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ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds · 6 months

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And here’s Blood Fest Week 3, with the keywords “twisted” and “fixation” and the prompts “traps” and “rage”!! “Traps”, of course, got me thinking about Saw. And since I’m down terribly bad for Amanda and have seen appallingly few fics for her…. well, why not? Underrated characters are kind of my signature anyway.

Hope y’all enjoy! <3

Too Late I’m Dead

AO3 link: Here

Pairing: Amanda Young x AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Word count: 5,160

Content warnings: Gore, mentions of self-harm (both in the Jigsaw trap context and the more typical context), trauma, PTSD, angst, discussions of disability (since a lot of Jigsaw traps are disabling), Saw is its own warning, smoking, alcohol consumption, flirting, kissing, making out, biting, vaginal fingering, friends to lovers, as is Saw tradition gay shit goes down in the bathroom, reader is AFAB but gender neutral

“Hi everyone. My name is Brandon and…. I’m a Jigsaw survivor.”

A subdued chorus of Hi Brandons echoed around the small church room. You barely even bothered to mouth the words. The gesture felt about as empty as the tipped over plastic water bottle you’d discarded by your chair some time ago. There was coffee at the sad makeshift snack table too, as well as a box of pastries that looked a few days past their prime, but you figured you didn’t need the caffeine to make you any more jittery than you already were. Your leg was bouncing enough as it was.

“It’s been about a year since uh. Well.” Brandon smiled nervously and made a vague, fluttery gesture with his hands. “Well. You know.”

A quiet, obligatory response from the other people – a murmur, a nod of heads. You stared at your bouncing knee.

“I’ve made great progress with my recovery. My knees have healed really well. I can fully walk on them again, even run if I’m careful. My dog Rex doesn’t really like it when I’m careful though.” He laughed fondly. A couple others offered the obligatory chuckle. “They hurt if I get too eager with stairs. Or if it’s too humid. But it’s going really well. I’m really, really proud of the progress I’ve made.” He nodded, as if assuring himself.

He’d had to break both his knees in order to get out of his trap. Was in a wheelchair for months and only recently started moving around without it. Or so you’d been told.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to break your own knees.

“Somedays, though.” Brandon looked away from the loose circle you all formed. Blinked rapidly. “Somedays, it feels like I haven’t made any progress. Somedays it’s hard. Really hard. And it feels like I didn’t survive that trap. Or if I did, some part of me got left behind.”

Everyone else was nodding, some with sad, understanding smiles on their faces. Your own pulse thundered in your ears like a distant, approaching storm.

“It’s really hard to have hope on those days, but…. what else can I do?” He shrugged, a helpless smile on his face. “Give up? Wallow around in my own misery? I can’t live like that. No one can live like that. Not forever. You just have to choose. You have to make a choice, just like the choices we made to be here. You have to choose to live. You have to choose hope. Or else you just can’t survive.”

You shot to your feet, heartbeat pounding in your ears, chair scraping back. Every face in the room turned to look at you. The church felt too small. Your ribs felt too tight. You felt too…. seen.

Who was he to judge you for wallowing in what you’d fucking gone through?

You spun around and bee-lined for the exit.

The cool city air against your face was a relief as you barged through the church’s double doors. But you stopped in your tracks as you spotted someone else already there. A woman was sitting on the church stairs. She twisted around, eyebrows raised and half-hidden by the choppy, irregular bangs across her forehead.

“Uh. Hey,” you said, somewhat awkwardly.

She paused, as if uncertain. Of what? You weren’t sure. “Hey,” she eventually said back. Then, after another pause, she twisted further around, a frown crossing her features. “Is the meeting over?”

“No. I just needed some air.” Fuck, you needed something to calm yourself. You dug around in your jacket pockets until you found a lighter and a cigarette. “Um. Do you mind if I…?”

She stared at the cigarette in your hand with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher, but eventually shook her head no. You internally shrugged and lit up. The first drag uncoiled the tension that had built up in your muscles, and you breathed the smoke out on a relieved sigh.

The woman glanced between you and the church doors. “Having fun in there?”

Did she know? The place didn’t exactly advertise, but it wasn’t exactly a secret either. You scanned her face. She looked vaguely familiar, but you couldn’t quite place her. Had you seen her in the meetings before? “Oh, yeah, lots. You know. Fun therapy shit.” Supposedly, anyway. It was supposed to be some sort of Alcoholics Anonymous shit, but instead it was for the few survivors of an active fucking serial killer. Jigsaws Anonymous or whatever the fuck.

“Must be going well if you’re out here,” she said dryly, resting her chin on a propped-up fist.

You shrugged, taking another drag. “Well…” Did you really want to tell her about how Brandon’s words had hit just a little too close to home? How they’d made you feel too small, as if the sticks you’d used to prop up your fragile post-trap reconstruction of the world had suddenly snapped, and the weight of it all was now bearing down on you? She was a stranger waiting outside the church. She could’ve been some Jesus freak for all you knew.

Not that she really looked like one. Not with the sheer red shirt over a black bra and fishnet undershirt, or the combat boots, or the sheer exhaustion around her eyes.

She looked less like a Jesus freak and more like you did on the days you could bear to look in the mirror.

So you just shrugged again. “It can be a lot,” you said. “What about you? What’re you doing out here?” You hesitated. “There’re still seats open if you wanted to…”

“No thanks. I’m good.” She offered you a close-lipped smile. “I’ve heard enough of the sob-stories.”

Yeah. You could understand that.

She didn’t look like she was going anywhere, and you didn’t exactly have plans of your own. So you gestured to the stairs next to her. “Mind if I sit?”

“Be my guest.”

You sat to her right so the wind wouldn’t blow cigarette smoke into her face. The smooth grey stone steps were wide enough that it didn’t feel quite so awkward sitting in silence together. Even though you could feel her analyzing you as you took another puff.

You blew the smoke away and smirked dryly at the cigarette. “Think Jigsaw’s gonna put me in another deathtrap for smoking?” You ignored the tightening in your chest as you said the words. Ignored the tremor of unease. Surely it wouldn’t be enough. Surely lightning wouldn’t strike twice.

“He wouldn’t do that.” She said it with such simple certainty, as if it was an inarguable fact. Even still, you found yourself stubbing the cig out and searching for a trash can to toss it into. You didn’t want to just flick it into the grass. Maybe Jigsaw would get you for littering. Maybe he was really passionate about saving the planet.

Who needed to be God-fearing with the possibility of Jigsaw watching your every move?

You shook the thought off. Introduced yourself to the woman. You smiled awkwardly. “Um. I’d offer you my hand but my, uh–” Personal hell “–Trap involved a hand thing so. I’m not a big fan of handshakes these days.” It had taken a long time for the nerves to repair themselves in your hand. A long time and a shitton of agony and medication and physical therapy. You still hadn’t totally gotten rid of the tremor. Fine motorskills were still harder than before.

Before. That.

But the woman just gave a rueful, understanding sort-of smile. Funny how people smiled so much in the presence of trauma and pain. “Amanda. I still have trouble going to the dentist sometimes.”

Shit, that’s where you knew her from, wasn’t it? You’d heard of her, read about her before, seen a clip of her punching a journalist square in the nose when she tried to follow her. All the photos you’d seen had been such shit quality that you hadn’t recognized her immediately.

Amanda Young. The person who killed a man and rummaged around his guts to free herself from the machine hooked into her jaws. The first person to walk away from a Jigsaw trap. The first survivor. In a weird, fucked up way, it was almost like meeting a celebrity. A celebrity for the most depressingly specific thing possible.

You weren’t sure whether it would make things weird to bring that up. So you just nodded. “So. What’re you doing here then? Are you waiting for someone?”

“Mm no, not really.” Amanda scraped at the chipped black polish on her nails. “I just like to come here sometimes.”

You stared at her. Something about her reminded you of a deer, twitchy and ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. Or maybe not a deer. Deer looked like they’d snap in half if the wind blew too hard. Amanda…. did not. She was twitchy, but for some reason you got the feeling that she was just as likely to start kicking as she was to start running

Permanently caught between fight or flight.

You went with freeze, yourself. Or wallow, as Brandon had put it. Anger and embarrassment burned against your ribs.

“Hell of a place to visit.” You weren’t sure if you meant it as a light-hearted joke or a deadpan remark. The words came out somewhere in between.

“You’re one to talk.” She finally turned to you. It was the first time she’d actually met your eyes, you realized. “You actually believe all this bullshit?” she asked, gesturing to the church.

“Not really,” you admitted. “My therapist wanted me to go. Said it would help me to be around others who understand what I went through. That it would help me get closure or something. I didn’t want to. But he insisted.” You shrugged. He’d pestered you about it until you finally gave in a few weeks ago. He thought it would be good for you. Would help you heal. Really, it just made you want to fling yourself out of one of the church’s fancy stained-glass windows.

