#this has been haunting me forever if i have to suffer so do you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

axnrxn · 1 year

Note

if you're comfortable with it; 141 team (+ maybe konig/alejandro) accidentally hurting their partner??

Accidentally Hurting You (141, Alejandro Vargas, and König x GN!reader)

Dark fic, angst and some fluff (varied ratios depending on the character), declarations of love

TW: Angst, ptsd, mentions of graphic violence, war stories, mentions of death/blood.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You wake up at the sounds of whimpering from the man next to you. Simon has been having vivid nightmares since Las Almas. You felt helpless, you hated seeing him suffer. You got hurt and it’s haunted him ever since.

“Simon” you whisper softly, gently touching his cheek.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and he crushed your lingering hand in his own. You yelped from the excruciating pain.

“It’s me, baby, it’s me!” You yelled, unable to hide the immense pain you were in.

Finally, Simon’s fearful eyes were transformed by guilt.

“Shit- fuck. I’m so sorry, love. Fuck” His voice broke, finally realizing what happened.

“It’s okay, babe, I’m here.” You repeated it like a mantra, attempting to soothe him and yourself at the same time.

Your hand throbbed, but you didn’t attempt to move it just yet. His hand began to shake, his breath ragged. Then he sat up quickly, letting you collapse onto the bed where he once was under you.

“Fuck- I… M’sorry, love. Fuck.” He whispered, unable to look you in the eye before rushing out of the bedroom.

Finally, the pain in your hand set in. You let the tears fall silently, the throbbing in your hands too intense to ignore. It was best if Simon didn’t see you like this.

You stifled your tears and left your room as well, deciding to get an ice pack to soothe the pain. You saw Simon on the couch, arms resting on his knees, hunched over. You could hear his sniffling as you reached into the freezer for ice.

You sat down next to him and slowly draped your arm behind his back. He tensed, freezing under your touch. But then his shoulders slowly dropped back down. He still avoided your gaze, his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry. 'M gonna keep hurting ye, love. That's all I do, hurt people. Hurt you." His voice was small and breathy, like he struggled to push out enough air.

"This isn't your fault, Si. It isn't who you are, you're just hurting. And you'll keep hurting if you don't believe you can stop. You'll get there. It just takes time, baby." You assured, maintaining your composure as he broke in front of you.

You crawled into his lap, under his hunched form, and buried your face into his stomach. You felt his tears pelt your cheeks as you laid under him, keeping your eyes closed as the storm passed. You spared him from your gaze, knowing that it would only push him further over the edge. Finally, the rain on your face ceased, leaving quiet sniffles and shaky sighs above you.

"I don't think 'm gonna ever be okay. I don't know why you're with me." He said quietly.

"I'm going to be with you forever, Si. I know what you've been through, I would never expect you to be okay 100% of the time." He looked at your hand as you spoke. "And that's okay. I'm strong, too. I know what I've gotten into. Let me be strong for you, you're not alone in this anymore." You finished your mini pep talk by taking his hand in your injured one, doing your best to ignore the twinge of pain that the contact initiated.

He sighed and leaned back, pulling your hand to his heart. "I don't deserve you..." he said, slowly regaining his composure.

"Because I love your ass, obviously." You teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He grumbled a bit before letting your hand go. "I'm gonna get you a new ice pack and some Advil." He said, standing up from the couch.

"And I love you too," he added as he walked away.

"I love you more than anything, Simon Riley." You whispered to yourself. But you knew he heard it.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Shrapnel from one of his blasts hits you

"Fuck, love, 'm so sorry." Soap apologized breathlessly above you, chest heaving from running to you so quickly.

"'M okay, Johnny, it was an accident. Just shite luck," you grimaced, pressing harder on the gash in your side. It had just missed your ceramic plates, entering your side where there was only soft material protecting.

"I shoulda made sure you were far enough, fuck, I thought you were, dammit" he scolded himself as you bled.

Ghost had begun to use his emergency medkit to patch you up, no longer concerned about enemies nearby as Johnny's blast had wiped a pretty large area. It would take at least 15 minutes before any reinforcements arrived, so stopping the bleed temporarily would be the goal.

Johnny finally bent down, shielding you from the sun as he took your hand that had previously pressed into your wound.

