard, it'd be so cute!

A/N: I don't think this is the fluff you were expecting LOL I promise it's a happy ending but the angst took over. In case you (or anyone else) was wondering the song is Cherry Wine by Hozier (i'm in my feels right now about this man I'm sorry) Anyways I hope you like it mwuaaah

"Sing to me again" x Alucard

Fight.

Attack.

Defend.

Alucard couldn’t think of anything except you and the baby while he was on the front line. The village had been so peaceful, for long he nearly forgot there were still monsters crawling around in the world. The stragglers that had grown stronger, the ones who persevered throughout the days, weeks, months. The stragglers that had already killed some of the makeshift infantrymen, the ones who have had nothing but time on their hands and are so hungry they see red. The stragglers that had Alucard running out to defend the village while you stay hidden away deep in the castle, barricaded and locked behind the safety of your shared home. They were evolved, instantly locking onto the dhampir who was the strongest amongst the men, bloodied grins widening: teeth sharp as blades that could tear through muscle and sinew with ease. Alucard steadied himself, gripping a little tighter onto his shield and sword, kissing its hilt and imagining your sweet face, the sweet face of his newborn daughter, and lunged.

You were frantic, trying so hard to stay calm if only for your energy not to be poured into the babe huffing and crying in your arms. You’d been trying to put her to bed, but how could she? How could she sleep when she felt your panic, your anxiety pulsing into the very air she breathed in? How could she sleep when your soothing rocking was more jarring than anything, your voice shaky as you shushed her? How could you ever expect her to calm her sorrows when, if you tried hard enough, you heard the incessant howls and screeches from the deadly monsters outside castle walls. You prayed, you prayed to all the deities and gods that could ever possibly exist to bring your Adrian back home. You’d never worry like this, he’s so strong, fending off the monsters with ease. But you’d never seen him so nervous like this either: having the heavy knocks of men on the castle doors begging for saving. The sheer strength of the creatures overwhelming them.

What felt like days passed, it could have been a few minutes, it could have been a few hours. You’re not sure, you and your daughter going in and out of sleep, waking at every creak and bang that was heard. You shushed and cooed, steadying yourself the best you could to maybe sing a lullaby to your darling girl. “Shh, shh, I know sweet pea--I miss him too. But he’ll be safe, he’ll come back..” You whispered, kissing her forehead as a tiny hand balled into a fist rubbed at scrunched up eyes.

Her eyes and words are so icy oh, but she burns like rum on the fire. Hot and fast and angry as she can be, I walk my days on a wire.

It looks ugly, but it’s clean, oh momma don’t fuss over me.

Way she tells me I’m hers, and she’s mine. Open hand or closed fist, would be fine. The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

The cries lulled to a few whines and whimpers, holding her to your chest as you continued your hushed tones.

Calls of guilty thrown at me, all while she stains the sheets of some other. Thrown at me so powerfully just like, she throws the arm of her brother.

But I want it, it’s a crime, that she’s not around most of the time.

Way she tells me I’m hers, and she’s mine. Open hand or closed fist, would be fine. The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine.

Singing has calmed you enough to keep a gentle bounce, baby slowly falling asleep in your arms. You internally sighed, thankful that at least the immediate worry of your child has been quelled.

Now all you can do is wait for your beloved.

Alucard ended the life of the final monster, hearing the victorious cries and hollers of the villagemen around him. He was grateful the battle had ended, retreating quickly to your shared home, finally able to hold you in his arms. Slowly, he opened the doors, knowing any sudden movements could stir his (hopefully) sleeping baby girl. He didn’t want to increase your stress, already guilty that he had to leave you in disarray. He made his way to the room he’d left you in, sure you’d still be in there: the nursery. The very nursery that you two built with your own hands, right next to his old bedroom.

Just like Vlad and Lisa.

As Alucard got closer, he heard small hiccups and babbles from his daughter, along with the soft singing coming from you. He recognized the song, a song you’d often sing to yourself when you thought he wasn’t listening. The same song you’d sing into his hair when he was half asleep. He pressed the door open, his heart stopping at the very sight of you whispering the song into your daughter’s fluffy mess of a head, eyes closed. You hadn’t noticed him, and he was grateful. He wanted to just take in the moment, all panic and anxiety of constantly thinking that something might have happened, that something might have gotten through the castle, all quelled the moment he saw you both.

He let you finish, giving you a moment before softly knocking on the door, your eyes darting to him immediately, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “Adrian..” You whispered, voice heavy. He crossed the threshold, kneeling at your feet and holding you both without disturbing the sweet babe. “Oh thank god you’re safe.” You did your best not to cry, you really did, not realizing just how scared you were for his safety. But he was alive and well and back in your arms. “I’m here now, love, I’ll keep you both safe always.” He whispered into your hair, looking down at his baby with adoration.

“I heard you singing, love.” You hummed, calm enough now to put your girl down in her crib. The moment you sat back down though, Alucard’s head rested on your lap, hugging at your legs. You pet his hair, combing your fingers through the blond tresses. You hummed the melody of the song to him as his eyes fluttered close, breathing even. By the end you’d thought he’d already falling asleep, instead he spoke a whisper: “My darling, will you sing to me again?” Your heart clenched, and with a smile you responded:

“As long as you keep coming home to us, I’ll sing to you every day.”

#milk writes #adrian tepes #alucard #alucard x reader #castlevania #adrian tepes x reader #alucard tepes x reader #castlevania (2017)#milk flufftober

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mousydentist · 15 days

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For reverse trope prompts: I feel like fake amnesia could be super cracky and/ or angsty for kimchay post-breakup. Kim pretending to lose his memory to see if Chay will give him a second chance, OR to try to push Chay further away. Chay using fake amnesia to see how Kim reacts if he thinks Chay doesn't remember getting his heart broken. Or Chay doing it just to fuck with Kim's head for a few mins as payback lol.

ok tysm for the ask and sorry this took a while i probably shouldnt have opened asks right before a three hour exam hdjdjd BUT here it is and. this was hard to do in 500 words so i don’t know what this is dhjdhd but i hope you enjoy

It was around noon when Chay got a text from Porsche that had him sprinting for the elevator: You know Kinn’s brother Kim, right? He’s hurt pretty bad. Chay’d been pissed at Kim for a while, of course, but in the wake of it was the fear that he’d never find someone like Kim again, someone he really, really loved, and a desire not to be alone anymore. Truthfully, he’d nearly taken Kim back after he sent the song. At that moment, he’d seen his own loneliness reflected back at him, and his heart ached. But he’d stayed stubborn and refused to forgive Kim, or even acknowledge his existence. He’d tried to pretend he didn’t care for so long - and now, rushing through winding halls to the compound’s infirmary, all he could do was pray it wasn’t too late. Porsche was right, Kim was in bad shape. His unconscious body was connected to a dozen wires and monitors, and his head was covered in a large wrap that had been bled through. Chay said nothing as he took a post next to Kinn, and in return, Kinn didn’t ask. They stayed vigil for several hours before Kim finally showed signs of life. Kinn immediately called for the doctor when Kim blinked his eyes open, glancing blearily around the room. When he locked onto Chay, his brows furrowed. Chay stood close to him, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Hi.” The crease in his brow got larger. “Who…?” Chay’s heart skipped a beat, but he didn’t have time to investigate further before the doctor came back with Kinn and started a volley of questions at Kim. “And do you know who this is?” “My brother, Kinn.” “Great, and the other person?” Kim squinted at Chay’s face. “Am I supposed to know you?” Chay bit the inside of his cheek in an effort not to cry, or throw up, or something else that wouldn’t be helpful. “I’m Porchay.” Kim seemed to understand something then, and for a second Chay thought he might have remembered, but then he said, “Nice to meet you, Porchay.” Chay really did try to listen to the doctor when she pulled him and Kinn aside, but he only heard bits and pieces like “short-term amnesia” and “brain damage” and a bunch of other horrible things. He did hear when she said he’d need to stay under observation for the next few days, and decided maybe this was the universe’s way of telling him to start over with Kim. That night, Chay told Kinn to go sleep in his own bed, that he’d watch over Kim and let him know if anything happened. Chay could tell he needed it, especially when he watched how the man drag himself out of the room. Chay refilled Kim’s water and threw a pillow to one side of the loveseat he’d be sleeping on. “Psst, psst.” Chay turned around, and sure enough, Kim was waving him over conspiratorially. “How was that?” “Uh…” “Do you think he bought it?” Kim whispered like he was sharing a secret. “What are you talking about?” Chay squinted at him. “Do you think Kinn believed that I didn’t know you?” “Wh- you remember me?” Chay screeched, only feeling half bad when Kim cringed in pain. “Kim, why on earth would I want you to pretend you didn’t know me? He knows we’ve met!” Kim shrugged as much as he seemed to be able to. "I asked if I was supposed to know you." Chay let his face fall into his hands as he flopped to the ground, all the stress and grief of the day finally leaving his body as he cried. “Sorry,” Kim muttered, and Chay just laughed. What the fuck was his life. He did stay with Kim that night, and he spent a lot of it on the floor next to him with Kim’s hand locked in his own.

[kim's texts] Kinn: Did you pretend to have amnesia so Porchay would forgive you? Me: excuse me Me: it’s not my fault he assumed i had amnesia Me: i was drugged and delirious i didn’t know what i was saying Kinn: Whatever you say

(from a reverse trope ask game)

#kimchay #kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #kim theerapanyakul #porchay kittsawasd #my fic

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carmybears · 2 years

Text

Crimson Wave

this is filth of outrageous proportions and you can blame the hormones.

pairing: carmy berzatto X female!reader

summary: jumping carmy's bones while you're on your period. porn without plot.

word count: 2k

warnings: explicit content, 18+; periods/menstruation, period sex, vaginal fingering, thigh grinding, hair pulling, praise kink if you squint, reader uses a diva cup/menstrual cup

“Hey Baby, how’re you feelin’?” Carmy’s voice rings out sympathetic as he enters your apartment and walks down the hall to you. His eyes grow concerned when he sees you lying on the couch in your rattiest pajamas, nestled under a soft blanket with a heating pad pressed against your lower abdomen, blinking red to indicate that it is on the highest setting.

“Like Midol is a liar and owning a uterus is a scam,” you grumble, gritting your teeth as another wave of cramping pangs at your abdomen.

You catch the quick smile that pulls at the corner of his lips before he crosses the room and drops a kiss onto your forehead. “I’m sorry, baby. Is there anything you need?”

“You’ve got sharp knives right? How do you feel about giving me a hysterectomy?”

“Hmm, not great.”

You give him an exaggerated eye roll. “Fine, I guess I’ll settle for cuddling with you instead.”

You sit up, vacating a spot in the corner of the couch for Carmy to settle into. Once he sits down, you settle in against him, grateful for the firm warmth of his body pressing against your lower back.

He throws an arm around you, sliding it around your back allowing his hand to come to rest on your thigh.

“How was your day at work, Bear?” You, ask as you settle your head into his chest.

“It was fine, I guess. Just a medium level of nonsense.”

“Oh, so Richie’s still out sick, huh?”

He snorts and squeezes you against him lightly. “Yeah.”

Together you settle into the couch for a few minutes as reruns of your favorite show play out on the screen in front of you. With your head rising and falling against the steady breathing of Carmy’s chest, you could just about fall asleep, get some welcome rest. However, it would seem that Carmy has another idea.

At some point while you were laughing about a joke on screen, you missed him slipping his hand under the blanket to rest on your bare thigh. He began tracing lazy circles across your skin, sinking low, down by your knees, and looping up closer to the hem of your shorts. You felt a slight chill run up your spine as his hand slipped to the back of your leg, leaving goosebumps over your delicate flesh in his wake.