Amanda gave a derisive snort. You almost took offense until she said, “Half of the time these therapists don’t even know what they’re talking about. It’s a bunch of bullshit, too.” She propped her cheek on her fist again, giving you a side-long grimace. “People don’t change until they have to. Or until they’re forced to. A bunch of psychoanalyzing isn’t going to do anything.”

You…. strongly disagreed. But the slim scar peeking out from her sleeve kept you from saying that. “Bad experience with a therapist?” you asked, flicking your gaze away.

“It never really worked for me.”

“What did?” you asked cautiously.

She paused. Thought about it. Stared at you with an intensity that had you wondering what the hell was going on inside her head. Until eventually, “Jigsaw.”

You blinked. Stared. Tried to figure out how to respond to that.

She thought…. Jigsaw helped?

You didn’t want to judge. Fuck, that was exactly why you’d stormed out of the church. You were self-aware enough to realize that. Different things worked for different people, and different people responded to trauma in different ways, but….

The church doors squealed open. You both shot to your feet and turned around. Your fellow Jigsaw Anonymous members were leaving, the meeting over, spilling out from the doors with all the speed and excitement of molasses being poured out from a jar. You stepped to the side to let them come down the stairs. Amanda did the same, arm brushing yours, and you wrestled the urge to jerk away. You weren’t sure of the last time you’d actually touched someone, or the last time someone had touched you, aside from the gentle but coldly professional hands of doctors and emergency personnel. It was as startlingly foreign as it was familiar.

Amanda seemed completely unaware of your clashing emotions as her gaze locked onto something. You followed her stare to Brandon slowly making his way down the steps. A man with sandy-blond hair and a cane was with him, chatting, the both of them completely oblivious to either of you.

Did she know them? She was staring at them with such an undecipherable intensity and it was the only explanation you could think of. You glanced at the two men again, then back at Amanda. No… she wasn’t staring at them. She was staring at the blond man specifically.

It really wasn’t any of your business, but you couldn’t help but ask, “Do you two know each other?”

“Sorta,” was as much of a response as you got.

Once Brandon and the man reached the bottom of the ramp and went separate ways, Amanda turned back to you. It was just the two of you on the stairs now. And it was a little embarrassing how flustered you were just by her proximity. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even know her.

Maybe your therapist was right. You did need to get out and be around people more. So you could remember how to fucking act normal again.

“Well.” Amanda bumped her arm against yours again. This time deliberately. You were pretty sure the facial expression you made was not a normal one. “See you round.”

Then she shoved her hands into the pockets of her cargo pants, hopped down the steps, and just. Walked away. You stared after her for longer than necessary.

She was impossible to get a read on. Weirdly confrontational, weirdly evasive, and weirdly magnetic anyway.

You kind of hoped you’d see her again.

She didn’t appear for the next few meetings you obligatorily dragged yourself to. It wasn’t until about a month later that you found her sitting out on the steps again. When you, again, had rushed out to clear your head when the room got too small.

“Hey stranger,” she said, tone somewhere close to teasing. It made you smile. Just a little.

“Hey,” you replied, approaching the stairs. And again, you gestured to the space beside her. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest.”

And so you developed a bit of a routine. She appeared on the steps about once a month, for a reason she never shared and that you never really minded. You would sit on the stairs with her, and the two of you would shoot the breeze. It was a comfortable, casual companionship born from a common factor and convenience. It was never anything very deep. Neither of you were there for therapy, not really. You kept it light, casual. That was the point, wasn’t it?

At least until one day when Amanda was standing by the stairs before the meeting had even started. You didn’t bother to hide your surprise as you approached her and exchanged your usual heys.

“You coming in today?” you asked.

“No. I thought we could head somewhere else.” She tilted her head at you. There was a playfulness to her expression, her smile. A playfulness that made you both a little bit cautious and a little bit excited. “Somewhere a little more fun. Unless you want to stay here. For therapy.” She pointedly lifted her eyebrows at you as she said therapy.

You glanced at the church doors behind her. Really, talking to her about anything but the fact that you were both Jigsaw survivors had done a lot more for you than going to these stupid fucking meetings had.

“Only if you promise not to put me in a death game for smoking,” you joked. Or tried to, at least. It really wasn’t that funny. You winced at yourself. But Amanda, to her credit, just linked her arm through yours. You almost preened at the friendly touch.

“Deal,” she said.

She ended up taking you to a bar. A gay bar, more specifically. You were a bit surprised she’d clocked you so easily but never said a word – but then again, neither had you about her. So you supposed you couldn’t be too surprised.

From there, your casual companionship escalated into something much more like a genuine friendship. You got to know each other properly. You talked about your personal lives and hobbies and interests. You even talked a little bit about Jigsaw, and everything after that. You told her how you’d been struggling with insomnia and how you’d lost your job when you stopped showing up. Because of, y’know, being stuck in a deathtrap. And being too terrified to set foot outside your door for a while after. You told her about the new job you’d gotten and struggled to adjust to. And you told her about your hands.

Nails through the palms Jesus-style. Because according to the hoarse voice on the tape that now haunted your nightmares – “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop”. She’d winced as you told her the story one evening. You’d winced as you’d recollected it. The pain shooting through your fingertips, up your arms, into your very fucking bones. The squelch of blood and muscle, the way you hadn’t been able to stop from screaming or the tears from spilling as you twisted and ripped your hands free of the metal spikes.

It was a miracle they didn’t introduced any infections into your bloodstream, the doctors had told you. A miracle.

You told Amanda how your hands still shook, were still a bit weak. How some days they were worse and some days they were better. And how fine motor skills had become hard now, whereas before you’d taken them for granted. God, had you taken them for granted. You’d been able to write your name, use a knife and fork, all that shit, so damn easily.

It had taken a lot of getting used to.

Amanda has just listened and nodded her head. Understanding. Not offering the grating sympathy people so often flung your way, all the while looking uncomfortably unsure of what to do with your presence and your hands and your experience and your trauma. But Amanda understood. Because of course she did. She knew what you’d been through and where you were coming from.

And she’d even smiled a bit mischievously, glancing down at your hands on the bar counter, and said, “Well, if you ever need help with anything, I’m pretty good with my hands. I could always lend a finger or two.”

Maybe it was the little smirk on her face, the glint in her eye when she said it. Maybe it was the loneliness and then the sudden friendship. Or maybe you’d just been a little too buzzed, but her words had remained lodged in your mind as you tried to go to sleep that night.

Amanda had shared things about herself, too, in the time you’d spent together. It had taken a little longer for her to open up – she was a bit slower, a bit more cautious. She seemed a lot more eager to listen than to do the talking. And you couldn’t fault her for that. But eventually, you learned that she worked as a mechanic, knew a lot about fixing and building machines and shit like that. She had a pet guinea pig that she’d acquired entirely by accident. His name was Pigeon. Her favorite color was red, her favorite bands were Nine Inch Nails and Hole, and her favorite movie was The Princess Bride. Her dad was a piece of shit she hadn’t seen in over a decade, and her relationship with her mom was strained at best. She was an only child.

You’d also learned more about her Jigsaw trap. How she’d become a drug addict in prison, how she’d woken up in a Jigsaw trap for it. How the little puppet with swirls on its cheeks had rolled out of the darkness on a tricycle and told her that she’d survived. And how she’d ended up in a trap a second time, a hellish prison of a house with several other people, most of whom had died.

The news had nearly brought your drink back into your throat. Lighting did strike twice after all. He did pick the same victims more than once.

God, maybe you really did need to quit smoking.

Amanda had placed her hand on your arm. Touch gentle but grounding all the same. And she’d assured you that that wouldn’t happen to you, Jigsaw wouldn’t choose you again. He had no reason to. She said it so confidently, and you so desperately wanted to believe her. That you wouldn’t be taken a second time. Or that she wouldn’t be taken a third. Not that she seemed too concerned about it.

That was the strange thing about her. When she told you about what had happened, she stared down at the counter. Her hands shook a little bit. The memory terrified her.

And yet…. she had this fixation on the idea that Jigsaw had helped her. The trap had gotten her off drugs. It had put her on a completely different path in life. Rather than dying from a drug overdose, she’d gotten clean. He saved me, she’d said, eyes wide and earnest and afraid.

You’d fought against the urge to argue that, to say No, he didn’t save you, he almost killed you. The idea of Jigsaw possibly helping – all while you struggled to sleep and were plagued by nightmares as you did, while you struggled to make your handwriting legible, while you fought the urge to bolt back home as soon as the sun started lowering in the sky? The idea felt like swallowing glass.

Had Jigsaw ever made anyone do that?

But you didn’t say any of that to her. People dealt with trauma in different ways. You supposed this was just her way of dealing with it. And it wasn’t really hurting anyone, so who were you to judge?

It certainly didn’t stop you from going to the bar with her regularly. It didn’t stop you from laughing with her, from getting close to her both emotionally and physically till the edge of your seats were almost touching and your arms were practically interlinked.