"'M sorry for this, love. Eyes on me while L.T. patches ye, 's gonna hurt." He demanded, keeping your hand firmly in his.

"Good news, Soap, 's just a bit of shrapnel, nothing major. Just a nick, lots of blood, though." Ghost announced. "Sorry about this, (c/n), ain't giving ya pain killers til we're outta here. Need you sharp." Ghost said, before you felt your side light up in pain.

You couldn't help crying out, Soap immediately provided his sleeve for you to bite down on.

"Shh love, yer doin' so good." Soap's accent thickened, comforting you. His voice always making you feel safe.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the sound of Soap's voice rather than his words as he attempted to talk you through it.

"Good job, (c/n), it's over. Ye did good, it's okay." Soap said, finally getting your attention.

You sighed, feeling your side throb. You didn't look, feeling Ghost place medical tape over some gauze. Soap grabbed your arm opposite the side of your gash and supported your entire weight as he stood with you, his hand around your torso. You leaned into his neck as much as you could, trying to steady yourself as your blood loss finally reached your head.

"I got ye, love. Lean on me. L.T.?" Ghost grabbed your other arm, slinging it across his own shoulders, crouching to make sure he didn't force you to extend to his height and pull on your wound.

Soap leaned his head towards your ear and whispered "I ain't gonna let anything happen to ye. I love ye so much, 'm dyin' before you, dammit."

You smiled a bit at his silly promise at the end and replied "I love you, too, Johnny," with your remaining energy. You can't remember what happened after that.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

"Fuck! Dammit, they got (c/n)." Gaz shouted into his comms.

You leaned on Gaz's shoulder as he dragged you through the narrow side streets of Amsterdam.

"(c/n), how copy?" Price asked you through your earpiece.

"Pretty shite, Captain," you replied through gritted teeth.

"Get (c/n) to the car with our cartel friend, Gaz." Price ordered.

"Copy" Gaz replied as he readjusted his grip on you.

You could see him poorly hiding the stress on his face, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to drag you towards Price and Laswell.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, (y/n). C'mon, just a bit further." Gaz urged, talking to himself more than you.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, Kyle." You panted, struggling to stay semi-upright as the blood loss blacked out your vision.

"Stay with me, (y/n)" Gaz pleaded, letting you fully rest your weight on him.

Noticing you were on the verge of passing out in the street, Gaz picked you up bridal style and continued making his way to the car.

"Talk to me, darling. Anything. Say anything, keep your eyes open."

"Mmm , can't" you groaned into his shoulder.

"C'mon, you can do it," worry lacing his voice as he attempted to pick up his pace.

"Well, I love you lots. And I'm not hungry anymore," you declared, not fully coherent.

He laughed a bit at your last remark, "I love you, too, darling."

"I'll marry you when this is all over, promise." you said, fully a puppet to your subconscious.

"What was that?" Gaz said, not able to process your words. Then it hit him.

"Well, shit, I'd better ask you when we get out of here, yeah?" He said, finally in range of the car with Laswell and Price.

John Price

Gets you shot by not calling your shot in time

You grasped your shoulder tightly as you hid behind cover, your back pressed against the rooftop door you had shut behind you.

"(c/n), how copy?" Price asked over comms.

"I'm hit, right shoulder, 0-6," you replied, already using your free hand to rip open your medkit as you bled all over the stairwell.

"Stay put, 2-6, on my way."

You began to strip off your vest, peeling away layers until only your undershirt was left on your top half. You maneuvered around your shoulder, refusing to move it for the fear of aggravating the burning sensation even further.

The lower stairwell door opened, you grabbed your sidearm immediately in your functioning hand.

"Just me, (c/n), stand down." Price announced, knowing you were a sitting duck after being shot from your perch.

"Fuck, John, what were you waiting for? I could've taken that shot, why'd you wait so fucking long?" You asked breathlessly, frustrated with your captain.

"Laswell ordered it, not me, love. I'm sorry, at least let me help you out of here." Price replied, his voice low. His eyes were filled with guilt as he got closer to you. "I've got Gaz on the lower entrance, so I've bought us some time. Let me have a look at you." He assured, wavering between captain and partner mode.

