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3minsover · 10 months

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AUgust Day 22:

the great gatsby au (tw: manslaughter + murder)

old money socialite edward munson had a passionate summer fling with a bright-eyed, hopeful, romantic young soldier named steven. he promised edward the world, if only he would wait for him to return from war.

steven never returned.

when professional polo player jason carver asks for edward’s hand in marriage, he says yes. his heart is still broken, will remain so, but pressure from his family to make an advantageous match is too powerful. years pass, and edward’s life is rose-colored. he drifts through dinners and sunrooms like a ghost, keeps his steps light so that others do not notice him, do not look too close and see the gaping hole in his chest where his heart once was, a heart that he gave away to a soldier with no prospects, no property or land to his name.

at night, when all is quiet, he looks out over the water that laps at the shore of his extravagant home and sees the distant glimmer and glint of lights, hears the muted thrum of music, and sees a grand mansion illuminated by luxury and excess.

he hears of parties, almost every night, that take place at this mansion, and wonders whether one day he might know the origin of such conviviality. however, trapped in his loveless marriage and bound by duty to remain a beautiful artefact in his husband’s collection, edward simply turns away, ignoring the siren call of an emerald green light that blooms on the end of the opposite dock.

when edward’s cousin robin moves into the groundskeeper’s cottage across the bay, she attempts to strike up the old friendship they had had as children, becoming instantly fascinated by edward’s dearest friend nancy.

one night, robin invites edward, and by extension, jason and nancy, to a party. a party at the house across the bay. she insists that they must meet the host, that he’s simply a marvel, and grudgingly, jason agrees.

the festivities are in full swing by the time they arrive, strangers streaming through every hallway, drinking from fountains of champagne, splashing in shallow pools and dancing to the yellow cocktail music that pours from every corner of every room. edward is overwhelmed, overcome by the eccentricity of it all, longs to return to where it’s quiet and calm, where he may disappear to the safety of his own imaginings, where a sweet soldier offers his hand and his heart without reservation.

edward slips away from the group with nancy’s help; she guides him to a small room in which there is only one man, standing with his back to the entrance. his suit is tailored neatly, his hair slicked back with careful precision, and when he turns, edward’s breath is stolen from his lungs.

“steve?” he gasps, feet carrying him closer, lest this be simply an overwrought imagination playing him for a fool.

“eddie. eddie, darling,” the man exclaims softly, meeting him stride for stride, until eddie’s hands can clutch at the lapels of his suit. “you came. you’re here. you saw- it doesn’t matter. you’re here.”

“you never came back for me,” eddie whispers, gaze fluttering over steve’s face, because it is steve. older, broader, fashioned into something gilded in gold and sculpted from ivory, but it is him.

“i know, my darling. i wanted to, god how i wanted to. but i’m here now. is that enough?” steve’s eyes are wide, imploring as he cups eddie’s cheeks as though he were the fragile, delicate thing he feels himself to be.

and it’s not enough, eddie will come to realize. too much time has passed, too many bridges crossed and set ablaze, too much mess to be cleared away, but for now, for tonight, they might pretend. under steve’s gentle touch, eddie wills himself to forget jason’s harsh one, at the sound of steve’s sweet voice, eddie pushes away that of poor chrissy, the girl who calls and calls their home asking to speak to jason. he allows himself to be swept by the tidal pull of his steve, here and alive and everything he needed him to be all those years ago. and for a while, it brings him joy. for weeks after that night, eddie steals across the bay with the help of nancy and robin, plays make believe in the life they might have had.

until a dinner in the city ends with smashed glass and jason’s stern glare and steve’s cries that ‘he doesn’t love you!’. until eddie begs for steve to come home with him, dragging him back to jason’s car and curling his fingers around the steering wheel until they flash white. until eddie’s flooring the gas and he can’t see for tears, and steve’s carefully imploring for him to slow down. until the screeching of tires and smashing of bones, a shock of strawberry blonde hair streaked with red.

until a gunshot rings through the bay, a widowed husband standing on the edge of a pool with a gun in his hand and chrissy’s name on his lips.

until steve harrington floats face down in the water, and eddie can’t bear to even look at the funeral invitation.

in the end it’s not enough, and it never was.

#steddie #steddie au #au august #3minsover #twitter crosspost #tw: murder #tw: manslaughter #cw: unhappy ending

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steddiecameraroll · 1 month

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“Whatever, now he’s just somebody that I used to know.” Steve shakes his head in annoyance.

Dustin won’t let it go. He’s still trying to get Steve to go with him to visit Eddie. As if he wants to travel across state lines to visit his ex boyfriend. Ex being the keyword.

“Yeah but he used to be your boyfriend. Come on, Steve. Eddie would be so surprised.”

“No shit. I’m sure he’d throw open the door and just be so elated to see me standing there. Toss his arms up and cheer with glee.” Steve swears Dustin better hear the sarcasm dripping from his tone.

“He will! I swear.”

“Have you absolutely lost it? Do you not remember how he broke up with me? He sent Jeff to my place to pick up his shit. Couldn’t even bother to do it himself. Then he changed his fucking number, Dustin. Does that sound like someone that would be happy to see me? He couldn’t risk the tiny chance that I would reach out to him. He went far enough to avoid me that he moved and didn’t say a fucking thing. So no, I won’t be joining you on this lovely weekend trip to Chicago. And for the love of god, stop asking me.” He punctuates his point by slamming the refrigerator door shut.

“Sorry, ok, I’ll stop.”

Steve glares over his shoulder at the boy. He can’t believe Dustin could have forgotten how painful their break up had been for Steve. Eddie dumping him out of the blue and subsequently disappearing like none of it meant anything to him. As if their relationship was just a smudge to be wiped away with a damp cloth.

Steve’s just made it to the angry stage of it all and for Dustin to completely disregard his feelings is especially crushing. He knows their relationship veers closer to a sibling connection. It’s why Dustin’s usual prodding doesn’t drive him as crazy as it does others but there is a time and place, and the subject matter of Eddie Munson is never an option. Not to Steve at least.

“I just thought-“

“Don’t,” Steve cuts the boy off. “It’s over. I’ve accepted it, you should too.”

Dustin nods silently with a twist to his mouth.