It didn’t stop the spark of warmth in your chest when she offered a genuine smile. Or the electric feeling that shot through your veins when she traced her fingers over your knuckles one night, after the conversation had lulled and your drinks had gone lukewarm.

“I wanna try something,” she said, voice soft enough that you would’ve missed it had you not been sitting so close your thighs were pressed together.

Eye contact right now would’ve been like staring into the sun. So instead, you stared at her hand on top of yours. Her knuckles were scratched up as if she’d gotten into a fight. “Sure,” you said slowly. “What did you have in mind?”

Amanda turned to you. You cautiously met her gaze. Christ, it really was like looking at the sun. Warm and beautiful but intense. Burningly intense.

Confusion turned to shock as Amanda hooked two fingers into the neck of your shirt and tugged you closer till her lips were hitting yours. You must’ve made a noise of surprise, because she drew away almost immediately. It was all you could do not to chase her and ask why did you stop? A small crease appeared between her eyebrows and she opened her mouth. And God for a second you thought she was going to apologize, when in fact she really didn’t need to because holy shit.

“Oh thank fuck,” you blurted. “You were flirting with me.”

Concern turned to surprise. Then Amanda laughed, the sound pure relief. “Yeah, I was. Did it take you that long to figure it out?” she teased.

“Uh.” Your face warmed. “Maybe.”

She grinned, then grabbed you by the shirt and kissed you again. Gentle but insistent. Her other hand curled around your nape. You didn’t know what the hell to do with your own hands until one curled around her back and the other ended up braced against the bar counter.

The bar counter. Right. You were very much in public. Sure, it was a queer bar, but it was still public.

So you reluctantly pulled away. Amanda looked confused for a moment before you said, “Hey, maybe we should… do this somewhere else?”

She blinked at you. Then, wordlessly, she wrapped a hand around your wrist and pulled you off your seat. She dragged you past the other patrons and tables – it was a quieter night, so you didn’t have to fight through a sea of people – and pushed through one of the bathroom doors, yanking you in with her and locking the door behind you.

“There,” she said. There was a look to her eyes, a look that made your heart stumble and your entire body go warm. “We’re somewhere else.”

This time when she kissed you, you let her fully take the lead. You slid your arms around her and melted into the kiss, sighing against her. It just made her more eager. She prodded at your lips with her tongue, slipped inside with a sweet little moan that had your heart racing. Sent your head spinning. You backed up till you hit a wall, dragging Amanda with because fuck you weren’t breaking this kiss. Not as she was getting to know you with her teeth and her tongue. She tasted like alcohol and peaches, smelled of loam and sweat and faintly of men’s store-brand bodywash. It was heady, intoxicating. Addicting.

Her hands slipped under your shirt. You shuddered at the exposure to the overly air-conditioned bathroom. Shuddered harder at her warm touch roving across your skin, the slight drag of fingernails over your stomach. Amanda broke the kiss with a wet smack as your muscles tensed underneath her.

“You’re so cute,” she teased. She dragged her fingernails over your skin again with just a little more pressure. You arced into her touch. Fuck. Fuck.

You wished you could come up with some kind of response. Something to convey just how much you were aching for her, both emotionally and physically. How badly and how deeply these emotions were running through you. But words were currently beyond your grasp.

Amanda leaned in and nibbled at your neck as her fingers slid past your waistband and teased the edge of your underwear. You clamped your teeth down on your bottom lip. Heat swirled through your veins, in your stomach, at the base of your spine. You moved your hips a little, just a little, to urge her on. Nails dug into the soft flesh there. A whimper escaped.

“Mandyyyyyyy.”

“Yeahhhhhhh?” She was all mischief and smugness as she looked back up at you. It just made you more desperate.

“Mandy. Please?” You gave her your best pleading look.

“You’re so impatient.” She said the words lightly, playfully. But she must’ve been impatient too, because she was pushing your underwear down. When her fingers brushed against your clit, you gasped and dropped your head back against the wall. Fuck, God, yes, right there –

“You sure you only just figured out I was flirting with you? You seem pretty fucking wet already.” She punctuated her words with a slide of her fingers against you. Because yeah, you were fucking wet. It would’ve been a little humiliating if you weren’t so achingly desperate for her touch.

“Yeah, well.” You drew in an unsteady breath as she circled your clit. A teasing touch that wasn’t quite enough. Fuck, it was impossible to form a coherent thought. “You’re just…. really fucking hot.”

It was hardly eloquent. But her breath puffed against your neck in a laugh. And you figured it would do for now.

She kissed the hollow of your throat, firmly rubbed her thumb against your clit. You practically bucked against her. Her other hand hooked under one of your thighs and lifted, and you threw your leg around her waist. Let out a moan at how it changed the sensation. “Yeah, like that,” Amanda breathed. “Just like that.” She said it as if you were touching her, as if she wasn’t the one doing all the work, wasn’t the one making you writhe and whimper and leak over her precise fingers.

Christ, you hadn’t felt this good in a while.

The pace was languorous, exploratory, testing what made you shiver and dig your nails into her shoulders and gasp for breath. As if she was intent on taking you apart and finding out exactly what got you going – a machine to figure out and put back together. Slowly, slowly, but in a way you savored, you felt the tension inside of you building up and coiling tight like a spring. You were quivering. Your clothes clung to your sweat-sheened skin. The music spilling into the bathroom from the bar wasn’t quite enough to cover the ragged breathing and wet, rhythmic noises, and it just made the whole thing feel even dirtier. Especially with how Amanda was panting against you, as if she was getting off just from you getting off and fuck it made you clench.

When she picked up the pace, you weren’t able to stop the gasps and moans that spilled out of you, the way you panted and pleaded her name. The sound of her fingers squelching against you had you burning. And when your release hit you cried out, clenching, shaking, clinging to Amanda’s shoulders and digging your nails in as you rode out the high. She didn’t stop, didn’t relieve the pressure against your clit. White hot pleasure burned through your body till tears pricked at your eyes. Distantly, she said something. Soft, sweet words that didn’t quite reach your ears as they rang from the intensity of your orgasm.

She only stopped when you went limp against her. Only pulled away from the mess you’d made – that she’d made too, really – to wrap her arms around your hips and kiss you, deep and slow, as if trying to commit you to memory. You lazily brushed your tongue against hers. Your muscles felt like taffy, worn out in the best way.

“You were right,” you said when you parted. “You really are good with your hands.”

Amanda grinned so widely and genuinely that you couldn’t stop yourself from capturing her lips again. Fuck. You might’ve been a little bit in love. Or maybe that was the post-sex endorphins talking. You weren’t sure. You didn’t particularly care either way.

“I think I owe you an orgasm,” you said.

Amanda brushed her nose against yours. For the first time since you’d met her, she actually seemed truly, fully relaxed. As if she’d properly lowered her guard just now, just in this moment, just for you. “Maybe next date.” The words sent a flutter through your chest. Next date. There’d be a next date. “But first,” she said, moving away to grab some paper towels, “we gotta get you cleaned up.”

#ace writes #sfbf23 #amanda young #amanda young x reader #saw #notsft #not totally satisfied with how this turned out but fuck it we ball

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ace-of-pussy · 6 days

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now I KNOW eat your young is about the older generation abusing and exploiting the younger generations for money and labour and to make them fight in the wars they created, and to make acutely sure that the younger generation not only do not get anything in return but also think that this is good and right and how the world should be, but the song has hannigram vibes to it yknow

#text #text post #ace writes #hannibal #hannigram #hozier #andrew hozier byrne

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aceofspadesblog · 5 months

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Dark Cream Drabble

This was originally supposed to be part of @zu-is-here's Dark Cream Week 2022, but I never got around to posting it... Prompt: "I'm Here."

Dream belongs to Joku Shattered belongs to shattereddreamsau Cross belongs to Jakei

Dream hated living in the Void. It was boring. It was plain. The whiteness was often painfully bright. At least, those were the reasons he told himself. Those reasons were logical, made sense, fit his character. And most importantly, they didn’t bring up any... difficult feelings.

Sometimes the Void was too much for Cross. After spending so long trapped in the remains of Xtale, sometimes it was difficult to remember where he was when he woke up. He’d see the blank white surroundings and just assume the worst. The guardian told himself that he didn’t care, that this was Cross’s problem, but deep down, he knew he was lying. The guard could leave the Void if he wanted, but he didn’t. He never tried, or even brought it up. He didn’t have to torture himself by staying here, waking up and assuming his worst fears had come true.

Dream hated those nights, listening to his guard’s sobs as he relived nightmares from the past. Cross was so full of weaknesses, but this was one Dream didn’t want to even think about exploiting. This wasn’t just some pitiful twist of emotions, like holding onto hope that Dream could be saved. This was a fear that he couldn’t control, rooted deep within his soul. And he put up with it, intentionally stayed in a place where everything made it worse, for Dream.