His personalities blurred together, it was both a command and a loving insistence. You loved his commanding nature, but hated it at the same time. How you felt both like his soldier and his partner. It made your stomach do uncomfortable flips.

"He got me good, right through my shoulder." You said, scooting towards him to give him a better look.

Price studied your shoulder for a minute, inspecting the entry wound and looking behind you for an exit wound. After wiping away the copious amounts of blood, he located an exit wound. It wasn't too bad considering you'd been shot by an enemy sniper. You got lucky.

"Just clipped the top of you, luckily. Took a chunk, but didn't make a big hole." Your captain stated.

His gaze softened as it met yours. "I'm sorry about this, love. I am so sorry. It's on me."

"We've all got our orders, yeah? You couldn't do anything." You tried to reassure him, but he wasn't having it.

"I shouldn't have waited for the call. I should've made it anyway," he muttered, starting to focus on patching you up enough to escort you out before you lost too much blood.

"Well, you're here now to piece me back together, at least. I expect special treatment when we return to base, Captain." You teased, causing Price to shake his head, amused.

"You'll be getting bed rest, love. What more could you want?"

"Breakfast in bed, obviously," you replied coyly.

"I'll see what I can do, then." He said with a laugh.

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you too, (y/n)."

König

You rolled around the grappling mat with König on top of you. You straddled his waist, attempting to lift his right arm to slide your foot under it and roll into an arm bar. His strength threatened to topple you over as he bucked his hips, attempting to throw you off balance. Eventually, his attempts succeeded.

"Ahaha, yes! I've got you now!" He declared excitedly. His thighs caged you, long enough to engulf your entire torso, as his hand pinned both your wrists above your head, effortlessly.

Your pride bubbled within you, refusing to tap out. You began to struggle under König's weight, unable to even move him an inch as all 200+ pounds pressed onto your middle.

You huffed, kicking your legs wildly and trying to twist onto your side to throw him off of you. You didn't want to lose again. In one of your twists, you succeeded to turn to your side, but failed to throw König off. His weight was shifted entirely into your side, causing you to yelp.

"Scheiße! I'm so sorry, liebling." König panicked, immediately getting off of you like you were the most fragile piece of glass and he had just cracked you. You could see the panic and guilt in his eyes immediately as he assessed you.

"Fuck, I'm okay, 's my fault." you hissed, your pride wounded anyway. You wanted to curl up into a ball.

"Liebling, you can't keep going like that, I don't want to hurt you." König insisted, still too afraid to touch you.

"I just can't keep fucking losing, I can't be weak." You whispered, frustrated and on the verge of tears.

"And you won't be. That's why you train with me, ja? I'm the strongest, so if you beat me, you beat everyone." König assured you in a matter-of-fact tone.

You knew he was right, but it still stung. You felt like you didn't have enough time, which just made you want to train with the goal to win rather than to learn. He sensed it, so he finally mustered the courage to lightly brush your cheek with the back of his hand.

"I'll make sure you're safe, liebling. Always. Are you okay to try again on me?"

"Yeah, but can you just hold me for a bit?" "Ya, of course."

You scooted your back towards his chest, his arms and legs completely encircling you as he let you curl into him.

"I love you, König," you mumbled into his sleeve.

"I love you, too, liebling," he replied, resting his cheek lightly on top of your head as he hugged you tighter.

Alejandro Vargas

"Again." Alejandro ordered.

You turned back to your target, firing your sidearm. You barely hit the target last time, but this time, you completely missed. You huffed in frustration, dropping your clip and reloading it with a new one.

"I can't fucking do this, Ale." You complained, starting to feel tears well up in your eyes.

"You can and you will, cariño." He reassured you, his eyes hard with determination to push you to success.

"I fucking can't!" you shouted. "I just fucking can't anymore." Your voice broke as the tears flowed.

His eyes softened as he noticed he pushed you too far. He quickly made his way towards you taking the gun from your hands and setting it on the table beside you.

"Hey, hey, look at me. You could do it before, so you can do it again." He said softly.

You hadn't been able to shoot properly since breaking your wrist and receiving a concussion from a particularly nasty car accident you were in while chasing narcos. You were lucky to be alive and to have only escaped with the injuries you did.