It became hard to focus on anything that wasn’t his hands. Mentally, you were tracking how close his fingertips were coming to your clothed core, and praying silently that he would just close the gap of those few inches. Eventually, his fingertips grazed the soft flesh beneath your shorts and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together, desperate for some friction.

And then his movements stopped.

You craned your neck to look up at him, but his eyes remained dutifully fixed on the TV screen as a smirk played out at the corner of his lips.

You let out your breath in a small huff and try to regain your attention on the TV. You were successful too, for all of about 3 minutes until you feel Carmy slip his other hand up under your t-shirt. Again, he’s tracing long, looping circles over your skin in an absolutely maddening pattern that starts at your lower back and ends at your ribcage, just under the swell of your breast. Every nerve ending in your body feels like a live wire, when eventually he allows his fingers to graze over your hardened nipple, which is extra sensitive from the surge of hormones in your body this week.

“Fuck,” you pant under his touch, and it’s the first thing either of you has said in minutes. “You’re such a tease, Carm.”

Your words set him off, and suddenly you’re scrambling to push away the blanket and heating pad. Carmy has your pajama shorts shoved halfway down your legs, and you kick them off, allowing your legs to fall open under his touch as he strokes at you over the fabric of your panties. The friction of the cotton is positively infuriating as you buck your hips into him, and whine for more, more.

He’s got one hand cupping your breast and his lips are scraping at your neck when his slips his fingers into the front of your panties and pulls them down. God, the sensation of his rough fingers is divine as he gathers your wetness, teasing your entrance with two fingers in a way that has you grasping at his forearm in a desperate attempt to drive them home.

When he does, at last, slip two fingers into you, you’re both met with a moment of confusion as his fingertips grasp, not at your silken walls, but at smooth, rounded silicone.

“What--?”

“My fucking Diva cup,” you groan in frustration, letting your head fall back onto his chest as you let out a breathy laugh. “God, Carm, you had me so riled up, I forgot I was on my period.”

“Diva cup, that’s the one that catches the blood, right?”

You nod slowly, still catching your breath.

“And we can’t…” Carmy’s voice trails off as he shifts his fingers inside of you slightly, causing an uncomfortable shift of the cup.

“No, no,” You squirm away, hiking your panties back over your hips. “Just hold this thought, and I’ll be back in two minutes.”

When you emerge from the bathroom, your t-shirt skims the tops of your bare thighs, your panties lying forgotten on the bathroom floor. As your eyes take in the room you notice two things. First, is that an old, dark colored hand towel is draped of the arm of the sofa; second is that Carmy has made the wise decision to remove his overpriced white t-shirt and now leans against the kitchen counter, jeans slung low on his hips, as he takes a sip of water. Your insides turn to putty at the sight of him, drinking so casually as if he hadn’t been driving you into a horny stupor just minutes beforehand.

“Sorry about that,” you stammer as you approach him.

He steps closer to you, smiling warmly at you as he takes your face in his hands and strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. “What’re you apologizing for? You got nothing to be sorry for, pretty girl.”

He kisses you then, low and slow. His tongue dips into your mouth to taste you and you groan, sucking at his lower lip. His hands are on your hips, guiding you backwards until your back is against the wall and you make out there for a little while, your hands tangled in his dark golden curls and his nose bumping against yours in his endless mission to smother you in his affections.

You’re satisfactorily turned on by the time he pushes your shirt up and over your head and takes you by the hand, leading you back to your original spot on the couch.

He sits back down, legs wide as you see the bulge of his cock straining against his jeans. You take a moment to admire him, tangled hair and swollen lips and the flush of arousal coloring his chest and neck in a soft pink hue. The golden chain that lays around his neck glistens in the warm light, and you decide that he simply must be the prettiest man alive.

You kneel over him with your knees planted firmly on either side of his left thigh as he runs his hands down your sides and caresses your ass tenderly. Before you know it, he’s got one nipple in his mouth while his fingers deftly toy with the other, rolling the bud in between his fingers in a way that makes you buck along his thigh and hiss at the friction of the denim.

“Fuck,” his voice is ragged in your ear. “Do that again, sweetheart.”

You start to protest, “Your jeans—“

“They’re black and headed for the laundry anyway,” he mumbles as he presses a searing kiss to your mouth. “Now let me see you ride my leg.”

All good sense is lost on you as you start to slowly roll your hips over his thighs, leaving a damp spot on the denim in your wake. Eventually, you build to a rhythm, finding the angle that feels just right as you careen your hips faster, feeling as he tenses his thigh underneath you.

You caution a look at Carmy, and feel wrecked when you notice that his pupils are so blown out that the icy blue of his irises have all but disappeared. He reaches a hand between your bodies to unzip his jeans, relieving pressure on his straining cock. You can see a damp spot forming in the fabric where his tip lay pressed against the waistband and you start to palm him, fingers tracing over the ridges of his veins through the cotton until he stops you.

“There’s no need, babygirl. You were just looking too pretty riding my leg like that, and I had to get more comfortable. Lemme take care of you.”

Finally –fucking finally, he touches you. His big, rough hands glide right through your folds and you’re so wet and pliant under his touch that you want to cry out.

“Please Carmy,” you’re begging his name against his shoulder as he circles your clit with his middle finger, never quite giving you the relief you need. “Fuck, Carm. I need you.”

“Lemme see you, babydoll.”

With strength you didn’t know you still had in you, you straighten your spine, sitting up so that Carmy can watch as as two fingers disappear inside you.

You moan at the stretch, at the relief of his thick fingers finally filling you, but your reprieve doesn’t last long as he starts to stroke against your walls, making come hither motions with his ring and middle finger as his thumb brushes along your clit. You buck your hips in tandem, needing more, more more.

“Ride my fingers, baby,” his voice is gravely in your ear. “Just like that, just like that.”

You’re grasping at his bare shoulders, leaving half-moon shaped indents in his skin as you continue to rock your hips, desperately fucking his fingers like they’re the only thing that will keep you tethered to this earth.

“M’so close, Carmy,” you whine into his ear.

“C’mon baby,” he’s stroking your face and coaxing your eyes to look at him. “Cum for me, baby. Want you to make a mess for me, baby.”

You gasp as you cum, your walls clenching down repeatedly over his fingers as they guide you through the waves of pleasure. You’re pulling Carmy’s hair and you can just barely hear his voice babbling about how good and perfect and beautiful you are over the sound of the blood rushing in your ears.

The waves gradually fade away and you’re still murmuring his name like a prayer as you grasp your arms around his neck and bury your face in his shoulder. You feel him slide his fingers out of you and you groan at the emptiness. You’re still seeing stars, vision blurry, but you feel him position the towel on his lap underneath you and guides you to sit back down across his thighs as you come down from your high.

He’s wiped off the pink-tinged fluid from his fingers, and you feel him peppering sweet kisses over your cheeks and forehead, occasionally venturing down to your neck and chest as you catch your breath. Eventually, he kisses your nose and you giggle, tilting your face toward him to kiss him in earnest.

Your arms are wrapped tightly around each other and his voice sounds positively reverent when he presses his lips to your shoulder and mumbles into your skin.

“How d’ya feel.”

You take a moment to assess, realizing that the surge of endorphins from your orgasm has subdued your cramps to a minimal level. That said, you’re still supremely sensitive and can feel Carmy’s cock pressed against you in a way that threatens your sanity with every shift of your bodies.

You wedge a hand between your hips and feel his dick twitch under your fingers as you stroke him through that final layer of cotton.

“I’m feeling like it’s time for round two.”

#carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto smut #carmy x reader smut #carmy berzatto x reader smut #carmen berzatto x reader smut #carmy berzatto x reader #mine

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cryptidcorners · 2 months

Text

Fire's Your Friend ~ — Billy Burn x GN!Reader

Description: You meet your boyfriend Billy after weeks of radio silence. Luckily, he's still the bastard you know and love.

# No Request

# A.N: I wrote this before I watched the film and it's been rotting in my notes LOL!!! enjoy

Media: Burn [ 2019 ]

Character: Billy Burn

Tags: Events Take After Burn, Established Relationship, Slightly Suggestive? If You Squint, Flirting, Fluff, Kissing, Sweet Talk + Reader is !GN.

Warnings: Mentions of Blood/Injury, Smoking

TOS. Billy Burn Master List {TBW}

The sunset was red in the clouds and cold, ill air was sinking into the emptying lot, while a few silent pedestrians roamed to watch the light flee, it was still lonley in your eyes.

Billy's lighter was busy in your hands, as you found mindless entertainment in flicking the steel trap and running your fingertips in it's maze-like design. Though, toying with a relic from a phantom wasn't widowing away your impatience.

You cupped your face reluncantly due to the ice trailing on your cheeks as nighttime brimmed into the silent square. The wild, warm colors from buzzing advertisements and wasping vehicles flickering like holiday lights on a street a few yards away (which were walled with barbed wire) hadn't even distracted you, since your cocky companion was fresh in your mind.

You set the lighter ablaze, eyes fixed on the fire. It reminded you of your life, reminded you of the outside, reminded you of Billy. He was so dangerous, yet you found yourself on his porch every night enjoying his company. Though, you hadn't entirely gotten used to his trips. He'd pack nothing but a few dollars for gas, a firearm and some fake ID from God knows where. You prayed he'd come back in one piece, hopefully not with mobs on his tail.

"Don't you know it's dangerous to put fire so close to your face?" A voice said with a wry chuckle. "Or, is it nothing you've felt before?" Billy, with a great sigh, sat next to you. He looked breathless, as if he had ran a marathon, twice. Relief filled your bones and you felt weak already, "Billy."

Then, your eyes flickered wildly.

He turned his head, revealing his scarlet soaked side glittering under the moonlight.

"Oh, my God. Is that blood? Billy—" Your concern was icy. Billy immediately tensed and shook his head,

"It's nothing. It doesn't hurt, it's just . . . there." He assured with a sloppy attempt to grap your shoulder. "It's been a while."

You knew he had a short fuse, and he looked tired enough. You bit back another pester, "Yeah, it has."

Billy's warm grasp shock your fingertips as he gently took his lighter back, purposely caressing your hand just to tease. To your annoyment (and his amusement), it had worked and you felt your face warm. Billy sighed and eyed a pack of cigarettes slipping out your pocket. He then shook his lighter in front of you, "Mind giving me a smoke?"

You laughed softly. "Really? You want me to do it for you—again?" Billy groaned playfully, throwing his head back lightly with a low giggle. He then teased, "It's been a long night. And I'm just so tired, you can give me some hospitality, can't you?" Billy added. "I know you're soft for me."

"Careful now." You ruffled his hair affectionately, "I'm just lighting a cigarette." You set the cigarette between his curved lips and you lightly pushed him upwards, nails trailing down blue jacket. He chuckled again, gaze softening. "Don't leave me waiting."

"You've left me waiting for a week." You remarked with a waving the lighter in circles. "I can go as slow as I want to, but I won't—at least not tonight anyway." and you began sparking flashes of firelight on the edge of the coffin nail.

He held back another chuckle behind the smoke, already melting into your touch and leaning more foward than he needed to. Smoke filled the air, and after a long inhale, you pulled the cigarette back and let him flood his pent out exhaustion with the most fragile exhale you've ever heard in your life. You flared as he brought himself dangerously close, "I missed that. Smoking didn't feel worth it without you when I was away, I couldn't bring myself to do it."

"Were you feeling sendamental or do you not know how to light a cig anymore?" You quizzed. His cheeks flushed with another cocky smile. You ran your fingers across his red face, which had earned a massive flinch. Your pressure eased and you reeled your fingertips down to his chin.

