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glazelilyy · 1 year

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before the roar of thunder

pairings (separately!) - diluc ragnvindr, kaeya alberich, childe/tartaglia, xiao x gender neutral reader (no pronouns used!)

word count - 4597

genre - angst, hurt/comfort

format - drabbles

warnings - blood/injury/wound mentions, cataclysmic destruction, violence, crying, kissing, character deaths with no graphic description (but not for the paired character or reader EXCEPT in childe's)

summary - a storm approaches but just before it does, you share a tender moment with your beloved for the last time

a/n - i have been mia for a while :') but this idea just kinda hit me out of nowhere so i decided to write about it :P i don't know if this writing will live up to expectations or any of my work from the past because i haven't written in a while but i'm trying to enjoy writing just because i like it rather than to live up to an expectation, so i'm gonna try and do my best :) i hope you enjoy this piece and thank you all so much for your patience and love these past few months i could not be more grateful that i am being interacted with and sent such wonderful messages <3 (also fun fact i listened to multiple vbs songs while writing most of this which just doesn't fit in with anything happening in these drabbles and majority of the time i had akito rapping in my ear while writing about death LMAO)

diluc loved.

he loved his city, born from the death of corruption and nurtured by the souls and free spirits of her people. he loved the crisp breeze that swept by falcon coast and cradled its peak in a bough of brevity where his worries would fly away and cast themselves up into the sky to become stars. he loved the shade from beneath the towering tree at windrise where memories of summers and picnics and childhood mischief came alight with a single glance towards her wavering leaves. he loved the cool touch of a crystalfly's perch upon his gloved finger.

he loved his companions; silently from afar he'd send well wishes in quiet messages meant only for their hands to caress or ears to indulge. he loved lisa; lazy as she might appear not once had she ever let him down. he loved jean: hardworking, disciplined, strong, courageous, but for every pedestal she was placed on was she ever more human—flesh and blood with a heart that pounded for others and never herself. he loved kaeya—his beloved little brother who always preferred the cool shade of his shadow and shielded his back from the many blades that sought his head.

he loved you. you who brought light with gentle hands and placed it within his heart. you who illuminated the dark, winding pathway of justice he thought he'd walk alone forever. you who showed him trust, who knew how he liked his tea (sweet, for a man who was even sweeter). you, who braided cecilias into his hair and peppered kisses across his ruddy cheeks and doused him in all the sugary sweetness that love could ever provide.

diluc loved, and loved, and loved, tremendously.

and he still loved, even as mondstat burned in a storm of fire.

he still loved, even as he stood over lisa and jean whose eyes had lost their brilliance and sparkle of life.

he still loved, even as he wept for his little brother who had feared death and spent his remaining strength gripping onto the tassels of his jacket and begged for him to stay; to reassure him in his last moments.

he stayed, despite the agony that coursed through his body and the never-ending sorrow that scorched his heart when kaeya stilled.

he still loved, even as he gripped your hand with tenacity laced in his veins.

soot and ash coated both of your bodies and faces as you stood at the gates of mondstat and watched the world before you crumble beneath your feet.

diluc felt his heart bob up and down in the narrow passageway of his throat.

he was always too late.

too late for his city. too late for his friends. for his brother.

the love in his heart was never enough. he was never enough. and now everything was gone. burning.

never before had he despised looking at his vision so much.

"they'll be back," you whispered hoarsely, and diluc turned to look at you, "the abyss order."

your hand seemed to squeeze his with every ounce of strength you had left, eyes wide and trembling with the flickering flames of destruction reflected in the glassy haze of your irises. the fresh tear tracks on your face twisted his heart into a knot.

"i know," he replied, never once casting his gaze away from you, "i'm still alive, after all."

diluc would not tell you that he could smell the unmistakable stench of abyssal magic from over the horizon. he couldn't. you'd seen horror after horror and now was not the time to tell you that more bloodshed approached. the abyssal army approached slowly and steadily, and soon they would be here to have his head on a stick. there was no running, there was no use escaping the inevitable.

"diluc..." you turned to him, doll-like and devoid of life with a tremble of sorrow buried in the abyss in your expression, "what do we do?" you whispered to him, as if he contained secrets of the universe that should only be shared between the two of you.

wordlessly, he pulled you close and rubbed a soothing hand in gentle strokes up and down your back. his embrace guarded you from the inevitable end that slowly crouched closer, rising with newborn sun. gloved, soot-covered hands slid up to your cheeks to thumb away at the tears that collected near your eyes.

diluc's heart wrenched in his throat uncomfortably, knowing well and good that this may be the last tender moment he'll ever share with you.

to that end, he found himself asking, "would you care for a dance?"

the question came out broken and hoarse, just barely under a whisper and lost was the man who once held a burning flame of retribution and tenacious blaze of justice in his eyes. you peered into a pool of tired red, glossed over with a misty haze of sorrow.

wordlessly, you allowed him to guide your hands and let him set the tempo as you moved carefully to avoid the debris scattered at your feet.

you'd always joke that he was much like a prince when he danced; so elegant and refined with the composure of royalty itself, he spun and dipped you much like a silk ribbon weaving through the air.

this time, however, diluc held you close and swayed to an invisible song. no elegant movements or dips from your prince. now, he was but a man clinging to the last remnants of life in his soul; the only thing tethering him to this world.

your hearts wildly pounded against each other's chests, horribly out of sync yet still so tremendously close that you'd fuse together if you could.

as the sun rose and illuminated his once beloved city, home to the people he loved, diluc leaned in and captured your lips one last time in a kiss that touched your soul and wrapped your heart in a blazing warmth of flame.

his hand wrapped so tightly around your waist and held itself firm at the back of your head, desperate to drink every last drop of your love and desperate to not let your eyes open and see that the abyssal army had breached what was left of mondstat's defenses.

diluc loved, and loved, and he loved you more than life itself. but in the end his love was never enough.

(continued utc!)

once, at the tender age of five or six, kaeya alberich witnessed death for the first time.

he'd grown fond of the butterflies that fluttered near the crystal clear lake behind dawn winery. their vibrant colors were foreign and new and his childhood intrigue urged him to watch with glowing eyes at each flap of its multicolored wings.

it was on one of these days where he found himself in the presence of the gleaming scythe of death itself when a colossal frog leapt from the waters and captured a butterfly within its maw.

he'd never felt such fear, and he convinced himself he'd never feel that fear again.

he now realized he was wrong.

he felt it again when diluc screamed, a horrifying sound, for his fallen father and kaeya did not know how to handle the immensive wave of relief that flooded over him. he felt it when a fiery blade swung itself down against his eye and believed his punishment was nigh. he felt it now, as mondstat burned to the ground and the corpses of citizens, knights, and abyssal monsters alike littered the once love-filled, lively streets.

death had always followed him closely like a friend—like a lover, he corrected himself. its arms wrapped around his body and cooed sweet nothings to him. death trotted after him wherever he went.

perhaps he should've gave into its embrace. maybe if he had, death wouldn't have found a lover in his home and snuffed the life and vivacity out of every mondstatian and every building within the city's walls. death would not have sunk its claws into jean, who took the abyssal army's leader with her when she pounded at the gates of celestia. or lisa and albedo, who fought at the western front for days on end only to succumb to the overwhelming onslaught of enemies with not enough manpower. what a shame, kaeya thought; he was rather looking forward to his daily midnight tea session with lisa and bothering albedo during his experiments. in some other universe, he is there and he is happy.

he loathed to think of it, but death had latched its talons into the flesh of little klee. a child was no exception to this hoard of monsters, but was the monster not truly him for failing them all? he wondered as he held her cold body close and wept.

death had always followed him but kaeya came to the conclusion that he was the one who truly wielded death. where he went, bodies dropped and lives fell into ruin. his prime example: his brother, who now lay at his feet with a sword through his back. a sword through his back, he seethed, because his attackers were so cowardly that they knew this uncrowned king would not go down so easy. it filled kaeya with an ugly rage that blotted out the tears in his eye. his shirt remained caked in diluc's blood from when the man brought him into a hug as he dangled at death's edge and whispered apology after apology into his ear.