"But what if I can't? What if I'm permanently fucked up, Ale?" You asked, unsure if you'd ever fully recover.

"Then you're fucked, cariño. I need you to try for me. I need you to be able to defend yourself again. Las Almas is no place to be defenseless, yes?" His voice was serious, low and demanding.

"Fuck, I know." You replied.

"So come on. Again,” He ordered, only this time he positioned himself behind you, guiding your stance. He widened your feet and turned your shoulders, his hand stablizing your wrist with one hand as he peered over your shoulder.

You pulled the trigger. You hit nearly directly in the center.

"See? Just need to get back into it." Alejandro smiled at you as you turned towards him.

"Thank you, Ale. I love you so much," you professed, your eyes glossy.

"Te quiero también, cariño." (I love you too, sweetheart.)

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I'm taking a lot of exams and working on some quantum physics total wavefunction equations (aka crying over math about an electron that literally no one cares about). I'm taking care of the requests in my drafts before I work on my draft of the fic from the poll.

If my Spanish is terrible, I’m sorry. I’m still learning, so if I fuck up just let me know how to fix it.

#kyle gaz garrick #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #konig mw2 #konig x reader #konig x you #soap mw2 #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #john price #john price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick

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semisolidmind · 2 months

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What happens when they outlive angel? Since poppy was first created in the 50’s it seems like being preserved as toys has granted them longer lifespans if not technical immortality, so angel aging is going to become a problem sooner or later, and I’m kinda wondering what happens when the inevitable comes. I made myself sad thinking about this and now all of you will be too, suffer with me

(i was thinking about this as well, uuuugghhhh)

it's so so sad. what will the toys do without their one advocate, the one person who truly understands them and what they represent? when the one good home they've ever had is gone, they've got nowhere else to go.

so, they stay.

when y/n dies, the toys have a quiet burial for them in their backyard, under a big shady tree. they make a simple marker from rocks, and pick wildflowers nearby to lay on the grave. none of them speak. it was hard enough digging the grave, and unbearably difficult to lay their savior to rest.

the house is horribly quiet afterwards.

poppy is likely the strong one throughout all this. she's had the most experience saying goodbye to people she cares about (thanks to her longevity), and she attempts to maintain a sense of optimism about it all. they'll all be ok, she's sure of it. they'll find their way through this, like always. it's what y/n would have wanted. kissy withdraws into herself further, following poppy's lead and trying not to cry.

dogday is devastated. devastated beyond all measure. he was the one to discover y/n when they passed. they were so pale, he could feel their warmth leaving them. their face looked so peaceful, they looked like they had just fallen asleep. he knew it was coming, they were getting older, but—but it's still not fair. it doesn't feel real. it can't be, his angel can't be dead, nothing has ever kept them down before, they always get back up, why couldn't they get back up—

...he tries to stay calm.

he took on the duty of grave digging. he took on the heavy burden of laying his beloved angel into the makeshift coffin they were able to cobble together. he could barely keep it together when he did. he managed, but not without crying.

that night, he waits until the girls have gone to bed before he closes himself off in y/n's bedroom. in the privacy of the once-shared space, dogday allows the truly desperate, heaving sobs he's been keeping in to finally leave his chest. tears mat down the fur on his face as he cries. he shakily grasps y/n's jacket to himself, wishing that there was some way, any way, that they could come back to him. he knows humans aren't meant to live forever. but that doesn't stop him from wishing that y/n could achieve the tentative immortality that the toys have, if only so that they could stay with him.

dogday becomes somber after his angel dies. they were his source of hope, his reason for living. they saved his life in ways beyond just physical. they were the only reason he was alive at all. without them, he's...he's not sure if he wants to keep going.

but he must. he knows he has to. y/n would want him to take care of the others, they'd want him to protect and provide for them. so, without any other purpose...that's what he does.

the toys live in their savior's house for as long as they're able. it's just their luck that the house is never put up for sale, that it's just sort of...forgotten about. it becomes a "haunted house in the woods," feared and avoided. they're more than happy to become the vague, cryptic monsters in local legends if it means that they're left alone.

nobody will come by to check on y/n for a while, and the toys will have power and food (their water comes from a well hooked up to the house) for at least a little while longer. and after that, they'll manage on what they can find in the woods.

they live as peacefully as they can for as long as they can.