“I beg you, never speak to me about him ever again. If he wants to act like I don’t exist, then I get to do the same thing.”

“No, but Steve, that’s not- he asks about you all the time!” Dustin rushes out before Steve can strangle him.

Steve whips around scowling at the boy. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not, no, he does! I swear, Steve.” Dustin rushes to keep up pace with Steve when he turns heel and rushes out of the kitchen.

“Stop it,” Steve grits out.

“I swear on my mother. Every time I call him he asks how you’re doing. Or what classes you’re taking. Or how your new job is.”

Steve’s fingers are digging into his palms as he fists his hands at his sides. He’s trying so hard not to lose his shit right now. He’s breathing heavy as Dustin stomps behind him down the hallway.

“I swear, just come with me. He misses you.”

“SHUT UP,” Steve spins around and yells in Dustin’s face. “No he doesn’t! No he doesn’t! If he did then he wouldn’t have done it. He wouldn’t have left without saying a word. He wouldn’t have ripped my heart out and destroyed me.” Steve’s anger is fizzing over into sorrow and he knows he’s failing at keeping the tears at bay.

“Steve?” Dustin’s voice cracks.

“NO!” Steve throws his finger in Dustin’s face. “I don’t want to hear it. I loved him and he betrayed me. He means nothing to me now. Nothing. Do you understand?” Dustin nods nervously. “He’s just some guy, now.”

Steve sighs with a heavy heart. Every muscle in his body is immediately exhausted. He thought he was done having to think about Eddie Munson. Thought he was past the point of letting the man get to him but here he is shaking profusely and on the verge of breaking down because Dustin is asking him to go on a road trip.

“Dustin, please.” Steve asks shakily. He’s so close to tears. “If you care about me even a little, you won’t do this to me. You don’t understand. He was just your friend, brother in arms and all. He was my-,” Steve chokes back the lump in his throat. “He was my everything. And if what you’re saying is true, then Eddie can try and fix this himself. He can get in his fucking piece of shit van and drive his goddamn ass back here and tell me himself. I’m the victim here. He did this so he can fix it. Now get out.”

“Steve,” Dustin pleads.

“No. Get. Out.”

Dustin nods solemnly then shuffles around gathering his things, and leaving Steve alone a few minutes later. Once Steve hears the front door close with a soft click, he collapses onto his couch and cries into one of the throw pillows.

#cw implied unhappy ending #post breakup #I watched that dancing TikTok to Gotye and had some feelings to get out #steddie #sad and hurt #steve harrington

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ominouspuff · 2 months

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GUT. PUNCHER. PLEASE. Ö

(also I see the Plo Coon WIP and I’m in the microwave)

In an instant CC-2224 sees the blue on the other clone and recognizes his enemy — knows it is CT-7567 and knows the name he took and the color of his hair.

All that is in him that is screaming — was (always?) screaming — quietens. His finger does not depress upon the trigger. His hand does not twitch towards the backup blaster on his hip.

An instant, a moment, a breath, and a single thought—

I’m no soldier.

CT-7567’s finger is as quick as he knew it would be. Between one moment and the next, Cody is free.

———

Re: Plo Coon — huehue, yess get microwaved (affectionate) (I’m very excited to show you)

#fan art #artists on tumblr #star wars: the clone wars #commander cody #captain rex #The opposite of a fix-it AU #wip tag game #OmPu Ask Hours #*slaps scene* This baby can fit so much melodrama into it #But also I do every now and then like to consider taking canon seriously in the rare points where it can bear the weight #And frankly if Cody does somehow throw off the effects of the chip IN CANON I will be frustrated because it will feel like retcon fanservic #CW: Major Character Death (implied)#CW: Guns #CW: Death #CW: Unhappy Ending (ish)#wip art

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sammy8d257 · 2 years

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A Ghost in the Machine

Cover + Back Cover / Pt. 1 / Pt. 2/ Pt. 3 / Pt. 4 / Pt. 5 / Pt. 6 / Pt. 7 / Pt. 8 (END!)

o O o O o O o

A Ghost in the Machine: An AvA Horror themed comic,

Written and illustrated by Sammy8D257, Beta read by a Mug haunting my google docs

CW: Bad/Unhappy Ending, Ambiguous Ending, Eye Strain, slight body horror (faded colors), manipulation

o O o O o O o

And that's it

You've reached the end of my Animator vs Animation horror themed comic, "A Ghost in the Machine"

Thank you everyone who's been liking and reblogging these posts

This is one of the most ambitious projects I've done in a while and seeing everyone enjoy it as much as I enjoyed making it, warms my heart

I've been running on an average of 4-5 hours of sleep for the past month (a mix of school, work, and this) so the word machine don't work rn

My Ask Box is currently open, so if you got any questions about this comic, feel free to ask!

And again, from the bottom of my heart,

Thank you guys so much

#Sammy8D art #A Ghost in the Machine #Ghost Machine comic #alan becker #animator vs animation #ava comic #AvA Horror comic #ava #the second coming #ava second #ava orange #the victim #ava victim #cw bad ending #cw unhappy ending #cw ambiguous ending #Sammy8D Stick Stuff

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turbo-tsundere · 1 month

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Kokichi kokiching part 2 out of 2, where the violence against carts continues, and the mystery behind his name displaying either as "K okichi" or "Ouma" is finally revealed. All the while the game trolls us about it.

#gonta gokuhara #kokichi ouma #ougoku if you will #ddda spoilers #turbo-tsun plays ddda #the isekaied entomologist #gonta run #thanksOuma #Dark Arisen DLC ending spoiler warning #cw: flashing lights #(sporadic and mostly evenly distributed thorough the video)#cw: blood #cw: strong language #(only once plus I did cover it up so not sure if this warning is really necessary but whatever - just in case)#obviously the word wasn't obstructed in the game and I have zero issues with strong language - it's the lack of consistency that irks me #hopefully that's obvious #the name thing made me unhappy as is - you can't edit characters easily here and once I could I had to input a surname. so impersonal :(#anyway I have so much more clips but I started getting self-consciouss about posting so much so eh XD #I'll just say situations like these were constant XD bless this game #it keeps trolling you and there's layers to this #i thought i played the game but it played me instead

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spookykittenwrites · 1 year

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Alright fuck it, I'm going to ignore good advice and make the post:

MW3 predictions

Either Soap or Ghost is confirmed queer in the form of an offscreen male romantic parter, either current or in the past, and the topic is never brought up again (a la Laswell's wife).