always caught between the worlds of the blessed and the sinned, kaeya believed that he had grown quick enough to outmaneuver fate itself. but death remained steadfast and tenacious.

death was his lover and he was doomed to dance an everlasting tango so long as he lived. if not for him, the imposter in an aviary full of beautiful, golden-winged seabirds, perhaps the abyssal army would have left mondstat alone. jean would be here, ready to give him an earful for getting carried away with all the scars littering his body. albedo would chide him as he dressed his wounds while klee went on about another dodoco story while her little legs swung back and forth in the air. lisa would hand him a cup of tea and enjoy his company in silence. diluc...oh diluc, all the things he wished to tell his brother.

the only problem in his death theory was you.

you were still here.

you held him close as he wept for his beloved friends, for the little girl who always called him big brother, and for his beloved most treasured big brother whose fiery hair blazed no more.

how were you still here? was death not his lover? did he not bring death and sorrow wherever he went?

but if anything you were life. in your hands he renewed himself again, much like a butterfly unfurling its wings after cocooning for so long. warm smiles and fluttering kisses always greeted him after a long day's work. even now, as you wept beside him for your fallen friends, you remained his last thread of life keeping him tethered to this world.

"everyone's dead." you whispered from the crook of his neck as you both sat on the dust covered ground where the statue of barbatos once stood, mighty and proud.

"i'm sorry." he pleaded in return.

you shot your head up, bewildered and...offended.

"it's not- it's not your fault!"

kaeya laughed dryly, "oh, darling, you know it is."

death was his lover and he was succumbing to it. death was his lover and he drank in each of its poisonous kisses and sneaky touches.

you wasted no time in bringing him close, effectively delaying off death for a while longer. "it. is. not. your. fault."

"they'd be elsewhere if not for me-"

"mondstat would have fallen a lot quicker without you, kaeya," you interrupted, "you are no harbinger or vessel of death. you protected this city and its people with your life."

how did you always know what to say? perhaps you were an archon—that would be funny, wouldn't it? a sinner and an archon in love. kaeya wanted to laugh at the thought of it but all that left his lips was a broken whine that slid into a muffled sob. you were there to catch him as he fell into the overwhelming onslaught of sorrow that flickered around him much like the distant flames of burning houses and crinkle of crackling wood and stone.

"it should have been me." he croaked.

you shook your head and swept away the locks that clung to his sweaty forehead. "if it were ever you, i would go as well."

his heart ached in the cavity of his chest, eager to run away from this all. but he lay tired in your arms as you peppered kisses to his skin. even as you sunk to the ground on your side and gathered him in your arms, all he felt was the overwhelming tide wash over him.

death was not his lover, you were. and you were life. he loved living with you and with his beloved friends and comrades.

he lay beside you and kissed every inch of your face, covering you in his love. he cared not for the distant roar of abyssal mages and monsters anymore, not when he held life itself within his arms. life who kissed him back with just as much love and sweet tenderness that set his heart alight.

on this day, two butterflies sat perched on a perfect calla lily, waiting for the inevitable end of a frog's maw; their hearts and souls forever intertwined.

childe can't remember many of his dreams, but there is one he's clung onto for years.

he is in a soft bank of snow, surrounded by his darling siblings and cherished parents. his father does not look at him as if he's seen a beast dredged up from the darkest of nightmares. the world around him is pure and crafted of childhood dreams: there is no evil and there is no heart ache.

you are there and you are smiling at him, waiting for him with open arms.

this has remained but a mere dream of his for a reason.

in reality, there was only the cold, concrete ground of the fatui jail cell and dry, underground air that left him suffocating. slivers of eerie, ghostly blue light trickled in from the false candles that lined the underground jail. the rust-caked iron bars bathed reluctantly in the ghastly glow.

his eyes flickered up to the ceiling, hoping to make out shapes or cracks within the foundation. just give me some hope, archons if you're listening—please! but the gods stayed silent and the ceiling remained unchanged.

his vision and delusion had been stripped, weapons all but ripped from his hands. there was no hope left. childe let his gaze wander to you.

you lay in the cell across, face down, unconscious after taking the butt of a fatui gun to the nape. how cruel—to involve the lover of a scorned harbinger. for the god of love the tsaritsa was awfully sadistic. no matter how much he struggled and screamed that you should not bear the burden of his crimes it did nothing but urge the fatui to get their hands on you even more urgently.

childe wishes that he had accepted reality—wishes that he had never tried to desert from the fatui. steal away under the cover of night with you in hooded cloaks and cross the snezhnayan border for a life free of misery and a life where it'd be you and him together.

as much as the fatui have given him power, you have given him strength and courage and hope and love. there was no place for childe among the fatui, not when he wanted his place to be by your side. to feel your love each and every day and wake up to your smile.

you stirred from your cell, snapping childe from his thoughts. his hands snatched themselves at the bars, eyes blown wide and searching for signs that you were okay.

"hmmn...childe? where...where are we?"

his heart ached tremendously and beat against the skin of his throat.

"jail." he whispered.

"what?! but...but we were just about to cross the border when-"

"when we were caught by pulcinella's men," childe finished, "and brought here. i've been charged with desertion and my punishment is at sunrise."

childe hated seeing you feel anything but happiness—anything but love and the sunshine of emotions that you deserved to experience. he failed you when tears gathered in your eyes.

"but the punishment for desertion..."

childe smiled with eyes that swam in a sea of sorrow, "execution." he finished.

you lifted yourself up onto your forearms and dragged your semi-awake body to the edge of the jail cell. between each cell lay a narrow path, where you desperately reached your hand out to the other side. the tears that had gathered in your eyes streaked their way down in hazes across your cheeks as you suppressed your sobs and whines. your fingers shook with everything within you as you stretched and reached out to him, this beautiful, golden man whose wings would be clipped at sunrise.

childe scrambled to shove his hand past the bars and reach your hand. he only managed to grab onto the tips of your fingers but it was enough for him. you were in his grasp, it was enough for him.

he was thankful his family would not have to bear the brunt of his desertion, he should really thank mister zhongli for sneaking them out of the country into liyue. he regrets not having you go along with his family, but you insisted on going with him. it's his fault you were in jail.

reality was far too cruel.

"you'll escape, right? you've always got a plan." you pleaded between heaving breaths.

childe weakly laughed from an ugly, hopeless place.

he wished to make all your dreams come true, protect all your wishes and hold your smiles and laughter close like a warm trinket tied around his neck. anything but this ceaseless crying and sorrow that he felt slither from your heart through your arm and into your connected hands.

"come now, no tears, sunshine. you know i'll be okay, i'll figure something out." childe cooed, though he knew better. oh, lord, these lies would swallow him whole, but it is fated.

"do you promise?" you whispered brokenly.

his heart screamed at him not to do it, conscience pounding at the doors of self control in his mind. but childe was a protector of dreams and happiness.

a lean, scar riddled pinky looped in your own, holding tight to the invisible promise that linked the two of you. "i'll keep it all my life."

"if you break it i'll throw you on the ice myself."

the warbled smile on your face was enough. your watery eyes and tender touch gave him light that was not reminiscent of death like the flickering blue candles that lined the jail.

"of course. i'll owe you a duel as well. do you think you'll best me this time?"

you scoffed and tugged on his fingers, "of course i will, so you have to stay alive for me to beat you."

"well, i can't ignore orders from the top now can i?" he joked and reveled in the muted laugh that bubbled past your lips.

even in the bleakest of moments you gave him hope, like a light shining in a sea of never ending darkness.