For some reason that the guardian simply could not fathom, this thought twisted his corrupted soul, making him feel emotions that he was sure he’d forgotten. Cross had claimed to care, the guardian had never believed him. But if he didn’t, why would he stay in this place where his fears were amplified? Dream sent him out on missions all the time. It wouldn’t be hard for Cross to just... leave. Never come back from a mission. Fade into the multiverse. What could Dream do to stop him?

One night, as he felt that familiar, painful twist of Cross’s emotions, Dream couldn’t stand it anymore. The guardian usually avoided the soldier when he broke down, but Dream must have been feeling particularly generous, because he found himself at his guard’s bedside, sitting on the edge of the bed, gently rubbing his back, pulling him closer, whispering reassurances.

“Shh. It’s alright. I’m here.”

Because if Cross insisted on torturing himself to serve Dream, then it was only fair for the guardian to comfort him when it became too much. Right?

#xunshine #dark cream #cross sans #undertale #undertale multiverse #dream sans #dream x cross #shattered dream #ace writes #dark cream week

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ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 1 year

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Before Your Kisses Turn Into Bruises

Summary: Kaz is stuck in a time loop. No matter how many times he tries, they still end up dying in his arms. Is there anything he can do to change this fate?

Word Count: 3360

CW: Blood mention, food mention, cursing

Kaz took a step forward, his cane thumping along with it. Anger mixed with protectiveness within his stance. It turned his voice cold and loud, passion running through it like water under a frozen canal. “No! You aren’t going on-!” He took another threatening step forward only to find himself back in his Slat office. The subject of his ire was now nowhere near him. Instead, he knew for a fact that they were approximately halfway across the district with as few cares in the world as a Barrel rat could have and listening to a street musician.

He growled in frustration and slammed his cane against the floor, listening to the sound reverberate in time with him. “Dammit!”

He had lost count of how many times this exact thing had happened already. Ten? More? Too many, that’s all he cared about. Too many times had he found Y/N, bruised and battered and seeming to only be hanging on to their life by sheer spite, only to have time seem to rewind and find himself back in his office. Even now, he had been through this same process so many times, each time only having few changes outside of what he did, he knew exactly where they were in that moment.

Right then, they were watching a street musician play at the mouth of the Government District and would be there for the next few minutes. After that, they would go on a job Kaz had assigned them a few days ago. Little had he known it was almost a suicide mission he was sending them on and he wished with every fiber of his being that he hadn’t assigned it to them.

He had been through the night enough times to know how it would end. Y/N would come back to the Slat with bruises so dense across their body, their natural skin color would be almost unrecognizable. Kaz’s heart stuttered every time they came in with the bruises, every time he saw the blood running down their side and that determined look in their eye that said they would report what they knew or bleed out trying. Even before this Never ending Night, he hated to see them with even the smallest mark across their skin, no matter how it was inflicted. It was times like that that he wished he was the type of leader who could pull someone into his office and patch them up while getting the report. Instead, all he could do was order them to one of the gang’s mediks to get patched up before they, “stained my good rug with your blood.”

Kaz shook himself back to the present and picked up his coat. He breezed out of his office, coat slung over his arm and cane tapping the ground in an angry staccato. Just as he was in the middle of the entryway, he had an idea to possibly change this night again. Pausing, he turned and scanned the room until he found someone he wanted. He briefly spoke to the other Dregs member, who scurried away as soon as Kaz was finished speaking to them.

With his plans starting to come into place, he stepped out of the Slat and started down the street. Soon enough, he came to the street corner where Y/N was listening to a traditional Kaelic instrument being played. Their eyelashes fluttered against their cheeks as they kept their eyes closed to feel the music better. They leaned against a building, their hand gently swaying to the music. Kaz thought they looked like sound in human form, as if they were going to spring into a dance at any moment or fly into the wind and never be seen again as they spread joy to all who came across them.

When Y/N’s eyes opened, they seemed to instinctively find Kaz in the shadows on the other side of the square. There was a look in their eyes that did something to Kaz, a gravity about them that always tugged at him. It threatened now to pull him closer and into their orbit, closer than he would let almost anyone else get. He managed to resist that gravitational pull, but only just.

If he were free of his mind, he could stride over to them, sweep them into his arms, and show them just how much he thought of them. He’d kiss Y/N so soundly, they would be clinging to him to stay upright. They would be breathing heavily, eyes staying closed even when they both pull apart for air. He’d press them against the wall the way he’d seen other men do with lovers, using it to support both their weight as he pulled them insistently closer, as if they were the last breath of air he would ever breathe.

Instead, he watched as Y/N made their way across the small space of the intersection and came to stand at his side. “Kaz?” They asked, eyes shining in the light of the streetlamps and making them look ethereal. “Did you need something, Boss?”

Kaz shook himself out of the spell. “The job I had you on for the night. It’s canceled.”

“What?” Y/N stepped around him, blocking the alleyway he was turning down. “What do you mean? Did it get rescheduled? Or . . . “ Their voice trailed off, eyes betraying the fear that kept them from thinking of the alternative: that Kaz was deliberately taking them off a job he’d given to them specifically.

Y/N took a step back, disbelief on their face waring with the knowledge of the truth and the hurt they felt at it. “Kaz. You wouldn’t, would you?”

He sighed and continued his steps back to the Slat, a defeated Y/N trailing behind him. “I didn’t take you off the job because I thought you couldn’t do it. I did it because you’re needed on a different one tonight. Someone else is already filling the first one.”

The energy back in their steps caused them to quicken until they were walking two abreast. “This one better pay the same or more than the previous. Tonight was supposed to be my last job and you know that, Brekker.”

Kaz felt his heart twist at the mention of their plans and the impersonal address. Y/N was someone he had picked up off the streets himself. They’d been stealing from those under Dregs protection and had even managed to pickpocket a few of the Dregs themselves. When Kaz caught them being bold enough to go for Wylan’s bag, he’d offered a deal. Work for Kaz and pay back what was stolen, or be prepared to not be looked at kindly by anyone in the Barrel. They made the right choice and Kaz sent them on thieving jobs, what they were best at. Occasionally, they were sent to rough someone up or be a spider if it was needed. They did their job well, sneaking in and out of crowds with the same ease as most spiders sneak around buildings.

Their indenture almost fully paid back, Y/N had made it no secret that they planned to leave Ketterdam as soon as they were free from the Dregs. They’d even gone so far as to say there would be nothing they would miss and Ketterdam would hold no lost love from them.

Love.

Kaz loved them. The revelation was so sudden, it almost made him stop in his tracks. He stole a glance at the Dregs next to him, wondering at the thought that made everything fall into place. How had he been so blind as to not see it before?

Quickly, he stepped down a different alley at the nearest crossroads, changing the plans for the evening. Y/N stayed silent next to him, unaware of his original plans nor his new ones. It didn’t take long to come to the sparkles and glam that was the showier side of the pleasure district. Y/N stayed close to him as they wound through the buildings.

Eventually, he stopped at a small theater that was out of the way but always showing something. Y/N bounced on the balls of their feet, a throwing dagger slipping into each hand. “What’s the mark here, Kaz?”

He glanced up at the title of the play being shown. He didn’t know why he’d come here. Maybe he needed to think.

No, that wasn’t true. He knew exactly why he’d come here. If his life was this one night repeated forever, he was going to have at least a few turns of it be good. He wanted to take them here, to watch a play and talk about it like a normal courting pair. Because he wanted to court them.

Ghezen, he was in deep.

He knew from previous loops that no matter what kind of interference he ran on the job, it always ended the same way. So, he was taking them away from the job. If even his presence on it with them caused them to still almost die in his arms back at the Slat, there was nothing to be done about the job. Let the other Dregs deal with it, they could have other methods of avoiding the danger or getting stitched up by the mediks. Right now, Kaz was being selfish. He couldn’t hold them, couldn’t bring them close and whisper sweet nothings into their ears. Nor could he kiss them the way he wanted, keep them safe in any way possible except this way.

So, if the ambush always results the same and Y/N never remembers the previous tries through, there was nothing left to do on the job but not go. Instead, he switched his tactics to being selfish. He wanted to spend this night with them, even if it was the only night he would ever see again, especially if that. If they were to leave him as soon as their next job paid enough, the most he could do for himself is to spend this one night telling himself he did what he could. He needed to show himself they didn’t want him, not the way he wanted them. The way their eyes shone wasn’t for him, their smile wasn’t broader when he was around, their humming and dancing was not for him to experience. He didn’t deserve them and they didn’t want him and he needed to use tonight to truly understand that.

So, they sat together and watched the show. Y/N asked if the job was in the theater and Kaz just squeezed their hand through a glove and told them to enjoy the play. When it was over, Kaz took them walking down the pier where there was some dancing and music, a few people offering snacks. Kaz paid for the food, a welcome warmth against the chill of the night. Y/N hummed along to the music.