After the above, the chemistry between them is turned down a whole lot in a way that feels really awkward OR there is a love confession immediately before death a la Cas and super hell.

Gaz dies first (either alone or with another member of the 141) and this sparks Price going berserk and doing the most insane and immoral shit imaginable. This either gets him killed, get other people killed, or both.

Roach is back and they give him a bunch of talking lines, removing any hope of a canon non-verbal character.

If Farah and Alex are back and seen together, they either make any chemistry between them nil or somehow work into the plot that Farah isnt/is no longer Muslim (I hate this idea but it's what I think they'd do if they put them in a relationship).

Laswell's wife is literally never mentioned again.

The summary of the plot is the Russians did it and the United States has done nothing wrong ever in its life (except this one American guy but he was brainwashed or otherwise convinced by the Russians).

The Ghoap dynamic will be heavily played up in advertising including how the actors talk about it only for it to be 0.2% gay and way less obvious about anything going on between Ghost and Soap than in MW2. We will very likely be queerbaited I'm calling it right now.

All of the above is false and I will not be dodgeballed by Apollo. Please I'm begging let everyone be happy and queer or we will throw a fit and boycott the game istfg Activision.

This is all based on how I think Blizz Activision will handle its new COD fan base which comes from experience as a long time Blizz games fan (OW fandom started in 2016 or so then switched to WoW a few years later. I've been here a while.)

I would really love to be wrong, but on the occasion that I'm not a) yall will need someone to blame and im okay being that person and b) I wanna be able to say "I told you so" because I'm petty like that lmao

#current affirmation as I offer wine and incense to Apollo: these are false prophesies #these things will not come to pass and we will not be harmed #our love for this game will not be abused for profit and we will not be made to suffer for our love #we will be given something good at the end of all of this even if it is bittersweet and we will not be thrown half baked unhappy tropes #i will it so so may it be #yall dont yndetstand that this is both a joke and totally not a joke and yes im actually praying #maybe if i call myself a prophet or oracle Apollo will prove me wrong just to spite me #and then well all be happy #faes pew pew boys #also just loosely #cw: Islamophobia #oh also to Alex and Emp... im sorry for not taking your advice and not posting it #im defense im tired and was left unsupervised 😂

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rosehathawhey · 10 months

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I keep pushing off watching season 4 of Nancy Drew because I’m just so terrified of how it’s gonna end

#idk man i just will not be able to watch an unhappy nace ending #hearing about it is one thing #but i absolutely cannot watch another unhappy ending for a ship #ace and nancy #nancy drew cw

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hopeamarsu · 2 years

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#18 from the first list with Kylo? ❤️

Thank you for the request!

I think this might've turned out a lot different than maybe you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Please check the warnings before reading though, be safe.

Man or Monster

Kylo Ren x gn!reader

Rating Mature

Word count 1k

Warnings: Major Character Death, angst, death, mention of guns, unhappy ending

Summary: Does the monster prevail or will the man be left standing?

You watch him stomp down the halls, fury hidden behind his helmet and you almost wince at the thought of the poor stormtrooper to be caught in the crossfire.

Almost.

His cape swishes around him, creating an aura of danger that surrounds every living creature in his vicinity. It’s something you know he has perfected ever since he was ten years old and he survived a week home alone with the droids. Making everyone fear him was and is his only defense mechanism. Even as a child, he hid his true emotions - fear, insecurity and loneliness - behind his mask, not yet forged for him.

He piled it on day by day, molding himself into something he wasn’t, all in a way to protect himself and please those wanting a piece of him. Kylo made himself a monster other monsters would be afraid of, especially after taking on the mantle of Master of the Knights of Ren. Slowly the emotional mask was hidden underneath the actual mask, one he donned everywhere he went. The fearful boy he once was no longer existed.

Because for Kylo, formerly Ben, fear was a weakness that he didn’t want anyone to see. But you did.

It wasn’t easy, peeling back all the layers both physically and emotionally. Piece by piece, month after month you slowly pried them away until only fragile humanity was left in front of your eyes. In the privacy of your shared space, the monster retreated and the man emerged. And that man loved you with all his heart and all his body. That man was yours and you were his.

In those moments, you both shared so much, taught each other so much and learned from one another. Those were beautiful moments untainted by fears or others, meant just for the two of you. You encouraged him to be more than just the monster, pushing it deeper into its chambers and letting the son of Leia Organa and Han Solo feel the love he’d been left without for so long.

But all good things have to come to an end. There is no more shared space, no more love to grow and relish. All because of that single moment on the fateful night when everything went wrong. That single shot from the blaster took it all away.

You move behind him, using the shadows as your cover as he walks briskly towards the command center. His hand flexes and you can see it move when it balls into a fist before searching for the lightsaber tucked into his belt. You reach out with your mind, feeling the unsteady pulse of the broken crystal tucked deep inside the metal and feeding off his darkness.

You’d often wondered what it would feel like to hold a cyber crystal, a pure one or a broken one, but this pulsing doesn’t feel good. It feels like poison vines wrapping around his ankles and pulling him under. Slowly seeping into his veins and feeding the darkness inside, pulsing in tandem with his heartbeat.

A heart you no longer know if he possesses.

Did it die on that battlefield with you? Was it ripped out of his chest by someone or did the monster do it to himself? Those are the questions you’ll never know the answer to but desperately need to. You run purely on your stubbornness now, fighting against the time to see if you could still see a hint of an answer somewhere.

Kylo reaches the bridge, hand holding out to open the doors with the Force. You follow him inside, skipping past the closing door in the nick of time and slip into the dark corner near the panels. You watch him, the darkness gathering up a storm behind him as he surveys the space opening up from the transparisteel in front of him.

“Where are we?” His modulated voice feels like a whip, stark and metallic. It slashes through the air and from your vantage point, you can see all the officers in the room stiffen. You can tell they are afraid of him and at this moment, so are you. There is a tone in his voice that you don’t recognize, something that you know means the man you have loved is no longer in control.

You turn your head, watching the stars surround several Resistance ships nearing your location. Ice floods through you, the coldness of the space outside of this ship gathering you up in its freezing embrace.