"you'll always have me, no matter where i am. i promise you i won't let them hurt you." he whispered, and unlike that last promise, he meant it.

you held his hand until the guards came and even as you screamed and pleaded and cried with all your heart for him to stay, there was some morbid part of childe that was glad he got to hold your hand for the last time. he called out his declarations of love one last time as he fought against the grip of the guards and shoved his hands through your jailcell bars to cup to face and swipe away your tears. agony coursed through his veins as the guards ripped him from your grip and your fingers slipped through his hands like the sands of an hourglass. the last picture of your face would be one of horror and tear-stricken as the guards dragged him off. he whispered your name and as it rolled off his tongue it left in its wake a taste of sunshine and mirth.

i love you, more than anything in this world. more than power and glory and all the temptations of this world. you are my dream.

as he kneeled before the tsaritsa in handcuffs and chains nailed to the floor with her hand raised to deal the strike of death upon him, he smiled once more at the dream he cherished.

he is safe, and warm, and everyone he loves knows no sorrow.

though he promised to protect that dream, he knows his tongue will freeze over so that he may never spew lies again.

for as long as he's lived, xiao has prepared himself extensively for only a single thing: his death.

it wasn't a matter of sorting out the wares and material items he didn't own—such things weren't of importance to an adeptus like himself. rather, it was the acceptance of death itself. he was no stranger to this cloaked figure of fear that knocked on its hosts doors or barged in uninvited. blood covered his hands, dripped down the slope of his jaw and pooled at his feet. death invaded every crevice of his life much like a persistent parasite that sought to drive him to the brink of madness and back again. but it was familiar and offered a morbid sense of comfort.

as far as he could ever consider, xiao had waited for death for as long as he'd known the stars to dot the sky.

those same stars flickered down back at him, almost pitifully, as the ground shook with tremors that made the grass come alive and dance a morbid waltz of terror. crimson smoke painted the sky and blotted out the overhead glow of the stars. screams cried out in the distance and clashed with the sounds of blades and battle cries and war horns to produce a macabre melody that twisted a knot in his stomach.

fading bodies of monsters lay at his feet, numbers in the dozens. his breath caught in his throat, desperate to retreat yet needing to escape. he clenched his blood-bathed spear, fingers curling taut around the metal to cling to the last shred of hope he could muster.

his eyes flickered up to you, who mimicked his breathless, tired disposition as a mitachurl fell at your feet. your weapon clattered to the ground, your knees following shortly after.

xiao raced to your side in a blip, quick to grip your forearms before you could hit the ground. his polearm laid abandoned where he once stood, now its final resting place. his arms were now full of you and eyes clouded in worry. exhaustion crept its way onto your face and it was then he knew: hope was all lost.

the abyssal armies and undead, ancient gods raged onwards in the distance, they harrowing sounds a mere whisper in comparison to the loud thundering beat of your heart against his body.

reluctant as he was to touch you for fear of his karmic debt, xiao found himself hesitant to let go. for you to slip through his fingers and the fear of never allowing his fingers to trace the slopes and edges of your face invaded him like an intruder. your arms reciprocated and slid around his shoulders as a silent plea. this madness would never end, let's stop. you seemed to cry out.

perhaps this was the very moment he'd been preparing what felt like eons for. death crept its way around the corner, leaving war and destruction in its wake and its march to sink its fangs into both him and you was inevitable.

his knees buckled as you both sank to the grassy bed, bodies and limbs entangled and intertwined in a connection that seemed impossible to sever. as much as his conscience begged him to move and enact his long written duty, his body cried out a different tune, his heart a different dance altogether.

you shifted his body and laid his head on your lap, bracing yourself on a palm as your other hand worked to move the sticky strands of lush, forest-green locks from his sweat-covered forehead.

"rest, you've done well." you murmured with a gentleness in your eyes that made his stomach swim up to his throat and choked him ever so sweetly.

had he done enough? war raged on, lives devoured by the endless deluge of monsters and evil beings that sought death. his most reliable companion, death, would soon march up to his door and barge in with a demand for his head.

all the while, xiao believed that he was ready to embrace death. he pictured it perfectly: he'd meet his end in the midst of battle and his death would contribute towards a greater good. some would garner a chance to escape while the monsters gorged themselves on his death and feasted on his powers.

now, however, an unsettling sense of dread settled in his chest. the world around him burned and crashed and yet you remained intact, gently stroking his hair and humming a sweet song that you'd often coo to the birds on the railings of wangshu inn (and he loathed to look west and see the silhouette of a once towering, proud inn now toppled to the ground).

had he not readied himself for the one, singular thing that has been constant in his life? had he not witnessed enough to resolve the conflict that was life or death?

as he listened to the melody that fell from your lips with the world around him blotted out to nothing but you and him, he realized a truly frightening thing: he was not ready yet. death could not guarantee that you would be there to sit silently beside him on cool, summer nights and fold butterflies out of leaves or go crystalfly watching in the early mornings of spring. death would not ensure that he felt an uncomfortable yet welcoming warmth in his stomach when your eyes met his and a smile bloomed on your face (and though he'd never know how he should respond, you always seemed to somehow know how he felt).

he was not ready to be without you. a dreadful realization. he had failed at preparing himself for the one thing he knew was inevitable. but in this moment, as the world caved in and crumbled around you, he felt peace. his worn body lay tired and supplicant in your arms. once a weapon, now he found himself rusted and worn beyond repair left with only this beautiful longing in his heart to be filled with all of you. his eyes fluttered up to your visage and behind your kind eyes and warbling smile, the stars glimmered back down at him.

in these final moments, xiao wished to be nowhere else. with a heart so full of love, its wings unfurling and stretching high towards the sky where it'd soar on forever in an unmarked destination.

date published: january 30th, 2023

#genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact angst #TW: MCD #TW: blood #TW: death #works—☆

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watchyourbuck · 4 months

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𖤓 Tease Tidbit Tuesday 𖤓

tagged by @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @theotherbuckley @jesuisici33 @hippolotamus @exhuastedpigeon @wildlife4life @malewifediaz & @jeeyuns thank you!! I’ll read your works tonight💗

here’s more of the fic now called Dear Maddie. I’m sorry it’s so sad lmao, but it’s gonna get worse SHDJD

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"Dear Maddie (...),

He made me feel new. He made me feel seen. Do you think Buck held the promise ring and briefly thought of me before the building collapsed? Chris said that the other day.

Anyway, after we became friends, my days were never whole again if I didn't get to spend time with him. Sometimes it was at work, sometimes over here. I genuinely believe Buck became a dad before he became my love. Maybe that’s one of the reasons he became my love. I could’ve never been with someone who didn’t love my kid as much as I love him. Sometimes I think Buck loved him in times where I didn't know how, since I could barely love myself.

He held me through the pain.

It's selfish and ridiculous to pin it on him, but he said he’d never become my pain. And now he has. I wish I wasn’t mad at him. I wish I could rationalize it and simply move on, or deal with grief the way every other human does, but how could I? He promised me forever. I promised him forever."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

tagging in return @lover-of-mine @bucksbirthmark @eddiebabygirldiaz @honestlydarkprincess @your-catfish-friend @buckleyobsessed @smilingbuckley @steadfastsaturnsrings @honestlyeddie @evanbegins @puppyboybuckley @thewolvesof1998 @fionaswhvre & @cal-daisies-and-briars (let me know if you wish to be removed from this AU’s snippets!)✨

#MCD #tw: mcd #major character death #buddie #911 fox #911 #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 tv show #evan buck buckley #buck x eddie #buck and eddie #911 abc #buddie wip #buddie fanfic #buddie fanfiction #911 buddie #Buddie ficlet #buddie snippet

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withacapitalp · 11 months

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What Happens Next?

Link to ao3 I'm....sorry (canon compliant!!)

“What do you think happens when we die?” Eddie asked.

Steve furrowed his brow, keeping his eyes shut. He and Eddie were just sitting in the backyard enjoying a rare afternoon alone when the question floated through the air; it was tiny, but heavy, like a stone falling in a pond, ruining the serenity of the surface.