Kaz watched them, the way they almost seemed to glow from the inside with joy at the music, the tapping of their feet that begged to dance, even just the way they held themself was gorgeous. His eyes couldn’t move from them, as if he could commit that moment to memory the same way he did numbers and documents.

All of a sudden, it was pulled away. One moment Kaz was staring at Y/N and enjoying life, the next he was breathing in the smoke tinged air of his office. No matter how many times it had been cleaned, nothing could remove the smell of Per Haskell’s old pipe. Kaz took a few more greedy gulps of the almost rancid air to clear his head.

The next sequence went much the same as that one. Kaz found them in the square, called off their job, and asked for their company for the rest of the night. Even so, all they could talk about was Y/N leaving. They sat on a park bench in the brightly lit University District and Kaz asked about where they planned to go when they paid him off. They didn’t say, only that they might never step foot in Kerch again.

Kaz felt his heart break again just as he found himself back in his office, sitting in his chair and looking out the window.

Not willing to give up, he did it again. He hastily pulled his coat on, yelling to a Dregs to take Y/N’s job, and stormed out the door. He stopped once again at that street crossing, watching Y/N soak in the music as if it were the one thing to energize them. He stepped through the crowd, watching the way they mouthed along with the song. He had done this exact moment so many times, Kaz was sure he could sing along with the song himself.

When they opened their eyes, Kaz was in front of them. “The job is off, someone else is handling it for the night, I need your company instead tonight.”

Y/N nodded, their eyes wary. “Okay, boss, what are we doing?”

He took a deep breath and did the only thing he could. “Whatever you want. I’m paying off the last of your indenture from my own pocket. If you want to consider this your last night in Ketterdam, so be it. Just know, you will always be a Dregs. You can keep doing jobs and get more money, keeping all of it. Even if you don’t, you bear the Crow and Cup and that marks you as one of us until the day you die.”

Y/N nodded, eyes soft with unshed tears. “Kaz, I-”

“You don’t need to say anything right now. Just allow me to spend this night with you doing whatever you wish.”

Y/N shut their mouth and instead started walking down the street. Kaz trailed behind them, keeping watch for anything that would ruin the last time they would spend together. If he wasn’t to be pulled out of this night, he didn’t want his last memory of them to be walking away from him forever or dying in his arms. Instead, he wanted their smile lighting up brighter than the moon, he wanted their joy wrapping him in the warmest cloak ever. He wanted them. Pure and simple. There was nothing else he could do but want them, even if they forgot what had happened come morning.

That time around was the easiest with them and the best one. Kaz kept every moment locked in his mind, determined to remember every detail of how they looked in the moonlight, their joy and light and the essence of them that had pulled him from a dark place.

Finally, both lounging in Kaz’s sitting room that had replaced his attic office, Y/N brought it up again. Leaving. Kaz couldn't help the way he felt heat rise in his chest, as if the long buried anger from many rounds ago had finally caught up with him.

“Why?” The word came out so cold and hard, as if it were an icicle he hurled at them in defense of his thawed heart.

Y/N took a step back. “Kaz? Why what?”

He sighed, hands clenching on his cane in an attempt to rein in the anger they didn’t deserve directed at them. “Why are you leaving? Is this place not good enough for you? Are you so desperate to seek out more you are willing to trample others to get there?”

Y/N’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say. Kaz, you’re starting to scare me.”

“Good!” He almost threw the word at them. “Be scared, be as scared as I am!”

With that, it was like a gate opened and the words came pouring out like water. “Because I’m scared, deathly so! I’m scared of putting a name to the feelings I’ve had for years now, scared that as soon as I put that word to what I’ve been feeling that my heart will shatter at the impossibility of it all. Scared you’re going to leave me, to go away to someplace else and find someone who can love you the way I’ve always longed to. I love you so much and I’m so scared of losing you and this is going to kill me if it keeps happening.”

Without realizing it, tears had started to course down his cheeks. “Please,” his voice started to break with the effort of admitting all of this. “Please, Y/N, don’t leave me, you can’t. You can’t go away and find someone soft to love, I don’t know what would happen to me. I’ve dragged myself up tooth and nail with just the sight of your light to guide me, I don’t know what would happen when that light is no longer there. I’m-I’m not strong enough to do this alone, I need you. I know it’s not right, it’s not fair, it’s selfish of me to say it. But I’m a selfish man so, please, stay with me.”

“Oh, Kaz,” they started, taking a step closer to him.

Kaz backed up. “No, I don’t need your pity. If you’re going to leave, just do it quietly. I don’t know what would happen should I actually have to watch you leave.” He dropped into his chair, head falling into his hands to hide the tears and give himself a moment to recover. “Please, just, do as you wish. Don’t let me influence you.”

Footsteps crossed the floor until Y/N was crouched before him, ducking their head down enough to see him. “Kaz, darling, I’m not going anywhere.” They laughed. “The only reason I said I would leave is because I love you.”

Kaz raised his head slowly, brows furrowed in confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

“I love you but seeing you always being so cold to me, I thought you didn’t feel the same. So, I was determined to leave Ketterdam and leave you alone. I thought it would be better that way. It broke my heart to decide and every step closer, every word we spoke about it tonight, only tore my heart into smaller pieces.”

Kaz looked into their eyes, his gaze intent and searching. “Do you still want to leave?”

Y/N shook their head, a smile and laugh brightening the room. “Not in the slightest. I’m here to stay.”

Before his courage and elation could fail him, Kaz stood and pulled Y/N to their feet as well. One hand went up to cup their cheek, leather sliding against skin until they fit together perfectly. The other hand held their waist, pulling them in. For a brief moment, Kaz stared at their neck, watching the skin there faintly pulse in time with their heartbeat. He needed to know they were alive, and there with him on dry land, not dead in the water.

Y/N looked at him with those eyes he adored so much and he couldn’t help but lean in and press his lips to theirs. It was gentle and soft and only lasted for a few heartbeats before he had to pull back, the water rising around him. Already, he could feel the cold and wet hands grasping at him and threatening to drag him under again.

Y/N smiled at him, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. “Oh, look, the sun’s rising! We rarely ever get such a clear view of the sunrise unless it’s a countryside job, but I do love it so.”

He turned to look out the window at the night finally coming to an end. He was still there, seeing the sunrise for the first time in a week. Smiling, he pulled Y/N in again and kissed their face, feeling the puffs of their breath on his cheeks and chin as he worked his way around it. Those kisses would not be reset, they would not be wiped away to be replaced with the bruises of a job gone horribly wrong. Those kisses would instead stay on Y/N’s smiling face.

Taglist (Check out my masterlist before sending an ask to be added!): @lou-hadrian-gardna26 @brekkers-desigirl @nyx2021 @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @winstonthecow22

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#ace writes #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #gender neutral reader #confessions #time loop #kissing #get together fic

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xawkward-ariesx · 1 year

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Sometimes Merlin wondered if he'd done something to piss off the triple goddess because he could think of no other reason that on top of being a powerful wizard in Camelot - where such a thing was punishable by death - and the personal manservant to the Prince of said kingdom, he'd also drawn the short straw when it came to soulmates.

Not everyone had a soulmate but your chances were increased if you had magic. And even if you did have a soulmate, that didn't mean you'd have the gift of being able to hear each other's thoughts. It was supposed to make it easier for soulmates to find each other but Merlin didn't consider it a gift when he'd been taught to shelter his thoughts since he was a child, such a skill that was even more essential now he was in Camelot and constantly performing illegal magic. He had to censor himself a lot.

He wasn't always successful.

"Stupid Prince, maybe I should just let him die. See how he likes it."

"Excuse you! You can't say that." His soulmate's voice rang through his head, garbled as always like he was hearing it from underwater.

"What's it to you?" Merlin shot back. He wasn't about to be reprimanded for his thoughts by a stranger. They were the one intruding after all.

"It's regicide!" His soulmate squawked outraged.

Merlin rolled his eyes at the mental shriek returning to his task of collecting herbs from the forest for Gaius.

"Its not regicide, I'm not going to kill the Prince. He's just stupid and reckless. He always ignores the signs and one day I'm not going to be there to save his royal backside and it will be karma for his idiocy when he dies."

The voice spluttered, "Save him!? You can't talk about a member of the royal family like that. Who are you?"

"None of your business." He answered sharply shutting the flap on his satchel now that he had everything that he needed.

"I'm your soulmate!"

"So?" He was picking his way through the forest to head back to the castle barely paying the conversation any mind. "Doesn't mean your entitled to know my life."

It was actually safer for Merlin that his soulmate not know anything about him. He couldn't risk exposing himself or endangering his soulmate by proxy because his mere existence was technically illegal.

So with that he consciously shut off his end of the mental connection. He'd still be able to hear his soulmate but they'd get nothing from him.

"Oi! You can't do that, I'm still talking to you." The words were muffled even further now that Merlin's end was cut off. It was rather satisfying, like shutting a door in someone's face when you no longer wished to continue the conversation.

"You can't ignore me like this!"