Kylo… Please no.

“In position sir.”

“Good. Kill them all.”

The officer nods and presses a few buttons, but you hardly see what is happening. You don’t hesitate anymore, abandoning the shadows and moving as quickly as you can until you are right in front of him, staring up at his helmet.

Please don’t do this! Please don’t! Please don’t tell me you forgot me so quickly, that you no longer remember all the promises you made to me about casting Snoke out of your head and finding an end to this war? Kylo. Please! Tell me. Tell me you didn’t forget!

You scream at him, the words tumbling out of your mouth though no sound leaves your cold lips. Your tears no longer stain your cheeks, since you have no tears left to shed. You hand, the one hovering in the air above his heart flickers with the light, growing fainter by the second.

There is no time left, you need to move to the next realm, your body no longer with your soul still grasping at straws but you have to make sure Kylo Ren does not lose the final thread of humanity still inside him.

His helmet moves a little and suddenly he’s looking right at you and just as suddenly you can see the inside of his helmet. You see his eyes, the ones that once held life and love in them and you feel your final energy drain in defeat. You grow thin, the world around getting hazy as you slip away, cold and dead like the emptiness in him now.

There is nothing left in his eyes anymore. The man is no more, only the monster remains.

The monster has won.

(please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list any time!)

Everything taglist @clydesducktape @miraclesabound @10blurredsmoke10 @caillea @princessxkenobi @sixshooter665 @amneris21 @greeneyedblondie44 @beecastle

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#hopeamarsu milestone celebration #kylo ren #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren fanfiction #tw: major character death #cw: death #cw: guns #angst #no happy ending #unhappy ending #my writing #hopeamarsu

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missdrarrydawn · 2 years

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Microfic :D

Written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt 'Linger' by The Cranberries.

/ CW in the tags /

He likes it. Every shudder on my bruised skin, every wince on my bloodied lips. He enjoys watching it—the tear stains on my cheeks, the imprints of his rough fingertips on my flesh—my pain. Of course, what he actually enjoys is inflicting it. His pupils dilate with sick satisfaction, they swallow the beautiful mesmerizing silver iris, when my bones crack under his fists. He bites his lip with desire naked on his sharp features when he reaches his pale hand past my ribcage that he'd cracked open with the heel of his boot and grips the pumping muscle deep within. I let him, what else would I do anyways? It feels so good when he yanks my heart out and tightens his grip until it bursts with a wet pop after all. Over and over again.

The clack of his polished shoes against the floor is loud in the silence constantly ringing around my hollow skull while he walks away when it's all said and done—there's hardly a need to linger, is there?

#cw abusive relationship #cw unhappy ending #cw toxic relationship #microfic #dark!fic #drarry #first pov #first pov harry #sad ending #microfic prompt #linger

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phoebe-delia · 2 years

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Orion's Will

I don't usually write horror. But I saw the "The Shivers" prompt from @hp-fearfest and couldn't resist once I thought of this! cw: mcd, cw: illness, cw: curse, cw: grief, cw: unhappy ending

They tried warming charms; tried scalding cups of tea and baths with water that turned Harry's skin bright pink. He wore layers of thick, wool clothes and wrapped himself in blankets while sitting in front of Grimmauld Place's hearth, until he gave up after realizing the flames—whether lit by magic or matches—only lasted a few seconds. Healers at St. Mungos looked at them with more pity in their eyes with every visit, until they were finally told to stay home.

Draco held Harry in their bed as he shivered and shook, vibrating from head to toe, teeth chattering so hard Draco feared they would break. "Y-you should s-sleep in the g-guestroom," Harry said through the tremors. Draco just shook his head and squeezed Harry tighter against him, turning out the light with a whispered, "Nox."

Eventually, the shaking slowed, along with Harry's breathing. Draco tended to him throughout the day until he stopped trembling; stopped moving altogether.

He called the authorities, and their close friends and family. He signed the paperwork and then cried into Hermione’s shoulder as Harry’s body was carried out. And when it was all over, Draco forced himself to the guest bedroom, unable to face their bed, and collapsed on top of the covers.

The next morning, Draco woke with a bone-deep grief and twisting anxiety at the thought of starting the rest of his life without Harry. He rose from the bed on unsteady legs and made his way to the kitchen for a cup of tea.

Minutes later, he had a steaming cup of earl grey in his hands. He turned from the kitchen counter and glanced into the living room, eyes catching on the wall high above the hearth— Draco’s teacup clattered to the ground, hot liquid scalding his bare feet.

But he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Just stared at the bright red writing on the wall in terror.

By Blood or Bond alone are Masters made to reign. May interlopers quiver ‘till they perish from the pain. It is Orion’s will that False Masters face attack, By the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black.

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thefruitanditsmysteries · 1 year

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Lilac Islands and Lily Skies

Fandom: Young Royals

Link: Lilac Islands and Lily Skies - TheFruitAndItsMysteries - Young Royals (TV 2021) [Archive of Our Own]

AO3 Tags: August (Young Royals), Hanahaki Disease, Hurt No Comfort, Whump, Unhappy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Suicide, its unclear who the hanahaki is about, Angst, Heavy Angst

Word Count: 377 (1/1 Chapters)

ngl i almost cried while writing this, but maybe im just being dramatic. This is just august dying from hanahaki

August didn't know what to do with himself. Right now, he leaned over one of the toilets tucked in the corner of the locker room, staring at the petals that float at the top. And missing practice, of course. Because why would anything ever go right? He doesn't know who these could even be for, and he certainly doesn't want to try and find out. That would just make the longing worse. Fuck, why does this have to be happening right now? He can't keep missing practice like this. They'll either kick him off the team or realize that something's wrong; and honestly, he couldn't tell which was worse at this point. He wouldn't tell anyone, and it's not like people will see a flower and automatically realize someone has hanahaki. He doesn't have money for the surgery, either. He is going to die. He felt sharp pain course through his lungs as he practically vomited out an entire flower. The stem felt long and soft as it exits his throat. At least it wasn't a flower with thorns. Still, he is going to die. The funny thing is though, even though he was forced into this situation, he can't seem to mind. I mean, this was just a mean way of the universe telling him to give up, as if he hadn't already; as if he hadn't thought about this before. Like every time he remembered what a piece of shit he is, or how much he hurt Wille and the people around him, or all of the money he doesn't have, or how he just knows his mother blames him for...