#fr dogday may as well be a widower here #he and y/n werent married technically but they may as well have been #if this is canon dogday he goes completely hopeless after yn dies #but survivor dogday with his limbs intact would keep going and just get kinda bitter about everything

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rpmemes-galore · 4 months

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raw lines from a variety of sources ... sentence starters

"Then perish."

"Pick a god and pray."

"Even fate picks its favorites."

"Everything happens so much."

"I pity the fool that lives like you."

"Then become the dirt I walk on."

“Confidence is quiet. You’re not.”

"I am a monument to all your sins."

“You said I killed you. Haunt me, then!”

“Do I look like the kind of man who dies?“

"You cannot kill me in a way that matters."

"If you want me to die you can just say so."

"Violence for violence is the rule of beasts."

"Your secrets are safe with my indifference."

"Will you fight? Or will you perish like a dog?"

"We might be in the history God abandoned."

"I will face God and walk backwards into hell."

"I can’t go to Hell. I’m all out of vacation days."

"The light inside me is broken, but I still work."

"Don't leave me, dear. Haunt me like a memory."

"I commend my soul to any god that can find it."

“I have been through hell and come out singing.”

"I will die on this hill before I bend on this matter."

"You are strong, child. But I am beyond strength."

"If there can be no victory, then I will fight forever."

"I cannot hold back the tide of your bad decisions."

“What an exhausting thing it is to be called a hero.“

"To become God is the loneliest achievement of all."

"You cannot condemn those who build your throne."

"No cause is lost as long as one fool is left to fight for it."

"You kneel before my throne unaware it was built on lies."

"My ancestors are smiling on me. Can you say the same?"

"If God wanted you to live, he would not have created me."

“Love is like ghosts; Few have seen it, but everybody talks.”

“I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you.”

“I hope you heal from the things no one ever apologized for.“

"If you should ever get to heaven, I’ll be there to make it hell."

"No one will know the violence it took to become this gentle."

"You either die a hero or live long enough to become a villain."

"God has cursed me for my hubris and my work is never finished."

"Kill me and live with the memory. Then tell the stars that you’ve won."

"There’s no point in being grown up if you can’t act childish at times."

"You could sooner divert a river from its course than deny my nature."

"We both stared into the abyss, but when it looked back… you blinked."

"I will seize destiny by the throat and force it into the shape of my choosing."

"The anger in your heart warms you now, but will leave you cold in your grave."

"I survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me."

"If the world chooses to become my enemy, I will fight just like I always have."

"Do you think God lives in heaven because he, too, fears what he has created?"

"I forgive but I will never, ever forget. Don’t mistake my kindness for gullibility."

“Someday you will have to answer for your actions, and god may not be so merciful.”

"What is better? To be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort?"

“You are alone, child. There is only darkness for you, and only death for your people.”

"You took a pure and beautiful thing, and you beat out everything good, to suit your ends."

"We all make mistakes. That’s what happens when you’re brave enough to make decisions."

“I am not responsible for actions of the imaginary version of me you have inside your head.“

"I think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. We are good people and we’ve suffered enough."

“They dropped the world on your shoulders and called you Atlas. How long can you hold the weight?”

"I’ve heard it said that we only gain wisdom through suffering. And tonight I intend to make you very wise."

"Stand in the ashes of a thousand dead souls and ask the ghosts if honor matters. Their silence is your answer."

"The world should have protected you, but you have been asked to protect it. What an honor. What an injustice."

"Across all worlds, all times, no matter what you do or what you become: You are nothing less than beautiful."

"The bar was so low it was practically an tripping hazard in hell… yet here you are, limbo dancing with the devil."

"What can one do in the face of such monumental loss but breathe a weary sigh, for the world is a little quieter now."

"I hear your questions constantly. They come to me in my dreams like a prophet receiving visions from an angry god."

"I see now that the circumstances of one’s birth are irrelevant; it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are."

"Too many people have opinions on things they know nothing about. And the more ignorant they are, the more opinions they have."

"Always remember that the crowd that applauds your coronation is the same crowd that will applaud your beheading. People like a show."