Merlin began to hum to himself as he crossed through the lower town to drown the other voice out. Eventually they settled into petulant silence and Merlin was able to drop off the herbs to Gaius before returning to his duties for the Prince. It was just in time for lunch so he went to retrieve his food before making his way to Arthur's chambers.

Arthur was scowling from his desk when he let himself in. Arms crossed over his chest as he glared at nothing, Merlin would almost say he was pouting, but he kept that thought to himself.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked not caring about decorum.

"My soulmate is ignoring me." Arthur grumbled, shooting him a sharp glare. As though it was Merlin's fault that his soulmate didn't want to put up with his prattish ways when, Merlin didn't even know who it was so he could hardly be to blame.

"That must be awful," Arthur seemed to untense minutely at Merlin's words before he continued. "I can't imagine having you for a soulmate. I wonder which unfortunate princess was stuck with such a fate."

"Oi! You can't talk to me like that, Merlin. I'm the Prince."

Merlin snorted at the familiar retort as he set the table for the Prince in question's lunch.

"And we don't know that they're a princess." He grumbled so softly it was almost as though he was talking to himself.

"Why not?" Merlin frowned.

Arthur let his head fall back against the top of his chair with a sigh as if Merlin was intentionally asking a ridiculous question, which he didn't think he had.

"The chances of having a soulmate are slim, the chances of them also having the mind link are even fewer. There are just over twenty kingdoms in Albion, and less than that that have any princesses to speak of. It's just unlikely that my soulmate is a princess."

"You don't know that that though. Have they told you they're not a princess?" Merlin pointed out, trying to helpful if only because Arthur was less likely to throw something at him if he was in a better mood. And definitely not because he looked like a kicked puppy, nope, not at all.

But if anything this just seemed to intensify the Prince's glower.

"No they won't tell me anything about them. Apparently its none of my business." He rolled his eyes.

"Even more likely that they're royalty or at least nobility and are hiding it from you then."

"Shut up Merlin."

Merlin huffed, "I was just trying to get you to stop sulking you prat."

"Princes don't sulk Merlin and I don't want to talk about it."

"Whatever you say sire, lunch is ready."

#Ace writes #merlin #merlin drabble #TAoM drabble #Arthur Pendragon #Merlin Emrys #Arthur Pendragon drabble #Merlin Emrys drabble #Merthur #merthur drabble #Merlin x Arthur #soulmates #soulmate drabble #procrastination drabbles #this is unedited #i just like the idea of a soulmate bond where you can hear each other's thoughts but the angst of that

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spaceyaceface · 2 years

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He Fell In Love (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Warnings/Cliches: Friends to lovers, idiots in love, (mutual?) pining, def a fix-it fic, everyone is fine what are you talking about, very minor spoilers for vol 1

Request: how about best friend!steve and the moment he realizes that he's in love with the reader? - Anon

A/N: This was going to be different but then it just happened the way it happened, please enjoy. I’ll probably definitely absolutely make a part two if yall want it. EDIT: Part 2 is here!

WC: 1.8k

TAGLIST OPEN

REQUESTS OPEN

Steve always looked forward to Saturday nights nowadays. After all the hell he’d been through, something as mundane as a movie night was like therapy. Not quite as good, but close.

He figured there would be a good turn out that night. He’d brought home a new release, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Most of the younger kids had seen it in theaters already, but insisted the rest of them had to see it, too.

He was hosting at his place tonight, as he usually did. For as long as he lived in his parents’ house, he was content on abusing his right to use their property when they were out of town. He was getting the popcorn bowls ready when the pounding on the door started.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he called out, making his way to the door. “Keep your pants on!”

He opened the door and the kids all came tumbling in. “You know, I really don’t need you all banging like that every time you come over. When it finally comes off its hinges, you’re paying for the new one.”

“Relax, Steve,” Dustin said, taking off his shoes on the ground by the door.

Steve rolled his eyes, picking up all the coats they had discarded and putting them into a somewhat organized pile. “It’s always ‘Relax, Steve,’ and never ‘Sorry Steve, you’re right, how inconsiderate of me.’”

“Because you’re never right,” Dustin fired back. He stood up. “Hey, wait up!” He called, racing after all the other kids as they’d made their way to the living room, chattering excitedly.

Steve’s frown disappeared when he head a chuckle from the doorway. Y/N came in the rest of the way, shutting the door behind her. “That’s what you get when you invite teenagers over.”

He smiled at her, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall. “Please tell me we weren’t that bad.”

“Probably worse.”

“Probably,” he replied. “Robin and Eddie coming?”

“Nah. Robin flaked on us because Vickie asked her to do something tonight, and Eddie is at band practice. They managed to score a gig.”

Most people in their group came and went each week. None of them minded if another made other plans or did something else; they had something much stronger keeping them together. After the experiences over the years--and especially a few months ago--a weekly movie night was a constant that they all relied on from time to time. Of all of them, Steve and Y/N were the most consistant with the tradition. For Steve, it was because he didn’t have many other friends. He could have been asking girls on dates, (which he still did occasionally), but there was something about movie night that kept him content most of the time.

Y/N and Steve walked into the living room. Max and Lucas were sitting next to each other on the ground. Will was sandwiched between Dustin and Mike, the two of them arguing about something on each side of him--his eyes went between them like a game of pong. Mike had his arm around El, who was braiding Max’s hair at her feet. Robin had just taught her how to braid recently, so she was taking every chance to practice as her own hair grew back out.

No was sitting on the smaller sofa, so Steve and Y/N claimed it as their own. As soon as they said, Steve threw his arm onto the back of the couch, just behind Y/N’s shoulders.

“Hey Mike,” he called, interrupting the debate. “Is Nancy coming, or are we good to get started?”

“She’s ditching tonight, her and Johnathan went to dinner or something.”

Steve nodded. A while back, that would have caused a sharp pain in his chest. But at some point, it had changed to a dull ache. And one day, it disappeared all together.

He wasn’t sure what had changed, but it felt better.

Dustin got the movie started and Y/N went to the kitchen to fetch the popcorn. She distributed a couple of bowls to the kids, keeping the largest one and plopped back down next to Steve. He chuckled.

She gave him a glare. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, you’re just greedy as always,” he mumbled as the first scene began.

“I brought it to share with you since you usually complain there’s not enough, but now that you said that, yes, yes I am greedy.” She moved herself to the furthest part of the couch, taking the bowl with her.

“Hey! You know you can’t eat it all by yourself!”

She shot him a playful glare. “Watch me,” she said, shoveling a buttery handful into her mouth.

He scoot over, pressing himself to her side and tried to snatch a handful, but she held the bowl away from him. He groaned. “Fine, I take it back, you’re not greedy. Can I have some now?”

There was a loud shushing noise, and Steve looked over to find Max glaring at the two of them. Y/N rolled her eyes and set the bowl into his lap.

He grinned. “Thanks.”

They stayed side by side, and at some point, his arm found his way from the back of the couch to over her shoulders. This wasn’t unusual. It was something he loved about his friendship with Y/N. It was all just so easy around her. Since taking down Vecna, they’d spent a lot of time together. She had been Eddie’s friend and had joined the hunt to find him, managing to get herself caught up in the whole mess. But like the rest of them, she seemed grateful for the little family she had found on the other side of disaster.

For a while, Steve had considered Robin his best friend, but it seemed like she’d gotten some competition lately. They hadn’t grown apart by any means, Y/N and Steve had just gotten so incredibly close.

Because, despite what he had expected, Y/N was... well, she was Y/N. She’d talked him down when things with his dad got heated, and he’d stayed up with her on the nights she couldn’t close her eyes, afraid of what she would see. There was something between them that wasn’t between him and Robin. He couldn’t quite tell what it was, but it meant more to him than the world.

The movie came to an end, and Steve turned his face toward Y/N’s, who was resting her head on his shoulder. “You awake enough to drive the gremlins home, or do you want me to?”

She sat up. “I’m awake, but I wouldn’t mind the company if you want to come.”

“Sure, I’ll be generous enough to grace you with my presence for an extra half hour,” he said as he stood.

She rolled her eyes. “On second thought...”

He laughed. Something flickered in her eyes when he did, but it was so fast he figured he was seeing things. “Nope, you’re stuck with me, L/N. Just like you’re stuck with the rest of these twerps.” He held out his hand to help her up.

As she took it to stand, she smiled. “Honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.” Her eyes looked surveyed the kids, all in various stages of waking up. Her gaze was soft, full of affection. Steve couldn’t help but think he looked at them the same way, too.

The drive home was uneventful. Once the kids woke up enough to get into the car, Y/N took them each home, waiting in their driveways to make sure they were safely inside before heading to the next house. Soon it was just her and Steve in the car, driving back to his place. Her hands tapped on the steering wheel in time with the music on the radio.

Steve yawned. “I’m glad you’re driving. I’m about to pass out.”

“Yeah?” Y/N said, glancing over at him. “You been sleeping ok?”