He's going to die soon and that's alright with him.

He keeps the flower. It was a lilac? or a lily? He didn't actually know, but he figures he'll start a collection anyway. He doesn't want to question why he wanted to. Maybe it was because it will make him feel missed, although he knew he wouldn't be. Maybe it was because, in some sick way, he'll manage to leave something good on this earth; something beautiful, even. After everything he touched became ruined, he liked to think that he could make something that didn't cause pain. It made the process easier, at least.

#august young royals #hanahaki disease #angst #whump writing #unhappy ending #cw sui mention #fanfiction #young royals #young royals fanfic #writing

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alwaysmoncheri · 3 months

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hello! I hope you’re doing good! I would like to request a fic with tasm!peter parker or james potter if you prefer, but something where they’re making out and the reader ends up breaking his glasses? If that makes sense🫣

hi, my darling, i’m am doing very well! thank you for requesting, that makes complete sense! I’m totally watching tasm again after writing this <3

cw: fem!reader, making out, slightly suggestive (but not really), aunt may walking in, established relationship, fluff, 1.2k

Peter’s mouth is on your neck while the bridge of his glasses rubs against the skin just an inch higher than his mouth. His hands stay firmly planted on your hips as you sit in his lap on his swivel chair. Your textbook and computer lay abandoned next to his on his desk in front of you.

“Peter, I have to study,” you mumble, but the sigh that escapes your lips makes your excuse less believable, “We have to study.” you add, trying you best to get yourself and peter back on track for a big exam tomorrow. Crazy for Peter or not, this test is important and you need to get a little studying in, but you can’t get Peter to keep his hands off you.

“No, we don’t.” Peter replies quickly, before biting your neck, causing you to let out squeak.

“Peter,” you practically whine, and the chuckle that falls from Peter’s mouth vibrates onto your neck, causing you to squirm in his lap. When Peter lifts his head from your neck, you’re pouting. Lips jutted out and eyebrows pinched together with pleading eyes. Oh, Peter could die right here with you in his arms. He pulls you closer, biceps and hands pressed into your sides and forearms into your stomach.

“You’re going to be fine,” Peter offers gently, pressing a much softer kiss to your cheek, allowing you to release the tension from your face, “You’ve studied plenty already.”

“But–”

“No, buts,” Peter shuts you down, gently rubbing your sides in an attempt to silence your worries. He wants to kiss you so bad, but he would never do it without your permission. And if you want to study, he’ll let you, but he doesn’t think you really do, “Kiss me?”

Peter hears you release a long, dramatic, sigh before shifting yourself in his lap so that you’re straddling him, his hands now stabilizing you by your waist. For a moment your face is expressionless and Peter can’t read you. He worries that you’re unhappy with him but when he sees a giddy smile creep onto your face, he instantly reciprocates and his worries melt away.

You lock your hands around Peter’s neck before leaning in to kiss him. At first, you kiss him softly, tenderly just because you love him. But when you lightly tug on Peter’s hair at the nape of his neck, he takes it as a sign to tug on your hips, pulling you flush against his chest and deepen the kiss. But when the bridge of you nose knocks into Peter’s glasses, you groan in momentary pain, causing his eyes to widen, hand reaching up to gently hold your cheek, the action asking if you’re okay. When you nod your head and meet his gaze, you notice his concern before it’s quickly replaced with frustration. Peter quickly tears his glasses on his face and tosses them towards his bed without sparing a glance in that direction. But when a soft crack echos from across the room, you snap your gaze towards the glasses that now lay broken at the bridge on the floor.

“Peter!” You gasp, shifting your gaze between him and the broken glasses, but no concern seems to be etched on his face.

“Don’t worry, I can get new ones,” Peter assures you, kissing the corners of your lips while his nose delicately brushes the apples of your cheeks, “I just wanna kiss you.” Peter whispers and you feel a rush of warmth spread across your face at his tone.

“Aunt May isn’t going to be happy.” You state, nervously glancing towards the door that Peter probably forgot to lock again.

“Shush, less talking, baby,” Oh god, you melt completely at the way his says baby and presses his finger to your mouth, before replacing it with his lips, “More kissing.” He adds in between a few quick, hard, presses of his lips on yours.

“Oh whatev—hmph!”

Peter kisses you long and hard, successfully getting you to stop talking. You feel hot all over when he kisses you again and again. And when you rank your fingers through his hair, lightly tugging on the ends, while simultaneously gently biting his bottom lip, Peter makes a sound between a gasp and a groan that makes you want to do it again just so you can hear the sound once more. There’s a kiss, another, and another, you’re so caught up in the feeling of his mouth against yours, carefully sliding your hands up and down his chest before lightly gripping a fist full of his shirt to keep him near you.

The way Peter touches you is like muscle memory, he knows how to make you gasp and what makes you shiver. When, his hands slip under the material of your shirt and caress your skin, your body reacts exactly how he knows it always does. Then, he lifts you up, your legs wrap around his waist, and with his lips still on yours, he gently lowers the both of you onto his bed. He seems so far away now and you can’t handle it. Before he even has the chance to lower himself further down onto the bed, you grab his biceps, which are tensed from holding himself up, and tug him towards you. Peter practically falls and suddenly the weight of his whole body is on top of you, Peter worries for a moment, breaking the kiss, but you make a noise, reminiscent to a childish whine before grabbing his jaw with both of you hands and pulling him back. With his lips on yours, his tongue slides into your mouth while your thumbs trace the outline of his jaw and his hand slides behind you back and into your shirt.

“Hey, do you two know where—Oh my goodness!” You and Peter are quickly pulled apart, turning your heads in the direction of Aunt May’s loud gasp. She stands just outside the bedroom with one hand still on the doorknob, her expression loudly displaying her shock. Peter stays on top of you for a split second, before May’s gaze shifts between his hand in your shirt and both of your disheveled appearances, “Peter Benjamin Parker!”