"One day, you will be face to face with whatever saw fit to let you exist in the universe, and you will have to justify the space you’ve filled."

#misc #rp meme #sentence starters

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morallyinept · 7 months

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Saviour - A Joel Miller One Shot

Summary: Joel's suffering. He can't do this anymore.

Pairing: Joel Miller x GN!Reader (No name or physical description of reader - it's you, bub.)

Word Count: 2.5k-ish

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶 "Don't hurt me, cadejo."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Waenings/Triggers: Angst. A butt load of angst/very mild smut/unprotected sex (wrap up, folks!)/alludes to violence/let's throw in some chronic insomnia, depression and probable PTSD. Poor Joel 🥺

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

You can hear the screams.

They rattle through the calcium of your bones, packed tight in the jelly of your marrow. The harrowing sounds of terrible men begging for their lives with blood around their gums. It's a sound that will stay with you when you close your eyes at night.

Like jackals they are; insidious and prowling in the night. They carry the decaying flesh of their prey in the cavities of their yellowing teeth. Sharp. Meat of the innocent. Snapping. Hungry.

Like animals, they are put down.

He told you to stay in that damned room, to not come out. No matter what you heard.

You never do. You know that if you see that, see him, it'll kill you. Hearing the frayed tendrils of what he has to do is enough; too much.

You swallow down the rancid bile that burns at the back of your throat.

You're sitting on the lackadaisical bed; threadbare sheets, knees drawn up and forehead resting on them, eyes closed. You press your sockets into your arm and phosphenes glitter at you. It's the only light you have now, when you're lost in the dark.

You can't help but listen out; ears primed despite your reluctance. There's no other noise to distract you here. No TV fuzz or static. No jaunty music. All that's long gone and seems like a vacant memory now, as if your brain is playing tricks on you; convincing you that you never enjoyed such trivial things to begin with.

There is no music here. Only screaming. And the heavy tarnish of Joel's fists.

Then a gunshot. A heavy thud. And then finally, silence.

The silence lasts for a long time. You feel bound in its rigidity, unable to break free as you're left with little else to do but to ruminate inside its ghastly shadows. The silence doesn't haunt you anymore, you haunt it. Leave solid traces of yourself in the shadows of it to gnarl and unfurl.

Footsteps. A creak of the floorboards and then, the door opening. Flooding with the devastation of him.

You look up as he enters; his face pulled into a tight knot at his brows, forever unchanging and refusing to uncinch as he fails to glance at you.

He can never look at you like this.

His eyes don't soften, they rarely do when it happens. Nothing can reach him, not for a while. It takes time to pull him back to shore. Effort.

Unwavering patience that you're not sure you have enough of anymore. Your fingers sag, blistered from the exhumation. This world has already taken so much.

Do you even have anything left to give?

You tell yourself this every time - and wonder the same each time - when you'll stop telling yourself this. When words that have lost all meaning still punctuate and leave lacerations in their wake. They bleed all over the pair of worn boots you wear that were never yours. Borrowed possessions in a world where possessions are fleeting and meaningless. Their stories pushed aside to make way for the turmoil.

You consider when you'll stop living in stoic acceptance for the things Joel does to keep you safe. Alive.

I don't want it if it means he has to suffer. If he has to die a little more because of it.

The burden weighs heavy. A constant crush on your shoulders that gets heavier to drag each day. Sinking slowly, it's up to your knees. Soon your belly. And you can only wonder how it hasn't fully crushed him yet.

Water runs and his back is to you as he washes what is no doubt blood from his hands. You didn't see, all you saw were his eyes. Dark and… empty. The light of them long since dimmed; the candle almost out.

You forget the colour for a moment. You try to remember nutmeg, autumnal leaves that crisp and curl into their death; a handmade switch from the oak to self-flagellate. The colours are all the same, muddy. Dull.

You move, and don't remember the action. You were both once like clockwork; now it's just you who ticks. You're there behind Joel, his back stiffens whilst he rinses his weathered fingers, even when the water has long since run clear.

Your cheek rests against the broad expanse of him; arms circling his puffy waist, pulling him to you. Anchoring. The material of his shirt is soft, but still feels hard at the same time; it grazes in its plaid juxtaposition.