“Past couple of nights were rough. I’ll be out like a light tonight.”

She put the car in park once she pulled into his driveway. “You can call me anytime, you know. That offer still stands.”

He gave her a soft smile. “I know. It’s not as bad as it used to be. What about you, you doing ok?”

She gave a gentle nod. “Most of the time.”

“I think most of the time is all we can ask for.”

He was truly grateful for Y/N, how quick she was to check up on him. She spent a lot of time caring for others, and putting herself on the back burner. He’d learned that in the last few months of watching her play babysitter with all the kids, making sure they were feeling all right, that they were sleeping, eating well, coping. She’d done the same thing to him, and as soon as he realized she was letting herself deal with things alone, he jumped to be there for her.

But that was just the way Y/N was. Kind, caring, loyal. She’d fight tooth and nail when it came down to it, but when the smoke cleared, she was there to put things back together, even if she was broken herself.

That’s what he loved about her.

Steve froze. His heart started to hammer in his chest. He did, didn’t he? He loved Y/N. He loved the way she made him laugh, even at the worst of times. He loved the way she looked at the kids, eyes full of warmth he had seen no where else. He loved the way she felt in his arms, the way he felt complete when he held her.

He loved her, completely, utterly and irrevocably.

And damn if he wasn’t still falling.

“Steve?” Her voice brought him out of his trance, and his eyes shot up to meet hers. He almost regretted it--now that he’d made sense of it all, he felt like he could never look away. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah. Sorry, I was, um.” Words tumbled clumsily out of his mouth. But how was he supposed to function when she looked at him like that? “Thinking. I was just thinking.”

“Thinking what?” she asked slowly, confusion written across her face.

“Nothing.” It came out much too quickly. He cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from her, glancing out the door. “Nothing, I should... should go?” It came out like a question. He hadn’t meant to do that.

“Yeah,” she said softly, brows furrowed. “Yeah, you should get to bed. Are you sure you’re alright?”

He let out a small sigh, regaining a bit of his composure. “I’m sure. I’ll... I’ll tell you about it later, ok? Just not right now. Promise.”

She hesitated before nodded. “Ok. I’m making you stick to that promise, Harrington.” Her hand rested on his shoulder. “Go get some rest for me.”

Anything for you. The thought came naturally. And he meant it.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

He got out of the car, trying not to look back before going inside. The feeling of her stare on his back followed in to the front door. Once he walked in, He let out a sigh, trying to empty the butterflies that invaded his stomach.

He was doomed.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #friends to lovers #pining #x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington request #ace writes #fluff #best friend #friend steve

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edjectedly · 2 years

Text

Bed Time for Bat Boys

I finally figured out everyone's ages!! They're a lot closer in this than in cannon. Each characters sections takes place a little bit after they've joined the family, so Dick is 8/9, Jason 12, Tim 12, and Damian 6. He gets to be baby because I said so. @therealtrevanian thanks for betaing this!!!!

This is fluff fluff and more fluff, hope you all enjoy :)!

First <<Prev Next>>

~~~~~

Bruce: bed time

9 year old Dick: but I don't wanna go to bed, I wanna go out with you

Bruce:...

Alfred standing behind Dick: 🤨

Bruce: sorry chum, you have to wait till the weekend

Dick: that is not fair

Bruce: you have school

Dick: and you have work

Bruce: Dick… c'mon bud is- um- is something… wrong?

Dick: I don't wanna sleep and I don't wanna go to school and I want- *starts crying*

Bruce, full panic mode: okay um um wanttocomereadcasefiles

Dick:... What?

Bruce: case… files? you can help with them?

Dick: okay!

Alfred, checking on them 30 minutes later in the cave to see Dick asleep on Bruce's lap while he works on a case: ah they grow up so fast

~~~~~

Jason: hey B-man

Bruce: hrnnng

Jason: articulate as ever

….

Bruce: you're supposed to be asleep

Jason: no I'm not

Bruce: ??? Yes

Jason: mmmm I think you're wrong

Bruce: no???? It's 4 am

Jason: and?

Bruce:

Bruce: …. c'mon

Jason: what are we doing at the library?

Bruce: reading

Jason: …. okay

Alfred gets up an hour later and finds them both asleep against each other on one of the couches. He covers them up and then goes back to his morning tasks.

~~~~~

Robin!Tim: *trying not to fall asleep standing up*

Batman: I told you to stay home tonight

Robin: no no no, Batman needs his Robin and I'm that Robin and so I'm here

Batman: Robin isn't here if he's asleep

Robin: right right right, I'll do jumping jacks or something to wake up more, sorry-

Batman: nono, we are going home

Robin: but the stakeout-

Batman: don't care, home

Robin: B-

Batman: I'llcarryyoutotheBatmobiledon'ttestme

Robin: … fine

Alfred watches Bruce carry a completely passed out Robin into the cave. But he doesn't worry, not when Bruce has That Look™ on his face.

~~~~~

Bruce: *whispering* whatdoIdo

Alfred: well, I imagine you just put him to bed as you have done for your others boys

Bruce: but he's little

Alfred: 🤨

Bruce: fine

Bruce: Damian, it's bed time

Damian: no

Bruce: what? yes it is

Damian: mother has me stay awake at this hour, so I am awake

Bruce: …

Bruce: okay

Damian: okay?

Bruce: yeah, let's go. if you want you can ride in the BatMobile with me while I do a car patrol

Damian: you patrol from your car?

Alfred, knowing good and well Bruce does not patrol from his car: oh yes Master Damian, it's one of the more important types of patrols

Damian: then of course I must assist

~ an hour later ~

Bruce: *carries Damian from the car*

Alfred: I'm impressed Master Bruce

Bruce: *shrugs* works with Timmy

Alfred watches him take Damian upstairs and smiles. He's proud of the father his son has become.

~Bonus~

Bruce: *jerks his head up from the computer keyboard*

Dick: oh it is bad

Jason: told you

Tim: we can't get him to sleep

Dick: okay here's the plan

~thirty minutes later~

Damian: father I need you to read this to me *holds up Fable Haven*

Bruce: Da-Damian oh hi, sorry I'm busy I just have to-

Tim: Bruce Bruce Bruce

Bruce: wha-

Tim: I also have never read the book

Bruce: but-

Tim: Dick and Jason, mostly Jason, are making hot coco and you can read to us

Damian: please father?

Bruce: ….

Two hours later, Alfred walks around the house in search of his boys only to find all five of them sprawled out on the couch. Dick lifts his head when Alfred enters and smiles. Alfred smiles, shakes his head, and leaves. Dinner can be reheated later.

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arecaceae175 · 5 months

Note

For the prompt thing- Eyeliner with Time from LU, please?? 🧍🏻‍♂️

Warriors huffed in frustration as he let his eyeliner drop into his lap. He curled his shaking, swollen hands into fists and dropped them into his lap. Warriors risked a glance into his mirror. There was a thick line of makeup smudged across his eyelid.

Warriors was nearly ready to shove the mirror away and be done with it, but the thought of going without his mask for even a day sent his anxiety spiraling. He closed his eyes, took four deep breaths, then picked up the eyeliner to try again.

He poised his hands in front of his face, but they were shaking even more in his anger than before.

"Captain?" Time asked from behind.

Warriors let his hand flop into his lap again.

"I'll be ready soon," Warriors said. His tone was clipped, but he hoped Time wouldn't notice.

There was a long silence, and Warriors lifted his eyes to the mirror to watch Time's reflection. He had a strange expression on his face that Warriors couldn't quite place, then he silently approached and sat down next to Warriors.

"Can I help?" Time asked.

Warriors took a deep breath and handed his eyeliner to Time. "You know how?"

"I have some experience," Time said.

"I'm not going to be able to do it myself," Warriors said.

Time nodded and gave him a small smile.

"Close," Time said.

Warriors closed his eyes and tilted his head back just so. Time was incredibly gentle wiping off the stray lines and then applying his own. When he was finished, he tapped Warriors' knee and gestured to the mirror. The eyeliner was perfectly placed.

"This looks... where'd you learn to do this so well?" Warriors asked.

"You taught me," Time said. Warriors looked at him in surprise, then cast his mind back to the days of the war.

"Did I?" Warriors asked. He didn't remember every showing Mask how to do makeup. He couldn't imagine the kid sitting still long enough for a lesson in anything.

"Not directly," Time said. "But I watched you almost every day."

"Oh," Warriors said. Time averted his gaze and shrugged.

"I looked up to you, you know," Time said. Then, he abruptly cleared his throat and pushed himself to his feet.

"It came in handy. Malon is a disaster at eyeliner," Time said with a grin.

Warriors huffed a laugh. "Thanks," he said.

"Anytime," Time said.

Edit: THERE IS ART NOW!!!

#linked universe #lu warriors #lu time #lu mask #wars and mask my weakness #three sentence prompt #ace writes

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stardusted-bookworm · 9 months

Text

The Experiment

CW(ish): Pet names used as benign manipulation.