“What do you mean?” Steve replied, a strange uneasy feeling beginning to creep up his spine, taking the soft summer moment and slowly poisoning it with fear, “Like do I think some big guy in robes with a white beard is waiting to bring me to heaven?

“Just in general,” Eddie shot back from somewhere above, that strange detached tone still marring his normally bright and emotionally charged voice.

Steve wanted to open his eyes, wanted to gauge the look on his love’s face before he answered, but he found that he simply couldn’t no matter how hard he tried. It was like they were welded shut, some outside force keeping him blind to what was happening around him.

“Steve,” Eddie pressed when Steve had finally taken just a shade too long mulling it all over.

“Geez, Eds, I don’t know!” Steve snapped, trying to lift his arms to rub at his eyes, but finding that the same unknown force was holding his entire body stiff and rigid. It even felt like his jaw was stuck still, but he knew he could hear himself speaking, so that couldn’t be right, “Maybe it is some guy in robes with a beard, maybe it’s a lake of fire with a devil and pitchforks, fuck maybe it just nothing. Nothing at all. Would you please just drop this?!”

He was trying to come across as bitchy, make Eddie tease him about acting like an ass over a dumb question so they could both just move past the weird and deeply unsettling conversation.

Instead, it felt like the entire world shifted on its axis. Instead of sitting up with his back against a tree, Steve was lying flat in a sea of black, knowing that Eddie was close, but also knowing that he was as far as far could be.

“Nothing, huh?” Eddie’s voice whispered from directly above Steve’s head. He didn’t just sound detached anymore. No, it was something worse than that, something Steve couldn’t put a word to, even though he instinctively knew it was sitting at the tip of his tongue.

He didn’t want to hear anymore. He wanted to be able to move. He wanted to be able to see Eddie, and to know he was okay, and to know he was alive-

Oh.

Steve knew now what he actually wanted.

He wanted to wake up.

And as he opened his eyes, tears already marking the pillow under his head, it was like that detached (dead) voice was still whispering right in his ear.

“You’re absolutely right,”

#steve harrington #stranger things #st #eddie munson #steddie #st drabble #st4 #steddie ficlet #dream trope #Steve and eddie #Steve dreaming about eddie #deddie #lol #sorry #tw: major character death #tw: mcd #tw: canon complient

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songsformonkeys · 11 months

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Saying I love you with a letter (Ezra x reader)

Month: May

Word count: ~900

Warnings: ANGST, mcd

Notes: You receive a letter from Ezra.

I don't know exactly what happened here. I was in the grumpiest of moods and needed to write something before the end of June. And I did...technically. Oh well... everyone needs something to be the laziest and worst thing they've written. This is probably mine.

The rest of the Year of Creation stories

@yearofcreation2023

~~~~~~

My dearest,

It's been a month since we parted ways. And I ache with every inch and second of that distance, lover.

I dreamt of you last night and I woke up this morning to the phantom sensation of your arm around my waist. I reached for your hand but ended up grasping at nothing but air. I begged for sleep to take me right back to dreamland, but she is a cruel bed companion, I'm afraid, and once I found myself awake, it was impossible to go back.

I'd like to think it was the real you. In the dream, I mean. That you dreamt of me too last night and that somehow that was enough for us to find each other. Is that foolish of me? Distance makes the heart grow fond, and drives the brain a little crazy, I think.

The moon we're at is beautiful like you wouldn't believe, sweetheart. They call her The Green Moon. A very apt name. She looked like an emerald in the void when our ship approached. She's hiding the largest treasure of Aurelac in the system, and guarding it with a deadly fierceness.

There's this... dust of sorts, some kind of spores, I believe. It's everywhere. Captain showed us pictures on the way over of different gruesome ways it can mess up the human body. I'll spare you the details. But don't you worry, lover, I'm careful, and this trusty suit ain't giving up on me anytime soon.

There are ten of us here, practically living in each other's pockets. And let me tell you that after a long day of harvesting, I'd just about be willing to trade one of my limbs for a reprieve from the unpleasantly potent smell of myself and my crewmates.

The crew is about as interesting as a crew of money-hungry desperate bastards can get. Not sure I trust any of them further than I can throw them. Except for maybe the one that doesn't speak. I dropped my rationed bits bar on the floor the other day, and couldn't eat it out of fear of dust contamination. Now, I was prepared to accept my fate and I even laughed along with the others at my misfortune. This guy, however, he doesn't laugh – not sure he even can – just breaks his own bar in two and hands me half. Says a lot about a man's character, that. Still don't know his name.

The work itself is not so bad. By no means the hardest I've labored. Harvesting Aurelac requires more finesse than brute force, which is a nice change of pace.

Some of the others are unhappy with the cut we're getting of the profits. Mostly the new recruits. I think the pay is decent enough, compared to what gigs such as these usually pay. Or perhaps me and the others who've been around know there's little to gain from complaining. Voice your displeasure enough and you'll soon find yourself overlooked when the next job rolls around. No one claims it's fair but them's the rules, and no one's ever heard of anybody getting rich off of prospecting.

How are things back home? I'm itching to hear some gossip about the new neighbors. Did you end up taking them up on their offer to help with the roof? I do feel bad for leaving you to deal with it all on your own. But you know I couldn't turn this job down. Not with all things considered.

I promise I'll make it up to you a thousand times over as soon as I am back! Not too long now, and I'm counting down the days.

I love you, sweetheart. More than words could possibly convey. Can't wait to be back in your arms again.

Yours forever,

Ezra

~~~~~~

You smooth your fingers lovingly over the familiar handwriting and only just resist the urge to bring the letter up to your face. It wouldn't smell like him anyway. Written a month after he left. Exactly one month after he left. You knew because you too had been counting the days, starting from the morning when he hugged and kissed you goodbye at the hangar.

You smooth your fingers over the paper. It's worn like it's been folded and unfolded countless times along the same creases.

One month after he left.

Three weeks before he was supposed to come back.

Your hands begin to tremble.

The young girl across from you at the table speaks up, voice a bit guarded like she's expecting you to lash out at her. Like perhaps that had been the default reaction of someone before you.

”I found this among his stuff... after...” she tells you. ”He never got a chance to send it, but I found it and I thought you deserved to have it.”

And with that, the last glimmer of hope flickers and dies in your heart, replaced in an instant by the cold hard truth.

Ezra isn't coming home.

#year of creation 2023 #year of saying i love you #ezra x reader #prospect fanfiction #tw: mcd #tw: angst

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guraiuna · 4 months

Text

Broken

Warning: MCD, blood

Things were not supposed to go like this. She expected any other outcome, any other ending. She was prepared for them too; both body and soul, after all the pep-talks she gave herself throughout this journey.

After all the scolding she did to herself.

Her resolve was strong; she was ready to face any outcome. Anything...

... Anything but not... this.

But when she woke up from the blast, it was too late.

She opened her eyes and the first thing she noticed was that the red, dusty light above made her dizzy.

Lumine winced. Her eyes hurt, her head hurt. Her entire body hurt, she later realised when she tried to move her arm and it felt like a thousand needled pierced her skin and muscles.

She groaned as she tried to clench her fist. She was hurt and covered in blood...

No... everything smelt like blood.

Her clothes.

The ground below.

The man laying next to her that she caught a glimpse of through her periferic vision–

Her eyes widened and she snapped her head in that direction.

And her heart churned at the sight in front of her. Another pain added to the hurt she was enduring, but this rendered her unable to breathe.

Laying next to her was Tartaglia–

... Or what was left of Tartaglia, as Lumine would then notice, golden eyes riddled with horror.

She ran her gaze over him.

There were holes in his clothes. There were holes in him.

His abdomen, his legs.

His chest.

Gaping wounds gushing blood out. Old blood turned dark as it pooled beneath him. And there was so much, it made her sick to her stomach.

And Lumine wasn't one to get sick from seeing blood– she knew that...