Billy sighed, speaking between the smoke as his eyes domesticated into something soft. "You know, fire isn't so bad. Hot, dangerous, pretty."

"Are you seriously talking about yourself?" You couldn't help but giggle, tucking his slick locks between his ears as you melted into his gaze.

"Am I wrong?" He teased and you felt his fingertips lightly trace across your cheek. Billy signaled you to take the cigarette back, and he blew a cloud into your face with a devious chuckle. You coughed, "Dick."

He rubbed his neck, "Sorry, I couldn't resist. It's funny seeing your face get all sour like that." and he planted a sweet kiss on your forehead — delicate and short as it was, it still made you feel all fuzzy. Billy noticed, "I'm sorry I've been so absent. There's been so much on my ass and . . . God, I'm sorry."

"Look, look it's okay." You hushed. "I'm just glad you came back in one piece," Then, you mumbled, "But, you seriously need to tell me what happened to you."

He said slowly, "Gas station."

"A gas station? Is that—all you're going to tell me."

"If you light me another, I'll give you three more words for context." He offered. And you didn't even think about resisting.

#🔥 Billy Burn #billy burn #billy burn x reader #billy burn x you #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #burn 2019 #burn #jhutch #writers on tumblr #writing #billy burn fluff #mike schmidt #josh futturman #crazy over him actually!!!!!!!

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ultramegagigamax3 · 5 months

Text

2: my heart, i never feel /ej

i never see

i never know

oh, heart

and then it falls

and then I fall

and then I know

masterlist ~ last ~ next

It felt as if I had been awoken by my alarm as soon as my head hit the pillow. I let out a loud groan, just lying there as I let my alarm ring. I allowed myself about twenty more minutes before grabbing my phone and shutting it off. I push myself up, I had fallen asleep in the same clothes as the day before, the folds of my jeans and the wiring of my bra digging into my skin. I look down at my wrinkled white T-shirt, it had a corny Jesus pun on it with tacky imagery, a gag gift I had gotten from a nun after I graduated high school. It’s probably one of the ugliest things I’ve ever seen, why the hell do I still have this? I let out a yawn as I drag myself away from the comforts of my mattress, not bothering to change my sweaty clothes. I grabbed my big old puffer jacket off a pile of laundry and my backpack out of whatever corner I had thrown it in. I lazily brush my teeth before dry swallowing my morning pills, almost gagging myself in the process. After slipping on my work shoes, I finally grab my keys and white coat before rushing out into the blinding outside. The white coat smelt like death, literally, but I had no time to wash. (God, I’m disgusting, aren’t I?) I get in my car, it takes too long to start. Traffic is heavy, despite the short commute. No time for breakfast, stomach growls. This is my routine, this has been my life for the past year.

Despite my past childish philosophies about life and death sciences, I had become an overly qualified mortician. The path to my career had been rocky, complicated, and ultimately anticlimactic. Although my childhood and teenage years had been volatile and dramatic, my college years had passed in a monotonous haze. There isn’t much to say about it, I got accepted to a Christian university on a crazy good scholarship (thank you to my depressingly pathetic life story). I studied anatomy and physiology, spending my time throwing myself into schoolwork. My original plan had been to go into the medical field, to become the hero I dreamed of being as a child. But alas, I lasted about 6 months in med school before I dropped out. It was over, just like that. The dream of medical school was completely squashed, or at least that’s how it felt at the time. The story of my dropping out had a slow buildup of many different factors, all coming together for a cocktail of stress and mental deterioration. The overwhelming workload, peers and professors who had been particularly ruthless, a loss of innocence, a letter from my birth mother, and Jack disappearing. I had somewhat of a mental crisis before enrolling in mortuary school, to say the least. It had been impulsive, and I had only been half sane. I feel ashamed admitting it, but in my haze, I had chosen this profession in the hopes I would come across Jack’s body, closure. I don’t know if he’s dead, no one does, but something within me felt it. Well, the “me” who had been going through a manic episode felt it, however trustworthy she is.

Nonetheless, I got help, I got more meds, and now I am stuck as a mortician’s apprentice. I’m sure there was a way for me to drop out, but the prospect of being a failure again filled me with an overwhelming sense of shame. I had no passion or care for the field, my goal since childhood was to be seen as something akin to a hero, and yes, I know how stupid that sounds. But doctors saved lives. What did morticians do? There are temples in the name of God, and in these temples, you pray for healing. In turn, they answer your prayers, he saves your or your loved one’s life. A hero. Or they don’t. If they don’t, you can’t fault them, as this is the will of fate, something unshakable, uncontrollable, beyond our mortal comprehension. If doctors are proxies of God, then morticians are proxies to psychopomps. What is a psychopomp? Think Charon, the ferryman of Hades; A being that must be bribed by gold in order to ensure your loved ones gain safe passage. No one worships Charon (he doesn’t even have a statue, I think). Not only that, but he is also a worker of Hades, God of the Underworld, and the equivalent to Hell itself. Charon is a demon; Charon is an echo of Grim Reaper, an apathetic antagonistic force in the world of modern media. Sure, there are sympathetic or even cool interpretations of Grim Reaper everywhere. Artists and thinkers all have their own idea of Grim Reaper, or Death; demon with a heart, beautifully evil maiden, a tragic worker doomed by fate, the greatest enemy of man, a benign God, the one true God, an old friend, the ultimate muse. But no matter in what light you paint him, or Charon and other psychopomps, you would never want to actually associate with him, would you?

As a young adult hiked up on too many pills, this is how my mind, that has only ever known Catholicism, worked. It’s stupid, I know. But when you have been raised with only the guidance of the Catholic church (and, maybe the internet), that’s all you will ever know: God (and the internet). Becoming a patron of Charon was something I didn’t want for myself. But one thing scared me more than violating my personal philosophies: disappointment. Disappointing others was not uncommon for me, but I was tired of it. At one point, during the fog of the weeks that lead up to my registration, I had gone back to my Church to consult with the nuns of my decision. I was clearly manic, I’m sure, but I can still remember the looks of hope on their faces. Just months prior, I had been here to tell them I had dropped out of medical school. They looked at me not with disappointment, but as if they had seen this coming. As if they hadn’t expected me to do much with my life. But now, they had hope for me. And so, I decided I would turn my life around, I would commit to mortuary school. Perhaps this change of pace would teach me something of humility, change my mind about my sense of self, and fix my personality for me. If I could finally succeed in something, I would succeed in this. This would mark the beginning of a new era of my life. I would become a better person.

I ended up getting to work completely late. My clothes a mess, my hair even worse, I was starving, I was half awake, I was cold, I was achy. God, I complain a lot. I burst through the front doors of the funeral home, immediately being met with a group of my coworkers hovering around the entrance. The 3 women and 1 man jumped in surprise at my sudden appearance, and I quickly bowed my head as I attempted to scurry past them. The only thing on my mind was getting to the Director’s office, I had no time to entertain their mind-numbing small talk. Nonetheless, I heard a soft “woah, there” and felt a hand grab my arm. I was spun around to meet my colleagues, feeling small in the presence that seemed to metaphorically tower over me.

Leonardo Nguyen, grinning playboy, stood in front of me, still holding onto my arm. “Morning, [ ]! Not even gonna say hello?” He seemed to always have a smug look about him, like he knew something about you that no one else did and was ready to exploit it whenever he had the chance. He had been one of the few men working in the funeral home, a rare sight. Perhaps that had gotten to his head, in one way or another. We, unfortunately, work under the same mortician.

“Leo, stop.” Margo Shwartz, a wolf in wolves clothing, lightly tapped Leonardo on the arm, tone utterly ingenuine. Don’t let her alternative appearance fool you, she looked like a punk and acted like a total high school mean girl, almost comedically so. I had a sneaking suspicion she had been bullied in her high school years and developed a complex about it. If I had to work with her, I would’ve killed myself by now.

“What? Can’t say ‘hi’ to my favorite doctor?” Leonardo was mocking me.

Isabella let out a giggle and rolled her eyes, “Whatever, Leo.”

I glanced nervously at the two other girls, searching for a way out. “My apologies, Leo, but I’m running late and really need to clock in. Please, save this for another time.” I begged. He would shrug and release me, and I give him a curt nod, a “thank you”, and hurry down the main hall. I could hear the group break out into giggles behind me, childish as always. Most all my fellow apprentices were between the ages of 20 to 25, while I had been nearing 30. It was strange, how cruel they are, and frustrating. I wondered if I had done anything wrong to them, besides being quiet and avoiding long conversation. Maybe it’s because I’m “old”? They seemed to have an endless supply of half-witted age jokes at their disposal, if they ran out of med school dropout ones. That’s how kids show their love these days, Samanatha had told me once. If I had been the same person I was in my teens and twenties, I probably would’ve fought back. I was no stranger to altercation. But alas, I’ve lost my bark and my bite, defanged and declawed beyond recognition. I let out a small sigh as I reached the funeral director’s office.

“Hello, Director Drake.” I avoided her gaze as I hurried over a board in a corner of the room. There, old fashioned punch in sheets sat in uniform rows pinned to a cork board, both stress inducing and comforting, paradox.

Vanya Drake sat with her arms crossed from her desk, her stare burning a hole in the back of my head. “[ ].”

“Yes, ma’am?” I grabbed my sheet and began to fill it out with a pen that had already been laid by the board, my back is to her as I’m too nervous to meet her gaze.

Drake let out a deep sigh, as if she were trying to keep her composure. “I keep telling you…”

I placed my punch in sheet in its respective pocket, then let my head drop in defeat. I was hoping she would let me off the hook this time (again), “I know, Director, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, I had an appointment, then I overslept, and the traffic…” I turned and rushed up to her desk, my hands held up in a prayer position, force of habit.

She raises a palm at me, gesturing for me to stop. “[ ], if I continue to let this slide, you know what the consequences will be…” I felt my heart sink, my stomach turned, I felt sick. “…But. I have a proposal.”

My ears perked up, and suddenly I was standing straighter. “Yes, ma’am! I’m all ears!” My hands flailed a bit before I shot them back down to my sides, an aborted attempt at seeming enthusiastic.

“Finish your shift. Then meet me back here.” She looked how I imagined a mother trying to hide her frustration might look. One of the head nuns would look at me that way. She even shooed me away with a flick of the wrist, like a dog. I nod frantically, bowing and muttering more thank you’s and whatnot.

Her words would linger about my mind my entire shift, making it difficult to focus. I had a suspicion she enjoyed making people suffer. Oh yeah, and my stomach was growling. Luckily, I was assigned to paperwork instead of a cadaver for the waxing hours of my shift. The apprentices had no real office “yet”, so we were told to take up tables in the employee’s lounge, a glorified breakroom. Nothing about this funeral home ran the way it should’ve, probably (its thing only thing I’ve ever known). There are two directors, Drake and James Bernard. From what I know, Bernard used to run the place with his late wife, then hired a young Drake to take her place. But then, with Drake’s stern attitude and unwavering ambition (and Bernard’s aging mind) she basically took over the home. There were a handful of morticians that worked under the two of them, and they each had their own set of apprentices, give or take. I don’t remember very many of their names, though I do know most of the other apprentices, unfortunately. Leo and I currently worked under a Ms. Mehrab, an eccentric older woman with a passion for her work. She isn’t a catholic, unlike most everyone else who works here, and I, in my weak faith, got along with her fairly well. I enjoyed her presence, despite how odd she is, and her long spiels about whatever topic came to mind. I tried to become closer to her, perhaps she would become my friend, but she favored Leo. Like, a lot. She tended to send me off for paperwork and kept Leo for cadavers, said that I brought down the mood. (we’re morticians, what else would the mood be?) I’m currently sitting by a window, staring out at the busy street and the forest that lay beyond it. The trees are tall, skinny, and have lost most of their leaves by this time of year. Would my life always be so mundane? Was I destined for eternal boredom? My thoughts are interrupted by a loud thud on my “desk”, and I nearly jump out of my seat. I curse under my breath as I look up at Leo. I hold in a groan as I force a polite smile.