With that, Peter immediately jumps up from on top of you, quickly grabbing your hand to stand next to him. Both of your faces are flushed red from being caught, even if all you were doing was kissing. Aunt May stands by the door, both of her hands placed firmly on her hips, presumably awaiting a reasonable response while you and Peter glance at each other in search of something to say. When Peter’s gaze returns to his aunt, he finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Aunt May—We were just—” Peter pauses as he stumbles over his words, feeling pathetic under the eyes of both you and his aunt.

“Studying.” You finish with a somewhat convincing smile and when Aunt May turns to you, her gaze softens, but when she notices the broken glasses laying forgotten on the floor behind you, her questioning expression returns.

“And what happened to your glasses?” Aunt May asks, a triumphant smile crossing her face as she knows she’s caught the two of you red-handed in your obvious lie, “Were you studying when that happened?”

You and Peter hesitate, he sends you a nervous smile and the both of you bite your tongues, not trusting yourselves to speak. After a moment, the two of you nod, heads hanging low.

“Mhm, right,” May hums before sending Peter a look that says, ‘we’ll talk later.’ Then, she takes a few steps into the room, causing you and Peter’s eyes to widen, but May only steps around you to pick up the broken glasses before walking back towards the door, “Well, dinner is almost ready, you two better behave.”

“Okay, yeah, thank you, May.” Peter says, and you can tell he’s beyond flustered by the situation as he runs a hand through his hair, then brushes a finger along his bottom lip, “We’ll be down soon.”

May nods before sending the both of you one final look, this one a little more playful than the rest. She exits the bedroom and closes the door behind her, leaving you and Peter alone once again.

The both of you share a glance before breaking out in a fit of laughter. Peter falls back onto the bed, tugging you down with his so that you’re laying on his chest.

“I told you she’d be mad.” You tease, running your hand up his chest, eventually reaching the back of his neck, while leaving a gentle kiss on his jaw.

“It was so worth it.” Peter smirks before flipping you over and kissing your face

masterlist . tasm!peter parker masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

tags: @googie-jeon, @Kevia1000, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites, @averyhotchner, @marauderswhxre, @vixparker

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sammy8d257 · 2 years

Text

A Ghost in the Machine

Cover + Back Cover / Pt. 1 / Pt. 2 (HERE) / Pt. 3 / Pt. 4 / Pt. 5 / Pt. 6 / Pt. 7 / Pt. 8

o O o O o O o

A Ghost in the Machine

An AvA Horror themed comic, Written and illustrated by Sammy8D257, Beta read by a Mug haunting my coffee table

CW: Bad/Unhappy Ending, Allusions to the RYGB death from AvA 5

o O o O o O o

Shout out to all silly people!

Also for a little bit more context, this entire comic takes place a few months after the events of AvA5!

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ickadori · 6 months

Text

++ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

[summary] wriothesley has noticed a change in your behavior towards him, and thinking the worst, he keeps himself busy in the fortress of meropide as he awaits your certain rejection. instead, he learns that you had the notion in your head that he could ever love anyone else besides you, and proceeds to clear your head of such silly thoughts.

[cws] fem reader -> wrio’s wife. angst to comfort to smut. oral. minor overstimulation. wrio is in his feelings, heavily. reader thought wrio was interested in clorinde. wrio thinks he isn’t good enough for you -> self doubt/self degradation. 3.4k

Somewhere along the line, Wriothesley had messed up.

This wouldn’t have been an issue in and of itself — Wriothesley’s life had been riddled with his mistakes ever since he was a teen, after all, one after the other just piling up— he always took responsibility for his shortcomings, his oversights, his negligence, especially when it came to you.

He was always the first to admit that he wasn’t perfect, and always the first to apologize for it, fully believing that you deserved nothing short of it. But this time, he wasn’t sure exactly what he should apologize for. To him, he had been doing everything right recently.

Things between you two had been peaceful, jovial, full of shared love and happiness… or maybe that had been entirely on his end. Maybe his unrelenting love for you had somehow managed to overshadow your distaste, your unhappiness, your subtle clues hinting towards what the problem was.

Maybe your loving grace had finally run out — you had finally matured and realized that you could so much better than being tied down to a man littered with scars so deep that they allowed you to see what he was really made of; something murky and dark and wholly unfitting to be so close to someone such as yourself.

If that were the case, and you had finally come to your senses and were regretting allowing him to slip that ring onto your finger, were regretting all the hushed declarations of love whispered to each other in the early hours of the morning, regretting all the times you had given yourself to him, allowed him to be the first to touch you and promised him that he’d be the last, then he would let you go.

All Wriothesley ever wanted in life was to see you happy. He had hoped it would be with him, that he’d be able to turn to face you in bed and not have a doubt in his mind that you were and content by his side, the truth reflected in your eyes. But if he couldn’t have that, have you, then… he had lost before and made it, scathed but alive, and he could surely do it again.

He first noticed a change after the gates holding the Primordial waters were broken. The two of you had been in his office - you taking on the arduous task of organizing his books, while he had been nose deep in a pile of paperwork that he had neglected for far too long.

The sirens blaring had sent the both of you into a frozen stupor, you in disbelief and him in horror, but he had broken out of his quickly. He had rounded his desk and taken your arm, quickly leading you down the stairs and out of the door to his office. He had told you to leave, go to safety, go to Neuvillette, and when you had opened your mouth to protest, he had kissed you in earnest and pushed you through the door before shutting it behind you.

After the crisis had been averted, Neuvillette’s seal holding back the waters for just a bit longer, he had sought you out immediately. He found you in your shared home curled up in bed, his pillow clutched to your chest as tears wet your cheeks.

Wriothesley calls your name, his voice raspy and winded, a result of all the running and panicking he had done in his desperation to find you.

Your head snaps up in an instant, puffy eyes moving to him, and he can see the relief in your face; eyes getting a bit of their light back, lips turning up a bit from where they previously fixed in an open sob. “Wrio,” you cry, and then he’s on you, the bed dipping underneath the added weight as he covers you with his body, arms winding around you tight as he holds you, basking in what the waters tried to steal away from him.

The two of you had made love that same night, if you could really call it that. He had pressed himself into your heat, bodies tightly pressed together, and had rocked into you while he whispered his fears against your shoulder and you cried yours into the crook of his neck. Neither of you had come, the high emotions of the day blocking off the path to that blinding bliss, but it hadn’t been any less pleasurable or special.