Essek squinted down at the piece of parchment on the table. The equations were starting to swim in front of his eyes, becoming both coherent and indecipherable. Essek was willing to admit, though it irked him to do so, that perhaps he had spent much too long concentrating on this specific Aeorian text. What he was not willing to do, however, was admit defeat.

“Caleb, love, would you come look at this a moment?” He figured he should take a break soon or suffer the consequences of eye strain at a young age. His eyes lifted to the ceiling of the Tower, attempting to stave off a mild headache. Curse this body that required care to keep it alive. What he wouldn’t give to be able to study this ancient magic forever.

It had been silent for a rather long time. Which was odd considering where he’d last seen the amber-haired wizard. When he didn't hear any movement whatsoever from his partner, Essek peeled his eyes from the ceiling, eyebrows furrowed and more than a little concerned.

Caleb Widogast was, in fact, exactly in the same spot Essek had left him: sitting on the armchair diagonally to his right. However, instead of the contemplating expression Essek had expected to be focused on Caleb’s own set of Aeorian artifacts, the Zemnian’s eyes all but shimmered as they locked with his own. An immeasurable expression had filled Caleb’s face. An expression so full of emotion, Essek felt his ears begin to heat up.

“What did you just say?” Caleb asked. He moved to the edge of his seat, eyes imploring.

Essek blinked, feeling uncharacteristically nervous under his partner’s stare. “I-I was just wondering if-if you’d be willing to look over this page. A fresh set of eyes may help me uncover these ancient mysteries faster.”

There was a flash of disappointment in Caleb’s eyes, gone before Essek fully registered it was there. And still, the amber-haired wizard slid onto the couch next to the dunamancer, looking at the pages over his shoulder.

Essek tried to keep his focus as Caleb began pointing out connections he had missed before, but the warmth of Caleb’s body in addition to the brief sadness he’d witnessed on the other’s face made concentration very difficult. What had he said that had disappointed the transmutation specialist?

Or, Essek wondered, what hadn’t he said?

The dunamantic prodigy analyzed every second of their most recent conversation, working backwards to find the very instance that had triggered the disappointment. Everything he’d said had been in line with how most of their conversations had progressed in the long weeks they’d been exploring Aeor. Everything, he supposed, except for… Oh!

Essek grinned slightly, a plan forming in his mind. An experiment, if you will.

He waited patiently for the perfect moment, a predator stalking its prey, and was rewarded quickly as Caleb turned to him, checking to see if he understood.

“Thank you, love.” Essek said and kissed Caleb’s cheek. “I think I’ll turn in for the night. Let’s pick up here in the morning, hm?”

Caleb’s skin was slowly turning an adorable shade of red when Essek stood up, smirked to himself, and headed up to his room in the Tower. Oh, yes, Essek thought. This will be a most delightful experiment.

. . .

It was several days before Essek decided to conduct the next trial of his experiment. Long enough that Caleb should not catch on to what he was doing. For if Caleb found out too early, it may ruin the experiment, provide him with insufficient results, and, if Essek was being honest with himself, take all the fun out of it.

The two wizards were spending quality time in Caleb’s Rexxentrum home on a lovely spring evening. Of course, one wouldn’t know how lovely it was outside since the house was shaded to provide protection from the sun. A gift that proved there was space carved out for Essek forever, should he want it. And maybe… maybe… Essek was finally ready to accept the silent question.

But first, the Experiment.

“It’s quite beautiful outside,” Essek commented, lazily flipping a page.

Caleb hummed in response, eyes never leaving his novel.

The wizards sat in armchairs across from each other, tea cold and forgotten on the table between them. It was so easy to forget about simple beverages when enraptured in a book. At this point, Essek didn’t even know why they bothered making tea anymore.

“I was thinking that perhaps we should take some time to enjoy the sun.” Essek’s tone remained nonchalant, even as he fought back a smile.

Caleb’s head finally rose from his reading, brows scrunched in confusion. “I thought the sun caused you immense discomfort, Schatzi.”

Essek hummed. “Yes, it does.”

“Why would you want to willingly put yourself through pain?”

The drow shrugged. “I’ve heard it best to step out of one’s comfort zone every so often. And…” Essek looked up, an amused grin on his face. “I fear if you stay inside with me any longer, you may simply become a ghost due to a vitamin D deficiency.”

Caleb chuckled a bit at that. “I suppose you are right. But I would rather you not be in pain.”

“Not to worry.” Essek flicked his fingers and opened a pocket dimension. Reaching in, he pulled out the black parasol Jester had drawn for him most recently. “I’ve come prepared! Won’t you join me in the garden on this lovely afternoon, darling?”

Because he was watching for it (for the Experiment of course), Essek saw the moment Caleb’s face flushed red, the color spreading all the way to his ears. His eyes became momentarily unfocused, dilating, and his mouth parted ever so slightly.

Interesting, interesting.

Essek noted these observations down in his mental journal. Two of his three trials have concluded with the same result. He was well on his way to proving his hypothesis correct.

He mentally patted himself on the back even as his face was the picture of innocence.

“Caleb, are you quite all right?” Essek walked over to the other wizard and placed his hand on his companion’s forehead. “Are you coming down with something?”

Caleb coughed. “N-no. No, no. I am quite well. Here, let me set up for us. I won’t be a moment!”

Without another word, the Zemnian quickly rose from his seat and headed to the garden, seemingly attempting to put space between him and Essek. It made the elf chuckle. He could get used to this kind of treatment.

With that thought, Essek picked up his enchanted parasol and casually strolled to meet up with Caleb in the garden.

. . .

In an unfortunate series of events—namely almost getting caught by the Aurora Watch and the concerning business with the Apogee Solstice—the Experiment was all but forgotten about and laid on the backburner. It was hard to imagine being mischievous when one was running and/or fighting for their lives.

It wasn’t until Essek—pent up and frustrated from constantly looking over his shoulder and the cat now walking all over his papers with inky paws—snapped, “Caleb, my beloved, could you please get the cats out of this room for the next ten minutes?” that he even remembered it existed.

Unfortunately, the way he remembered was less than ideal.

A hand snaked around Essek’s waist from behind, and a low voice whispered in his ear, “Of course, darling. Your wish is my command.”

Essek’s face heat up so fast, it practically broke the sound barrier. His ears twitched as he stared agape at the man currently shooing Johanna off the counter.

“I-I— Caleb?”

Words were, embarrassingly, not functioning for him right now.

Caleb simply turned back to look at Essek with an evil grin. “You left your notes here last time you stayed over. All of your notes.”

Essek’s brain was still misfiring. He could not comprehend the hidden meanings in Caleb’s words.

Strolling casually toward him, Caleb continued, “I found a rather interesting set of notes entitled ‘The Experiment’.” He stopped a hand’s breadth away from Essek and tilted his face toward the drow. “You wouldn’t happen to know what that’s about, would you?”

Oh… fuck…

Essek had completely forgotten that he had written down his findings from his experiment. It had been habit, considering he does it with every arcane experiment he’d ever conducted. Why wouldn’t he do it with the singular non-arcane experiment?

“I-I-”

Essek cast Teleport, trying his absolute damndest to get out of this situation. Caleb was never supposed to find out! This is almost literally the worst case scenario. Where did all your confidence go, Thelyss? he asked himself. You were so smug when you knew there was little chance of him finding out!

Oh, well. He supposed he could hide out in Nicodranas for a few days. He was positive Jester would enjoy the company. Fjord would probably protest a little, but he would eventually give in. It would just take a little convincing on Essek’s part. That’s all.

Essek could practically taste the scent of the ocean when magic slammed into his face at point-blank range, his Teleport effectively Counterspelled.

Vith.

“You can’t get away from this conversation so easily, my friend.” Caleb was still smirking down at Essek. “I am not mad, Schatzi. If that’s what you were worried about. I am more amused.”

Essek had covered his face at this point, unwilling to look Caleb in the eye. So, Caleb did the only logical thing. He removed Essek’s hands and kissed the drow’s forehead.

Pulling back, the human said, “We have been married for months, Essek. You don’t need to be so shy about liking to ‘see me flustered’ I believe were your notes. It is cute though.”

Essek gently slammed his head into Caleb’s chest. He was never going to live this down, was he? Oh well. Might as well embrace it.

He lifted his head, hand coming up to curl around the back of Caleb’s neck. Stretching up onto his toes, he whispered in the Zemnian’s ear, “Well then, darling. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind doing the dishes today. Isn’t that right, my dearest love? You would do anything for me right now?”

Caleb cleared his throat, more times than was probably necessary. “Yup. Yes. I will get right on that.”

The transmutation specialist promptly turned around and began doing what he was asked.

Essek allowed a small grin. Oh, this would be fun.

#critical role #shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #the wizards being wizards #essek is so silly #i love him so much #excuse the ooc actions #the brain rot consumed me #my writing #ace writes

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