“Leo.” I mutter.

“Here, Mehrab wants you to work on these too.” He looks as smug as always. I look down at what he had just pushed in front of me; a white binder filled to the brim with papers, and a protein bar. “Oh, and, uh, that’s for you.” Leo suddenly seems less confident now, though only a bit, as he gestures towards the snack.

I’m taken aback, speechless, for a moment. “Oh, thank you.” I nod, feeling uneasy. Leonardo? Being nice? Was I dead and sent to a parallel universe?

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” He looks uncomfortable as he stood there for a moment, as if he had more to say. But whatever he wanted to say he didn’t say it, as he just gave me a nod and trudged out of the room. Something about the strange interaction feels familiar, and something within my twists, feeling confused, weirded out, and empty.

--------

I had been a good chunk of the way through the never-ending stream of papers when Leo showed up again, this time not catching me by surprise.

“You’re needed in the basement, doctor.” He chided as he languidly stepped into the room, making a beeline for the coffee pot. He was back to his usual, annoying self. I roll my eyes and gather my things, pulling on my white coat and tying back my hair as I hurried out of the room. I know it’s strange to say, but the prospect of seeing the new cadavers filled me both with dread and excitement. Although I had long since abandoned most of the ideas and philosophies of my youth, something within me still felt as if I were on the cusp of finding Jack again. Its morbid, its fucked up, but I still wanted my closure.

“Young John Doe,” Mehrab sighs and pouts, “how tragic.” Her words don’t match her demeanor as she moves around the room, setting up tools and what not, methodical and clinical, totally detached emotionally. I stare at the boy as I pull on my gloves, he’s unbelievably pale with buzzed black hair. He’s young, most likely in his late teens or early twenties. His face is soft, chiseled like a statue, and his body is long and skinny, his movements probably awkward when he was alive. There are brown, bruised, and rotting little holes all along the bicep, forearm, and the crook of his elbow of his left arm, junkie. I study his face and wonder about the life he may have lived, and perhaps searched his features for glimpses of Jack. It was stupid, he was much too young to be Jack, and, on top of that, corpses are almost unrecognizable in comparison to the way the looked in life. But I can’t help it. I can see Mehrab reading off a small stack of papers, is it a police report? I don’t think she’s meant to have access to those… “Overdose, found by a young couple walking their dog…” She shakes her head.

“They know the cause of death?” Something doesn’t seem right.

“Yup!” Mehrab continues to flip through the papers.

“So, he’s visited the coroner already? So why is he here?” I’m utterly confused. “If this is a fresh John Doe, isn’t there an investigation going on? Why would they send him off to be embalmed? Shouldn’t he be with, like, a pathologist or examiner or something?” At least he wasn’t being cremated…

Mehrab sighed, placing a hand on her hip, like a teacher fed up with a dumb student. “[ ], we are morticians, not detectives.” She walks over from her desk and picks up the mouth stapler, my least favorite tool, and grabs my right hand, placing the tool on my palm.

“Yes, right, my bad, ma’am.” I sputter, shaking my head and pulling myself out of my trance, “It’s just… I’ve never been assigned a John Doe before.”

Mehrab smiles, seeming pleased with my response. “It’s fine, I totally get it!” She says this with the cadence of a teenage girl, despite being nearly 50 years old, “The night shift boys usually get these ones, but” she draws out the ‘but’, “they’ve been a little shorthanded, as of late.” She walks back to her desk, throwing herself into her plush chair.

I attempt to smile back, trying to lighten the mood. “So… we’re picking up their slack?” I try to seem more comfortable and less awkward than I am.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” She turns away from me, focus already totally on her computer, paying me no mind. “Now, I’ll be at my desk if you have trouble, okay?” She was patronizing me, and I just look back at her stupidly. I nod, a soft okay, and turn back to the body.

The boy’s skin is cold, who knows how long he’s been dead. I open his mouth and see his teeth, stained and rotting. The stench wafts through my mask, past the peppermint essential oils that I drenched it in, and I feel like gagging, but I don’t. I still felt bad when I did this, like I was hurting him. I tried to be gentle and imagine myself a doctor giving a patient a painful, yet lifesaving, treatment. Shh, it’s alright, I would soothe, you’re just gonna feel a liiiittle pinch, then you’ll be okay. He would fall asleep (I would glue his eyes shut) and I would give him his shots (I would fill him with embalming fluid) and when he awoke, it would be as if he were never sick. I tried not to feel as if I were violating the boy as I moved his body around. I checked all injuries, realizing I had finally broken my eerie silence as I listed off every bruise I found to Mehrab.

“Ah, you’re so quiet! So focused!” Mehrab spoke, I think trying to come off as playful, but I could sense her masked unease.

The procedure was over as soon as it started, and I wheeled him to the room where he would be staying. I looked up at the walls, rows of little steel boxes lined every side. The more I looked at them, the more they looked like aisles of ovens, and now I feel sick. I took you John Doe to an empty box, open and ready to swallow him up, and put him inside. I wonder if anyone will come looking for him, perhaps a worried mother or a band of hiked up junkies. After I closed him away, I look over at the other boxes.

“Don’t forget Jenny!” Mehrab’s voice startles me as she calls out from the main room, probably wondering what the hell was taking me so long. There was a funeral later today, for a woman named Jenny Woodrow, and her body would need to be prepared. She was placed just next to my John Doe. I wheel my cart over to her box before opening it up and pulling her out. She’s a pretty blonde with a near perfect figure, perfect teeth (before I shut her mouth), and perfect eyes (before I closed them up), such a shame. Well, she was almost perfect, save for the fact her lower body, past her hips, were missing. I remember the police report as I took her to the main room, she had been found out in the woods, not too far from here, her bottom half never recovered. Looking at bodies like this used to make me sick, but I’ve become desensitized, more or less.

--------

It’s now nearing 1:00 pm, and I am once again standing in front of Drake. My legs hurt, I still haven’t eaten anything, and I was exhausted.

Drake smiled at me when I first walked in, now she’s just staring at me with her lips pressed into a thin line. We got formalities and what not out of the way, now I was just waiting for her to spit out whatever “proposal” she had for me.

She was assessing my face, searching for something, but I wasn’t quite sure what. “We need someone on the graveyard shift…” My expectant smile drops, “You remember Paula? Well, she quit. Baby on the way. Now there’s a big opening in need of urgent replacement.” Paula Kent, a 23-year-old apprentice who had a husband before I had a lover, and now a baby, apparently. “You’re going to be working with Director Bernard and Mr. Hunt.” James Bernard and James Hunt, two elderly, bordering on senile, peas-in-a-pod. Drake went back to just staring at me, waiting for my answer.

I would have to change my meeting times with Dr. Trembly, or perhaps get a new therapist altogether. The thought filled me with dread, but I needed this job. Bad. I had no other skills, I had no drive to pursue anything else. If I quit, or if I was fired, I would probably just stay at home until I rotted away into nothingness (and then, I would be right back over here… God, I couldn’t stand the idea of Leo looking over my dead naked body, yuck). I stayed quiet for a moment as I thought. I allowed a beat to pass. “Okay.” I replied, feeling defeated.

“Okay?” Drake didn’t seem sure.

“Uh, yes. Yes, ma’am, I can do it. When do I start?” I stuttered, attempting to seem surer of myself than I was.

Drake’s face would break into a wide smile, customer service-esque. “Excellent! I want you here later tonight.”

I was taken aback, “Wait, what? Tonight? But…”

“Don’t worry,” Drake sat up and began shifting papers around her desk, indicating that she had work to do and wanted me gone, “You’ll get compensation. Now, hurry home and get some rest, okay?”

… “Okay.”

#eyeless jack x reader

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edupunkn00b · 9 months

Text

The Uses of Adversity, Ch. 21: I'm Coming Clean

Prev - I'm Coming Clean - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

I can't stay this way, but I pray that nothing changes Like I'm stuck between the gears of a broken machine I'm on fire and I'm frozen stiff Down to the wire, wondering if Today's the day I'm coming clean

'Cause I've got dreams that might not come to any kind of fruition I've got cracks in my façade I might fall between I've got pictures in the dresser drawer I whisper through the bedroom door Today's the day I'm coming clean -I'm Coming Clean by Ezra Furman

WC: 4013 - Rated: T - CW: none -

The next morning, Roman woke to bird song, a muted chorus of robins and starlings and chickadees all greeting the sun. Soft, golden light spilled through the gaps along the curtain’s edge. Sprawled on Logan's bed, Roman was warm and comfortable. Well, mostly comfortable. His stomach growled, a not-so-quiet nudge that perhaps it was actually hunger that woke him and not the birds outside.

He’d burrowed under the covers in his sleep and when he pushed them back and peered over the fluffy comforter, he saw Logan, sleeping curled around a pillow in the chair he’d set up by his bedside. A sunbeam landed just behind the chair, lighting him in an ethereal glow his technical director would be jealous of.

Logan's face was soft in sleep, the near-everpresent tension gone from between his eyebrows, his jaw. He’d removed his glasses and his lids were smooth, eyes darting back and forth in a dream. Mouth relaxed, his lips looked even fuller, an almost smile curving up one side.

He was gorgeous.

Moving carefully, Roman wiggled his way out from under the covers and confirmed that, yes, he was, in fact, proudly wearing bright white boxers festooned in multicolored hearts. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he watched Logan sleep for just long enough to start to feel creepy. Finally, he stood and tried to remember where he’d noticed his jeans last night. It was cool in the room and Logan only had a small throw blanket stretched over him, so Roman tucked the comforter around him before he went to dress and wash his face.

He’d seen Logan make coffee often enough to know how he liked it. After the way he’d cared for him—clearly all night judging by the shadows under his eyes, the very least Roman could was make sure that when he did wake up, there was a fresh cup waiting for him.

Roman gathered the dishes and an empty Gatorade bottle from the nightstand and pocketed his—charged—phone. Logan sighed in his sleep, soft and contented. He was sorely tempted to press just one tiny kiss into his hair but he satisfied himself with a quiet whisper. “See you when you wake, Lo.”

He crept downstairs and loaded the dishes in the dishwasher, then pulled out his phone to check in with his brother.

Good morning!

Re replied almost immediately.

heeey! back from the dead! how you feeling? did he take good care of you in your time of need? 😈

It wasn’t like that

like what? *blink blink blink*

Re…

aw, i’m fucking with you. i’m sure he was a perfect little repressed gentleman.

Mr. Sweet n Sour Sauce, everyone. He’s here all night.

just sayin’… da nile’s not just a river in egypt

Turning off my phone now…

nah, don’t be like that. seriously, he called three times, worried as fuck. then it was like it was christmas day when your fever broke.

He’s sweet.

i can see that. don’t fuck it up

Roman rolled his eyes and tapped at the screen but Re continued before he could finish his retort.

oh, and jannie says to tell him, ‘that’s not what he meant by celebrating but at least he got part of it right’

Smiling despite himself, Roman shook his head, unsure which of the dynamic duo was more cryptic. Those two were made for each other.

I’ll be home tonight, maybe even this afternoon. I don’t know what plans I’ve already disrupted for him.

you really so blind? his only plans are YOU, ro bro

When he didn’t respond, bubbles popped and stopped repeatedly, Re writing and re-writing some message. Finally, he asked,

what’s stopping you from making your move? he’s obvs crazy about you

It was difficult to tell just how seriously he should take his brother’s assertions. It didn’t feel like teasing and Re knew, really knew how much Logan meant to him. His brother was an ass, but he wasn’t cruel. He wouldn’t lie to him about something so important.