It had brought Wriothesley closer to you — the act of nearly losing you had solidified that he’d be lost without you. That a part of him would be forever broken beyond repair if you were to no longer be by his side.

With how you’ve been acting as of recent, he guesses the opposite could be said for you. Perhaps the experience had forced you to see your regrets in life; him, and perhaps you were mulling over what to do in your head.

Wriothesley sighs, calloused hands moving to sift through his hair as he tries to fight off the throbbing at his temples. The headaches came back with a vengeance each day, Sigewinne’s remedies doing next to nothing to alleviate him of his misery.

He’s been down in the Fortress of Meropide for days now, not able to stomach your off-standish behavior for too long lest he break down at your feet and beg for forgiveness that he never deserved in the first place. You weren’t cruel to him, he doubts that you could be cruel to anyone, no matter their sin, but you were different.

His appearance didn’t bring forth the blinding smile it once did before, but rather a more muted one, a placid one. You didn’t rush him and drown him with your kisses, but rather pressed a fleeting one to his lips before skirting off somewhere. You didn’t curl into his side at night, your legs tangled together while you told him about your day until you eventually drifted off, but instead kept your back to him while you made sure to stay on your side.

It was the small things that crushed him, threatened to grind him into dust and let the wind blow him away, so instead of seeing his demise unfold before him, he decided to be ignorant and lock himself away underneath the sea.

There’s a heavy knock at his office door, and he wants to delude himself into thinking you’ve come for a visit, the past few weeks having never happened, but you had never been one to knock, instead slipping inside and bounding up the steps with a sweet call of his name on your lips.

“Come in.” He calls, not bothering to straighten out his shirt or smooth his hair down as he listens to the ‘clink’ ‘clink’ of a pair of heels ascending the stairs.

“Wriothesley.”

“Clorinde.” He greets, eyes moving to her in lazy acknowledgment before settling on a chip in his desk. “I thought I told you last time that your recurring presence wasn’t needed. The seal will buy us some time, and the Harbinger still hasn’t returned. It wouldn’t be entirely wrong to assume him as dead.”

Wriothesley held deep respect for Clorinde and her fighting prowess, and the two had even shared a few cups of tea and held casual conversation, but there was only one person that he wanted to see in this moment, and it certainly wasn’t her.

“I’m not here on business.”

“I’m not in the mood to entertain.”

“Oh, I’m not here to make idle talk with you either — I’d get more of a conversation out of a bloated corpse before I got one out of you.” He looks at her, tongue prodding at his cheek. “I’m here on the behalf of your wife.”

He perks up at that, eyes growing alert and heart stuttering in his chest as he begins to rise out of his seat. “Is something wrong? Is she alright? Where is she?” Clorinde lowers herself into the chair on the opposite side of his desk, not a hint of urgency in her face, and Wriothesley wants to reach across the desk and shake her words out of her. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing that requires your current level of panic.” She softly shakes her head, a rare flash of amusement shining in her eyes. “She’s safe, a bit misconstrued, but entirely safe. She’s currently in the Palais Mermonia lamenting to Neuvillette about how her husband no longer loves her.”

“…that’s absurd.” Utterly absurd, completely inconceivable. He didn’t love you? He breathed for you, lived for you. “That’s absurd.”

“Neuvillette told her as much. But she’s convinced that your gaze has wandered to another.”

“What? I don’t— I’ve never looked at anyone else besides her.” The pure truth. You had stolen his undivided attention from the moment he first saw you and had refused to let it loose. He thought about you when he woke up, as he went about his duties, as he sat down to take a break, as he strolled the dark, cold halls of Meropide and wished he had your touch to warm him up, you, always you, only you.

“My frequent appearances in the Fortress of Meropide may have contributed to that notion.” Wriothesley blinks, rusty gears in his head churning as he tries to think. You had been acting strange ever since the gate failed, and Clorinde had been a recurring visitor ever since. She had helped him hold off the water and the damage had been minimal, but the situation still needed to be closely monitored, and he had already had his hands full with trying to get the prison back in the swing of things, so he had left that aspect to her.

He remembers now — your impromptu visits. You’d carve out pieces of your day to come and see him, only to be met with the sight of him in conversation with Clorinde, the both of them completely engaged as they mulled over the situation. Wriothesley would turn his attention to you the moment he noticed you, would greet you as he always did, but maybe… maybe it wasn’t how he always did. Maybe he was a bit shorter, a bit impatient, a bit dismissive, a bit frustrated, a bit cold.

The crisis had been weighing heavy on him since he first found out about it all those years ago, but when it was suddenly surging forward and threatening to take what he loved most, it had threatened to crush him flat, and he had tried to adapt.

Perhaps he was the one that had changed.

He’s out of his office before Clorinde can say another word, a quick glance between them solidifying an agreement that she’d take his place while he was away, and then he’s on his way to the surface, cursing himself as he goes.

He knew he had been the cause of your sudden change, and he had mulled over it in his mind day after day as he tried to figure out why. To think that it was because you thought he could ever be with anyone else after you had given him your love—he was addicted to you and everything you had to offer, to the way you made him feel, to how you treated him so gently when all he had known was cruelty and hardship.

He’s at the Palais Mermonia in record timing, and he leaves a slew of startled Fontanian’s in his wake — the Duke of Meropide racing through the streets to bare himself at his wife’s feet, he’s sure he’s made quite the sight. Hopefully, Gods willing, the two of you can laugh at the newspaper in the morning while you lay in bed, together.

Wriothesley rarely makes trips to Neuvillette’s office, but he’s always been welcomed, and he’s grateful for that when he’s not stopped by one of the many Melusines stationed around.

As he nears the door he hears your voice, and the soft sound washes over him like a gentle wave; refreshing, dizzying, suffocating. The sound of your unmistakable cry is the complete opposite, and he bursts into the room, chest heaving as he looks to where you’re sitting in front of Neuvillette’s desk, your head lowered into your hands while he quietly watches you.

The door loudly knocks against the wall, the commotion causing a hush to fall over the room, and he waits with bated breath as you lift your head and turn to see the cause of the disturbance. Your eyes widen when you see him, lids puffy from your crying, lips parting and hands tightening around the armrests of your chair.