She knew that and yet her stomach was flipping over in itself as she took in her enemy's wounded figure.

The corners of her eyes stinging her so badly, she almost couldn't keep them open...

In the end she gave in to the urge and squeezed her eyes shut, her entire face hot from all the emotions and feelings overwhelming her.

She gritted her teeth and urged herself to get up.

She had to get up–

Get up and call out to him–

Her eyes started to sting again.

Get up and–

A strained cough yanked her out of her thoughts.

With her heart in her throat, Lumine's head snapped in that direction. Golden eyes wide as she watched the Eleventh Harbinger cough up some more blood next to her.

His face covered in deep-red blood.

His eyes squeezed shut in pain.

"Oh– H-hey there, comrade..." Was the first thing he said when he opened his eyes and they met her wide, horrified ones.

Another cough overtook him and Lumine's arm twitched, instinctively reaching for him. Until the pain seared through her and cut her movements short.

He took a deep breath after it was over and turned towards her, fresh blood trickling down the sides of his chin. Each drop cutting through what was left of her hope that he would make it out alive.

"What's with that face, comrade...?" Tartaglia asked with a small voice.

Almost a whisper.

Then he chuckled, the sound coming out as if it was cutting through his heavily maimed body.

Lumine's first instinct was to tell him to not force himself. But her voice wouldn't come out...

He gave her a weak smile– a ghost compared to the usual warm, lively ones she received from him in the past. When there was still color in his cheeks...

"Come on..." He mumbled, blue lips stained with dark blood.

There was acceptance in those dull blue eyes she grew to cherish despite knowing she shouldn't.

And all Lumine wanted was to slap it out of his eyes.

For she couldn't accept it–

And she didn't want him to accept it, either.

Accept it and give up on his–

"Don't look at me like that, Lumine..." Her heart skipped a painful beat. She almost didn't hear his weak whisper.

"You knew this will happen eventually..." He added, heavy eyelids closing down on his eyes.

And something inside Lumine broke. Something buried in the depths of her being. Something hidden. Something she guarded throughout the entirety of her journey–

And it broke for eternity.

#chilumi #genshin impact #childe #lumine #angst #tw: mcd #tw: death #tw: blood #twitter drabble #inspired by an art i saw on twt #more paaain

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mundrakan · 10 months

Text

Prompt: Widow(er)

@wolfstarmicrofic - 357 words

TW: MCD, heartbreak

The silence in the room is overwhelming, and it shrinks Harry's focus down to one point: the bobbing Adam's apple of his godfather. When Sirius finally speaks, it's like a slap, more so from the tone of the voice. It's so empty, so bare and hurt. “I never thought, I would be the one left behind. I... led a dangerous life, never shied away from anything.”

“You are not alone, you know? We are with you. All of us. Even Snape made me bring condolences.”

Though tears flood Sirius' eyes, so that he can likely barely see, he grabs the glass in front of him and flings it against the wall with such vicious strength, Harry flinches. “I don't deserve that. It's my fault.”

“It was the moon... his heart gave out.”

“It was the change. I wasn't fast enough to bring him to the doctors.” By now Sirius' face is streaked with tear-tracks. “I was too slow.” His whole body vibrates, the sobs trying to break free, trying to overwhelm the restraint he only gained in his late years. “I...”

As he sucks in a single tear stuck to his upper lip, Harry finally understands. Anger is easier than grief, and self-loathing came easiest of all to Sirius anyway. But it's not what he needs. Carefully Harry fetches his shoulder and then pulls him closer, mirroring what Sirius once gave to him, safety, belonging, an embrace to contain all the misery. “There was nothing you could do. But there is something I can do.”

“What's that?”

“Take care of you, like he would have wanted me to, and that includes stopping you from hurting yourself.”

“All I want to do is lie down and wait for my poor soul to join him...” It's a weeping, pathetic little wail, and it cuts deep.

“You will. When your time comes. But we still need you. Teddy, the kids... I...”

Sirius nods without conviction. He cannot see it right now. But he will. In time he will. It is a grief to heavy to carry alone. But alone he is no longer.

#wolfstar microfic #tw: mcd #I ripped my heart out for you to see :´)

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a-little-unsteddie · 1 year

Text

i’m just thinking things that hurt me so i’ma hurt you all with them to (/pos?) (lowkey 2nd pov?)

post-s4 au from Eddie’s pov, except something is off. you don’t notice it right away, watching as the party and eddie continue with their plans post-vecna, see him help the party defeat the son-of-a-bitch and steve yells ‘this is for eddie you asshole!’ while the others are also yelling similar things, ‘this is for chrissy!’, and ‘this is for barb!’, and ‘this is for billy!’ to name a few

so it’s weird, that as eddie is shouting ‘chrissy’, steve is shouting ‘eddie’ and the detail just sets you off, because eddie is right there, which you think is odd but eddie did lose a lot in the original battle, it took him a long time to heal fro- well no it didn’t? eddie has been right there all along with them? you go back and reread because surely eddie isn’t— eddie is even there for the saved-the-world party they had. but now you see eddie is just, observing. he’s not interacting, he’s not engaging anyone, just watching. and the world continues to move on.

they don’t acknowledge eddie, and so eddie decides to follow steve until the man says something because surely he would then, but no. all eddie comes to realize is that steve is also moving on, but still holding on so dearly to eddie. he gets a girlfriend, typical, then a boyfriend, intriguing, but all throughout steve still wakes some nights, throat raw from screaming for eddie. he sees some partners help steve, some ridicule him and leave. eddie sees steve still make routine check ups with everyone, eddie… eddie included, but steve only lingers on the line long enough to hear the munson trailer’s old voicemail, and then hang up.

by this point you know eddie is dead, and eddie knows he’s dead, and seeing a partner help steve through each and every time he has a nightmare is enough for eddie to break down because he wants that, he wants to be the person who comforts steve after a nightmare, which is painful because eddie knows he never could have that, and he also knows that he never even had the chance to have it because he died, he died, and he would never know what it was like to be truly loved by steve harrington but now he knows that if he had survived, lived, then he could have had this and he mourns for a relationship never had been, but could have been

eddie mourning a life never lived.

#idk if this makes sense but i hurt my own feelings #inspired by ‘april to death’ by flower face #tw: mcd #tw: major character death #major character death #eddie’s death #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #st #steve harrington x eddie munson

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hyperfocusthusly · 9 months

Text

Crashing down

Read on A03 here

Crowley woke up late, from the moment his eyes opened the day felt wrong. He groans and reburies himself in the duvet. Eventually he emerges in the late afternoon, the sense of wrongness persists squirming under his skin and making him irritable. Aziraphale notices, of course, Crowley notes him peering around bookshop shelves, fiddling with his rings and offering tea slightly more often than necessary while Crowley engages in his usual, and favourite, activity of scaring away would be customers with a little more venom than normal.

“Are you alright dear?” Aziraphale appears somewhere behind his left shoulder, a gentle press on his lower back soothes the nagging feeling pulling at the back of his eyes. He raises a hand and rubs his temple.

“Just feel a bit off angel, nothing to worry yourself with”

“Maybe a walk would do you some good, bit of fresh air?”

He suspected it wouldn’t, but anything to abate the radiating worry from behind him.

The walk, as it happened, took him as far as Nina’s coffee shop. In the years since he and Aziraphale finally were able to settle in the bookshop they had developed some kind of ‘mutually grumpy half of the pairing’ friendship. He pushes open the door to find an enormous mug waiting for him, she had seen him coming and automatically prepared his usual. He miracled out far too much for a single coffee and passed it to her. The dull pain behind his eyes had sharpened in the street, but eased a little in the relative gloom of the coffee shop in the late afternoon haze. He took his normal seat in the back corner sipping his coffee and willing himself to calm down.

“Are you alright?”

Nina. She looked concerned.