It was even more difficult to convince his heart that Logan’s actions over the last day and a half weren’t more than the care of a truly altruistic person. Logan was a good man. He would do what he’d done for anyone… Wouldn’t he?

He wanted to ask how his brother could be so sure. Roman had been wrong so many times before. He’d fallen hard, taken in by charm or misattributing basic lust and desire for something… deeper. Logan wasn’t the type to take advantage of someone, let alone go through some sort of farce of denial of his sexuality. But…

But what if… what if the problem wasn’t with the men Roman was falling for, but with him?

Re sent a single question mark and Roman finished his message, dodging the real question sitting like a rock in the pit of his stomach.

He’s asleep right now. I’ll text you if anything changes, okay?

okay thanks ro. kiss the nerd for me

Roman pocketed his phone, the dream-memory of Logan’s soft skin against his lips fresh and strong. When he closed his eyes, he could still feel it, the warmth, the way his muscles flexed just under his skin. Shaking away the ghostly sensation and the longing that came with it, he picked up the coffee pot and filled it with water.

“Ro!” Patton’s surprised voice bubbled from the hall. “You’re up!” he cheered and threw his arms around him in a hug.

“Thirty-six hours is probably long enough to sleep,” he laughed, ruffling his hair. “Hey, I wanted to make your dad some coffee and breakfast. Would you like to help?”

“Yeah!” Patton grinned and pointed up at the top shelf of the cabinet above the coffee maker. “Use the brown bag. It’s stronger, but it’s his favorite.”

Face buried in his pillow, Logan groaned and stretched as he woke, eyes snapping open when his book thudded to the floor. The sound was muffled by the comforter gathered around him. The comforter that had been tucked around Roman. He sat up. “Ro?”

His bed was empty, the blanket completely wrapped him instead. Craning his neck, he checked the ensuite, but the door was open, the light off. Roman’s jeans were gone from where he’d hung them on the back of the door and the nightstand had been cleared. Yawning, he stood, only slightly stiff from spending the night mostly upright. Watching Roman sleep so peacefully, seeing with his own eyes that he was well, or at least on the mend, had made it easier to set aside his worry and finally drift off for a bit of rest for himself.

After checking his phone—no messages from either Remus or Roman—he made the bed, then hurried to change and brush his teeth. He hoped Roman hadn’t already left. It had been easy to behave as though, here, in his room, Roman was already home. Home with him. He knew he’d need to return to reality eventually. Logan just hoped he hadn’t already missed him, that Roman would’ve said goodbye before leaving.

As soon as he opened his bedroom door, Roman’s booming laughter danced up the stairs and his cold, quiet fear dissolved. A chuckle spilled from his own lips, the mere sound of Roman’s jovial voice enough to make him want to join in. He skipped down the stairs, real laughter bursting out when he entered the kitchen to the sight of all four boys huddled around the table and engaged in a friendly—if loud—debate over the best flavors of jelly.

“Apple jelly?” Virgil’s nose scrunched even as he laughed.

“Hey,” Emile shook his head. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted apple Hamentashen.”

“Oh, are those the ones your dad made last year?” Remy grinned. “Mmm, Em’s right. I thought I didn’t like apples until I had those. You gotta try it, Virge.”

The homey scents of fresh coffee and toast and, of course, jam filled the air and Logan stood to the side, watching the conversation. He was caught, though, when Roman turned and asked Patton how he liked his eggs.

“Good morning, everyone!” Waving at his sons and his future son-in-law, he entered the kitchen to a small chorus of greetings. Roman stood in the middle of the kitchen, sleeves pushed up and once again wearing Logan’s apron. “Good morning, Lo. There’s coffee on,” he smiled. “Can I pour you a cup?”

Logan stepped closer. Bright sunlight streaming in from the kitchen window gleamed against the shiny stovetop and the coffee maker, bouncing up and turning Roman’s hair into a halo of almost red curls. The boys chattered, now debating whether Hamentashen were cookies or tartlets, and he kissed the top of Patton’s head when he gave him a quick hug on his way to the fridge.

Their happy voices faded into the background as he met Roman’s eyes. “How—how are you feeling? Shouldn’t I be getting you coffee? Or at least some juice? You must be starving.”

“Patton made sure I ate something before we started all this. I’m really feeling much better, thanks to you. See?” Roman reached for his hand and pressed it to his forehead. His skin was warm, but no longer hot, no longer that frightening feverish heat. Just… wonderfully warm.

He smiled when Roman blushed—actually blushed. He was beautiful when he blushed, soft pink painted over the apples of his cheeks, darkening his lips and spreading down his neck. “You took excellent care of me. I’m certain you lost more than a little sleep, though.” Roman bit his lower lip, holding up a cup. His favorite cup. Logan drew close and inhaled deeply. His favorite brew. “Though, it makes a nice excuse to wake you with a cup of coffee,” he grinned.

Logan had had this dream before. While tonight there was no glint of gold on either of their hands, with the perfect sunlight, the perfectly chaotic and peaceful morning with the boys, and the literal man of his dreams offering him his favorite coffee, this could be nothing but a dream.

He nodded and stepped closer. “You’re always a wonderful way to wake up, Old Heart,” he murmured and closed the distance between them. Both arms draped over Roman's shoulders, Logan smiled and pulled him down into a kiss. Roman’s surprised little noise turned into a happy hum and, laughing, Patton took the cup still in his hand and set it on the table.

Hands now free, Roman wrapped one arm around his back and the other cradled the back of his head. He drew him even closer, gently deepening their kiss.

It was like nothing in any other dream before. A soft need that matched his own drove Roman’s kiss, heat and warmth and softness pouring from him, even as he pulled him close, fingers curled through his hair. Logan melted against him, captivated in a way he’d never felt before, not in his dreams and not in his waking life.

“Alright, alright,” Virgil laughed. “Get a room already.”

Patton giggled. “Oh, leave them alone and eat your toast. Look how happy they are.”

“Jacinta’s so gonna say ‘I told you so,” Emile murmured.

Logan broke away, eyes wide. The butter in the pan sizzled and popped, starting to brown, and Remy hurried over to lower the heat. “W—wait…” He patted the top of his own head and felt his bedraggled hair and smelled the faint smoke from the butter as he struggled to catch his breath. “This… this isn’t a dream,” he whispered.

A broad grin spread across Roman’s face. “Do you frequently kiss me good morning in your dreams?” He murmured close to his ear, low voice rumbling through his chest. When Logan didn’t answer, he pulled back and searched his eyes. “Unless… it was a mistake?”

Logan looked up, Roman’s brilliant green eyes soft with concern. And more than a little pain. “Not a mistake,” he whispered in a rush. “But maybe…” His eyes darted to the table where the boys were studiously spreading more jam on their toast. “Maybe something we should talk about?”

He looked toward the hall. “Perhaps we can go for a walk?”

Smiling, Remy revealed just how much they could hear from the table and picked up the spatula. “Breakfast will be ready for you both when you get back.”

They gathered their shoes and jackets silently, each wrapped in a bubble of their own thoughts. Guilt for kissing Roman without consent clashed with wild, desperate hope, his heart pounding to a rhythm of ‘he kissed you back, he kissed you back, he kissed you back.’

Words tangled in Logan’s throat, unable to push out even an apology. They stepped outside, each braced for the same chill the previous days had held, but the sun shone brightly, and the air was fresh and unseasonably warm.

He pointed to the park across the street. “There’s a quiet spot there by the pond, if… if you’d like….”

“That sounds perfect,” Roman smiled and offered his hand. When Logan hesitated, though, he lowered it, smile faltering.

Logan took a deep breath and risked it, lacing their fingers together before crossing the quiet street and heading into the park. The return of Roman’s smile told him it had been the right thing to do.

Dried leaves crunched underfoot, the gentle earthy scent following them down the path. “I’m so sorry I kissed you without asking,” Logan began. “I…” His throat tightened, but he pushed forward. “It’s not an excuse, just an explanation. I… I have had… many dreams like that,” he admitted in a tiny whisper, eyes down on the ground. “Where we… we're—we’re together and… I—I’m sorry.”

“Lo…” Roman stopped walking and tilted up his chin. “Is that why you’re so upset? You thought I was… bothered by our kiss?”

“That’s…” He nodded. There was so much more. “That’s part of it.”

“I liked our kiss,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

“Oh.” Logan looked up into his eyes. Roman meant it.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure where your feelings were. This…" He smiled gently, thumb brushing over the edge of his jaw. "Something between us would be… new for you. I never would want to push you or make you… uncomfortable in any way.” Suddenly Roman looked nervous. “I… How…” He took a deep breath, like he was bracing himself for bad news. “How do you feel about it? Is it… Is kissing me something only for your dreams?”

Roman’s hand on his jaw was gentle and warm and Logan wanted nothing more than to throw himself into his arms. To forget why it would be wrong to take advantage of Roman’s kindness, to chase this feeling and…

“I liked our kiss, too,” he whispered, head screaming at his heart, but once the words slipped out, more followed. “I—I want more, I want all the things I dream about with you, I…” He clamped his mouth shut. No. He can’t ask for this.

Roman’s eyes grew guarded but he didn’t let go of his chin, or his hand. Not yet at least. His smile shrank, though, and his shoulders curled in as a familiar expression flashed over his face.

It took Logan a moment to recognize that the look in Roman's eyes was the same he’d had when talking about Devin. “Are we…" Roman swallowed hard, a tremor in his lips. "In your dreams are we only physical?”

“I…” Logan shook his head, the words sticking in his throat.

Confess! There’s no going back now. You can’t leave him thinking you just have dirty dreams about him.

“No.” Logan blinked back tears and tightened his grip on Roman’s hand, looking down at the way their fingers intertwined, the same way his mind wove their lives together in his sleep. “I… I get to love you in my dreams. We’re together, married sometimes,… usually,” he admitted after a moment. “And… and we dance and play or we wake up together or sometimes we’re…” He nodded, cheeks burning. “Sometimes we’re intimate.” Logan hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Lo…” When he didn’t look up, Roman raised his chin until their eyes met. “Lo that’s beautiful. Why would you be sorry about that? Do you…” Sudden hurt washed over his face. “Do you… wish you didn’t feel that way? Not when you’re awake, at least? Do you… do you not really want that with me? ”

“Of course I want that with you.” He shook his head, staring back into Roman’s eyes. How to make him understand? “Ro, you’re incredible. Brilliant and creative, funny and so, so kind. You’re wonderful and… And you deserve so much more than… me.” His voice broke and he swallowed hard, determined to get through this. And with any luck at all, figure out a way to hold on to their friendship when he was done.

“I’m damaged. Scarred. Here…” He released Roman’s hand and held up the shameful scars on his left hand, including the newest from clumsily dropping a knife when he’d been startled by the damn doorbell. “And here.” He touched his chest, his traitorous heart pounding under his ribs. “I’m broken beyond repair.”

Roman smiled, tears in his eyes, and cradled Logan’s cheek with one hand, slowly shaking his head. “Lo, you are beautiful.” He covered his hand, tapping to the beat of his heart. “You're beautiful here.” Wrapping strong, warm fingers around Logan’s, he gently pulled his hand away from his chest and lifted it to his own lips, and kissed his scarred palm. “You're beautiful here.”

The hand on Logan's cheek shifted, tilting up his chin and brushing a thumb over his lips. “And you're beautiful here,” he whispered, once again closing the distance between them. Roman’s breath warmed his face, and he smelled like vanilla and coffee and strawberry jam. He smelled like home.