You feel him flex and then the sinking begins. The tension breaks a little, just enough, a crack; a fissure.

A deft wet hand is pushed against yours, fingers interlock despite its chill.

You hear him breathe out, cold mist that barbs your skin. The faucet's gurgled scream is silenced.

"Joel," you metasticize softly in his plasma, and he doesn't make a sound in response to your infection; just a hangman swinging on the gallows.

But he doesn't need to say anything, he knows you're here; knows your shell is grounding him and giving him what he would never ask for at that moment.

He has never asked.

You would ponder on it if it wasn't futile. Deep down you've always known why.

His other fist finds yours - wet and brusied - and squeezes his fingers around your digits tightly. He crushes back until they go numb and your bones feel like they might break and crumble.

He lets go and like always, he heads straight for the bed when you're home, or the place you both call home now that isn't really. Doesn't undress, never undresses after. Even though you can see the blood now on his shirt, smell its iron fruiting.

He rolls, facing the dull window and by the time you're there beside him and running your arm under his, he's gripping your fingers back again. The ebb of his heartbeat felt on the tips languidly. You wonder when it is that you'll feel the last strangled convulsion of it.

You know he would have closed his eyes. But he's not sleeping. No.

Joel never sleeps.

Can't. Not without the pills or whiskey or whatever else he can find or trade for the nightmares to be silenced temporarily.

And when he can't, he stays awake. Even when you succumb beside him and he can hear your laboured breaths taunting him mercilessly as you dream unbidden. A small part of him resents you for that. He wants to make you suffer for the peace you've harboured selfishly for yourself.

You know. You would too if the bloodied boot were on the other foot.

Joel slowly deflates over the course of the night. You feel it each time he breathes out; his weight seems to feel lighter, a rib breaks and flattens the broadness of him into softer pulp. The muscles in his arm don't feel so tight. The cords in his neck become less taught. The leather of his skin more slack around his eyes.

Small pieces of him dying.

And you're left beside him just silently mourning each and every one.

When you wake, you know he'll be there. Unmoved, eyes still closed but not asleep. He never sleeps. The hurricane is never still.

But when you wake up this time, hunkered down in your dreary peace, it's different.

He's not there.

The alarm you feel swiftly shifts into panic. He's always there.

"Joel?" You call out gently.

You listen for the shower. For the mutter of his breath in the walls. Your feet take flight - again you don't remember it. He's nowhere to be found and the unsettling thoughts won't let you have any respite until he comes back, some three days later. Somewhat worse for wear. Somewhat the same.

He's aged. Aged so terribly in the last seventy-two hours that he's barely recognisable, and yet is still the same as you remember.

You don't remember much, just the empty void he left that haunted you tirelessly and nothing else. No peace resides here anymore. He selfishly took it and bundled it clumsily into his backpack leaving you with a decaying husk to nurture in his place.

When his face appears in front of yours again, said backpack discarded by your feet, his hands are strangely warm as they hold onto yours; pulling you out and into an even more terrifying nightmare than you've been rusticating in for the last three days.

You slap him across the jaw and it stings you; he doesn't flinch. He knows he deserves it.

His dark eyes search into yours as he presses your trembling hands to his lips but doesn't kiss them. Just holds them there for a while until your prints twitch through the prickly scruff overhanging his top lip like razorwire.

"Joel-" You begin to croak, but he stops you shaking his head vehemently.

"No." He utters in a small gruff.

And you still. You know it's okay, he's here. Nothing bad happened to him. Physically, at least.

You push your forehead to his and he breathes out. More deflating.

More dying.

"I can't do this anymore." He murmurs, barely audible, but it rings loud around the room like a claxon. Your warm, stale breath of relief hits him on his eyelashes.

"Thank God," you whisper back.

It takes him a while to speak again because he doesn't elaborate. He doesn't need to. He knows you understand and will accept it. Because you have to. And you will.

It's killing you.

He's unmoving, just there with his forehead stamped on yours and it's like you can feel some of that tension leaving him and being absorbed by your pores, even if you have no more room for it.

But you always make space somehow, shift things around. Forego them if necessary. And you can feel him become lighter with it as you start to sink.