“You’re just looking a little pinched, more than normal, I mean”

A small hum is all he manages, the feeling is intensifying the coffee shop suddenly feeling small and repressive, the air thick and sticky in his throat. He stands, abruptly, the chair skittering away behind him.

“Something bad…” he murmurs,

“I need some air”

Nina watches him leave, slightly unsteadily, and wonders if she should call Aziraphale, what do demons consider a bad thing anyway?

The air outside is cooler, the autumn evening revealing the best of itself in a crisp breeze. He sighs. The feeling is still there, clawing at the back of his throat, demanding to be felt. He glances up and down the street, nothing. No angel hoard, no lurking demons, nothing out of place.

The chime of the record shop bell catches his attention as Maggie comes out of her shop. She waves to him as she sets out to cross the road, on her way to walk Nina home, as always. Nina clinks the lock on the door to the coffee shop and steps out beside him, ready for the evening ritual.

The unease sharpens, pulls at his senses.

Moments pass, tiny, inconsequential, flickering past until he sees it, suddenly, horribly and with perfect clarity.

The car skids around the corner, careening wildly, directly towards Maggie.

And before he can raise his hand, it hits her. She disappears under it and the world stops. Crowley has seen a lot of things on his time on earth, death and destruction wreak havoc here constantly, but not here, not now, not in this corner of the world they had carved out for themselves. Not to his friends.

Nina’s screams pulls him back and he’s raising his hands before the first step is complete. He reaches out for the tenterhooks of time and grips them, feeling the power screech along the nerves of his corporation, wrapping around his wrists like burning white ropes.

He pulls, time screams at him it’s done, it’s done.

He pulls harder.

“No,” grits his teeth, refusing to back down, “you will obey me.” It begins to relent, winding back, slowly, too slowly for the affect its having on him. As the car runs back he feels something in his head pop, his corporation is shaking under the pressure of the metaphysical form pressing through. Nearly, nearly there. The car is pulled back, Maggie is upright. His body is screaming, but she is safe.

With one last push, he sends the car screeching up the road and lets go, the ropes slip away, searing away the skin in their path.

The world returns briefly, a fades away just as fast. He feels suddenly heavy, exhaustion pours over him as the damage to his corporation makes itself known. He’s loosely aware that he’s falling, legs unable to hold themselves up any longer.

He’s also aware that he’s caught, a gentle heat against the cold crawling over him. He’s going to discorporate he thought, he wonders how he’ll explain this one to Hell, how long it will take to get a new corporation, to get back home, he hears the scrape of metal across asphalt, the cold rush of death breezing closer.

Everything is fading, it’s happening, sounds blurring together until something rings through with crystal clarity.

“You will not be needed here today”

He recognises the voice, of course he does, the only constant of 6,000 years on earth, how could he not.

The numbing cold is replaced gently by warmth, things begin to knit themselves back together and he suddenly feels calm.

Aziraphale is here, and he is safe.

—————————————————-

Aziraphale feels time stop outside the bookshop, he drops the books he’s holding and rushes towards the door, trying to keep the icy fear from over taking him. The door pushes open with some effort, time is holding out here, sticking to him and making movement difficult. He emerges on the street in time to see Crowley, face taut with effort, extend his arm and throw a car sideways. He reaches out his own arm and forces the air out of the tyres, grinding it to a halt.

He turns as the world zips back into life, released from the hold it had been trapped in, turns to see Crowley crumple to the floor, barely caught by Nina.

A cold sweeps down the street as a figure emerges from a side road. Black cloak sweeping, Scythe scraping your torturously across the asphalt.

No no

He’s running again, desperate to get to Crowley before the figure. He drops to the floor, into an atmosphere clouded by pain, distress emanating from crowleys alarmingly still form, theres blood running from his ears painting the skin of his unnaturally pale face, dark black bruises forming under his closed eyes. He reaches out again, feeling for the damage.

He spares a look upwards, meets the gaze of empty sockets and spits out “you will not be needed here today.”

He refocuses all of his energy on pulling back together the parts of the broken body in front of him. Breathing becomes steadier, a heart rate less erratic.

Somewhere around him he dully hears the squawking of crows, another gust of icy wind and then, finally, the warmth of the autumn sun.

Death was gone, Crowley was safe.

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ex0rin · 1 year

Text

Whumpcember 2022: Day 5

@whumpcember Day 5: "I hate you" winterbones adjacent - 400 Words Bucky Barnes, Brock Rumlow hurt no comfort, major character death, pet names (always), The Gun (briefly)

Bucky can feel the warmth of the blood pooling under his shaking fingers, his palm pressed down over the bullet wound to try and stop the bleeding - he knows it’s path, mentally mapped it out before even confronting his old handler to make sure it would carve through multiple organs and leave him bleeding out with no chance of surviving it somehow –

Again.

He’d watched him go down with the shot, Rumlow’s weapon not even pulled fully from its holster at his side, too comfortable to ever consider his soldier, his pet, his fucktoy a threat and maybe he'd still been a little right about that because Bucky hadn’t even needed to make the conscious decision to run over - catching him before he’d had time to hit the ground.

“Really meant it this time, huh sweetheart,” Rumlow says, voice barely anything more than a whisper followed by a rough sounding cough from where Bucky’s got him held in his lap - something wet and gasping as more and more blood seeps from between Bucky’s knuckles with every word, “with my own gun and everything.”

The left corner of Rumlow’s mouth is curved up into a small smile, despite the pain and the way he winces through his body seizing up and it’s been Bucky’s gun for so long now that he hadn’t realized what he’d used to have them both end up here.

“I didn’t,” Bucky starts, ignoring the telltale noise of a sob in his throat and the feel of tears beading up along his eyelashes; he clenches his flesh hand over the wound to try and stop the pour of Rumlow’s blood and struggles through an inhale that tastes like copper and smoke - he wasn’t expecting this to hurt so much, “I hate you,” he tries and it feels like a lie.

Rumlow lifts his hand, whole arm trembling and Bucky’s breath catches at the way the other man’s fingertips trace over his cheek as though Rumlow’s trying to tuck the long hair that Bucky no longer has behind his ear, “Do you baby?”

He clenches Rumlow’s body closer to him, curling around it when the gentle touch of Rumlow’s fingers fall away - he feels cold all over, shaking and swallowing around the sound of his own pathetic crying as the body in his lap goes still and quiet –

This was supposed to free him –

But now he’s just even more alone.

#whumpcember2022 #whumpcember2022 day5 #cara writes #winterbones #tw: mcd #tw: major character death #rumlow tag #bucky tag #this is wendy's fault btw #just if you're looking for someone other than me to blame #hydratrashparty

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moonstruckwytch · 2 years

Text

written for @hp-fearfest day five: ghost story | M | TW Major Character Death | thank you to my beta @m0srael

He woke to his dead husband floating above him. His neck was bent at an odd angle, his face mottled blue and purple–visible despite his ghostly transparency. He closed his eyes tightly, attempted to cover his ears as the familiar gasping sound of his husband’s last breaths filled their bedroom. Every morning it was the same, and every morning it was just as unbearable.

It had started innocently enough – a game of hide and seek in their first home, with their friends–the first thing they did as newlyweds. But now, months later, he still didn’t know where the body was.

read my writing for this year's fearfest here ⚰️

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nickelkeep · 2 years

Text

DeanCas Horrorfest Art Masterpost!

Now that we’re at all spooky’s eve, and the wonderful @bleuzombie has finished posting their kickass fic No Mood to Die Tonight, it’s time to make the masterpost!

The Banner:

And my main art piece! I can’t say too much about it without giving away a lot, so... Go read it!