“Lo, I love you.”

“After everything you’ve seen?” He couldn’t hold back his tears, those soft, sweet words ripped right from his dreams just too much to hear. “I’m a mess, I jump at slamming doors, I work too much, I drop everything when one of the boys calls…” Roman chuckled and moved closer. “Why are you laughing?”

“You haven’t listed a single reason to love you any less,” he smiled, hand sliding back to card through his hair.

Logan stared, speechless, and he couldn’t help leaning into the soft touch.

“Do you love me?” Roman asked.

“Yes!" Logan whispered. "I love you so much. All I want is for you to be happy, Ro. I want you to have someone in your life who’s worthy of being by your side.”

“‘I would not wish any companion in the world but you,’ Lo,” Roman said, quietly but clearly. Logan stared back, eyes wide. “I never did get to finish what I was going to say that night. I felt it then…” He brushed a line of soft kisses down his cheek, following the trail of tears. Roman's lips burned against his skin, a sweet, hot fire. “And I feel it now.”

He shouldn’t. Logan knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop the words. “‘When you depart from me,’” he whispered, chest warming at Roman’s growing smile, “‘Sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.’”

Roman kissed the tears on his other cheek. “Then ‘thee I will love, and with thee lead my life.’” A gust of wind blew up over the water and Roman turned them, putting his back to the cold and shielding him. “I love you, Lo.”

“And I love you, Roman,” he whispered back.

“Then kiss me.” He lifted his chin, warm breath ghosting over Logan’s cheeks. “Kiss me like you did in your dream. Kiss me like your heart tells you to.” He drew closer, lips grazing his with each word. “Kiss me like you love me, Lo. And let me love you back.”

Logan couldn’t remember anymore why he was fighting this feeling, this warmth. A slow smile spread across his face. “Happily,” he whispered, and pulled him down into their second first kiss.

Epilogue

Spring brought longer days, warmer weather, and finally, in May, Remy and Emile’s wedding.

The ceremony was small and intimate, held in the sanctuary at Emile’s parent’s temple. After an oneg attended by the congregation, QLaw staff, and everyone in the newly joined families, a second party kicked off at a candlelit park down the street.

Virgil’s music was loud and boisterous, a benefit of a grass-filled park surrounded by shops that closed by seven on a Sunday and they danced into the night. Taking a break, Roman and Logan had found a mostly quiet corner in a gazebo and they blew bubbles and watched the remaining couples dance.

As the moon rose up over the trees, the music slowed and a quiet guitar melody spilled from the portable speakers. “Oh… I love this song,” Logan murmured, his eyes soft and sparkling in the candlelight.

Attabody, Virge.

Sending the DJ a little two-fingered salute, Roman grinned at Logan. “I know.” He offered his hand and whispered, “May I have this dance, Lo?”

Logan looked up, cheeks a sweet pink that matched his boutonniere, and nodded. Roman draped his arms over Logan’s shoulders and pulled his body close, the soft, easy tempo a wonderful excuse to hold his love in his arms. They swayed to the music, Logan leading in that gentle way of his.

He tucked his face close to Logan’s neck and breathed in his warmth, the scent of spice and vanilla, even a hint of his own cologne. Roman chuckled when Logan suddenly pulled back, a new grin spread across his face. “Wait—how did you know I like this song?”

“You called me your ‘old heart,’ the day you kissed me,” he murmured. “And everytime it plays in the car, you hum along.”

Face hidden against his chest, Logan chucked. “You weren’t meant to hear that.”

“But I always listen to you,” Roman smiled into his hair, brushing kisses against his temple and his cheek. “Besides, I like it.”

They danced quietly, the extended version Virgil had created giving Roman plenty of time to phrase his next words. “It makes a lovely wedding song,” he whispered.

“Mm-hm,” Logan nodded, relaxing into his arms. “It does.”

“We could dance to it next year,” Roman murmured, pulse pounding in his ears. “If you’d like.”

Still holding him, Logan stepped back, eyes wide. Roman pulled a tiny box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a silver band. “‘Here, take my ring. My house, mine honor, yea, my life, be thine. And I'll be bid by thee.’” he whispered. “‘A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.’ Will you marry me?”

Logan was quiet, staring up at him with a thousand thoughts swirling behind those steel blue eyes. Swallowing back the fear bubbling in his chest, Roman stroked Logan's cheek and waited. Then the clouds parted and his face beamed in a brilliant smile.

“I was going to wait until we were home.” A soft laugh spilled from Roman's lips when Logan reached into his own pocket and revealed a remarkably similar ring nestled in his palm. “‘And on your finger in the night I'll put another ring, that what in time proceeds may token to the future our past deeds.’” Chuckling quietly, he drew close and whispered against his lips. “You have won a husband of me. And I of you. And there my hope has grown, Old Heart.”

Roman’s eyes fluttered closed as Logan pulled him down into a slow, soft kiss. An entirely different song was finishing by the time they broke apart for air. Chuckling, Roman carded his fingers through Logan’s hair and worked to still his heart enough to speak. A newly familiar fuzziness filled his chest as, instead, he lost himself in those bright blue eyes.

“So is that a yes?” Logan grinned.

Head thrown back in a laugh, he nodded. “Yes!” Roman pulled him closer. “With everything I am, yes!”

Taglist: @crossiantgay @emoprincey

Ask to be added for other stories :D

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jabbage · 11 days

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#Letters from Watson #lettersfromwatson

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guillotinna · 1 year

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Angsty songs that are GhostSoap and the lyrics that makes me think that:

Iris - goo goo dolls

"I don't want the world to see me, cause I don't think they'd understand. When everything's meant to be broken, I just want you to know who I am"

Another life - motionless in white

"I hate that it seemed you were never enough. We were broken and bleeding but never gave up. And I hate that I made you the enemy. And I hate that your heart was the casualty. Now I hate that I need you"

Mercy - Shawn Mendes

"I'm prepared to sacrifice my life, I would gladly do it twice

Oh, please have mercy on me. Take it easy on my heart

Even though you don't mean to hurt me, You keep tearing me apart

Would you please have mercy on me?"

Heartless - The Weeknd

"I lost my heart and my mind. I try to always do right. I thought I lost you this time. You just came back in my life. You never gave up on me

I'll never know what you see. I don't do well when alone"

Two Birds - Regina Spektor

"Two birds of a feather. Say that they're always gonna stay together

But one's never going to let go of that wire. He says that he will, but he's just a liar"

How to Save a Life - The Fray

"Where did I go wrong? I lost a friend. Somewhere along in the bitterness. And I would have stayed up with you all night. Had I known how to save a life"

The Moon Will Sing - The Crane Wives

"The Moon will sing a song for me. I loved you like the Sun. Bore the shadows that you made. With no light of my own. I shine only with the light you gave me"

Summertime Sadness - Lana Del Rey

"I think I'll miss you forever. Like the stars miss the Sun in the morning skies. Laters better than never. Even if you're gone, I'm gonna drive"

Angel With a Shotgun - The Cab

"I'm an angel with a shotgun. Fighting till the war's won. I don't care if heaven won't take me back. I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe. Don't you know you're everything I have?

And I want to live, not just survive, tonight"

Ziptie - Julien Baker

"Someone's got my head in the slums. And everything I do makes it worse. Human nature, call it a curse. Tired of collecting the scars

And stories and the parties and bars. Trying to find a reason to fight

But someone’s got my head in a ziptie"

Ocean Eyes - Billie Eilish

"No fair. You really know how to make me cry. When you gimme those ocean eyes. I'm scared. I've never fallen from quite this high. Falling into your ocean eyes"

Work Song - Hozier

"I didn't care much how long I lived. But I swear I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did. When my time comes around. Lay me gently in the cold dark earth. No grave can hold my body down. I'll crawl home to her"

Gilded Lily - Cults

"Haven't I given enough, given enough?. Always the fool with the slowest heart. But I know you'll take me with you. I know I'll take you with me"

I'm Yours - Isabel LaRosa

"Nervous, trip over my words. You're so pretty it hurts. Baby, I'm yours, Baby, I'm yours, Baby, I'm yours. I need something more. I'll pray to the Lord That, baby, I'm yours"

Soldier - Trixie Mattel

"Don't look down the barrel with an arrow And a bow. Dressed down in apparel With camouflage from head to toe. With everything so sterile in a heavy monotone. Oh soldier, you gotta let things go."

Until I found you - Steven Sanchez

"I would never fall in love again until I found her. I said I would never fall unless it's you I fall into. I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her. I found you"

Tears over beers - modern baseball

"He needed more than me. I'm friendly and thoughtful and quite awfully pretty but he needed more than me"

#send this to ur fave ff writer bc i'd love to see these incorporated into fics #can u tell im an angst enthusiast?#ghostsoap #call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #cod mw22 #cod mw2

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brayscharitycase · 5 months

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Petra Venj slowed as the sight of two bodies caught her attention; and not Eliksni bodies, but Guardians. Both were familiar, though one much more so.

Cayde-Six, the Hunter Vanguard, laid dead on the floor. One limp hand was still cradling the other Guardian’s head, holding it in the darkness to the still chest.

Corinth didn’t look up as she approached, not even as she kneeled down next to him. He didn’t want to leave. If he left it would be admitting it was over, that Cayde was dead. That this wasn’t a nightmare.

Petra gently removed the dead hand from the young Guardian’s neck, laying it respectfully on the corpses’ chest. She looks for the familiar white and black gun, to place in the still hands, and she growls when she finds nothing. “He took the gun too.” Is all she says, feeling misery welling up in her chest, like water threatening to overtake a dam. No, she had to be strong. At least for a little while longer; there would be time to mourn later.

Corinth hadn’t moved an inch, his head still pressed to the gap between chin and chest, as if listening desperately for the hint of a spark, or a hiss of electricity through wires; praying for something to mask the horrible silence. Cayde was never silent, never. He couldn’t be now.

He couldn’t.

The young Hunter’s shoulders shake violently, a little eruption threatening total destruction.

She wished he hadn’t been here for this. Cayde had been insistent on the kid joining them, to give him some ‘real world experience’ and ‘get him out of the Tower’. And while she’d agreed, hell two Guardians were always better than one, she now felt a gut wrenching sense of guilt rising up from her stomach. If she’d just have said no..

Carefully, Petra unclips the cape dangling from her shoulders, gently wrapping it around those heaving shoulders. “It’s not your fault,” is all she can say for a moment, as the Exo throws himself into her arms, sparking tears running down his face; mask long since casted off. “Look at me, it’s not your fault, okay? You did better than I did. You did amazing. It’s not your fault.”

Her hands grasp the child-Exo’s shoulders, firmly pushing him away, to look her in the eye. “It’s not your fault, Corinth. It’s Uldren Sov’s fault. Don’t ever forget that.”

Her words were firm, but she lets the young Hunter fall against her again, patting his back. She could feel tears pricking at her own eye, and she blinks furiously to push them back.

“Let’s get you out of here. I’ll come back with some Corsairs to get..” her words break as she looks back at the body.

The Queen’s Wrath had seen many bodies in her time, and while all of them had been awful to see, there were only a few that hit as hard as seeing Cayde’s; of seeing the death of someone she had admired so much.

She stands slowly, offering Corinth her hands to steady himself, but he didn’t get up, unable to force his legs to move, to carry his heavy weight.

“I can’t.” He sobs, spark-tears threatening to ignite the remnants of ether clinging to his faceplates. “I can’t, Petra. I can’t leave him.”

“I know, I know. I’m so sorry.” She leans down, using her cape around his shoulders to wipe away the staining ether. “But we need to get out of here.”