“Wrio,” you call his name, softly, tenderly, and he calls yours doubly so. “What are you doing here?” It feels as if it takes an eternity for him to cross the room, when in reality it probably only took a few seconds at best, and he turns your chair around so you’re facing him, the legs scraping against the floor as he does. “Wriothesley?”

“I’ll leave the two of you alone to speak.” Neuvillette’s exit is swift, the door shutting behind him softly, and Wriothesley moves his hands to cup your face as he lowers himself down to his knees, thumbs wiping away the last few tears. You lean into his touch, your own hands tightly clasped together in your lap, and he catches your eyes, wishing that he could tear himself open and show you the way you’ve etched yourself into his heart.

“Wrio—” He moves his thumb so it’s covering your lips, the digit gently stroking the slightly chapped skin there. He gives you a gentle smile as he looks up at you.

“You’ve been doubting me.” Your eyes widen before you drop them to your lap. “That’s why you’ve been acting so unsure. I thought… I thought you had finally grown tired of me.” That look of bewilderment, much like the one he had when Clorinde first revealed your feelings to him, flashes through your eyes as you look at him. “That you finally realized that I could never give you what you truly deserved; everything.”

“Wriothesley,” you try, and he quietly hushes you, a lump building up in his throat that he has to fight hard to swallow down.

“I didn’t do a good enough job showing you just how much you affect me; mind, body and soul. There’s no other that could over compare, that could ever touch me in the way that you have. You are my beginning and my end, the only woman I ever have, and ever will, love.” His fingers are wet with your tears. “You own me completely — you don’t have to ever worry about my attention drifting elsewhere, and I apologize for ever making you think that it ever could.”

His words are spoken with the utmost sincerity, voice raw and unfiltered, and he prays that his love for you bleeds into his words, prays that you can grasp the full extent of how much he cares for you, adores you, utterly worships you as if you were a Goddess yourself.

Your voice cracks as you call his name, eyes once again filled with tears, and he leans forward to kiss your eyelids. “I love you,” the declaration makes his heart soar. “I love you so much. I’m sorry for thinking—”

His lips push against yours, chapped and bitten raw from days of worrying, and yours are in no better condition. He pulls away just to plant another kiss at the corner of your mouth, breath puffing against your face as he nose rubs against yours, foreheads pressed together and eyes locked onto one another’s.

“You don’t need to apologize for your feelings. Ever.” He kisses you again, this one more frenzied and heated than the last, and the both of you only part when your need for air outweighs the need to stay connected. “Gods, you just don’t know how much I’ve missed you — can I show you?”

His hand glides down to the slope of your neck, over the curve of your shoulder, down your shoulder to gently squeeze at your hand, and settles on your hip, fingers sinking into the flesh through your clothing.

“Show me?” You breathily ask, and he smiles against your skin, eyes muddled and heated as he hums. “Show me what?”

“Show you how this body of mine belongs to you and you only.”

“…show me.”

Wriothesley couldn’t help but be a bit selfish first.

The both of your clothes have been discarded somewhere in the office, and he’s laid you back against the blue, plush couch, his hands keeping your thighs up and out of the way as he’s got his mouth latched onto your cunt.

He can’t recall how long he’s been between your legs; kissing, licking, sucking, slurping, but he knows he’s pulled two orgasms out of you, your slick coating his face, even dripping off his chin in long, stretched out lines as he tries to get more.

His hands tighten on you as he wraps his lips around your twitching clit and suckles, hazy eyes blinking open to travel up your body. He starts at the pudge of stomach that’s littered with his marks, then up to your heaving breasts that’re decorated as well, nipples puffy and swollen from the treatment he had given them earlier, further is your lips, spit-shined from his fervent kissing, and finally is your eyes, which gaze down at him as you cry out.

A molten heat swirls in his gut as he drags his tongue down through your folds, letting it seek out your clenching hole before pushing inside with a dizzying squelch, nose nuzzled up against your clit as he fucks his tongue into you.

You squirm and twist in his hold, hands trembling as they push at his head, and Wriothesley detaches himself from your pussy with great difficulty, eyebrows furrowed as he greedily licks at his lips. “Is it too much for you?” You weakly nod, eyes tiredly blinking, and he kisses at the inside of your thigh before letting it rest on his shoulder to free up his hand, pointer and ring finger moving to part your folds while his middle taps at your clit.

“Wrioooo,” you drag out, and he practically coos at the sound, his eyes flickering between your face and your cunt.

“I know, love, I know.” Your hole clenches, the pretty sight of your clear slick pooling nearly hypnotizing him. He allows his thumb to sink into you, a deep, guttural groan being forced out as you wrap around him and suck him in just as greedily as he had done to you.

He places a chaste kiss to your clit, once then twice, and gives it a slow drag of his tongue as he forces himself to move up your body, lips leaving a trail of your slick and his spit until he can lock his lips with yours.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs, the tan, uncut tip wet with pre-cum. He aches, terribly, and when your hand slithers down between the two of you, soft fingers wrapping around him and guiding him into your heat, he nearly howls in bliss and finishes all over your clit and folds - nearly.

His eyes roll as he sinks in, heart hammering against his chest as shivers wrack up and down his body. He grips onto the back of the couch, the expensive wood splintering under his grip, and grits your name out through clenched teeth. You’re warm, soft, perfect, salvation, and he basks in it, hips pushing forward until he’s nestled deep inside, cock snug inside your welcoming walls.

Once he’s staved off his end for just a bit longer, he adjusts his stance, one foot raising up to brace on the couch while the other stays on the floor. He kisses you, soft and sweet, an unspoken question in his eyes, ever-present, and you answer him with a hushed ‘yes, I do’.

His hips pull back so only the tip remains, and then he’s surging forward, cock punching a choked moan out of your throat, your hands flying to grasp onto his sweaty shoulders. “There you go, hold onto me, baby.” That’s the last intelligible sentence he gets out before he loses himself in the feel of you, mind deteriorating down to nothing but his most primal needs; the need to drive his cock into you until he physically can’t go on any longer, until your cunt is gaped and overflowing with his seed, until the both of you are spent, until you’ve drained him of everything he has to offer, until you know —and Gods he hopes you’ll know— that he’s yours.

Mind, body and soul.

Completely, wholly, and undoubtedly yours.

Forever and always.

#wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut

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