It’s an awesome bloody and gorey little fic in the vein of Night of the Living Dead. Will anyone survive? Link to Fic

Tags: medical school AU, Zombies AU, Bisexual Dean, Gay Cas, Trans Male Cas, It’s a horror fic in line with horror movie classics! Warnings: Blood, Gore, Zombies, Major Character Deaths. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

#deancas horrorfest #No Mood to Die Tonight #Bleuzombie writes #nickel arts #tw: MCD #tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: body horror

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celemee · 2 years

Note

From the Dragon Age Promptober - 10, 11, 22 or 24 for Isabela/Bethany or Leliwarden please

Thank you for the prompt, my darling. <3 I'll go for Bethbela and "10. In Death, Sacrifice" -- for @dadrunkwriting

Warning: Major character death. It's tragedy hours over here.

----

Bethany's hand shakes around a cup of coffee. The morning is bright, the sky so blue, and the birds sing their spring melodies. There's a gentle wind in her hair as she sits on the terrace of her and Isabela's beach house.

Her nightmares have always been bad, but rarely have they followed to her waking hours. Lately it's been more a rule than exception.

She takes a sip of coffee, and that's when she hears it.

A distant chime, as if carried from the sea.

Bethany swallows, barely able to lay down the cup without spilling. She's not ready. Not... not yet.

----

"You're humming again," Isabela says, looking at Bethany from over her shoulder. "What is that song?"

Heard it at the market.

A sailor sang it at the tavern the other week.

The panicked lies nearly escape Bethany's lips, but she thinks better of it: Isabela's eyes betray worry.

Resting her berry basket on the grass, she sighs and looks away. She can't keep doing this.

"I... hear it," she confesses quietly, unable to meet her lover's gaze. Can't risk it, lest she breaks and chooses Isabela's juice-stained lips over hard truths about love stories cut short. "It's time."

There's a beat of silence before warm arms close around her. Burying her nose in Isabela's hair, Bethany cries. She's not ready.

----

Leaves crunch beneath their feet, barely audible through the Song, but Isabela's hand in Bethany's is firm and calming. The path feels long and winding, but she walks with determination she doesn't really feel.

They haven't spoken in what feels like hours.

There's so much left unsaid, so much more they both wanted, but nothing changes the trajectory Bethany is on. It's been twenty years. Twelve of them happy, filled with the steady kind of love she thinks neither of them believed in before.

Steady like the steps Bethany takes. Steady like the hold Isabela has on her hand.

When they reach the entrance to the Deep Roads, it's Isabela who breaks. Her breath is choppy on Bethany's neck, her arms too tight around her frame, and Bethany wants nothing more than for the two of them to melt together right there. Stay here forever.

She's not ready.

"I love you," she whispers, barely making out her own voice. Reading the response from Isabela's lips, drawn on her skin.

They kiss, and kiss again, until Bethany knows the feel of Isabela can carry her to the end.

"Live for me," she pleads in lieu of goodbye, and it's only once Isabela is out of sight that she cries.

She never would've been ready.

#bethbela #dragon age #dragon age 2 #bethany hawke #isabela #my writing #dadwc #mclavellan #tw: mcd

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justsmilestuffhappens · 1 year

Note

Hey.

I was wondering if you might know a fic that I am looking for.

It's starts with eddie and chris getting into a car accident. There are talks of glitter and a solar project being thrown around. Fast forward some and it is revealed that eddie is severely injured in a coma and chris is *TW* dead. When eddie wakes up he doesn't remember what happened or that chris even existed. He has brain problems. The fic is long and it is about eddie getting better with the help of buck and abuela. And of course the firefam. Towards the end eddie finds an old backpack and he remembers everything. He wanders off and meets up with an older homeless woman with many cats. Also buck and eddie do become buddie somewhat.

I have been looking for this for weeks!

Oh my God! No, I haven't. That sounds so sad, but the car accident part minus the death sounded like a few fics. I can ask around. But the fic might have been deleted or a part of an event where you post WIP, then erase them to let them go with the hope of trying to inspire the writers to finish the story, I think. I'll try looking around but can't promise you anything, Anon, and there's also the @buddiearchive , I think and other search tumblr's who might be better help with finding stuff and getting eyes on this

*update

@comfortbuddie thinks it might be this, if you want to take a look and reply back via anonymous messages if this fits or not, or if you want to come off anon

Here's the link to the author's entire series on that particular fic

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3210234

#anonymous #tw: mcd #major character death #buddie #coma!eddie #au #fic search #fic finder #MCD #memory loss #amnesia #eddie diaz #injury recovery #tw: ptsd #tw ptsd #ptsd

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andiinaraethtash · 9 months

Text

Chapter 2

Notes:

Yeah, I'm aware I posted the first chapter and then abandoned it for like. three months. But in my defense, I have been really, incredibly busy and very burnt out, and not in a very star-wars-y mood. So yeah. Also, please say something nice if you comment, I've had a very stressful week as my apartment nearly burned down with my dogs inside, and my nerves have yet to settle. We're all fine, the apartment didn't catch on fire but others in my complex did lose their homes, and possibly their pets, so I'm really trying to keep it together right now because my gosh. Other people have it so bad rn.

Obi-Wan sighed as the group barreled back through the temple. Anakin glanced over his shoulder at him, concern echoing through their training bond, and Obi-Wan waved him off. There was nothing he could do to help. Usually Obi-Wan could hide it, but nothing could make forty-eight hours’ worth of exhaustion disappear, and while the adrenaline that had kicked in when Ahsoka had let out that awful scream had yet to fully wear off, he was acutely aware of the subtle ache in his muscles. Huffing, he readjusted his grip on his lightsaber and put on a bit more speed to catch up with Anakin. His former Padawan was supporting Ahsoka, who despite claiming to be fine was obviously still in pain and couldn't keep her feet under her.

The temple shook again as the Separatist fighters made another pass somewhere above them. Behind him, Obi-Wan could hear the clones tightening their grip on their weapons and Cody urging them on quietly.

Sunlight finally appeared in front of them, broken up by blue and red flashes of blaster fire, and the shadows of the starfighters zooming past above the planet's surface. Anakin staggered out, one arm around Ahsoka, the other holding his unlit ‘saber in front of him. He glanced back at Obi-Wan, giving him a once-over and apparently deciding he didn't like what he saw.

“Here,” he said, passing Ahsoka over to Obi-Wan without any real warning. Obi-Wan took the young Togruta carefully, shooting Anakin a quick glare. Anakin turned back towards the encampment, where the gunships were still on the ground, making them an easy target. “I'm more rested, I can take point. Cody, you've got the rear. We need to get to base.” The 'more rested' part was almost definitely a lie, but Obi-Wan let it slide.

The clone troopers quickly followed his instructions. As they neared the camp, a LAATi that had started to lift off exploded, raining shrapnel. Screams rose as the main bulk of the ship crashed into the camp, which was already in chaos. Blaster fire and grenades were being thrown back and forth between the ever-shrinking circle of clones and the unstoppable waves of droids.

Igniting his lightsaber, Anakin leapt into battle, chopping the droids into pieces. Behind him, the squad they'd brought with them to the temple began laying down cover fire. Obi-Wan watched helplessly as the droids took notice and began to fire on the squad, and one of the troopers collapsed with a scream.

Ahsoka winced, her distress shining through the Force. “Master, you have to help them. They're dying!”

Obi-Wan reluctantly tightened his grip on the Padawan. “Ahsoka, I can't leave you, you're injured. Besides,” his eyes tracked the only lightsaber in the field and he sighed in relief. “Anakin's got them covered.”

Even as he said it, Anakin jumped between the clones and the droids, whipping his ‘saber in every direction, deflecting the blaster bolts with a practiced ease. He glanced back and gave Obi-Wan a nod and a cocky grin. Obi-Wan returned the nod before forging ahead.

The group almost got to the camp before it happened. A shuttle roared past them, towards the temple, and a slender figure leapt out, brandishing two red lightsabers as she landed.

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan shouted, gesturing over his shoulder to the assassin barreling towards them. “Ventress is here!”

Decapitating four battle droids at once, Anakin whirled back towards the group. “I see her! Get Ahsoka to the ship, I'll hold her off!” He bounded over their heads with a single, Force-assisted leap before racing towards Ventress to cut her off.