The kid suddenly stood bolt upright, looking past the body, towards the shattered wall that Cayde had been flung through.

He runs then, as fast as his leadened legs could stumble him forward, through the gap, frantically looking for something on the ground.

“Corinth? What are- we need to go! Before the wall collapses!”

Corinth didn’t pay Petra’s words any heed, searching incessantly. Finally, he stoops down, picking several pieces from the ground. He steps out from the rubble, walking solemnly to Petra with the shattered remains of Sundance; Cayde’s faithful Ghost.

“Okay.” He murmurs, numbly. “Let’s go.”

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quietwings-fics · 6 months

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by accident or design

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Gen (Castiel & Hael) Additional Tags: Car Accidents, Blood and Injury, Episode: s09e01 I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angelic Possession (Supernatural), Fear of Death Wordcount: 798 Summary:

Castiel’s plan to crash the car goes horribly wrong.

The car swerved like Castiel planned for. He couldn’t have expected the sudden lurch in his gut as they ran off the road. He couldn’t have known they were going so fast. Being in a car almost felt like standing still, without even the wind rushing past to orient him. The trees came at the car between one blink and the next, and then metal screamed around him as the car came to a brief and sudden stop.

The seatbelt yanked on his chest as his body careened forward. Only the air in his lungs escaped.

He had a second to look to his left, but Hael was gone, the windscreen shattered.

And then the car was in motion again, unsatisfied with its first impact. It warped itself around the tree it had first hit and rolled, taking Castiel with it. The world he was only allowed to see through fractured glass tilted, faster and faster as the car picked up speed one last time. Its engine gave a death rattle as it turned him over, throwing him up — or down — before rolling again and slamming him back into his seat.

The seatbelt kept him firmly in place, holding tight despite his bodies protests. He heard something crack, and vivid pain, so much louder, more physical, than anything he’d ever known as an angel, exploded up his body. His chest convulsed, and the pain grew worse as he tried to pull in a breath. Something warm bubbles at the back of his throat, a metallic smell filling his nostrils.

The car gave one last groaning heave before it settled on its back. Castiel hung helplessly in his seatbelt. He kept trying to choke in air, but he couldn’t fill his lungs without it hurting.

Deliriously, through the pain, he realized that the Winchesters would never know if he died out here. He wasn’t an angel anymore. He wasn’t someone they could pray to, or summon, or track. He would disappear from their lives the way countless others of their friends had, without even a last word, only a promise that he’d find them soon.

And he would never know if Sam was okay. That somehow scared him worse than being forgotten on the side of the road.

He heard a pained cry from beside him. Blood was rushing to his head and dripping down into the roof of his mouth. He rolled his head to look through the shattered window on his side of the car to see Hael, broken, dragging herself to his side.

She couldn’t heal a vessel that was rejecting her anymore than he could fix his own mangled insides.

She forced herself to look up at him. “You’ll kill us both,” she yelled. “Is that what you want?” He couldn’t tell the difference between blood and furious tears streaking down her face.

“You’ll find another vessel.” He had to spit out blood to say it, and more welled up before he’d done, faster and faster with every passing moment. His vision seemed dim around the edges, but he forced himself to stay for as long as he could. Where did an angel go after death, one with no grace and no soul? Would he cease to exist at all?

“I barely found this one!” He could hear the desperation in her voice. “We don’t have anywhere to return to, Castiel!”

Angels without vessels, losing themselves amid the chaos humanity had created, dead satellites and radio waves and television broadcasts. Angels caught like birds in telephone wires, tangled and strangled. All his fault. Every last death. All his fault.

“I wanted to see it,” Hael whispered, and he believed her. “I made things once. I just wanted to remember.” Castiel didn’t want to die. He did all of this, only to end up hurting them both more, as though he hadn’t learned his lesson yet about fighting the inevitable. His good intentions only ever made things worse.

“Hael.” He choked, but he had her attention. He only needed to say one word. He could do that before his whole world went dark. If it meant living.

The man who gave him his voice, the body he now bargained with, spoke to him like a ghost, that’s not living. Castiel would have laughed if it didn’t hurt so much. Jimmy’s sacrifice had been selfless. Castiel was just scared to die.

“Yes,” he told Hael. She stared at him.

“What is wrong with you?” He spat blood up against the car’s ceiling. He couldn’t get enough air anymore. The world was spinning. His chest was burning, too full, too heavy.

She pulled herself closer to the car. The last thing Castiel saw was the blinding light of his sister’s true form before it sank under his skin.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

#whumptober2023 #no.22 #vehicular accident #supernatural #fic #car accident #blood #injury #possession #fanfiction #101-1000 #teen and up audiences #spn #genfic #castiel & hael #castiel spn #hael spn #hurt!castiel

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brookediamonds · 11 months

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With The Words from a Poet and a Voice from a Choir | Eddie Munson

Summary: Reader is in Vecna’s trance and Eddie has to remind her what she’s fighting for. -2k+ words

Pairing: Eddie Munson x female reader (reader is 18)

A/N: I am new to one shots/imagines, I usually write novels on Wattpad so this is my first time writing on Tumblr. Lmk what you think! If you like this check out my wattpad, @/district12girlonfire I have a Liam Dunbar book for the Teen Wolf lovers! Enjoy!

Songs/Inspo:

Holding Out For A Hero - Bonnie Tyler

Edge of Seventeen -Stevie Nicks

Past

I sighed throwing my bag to the floor of the football field and placing my headphones on that were attached to my cassette player. Looking around the empty green field, I nod to myself and fall down to the plush grass.

Pressing the play button on my walkman, 'Take My Breath Away' by Berlin blasted into my ears the scene where Tom and Charlotte admitting their love for one another in the new movie 'Top Gun' runs through my mind.

Ugh, Tom Cruise, so pretty. Closing my eyes, the corners of my lips turned up lightly as my new favorite film replays in my mind. The wind blew gently as the sun shone nicely down on me, I softly hum to the tune that I had been repeatedly playing the last few days picturing my own love life to the song.

Unfortunately, it was nonexistent. Suddenly a tall shadow came over the orange view under my eyelids making me squint one eye open only to see a tall long haired figure. Eddie Munson?

"You okay there, sweetheart?" I barely heard his question over my obnoxiously blaring music causing me to hit pause on my walkman.

Sweetheart.

Oh I'd love to hear that name fall from his lips again. Bringing my headphones down to hang on my neck, I sit up on my elbows, hanging my head back to look at the boy upside down.

God, his hair, it's so beautiful, he's so beautiful.

"Skipping gym, not in the mood to run a mile," I admit truthfully.

Eddie gasps and plops himself next to me.

"Y/N L/N? The valedictorian, skipping class?" He gawks wrapping his arms around his crossed legs.

"You know my name," I realized whispering my words. I didn't think he knew me, I wasn't popular and mostly kept to myself. We did share one class together, Mrs. O'Donnell.

I sat in the front and he sat in the back, so we hardly spoke but all semester I prayed we'd get paired up for a project just once so I can know what he's really like.

I only knew what everyone had said, and I refused to believe the rumors that Eddie 'the freak' ran a demonic cult when really it was just an innocent club of Dungeons and Dragons with a bunch of nerds.

And maybe if we did get paired up for a project, we could talk and I could finally help him graduate.

"Of course I know your name," he smiles flashing me his cute dimples. "Whatcha listening to?"

Slightly embarrassed, I pull the cassette cover out from my bag showing him my newest movie soundtrack.

"Oh no," he chuckles grabbing the tape from my hands. "I did not take you for a movie soundtrack lover!"

"It was a good movie!" I fought attempting to reach out for the tape.

"This doesn't even feature Metallica or Rat," he points out scanning the back of the case.

"Well that's why I have these," I say pulling my bag close to me. I pull out my Metallica, Mötley Crüe, and AC/DC tapes laying them out in front of us. I watch as his mouth falls open slightly, his big brown orbs shinning at my collection.

"I have a whole shelf of these at my house," I admit proudly seeing him rummage through the very small fraction of my collection.

My heart sped up at my next thoughts that entered my mind. Fuck it. "Y-You could come over sometime and we could..." I avoid his gaze trying to find the words.

"We could..." he tilts his head attempting to make eye contact with me.

"I don't know, maybe listen to some tapes together," I say lowly fiddling with the wire attached to the headphones hanging on my neck.

"I would love that," Eddie grins leaning towards me.

"Really?" I blush.

"Yeah, someone's gotta save you from this," he jokes holding up the 'Top Gun' soundtrack. I roll my eyes stifling a laugh. It falls silent between us for a second, and I take that chance to glance down at his hands admiring his shiny metal rings that dressed his long fingers.

"Which one's your favorite?"I snap out of my trance meeting his stare.

"Huh?"

"Which one's your favorite?" He repeats holding up the cassette. "From the soundtrack."

"Oh," I blush once again my eyes flickering down to my walkman.

"You're listening to it aren't you?" He grins.

"N-No!" I defend myself. Yes.

He quickly reaches over me and presses the play button causing the slow love song to blast through my headphones. He leans in closer pressing the side of his head against mine listening to the song.

"You are a little romantic aren't ya?" He teases me. I turn to look at the man next to me, noticing the tiny freckles that littered across his nose and cheeks.

"So what if I am?" I held my head up confidently. "I can't help that I'm a hopeless romantic."

"There's nothing wrong with that," he shrugs. "I bet you're a great girlfriend."

I snorted at his comment making him snap his head towards to me.

"If only," I mumble laying back down on the grass to stare at the blue sky scattered with random clouds.

"Wait," he pauses laying his legs out and leaning down on one elbow to be leveled with me. "Do you not have a boyfriend?"

I felt the blood rush to my face, a soft sigh fell from my lips.

"Nope."

"You're kidding," Eddie scoffs moving closer to me.

"Not that hard to believe," I mumble looking down at my twiddling fingers.

"Actually it is," He admits. My eyes snap up to his. He then raises his eyebrows, scoffing. "You really don't see it do you?"

I sat up on my left elbow to level with the boy next to me cocking an eyebrow. "What?"

"Y/N, you're fucking beautiful."

Present

As we made our way into the trailer, I suddenly got a twisted feeling in the pit of my stomach. Shaking it off, I look forward attempting to pay attention to my boyfriend explain his plan to steal weapons.

Then I heard it. I heard him. The clock struck, chiming its indication it was my time. No, no, no. Turning around, the well lit trailer was suddenly darkened.

Don't show fear. He feeds off it. I feel my fist ball, my finger nails indenting crescent shapes into my the palm of my hands. Vecna came into my view, I could feel my blood run cold and my adrenaline start to spike.

"Y/N," the deep whirring voice sent a strong chill up my spine. "It's time for your suffering to end."

"Not a chance," I spoke shutting my eyes. I think back to a memory that was significant to me. Opening my eyes, I see I'm back at the school football field.

A picnic cloth lay above the grass, a stereo sat on the blanket playing Mötley Crüe's 'Don't Go Away Mad' slowly in the background.

This was Eddie's and I's first date.

Eddie's POV

"Y/N, what do you think?" I ask glancing up from the newspaper. She stood still, her eyes glazed over blue, blinking repeatedly.

"Shit!" I shouted shooting up from my spot. The eight of us frantically gathered around the frozen girl in front us, scared to be put in this position again.

"Where's her walkman?" Lucas asks panicked.

"She dropped it in the upside down," Robin responds.

"Where's your stereo or walkman?" I asked frantically, turning to the redhead.

"Here!" Max quickly grabs the box, shoving it into my hands.

"She doesn't listen to Kate Bush," I realize clicking the walkman open. "We have the same taste."

There's no time for me to run out of here and to my place, we risk someone seeing me too.