Obi-Wan finally drew his lightsaber, batting away blaster bolts as he pressed the others on. Above them, two of the gunships finally got off the ground, quickly powering through the dogfight in the atmosphere to rejoin the fleet. Somewhere to his right, he saw Cody stop to assist a wounded clone, only for an explosion to throw them both off of their feet. Another pair of troopers broke off to assist them while others laid down cover fire. One of them slung Cody over his shoulder, but the other checked the downed clone's vitals, slumped slightly, and picked up his weapon to fire on the droids again.

Behind him, Obi-Wan could hear lightsabers clashing and had to resist the urge to look back at the duel between Ventress and Anakin. As he continued to deflect blaster fire, he managed to get the rest of his group safely to the evacuating camp. A medic- Scratch, Obi-Wan was pretty sure- saw them coming and waved the Jedi over even as he sprinted towards them.

“Let me take her, sir!” The medic- definitely Scratch- yelled as he took Ahsoka's weight from Obi-Wan. “The men need your help!”

Obi-Wan nodded, gave Ahsoka one last look, and raced towards one of the downed LAATis, where several troopers were pinned down. Leaping between them and the droids, he began expertly batting bolts back into the droids who'd fired them. Looking over his shoulder as his body moved on autopilot, he shouted for the men to move , to get to the transports. The Force screamed in warning and he whirled back around to reverse the path of a grenade that had been hurled at them. As the droids crumpled under the explosion and the blaster bolts, the troopers behind him finally got moving, shouting and supporting each other as they went.

Above them, Separatist fighters made another run, laying down lines of blaster fire that cut down droids and clones alike. One lucky pilot hit a fuel cell of a LAATi, and it exploded with enough force to shake the ground. Troopers flew through the air and hit the ground hard, several of them not getting back up.

Obi-Wan cursed, racing over to the fallen soldiers and hoisting the first one he got to- the first living one, because most of the clones he passed weren't breathing--weren't moving, were no longer there, burning like stars in the Force-- over his shoulder. Around him, clones frantically ran to get their brothers, their vod’e, to the relative safety of the half dozen remaining LAATis. Obi-Wan hurriedly deposited his burden in the same transport as Ahsoka and was racing back towards the exploded ship when Cody, who was back on his feet if a little shaky, intercepted him.

“General, you need to get General Skywalker! Help him finish off the witch, then get him back here! We need to get out of here!” The Commander yelled, his helmet muffling his voice but not disguising his urgency.

Obi-Wan hesitated, glanced back toward the fiery remains of the gunship where clones were still pulling bodies- barely moving, barely breathing, barely living bodies- out of the wreckage, and squared his shoulders. Turning on his heel with an energy level he didn't quite feel, he raced through the battlefield towards the temple, where he could see Anakin's and Ventress’ lightsabers whirling as Ventress managed to drive Anakin back towards the temple.

The duel had obviously been going badly for Anakin. As Obi-Wan drew nearer, he could see how slow his former Padawan's blocks and dodges were. He was tiring too quickly, favoring his left leg, and Ventress could smell blood in the water. Obi-Wan was still almost a hundred yards out when it happened.

Ventress made a downwards swipe with both lightsabers, which Anakin deflected, leaving her open for just a moment to attack. Seeing this, Anakin made a characteristically aggressive swing at her head, but he was still too slow. Ventress blocked the strike with one lightsaber and the other-

The other she buried up to the hilt in Anakin's stomach.

Obi-Wan stumbled as the Force screamed, the shock of the blow echoing through the very fabric of the galaxy. Dimly, Obi-Wan was aware that he was up on his feet again, screaming in unison with the Force as he raced towards the two duelists, but all he could focus on was the feeling of his training bond, a bond the two Jedi had refused to cut even when Anakin's Padawan braid had been, snapping like a taut wire. The backlash nearly knocked him off of his feet again as Anakin- his Anakin, his Padawan, his friend, his brother- toppled face first into the sand at the base of the temple steps.

Ventress took one look at him, sheathed her lightsabers, and ran. Rage coursed through his veins, stronger than he'd felt since the Battle of Naboo, and he raced after her, his mind replaying that awful moment when Anakin's body jerked as the ‘saber slammed into his body. He tightened his grip on his lightsaber and threw himself into the air, his blade clashing violently with Ventress's as he landed practically on top of her. She hissed and tried to back away, fear obvious in her eyes and palpable in the Force, rotten and bittersweet. Obi-Wan didn't give her the chance to retreat. She'd lost any right to mercy or even a quick death when Anakin hit the ground. He rained furious blows against her shaking defense, half aware that someone was still screaming.

Finally, Ventress's defense wore out and she stumbled, falling flat on her back as Obi-Wan continued to land blow after blow on her blades. Visibly panicking, she threw her hands up and Force-pushed him off of her. He landed in a tumble several yards away, springing upright with a glare that promised merciless death, but she couldn't see it. Her back was turned and she was leaping up one of the cliffs that surrounded the temple, only to leap onto a passing starfighter as Obi-Wan reached the bottom of the cliff.

Chest heaving, Obi-Wan deactivated his lightsaber and wiped the sweat from his brow. Of course she'd run. Of course she'd be a coward. His throat and heart were aching in unison, his throat from screaming (so that had been him making that inhuman noise) and his heart from a pain that wasn't physical. Wearily, he turned back towards the camp--no, towards the site of the duel--but he already knew what he'd find there. He'd known since he saw Anakin swing his lightsaber just a heartbeat too slow.

That didn't prepare him for the sight of his best friend lying on his back in the sand, eyes gazing unseeingly at the sun. The hole in his abdomen was still smoking, and he was eerily still.

That was wrong on so many levels. Anakin was never still. He was always moving, even in meditation. His hands were always tangled in some wiring, or trying to get his new lightsaber to work, or fiddling with his Padawan braid, when he'd had it. Seeing him like this, still, not moving, not even breathing, hit Obi-Wan in the chest like he was the one who'd been stabbed by a lightsaber.

Carefully, he knelt next to his friend- no, the body , he told himself, it's just another trooper who I have to get back to his aliit , because that was easier, because that didn't hurt and make him want to scream and destroy something and tear his aching heart out- and cautiously gathered him up in his arms, stopping briefly to close Ana- the body's- eyes and call the nearby lightsaber into his hand.

The walk back to the evacuating camp was excruciating. He knew he needed to hurry, needed to get to the transports before they left, but every step closer to the camp was a step closer to having to tell the others that he'd failed. To telling Ahsoka why the Force felt so very, very wrong- because she wouldn't recognize it. She wouldn't understand what that awful feeling in her gut was, why she felt like a part of her had been suddenly and ruthlessly cut away from her.

But he had to get Ana- the body - back. Because Cody had ordered him to. Because Rex was counting on him to bring his general home. Because Ahsoka needed to have a body, needed to have proof. Because Padme deserved to have something to bury. Too many widows didn't have that. And by the Force, she deserved that much.

No , his thoughts whispered, rebelling at the idea of just accepting that he was gone. She deserves more. They all do.

Finally the ground became covered in droid parts and the few fallen troopers that they hadn't been able to get onto the transports, only one of which was still on the ground.

Cody was waiting for him. The moment he saw him coming, he hurried out into the mostly deserted battlefield, quickly reaching to take An- the body- from Obi-Wan, calling over his shoulder for a medic, but Obi-Wan shook his head.

“No,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. “I'll carry him.”

At the sound of his voice, Cody froze before quickly reaching for the pulse point on An- the body's - neck, slumping when he realized why Obi-Wan's eyes were so haunted.

“Come on, General. Let's get him on board; we're taking him home. He's safe now, we've got him.”

Obi-Wan followed mutely, even as his mind screamed, no, no, he isn't.

Notes:

>:D

#fanfiction #writing #*cackles evilly*#angst #hurt/no comfort #star wars #star wars the clone wars #creative writing #Tw: MCD #chapter two

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