"This is all I have!" Max ushers bringing over her pile of cassettes. I begin to rummage through them, my hands shaking out of panic as I pick through the tapes.

"Trash, trash, trash," I mumble throwing each tape behind my shoulder.

"Hey!" The redhead exclaims catching the cassettes. This one!

"Oh not you too," I groan seeing another soundtrack I would never own but my girlfriend would because she's a sap. Frantically removing the tape from its case, I shove it in the walkman pressing start.

Dustin quickly places the headphones on the love of my life, I move to stand in front of her placing my hands on her shoulders.

"Come on sweetheart, if this doesn't wake you, I don't know what will," I say my eyes never leaving her flickering ones.

Y/N's POV

Just as Vecna hovered his long clawed hand over my face, the voice of Bonnie Tyler boomed throughout the sky.

An almost portal like opening appeared 50 feet away from me. Through the opening I see myself in Max's trailer levitated in the air with Eddie and everyone else screaming up at me.

My mind thinks back to a core memory of Eddie and I hanging out in his room with me between his legs picking at his guitar.

"I'm gonna be the next Joan Jett," I grinned strumming the chords to an okay melody.

"I love you," Eddie blurted out. Twisting my head around, I face my boyfriend who stared at me with large frightened eyes.

"You do?" I whisper my heart melting at this moment.

"Would I let you play her if I didn't?" He chuckled referring to his beloved item I held. I laughed gently placing the guitar back above us on the wall. I place my legs over Eddie's long ones, sliding my hands around his neck.

"I love you too," I respond wholeheartedly. "My pretty boy."

We lean in sealing our first 'I love you's' with an ardently kiss.

I can hear the voices of my friends and Eddie screaming out my name.

"Y/n, baby, please wake up!"

More memories flash through my mind, some of me and Robin, me and my mom, and of course, most of me and Eddie along with our friends.

Another memory of Eddie and I resurfaces.

We lay on the rooftop of his van embracing each other feeling fat and full from the meat lovers pizza we just devoured under the stars.

"I wish it could be like this all the time," I sighed picking at the fabric of Eddie's Iron Maiden t-shirt.

"Me too, sweetheart," the boy beneath me agrees. "Me and you, just us two, forever."

I looked up at him, placing my chin on his chest, my heart fluttering at his choice of words.

"I love that," I whispered reaching my hand out to caress his cheek. "Forever."

"Of course you do, my big sap," he teases grabbing ahold of the hand that's as touching his cheek only to peck the inside of my wrist.

"You love it," I smile gently scooting up to be closer to him if possible.

"You know I do," He agreed. "I love everything about you."

Eddie's POV

Caressing the side of Y/N's head, I search in her eyes for any sign of life waiting for her to snap back to reality.

Instead, I see her body begin to lift into the air my heart beginning to race, flashbacks of Chrissy running through my mind.

"Why is she floating? Why isn't the music working?" I yelled reaching out for anyone near me. Max stares up Y/N in disbelief, at loss for words.

"A-Are you sure she likes this song?" Max stutters her eyes never leaving my girlfriend's body.

"She loves this song, my ears have literally been bleeding from how much she's been rewinding it in my van this last month!" I stress running my hand through my messy curly main.

"I-I," Max is at a loss for words, no one finding a solution.

"Come on, Y/N, please come back to me," I say softly gently grasping my hand around her small ankle.

"That's it," the redhead spoke walking closer to me. "Talk to her."

"Talk to her?" I cock my head back.

I see Max glance behind her, her eyes meeting Lucas's briefly before looking back to me.

"When I was in Vecna's state, I not only heard the music, I heard Lucas and everyone around me through the portal," she explains. "If there's an opening to us right now, she's listening to all of us, especially you."

Twisting back to Y/N's body, I grab her other ankle looking up at her.

"Y/N, baby you need to listen to me, not just Bonnie Tyler," I begin. "You need to come back to us okay? I need you here, your mom needs you. Your friends need you."

I lick my lips letting all my thoughts spill through my mouth.

"I need you, okay? When this is over, and I graduate we're getting the hell out of this place you hear me?" I shout slightly shaking her.

Y/N's POV

"I promised to get you out of this town but in order to do that, I need you to fight this sweetheart."

I hold on to Eddie's words, choking for air as Vecna tightened his grip around my neck with his extra hands.

"Don't let him take what's yours, you're stronger than he is and he knows it that's why you're still here with me."

Flashbacks of me and Eddie play through my memory, our first kiss, sleepover, arguments over the radio.

"Come back to us baby, you have to come back so we can kill him together. We can't do this without you."

I see my mom and I sharing the last piece of strawberry cake on my birthday. I see me and Robin taking polaroids on Halloween when we were 12.

I see my group of friends that I've come to know and love standing around me as I'm getting the life sucked out of me mid air by an evil force.

"You need to fight!"

I feel a surge of force run through me, and when Vecna thinks he finally has me;

He doesn't.

I reach forward launching the pocket knife Eddie gifted me into Vecna's throat making him drop me from the hold he had.

Falling to the floor, I waste no time scrambling to my feet and sprinting into the circle of light opposite of me.

Hearing boulders begin to drop, I manage to outrun the bombs and make my way closer to the exit.

Eddie and my friends are still screaming up at me I can see the fear in my boyfriends eyes all the way from over here.

Just. A. Few. More. Steps. And-

Eddie's POV

Y/N gasps, suddenly being dropped from the air, I catch her as she falls not so gracefully into my arms. Wrapping her up in my arms, I hold her against my body letting her catch her breath.

"You're safe, you're here, you're alive," I think out loud. "I thought you were leaving me."

She lets out shaky uneven breaths, her grip tightening on my arms, she leans further into my chest clearly just as terrified as I was at what just happened.

"I'm here, I'm here," she murmurs. "I'm not leaving you."

I press a hard kiss to the back of Y/N's head, before nuzzling my face into the crook of her neck never wanting to let go again.

Y/N's POV

Once I've had a drink of water, talked through the plan accordingly and presently this time, we go through the chaotic adventure of stealing a van and speeding our way to the armor store.

I stay behind with Eddie, just the two of us alone in the van while the others go and buy weapons for tonight.

Luckily (and unfortunately) the van was a home therefore there was a walkman and headphones laying around for me, so Max could have her own. Just as the van door closes, I look over at my boyfriend who sat towards the front staring at the table in front of him.

Walking over to an unusual quiet Eddie, I gently place my hand on his shoulder before taking a seat on his lap.

"Hey pretty boy," I say lightly. Eddie shifts slightly, running a large hand over my thighs and the other snaking up my back.

"Hi," he whispers ever so quietly.

"Whatcha thinking about?" I ask reaching a hand out to push some of his curls behind his shoulder.

My boyfriend gives me knowing stare, before tearing his gaze away from me to look down at my lap.

"I can't lose you," he murmurs. I lift his chin with my pointer finger, making me look into his his big doe eyes.

"You're not going to," I reassure him. "Because of you, I never forget what I'm fighting for."

"You heard me?" He asked. I chuckle rubbing my thumb across his cheek.

"Every word," I confirm. Eddie grins leaning his face closer to mine, softly rubbing his nose against mine.

"I mean it though, once this is all over, I'm getting us out of here, okay?" He reminds me. Leaning my forehead against his, I nod.

"Okay."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #joseph quinn

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imustbenuts · 2 years

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Dude, i seriously wanna make small little drabbles with the takes that you have. It provides SO many outcomes and so many different relationships with not only Godhood, but the outcomes and disasters of it going wrong. When i was hunting for lvl 40 convos, i noticed that a lot of Gods/Deities speak to us as if we're not EXACTLY Human. Maybe something... different. Like, we're still MORTAL, but not quite human? (I hope that makes sense, if it dont, just ignore all that. Lmao, im sorry) BUT, a good chunk of them are all basically 'Yo, Summoner, wtf. You're really Weird.' and then you either remind them of ANOTHER God, or how they HOPE for humanity to be. Then you have others who are just, 'Wtf are you. You're playing everyone else like a damn kazoo, but not me. I got my eyes on you.' and i find that so Nice™.

rubby hands yeees yeees now you see it too and you can never unsee it. upupupupu. and please, please, write those drabbles away

i want more fanfic!!! stories! drabbles about feh! so i mostly dont feel like im the only lunatic in this corner ;_;

plsss! id love to read something from you hhh

and dw about what you said bc i think it's intentionally meant to be ambiguos as there is actually a perfect fit for a Human-But-Not-Quite-Maybe-Divinity.

again, my working theory is still that Kiran is a dead ringer for a deity named a Deva from Buddhism. this deity is similar to an angel, but are effectively mortals who live in a realm that's more comfy and pleasurable, and are just as able to fall into vice or be arrogant (i.e like every human on earth). in other words, a mortal divinity.

just like an angel, they are not wholly considered to be a God, and are not really meant to be prayed to. they kind of just... vibe up in their realms, and they actually are able to look down into the lower realms and observe.

i'm throwing the below here under read more as Food For Thought™

and again thank you for taking the time to read my rambles and sending an ask!! :DD

medeus

Who or what are you? Do you know the answer to this question?

I've lived so long that finally, I have met one more curious than I...

bramimond:

Your hidden quintessence leads me astray. Do not come any nearer. I… I am Lord Nergal's…

limstella:

The power to summon... The Kingdom of Askr's ability to open gates to other realms... I'm sure you've pondered them. Don't mysteries like these make you want to uncover every little detail?

loki

her lv 40 conversation:

I can tell by the look in your eyes that you're here to confess your love.

Before we get to that… Can I borrow your divine weapon? Just for a little bit…

It is simply too much power to put in the hands of a human!

You could rule the nine worlds and every conceivable Outrealm…

The power at your command is truly godlike.

I can certainly think of a few things I'd like to do with it…

Is that a no? You're far too strict!

Disappointing, but hardly unexpected. We've got to get to know each other better…

And someday, when we're as close as close gets, maybe you'll change your mind.

You should not exist. Nor should your power to summon. You are outside Alfaðör's design. You should not be.

Thor

her lv 40 conversation:

Did you summon me on purpose, [Summoner]?

I only try to understand. You and that weapon you carry are not part of this world as it was designed.

And we cannot abide a mortal with power enough to challenge the gods. What you fight for is incidental.

Alfaðör is likely to command that I rid this world of you and your power.

And when that happens, I... Well...

You are said to be only a summoner, but I find your demeanor familiar. Would you cross swords with me?

Duma

(this despite knowing our battle prowess is basically 0, not sure if hes getting some wires crossed here)

Naga has some lowkey suspect lines too especially taking all of what im rambling about into consideration

Ritual cleansing is the best way to prepare your body for battle. Come now—I will show you how.

(why treat us like a fellow divinity lol)

(ie shes either projecting or find the summoner similar to herself. a deity who sees herself guiding humanity. whew.)

Come here. Gaze deep into my eyes, [Summoner]...

Yes, I see. I, too, now understand the warmth and peace that arises when one is at your side.

It is strange for one such as I, with strength rival to none, who watches over and guides the world...

to drift into another world and find myself sharing feelings with mortals previously unknown to me.

Yet...these feelings have put down roots in my heart. And your eyes tell me you feel the same warmth.

Seiros

Your kind are frail, ignorant creatures, incapable of accomplishing anything without the guidance of the goddess.

…Or so I had thought. But I have been forced to realize, meeting the Heroes here, that I was wrong.

You in particular stand apart as well… You are different from the rest. Special in some way.

My instincts are not often wrong…

If you continue to fight for this world, I will fight by your side, as a warrior. As an equal.

And I know the goddess will be watching over you as well.

#anon #ask #fire emblem heroes

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