You know that's how you save him.

You know how to breathe life back into him to keep him going for that little bit longer.

You lay him down and let him fill you up. There is none of the play, none of the readying. Nothing that would be remotely considered affectionate between you both. It's all you can offer because you know it is all he will take from you.

Something raw and peeled back to reveal bruised and rotting sinew beneath the tender flesh.

He still groans when you slide down on him fully; feel his weight and bulk heavy inside you. Swollen with need, a body to be emptied.

You rock gently on him with your forehead still attached to his, glued by salt. His hands are across your back, mapping over your shoulders; crushing you to him. Your ribs are tight against his as they knock together.

He doesn't kiss you, because he can't. He won't look at you, because he can't.

He can only love you like this, fractured.

And so you give him yours instead; this piece of you that you know can pull him through. To pull something out of him other than grief for a little while.

You don't come. You don't need to because it's more than just pleasure. It's how you save him again and again.

And if it means that a piece of you dies in return each time, then it's worth it to lay suffocating, your wings withering at his feet.

Joel comes inside you, pumping you full of the last tattered, warm parts of him, and as he releases, a hefty hand goes to his eyes.

You feel him silently rumble as his chest heaves and his lips downturn. You hear the stuffy sniffles from his nose as he breaks fully. Disintegrates into the mattress to be inhaled and choked on by you.

"I'm here, Joel. I'm right here." You remind him softly. Gently until his fingers latch around yours and you feel the wetness of his tears burn your skin.

You've always been here. You can't remember since when. You can't remember the before.

He muffles into your shoulder as those last few breaths are strangled before his body stills and you feel him blink against the pulse of your throat.

You stay like that, connected, for what seems like hours; his spend seeping out onto the soft down of his thighs and his turgid cock shrivelled, resting under your weight.

He sighs and you know he's beyond exhausted. Beyond done.

You leave him, again not remembering it as you crush the pills under the glass and swipe the powder into the amber liquid. He drinks it down fast and his head catches back on the pillow.

He pulls you close to him and your hands find skin that you've forgotten, neglected, as does his. You kiss his nape, but realise he doesn't feel it as he's slipped away from you, finally.

For the first time in what feels like a long time, Joel sleeps.

He can't let you be his saviour anymore, not when it costs you your humanity. And he can't be yours anymore. Not when it costs him his.

The price of survival is too much. And you're both out of ration cards to keep trading for it.

Instead, you slumber beside him with the weight of the world tucked in your back pocket for another day when it might rear its fungal head.

Right now, you're here with him and he with you. Even if you're both broken and damaged beyond some basic repair.

You hear the sounds of his dreams wash you away down the drain as he steals your peace from you. Takes the last of your colours, fading them out with turpentine.

For the first time, in what feels like a long time, Joel sleeps.

MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

I hope you enjoyed this lil' Joel story of mine. Re-blogs and comments are always cherished & appreciated! 🖤

#joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller the last of us #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel fic #joel tlou #joel x f!reader #joel x m!reader #tlou fanfic #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #joel x gn!reader

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spacebarbarianweird · 2 months

Note

Hello Dear! It's me again 🤭 thank you for answering my ask earlier. 🙏

Can you do an Evil Durge x Spawn Astarion instead pretty please 🙏 i guess angst is expected but let's see what you think about it. 🤭

Thank you so much!! 🥹🥹🥹

Hmm… Ok, let's see what we can do!

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x Evil Durge

You are scared, but you know you have no choice.

You need to end what you started, and you can't do it without Bhaal's powers.

Astarion is shocked with your choice, but you both hope you have some time together before madness takes over you again.

But he will leave once you aren't yourself anymore. Once you are too dangerous, you are doomed.

"In a thousand years, when I've all but forgotten how to love yet again, you'll flit back into my heart, and I'll weep wondering what happened to my mad love."

How much do you have?

What are you now exactly?

You turn into the Slayer to strike fear in your enemies, and you are sometimes so drunk with violence you can't turn back.

And Astarion goes looking for you, catching you and dragging you back to your normal form.

He isn't afraid. But he should be.

You keep asking him why he is still with you.

But you know the answer without his bantering.

You are so much worse than him. Astarion did horrible things. Astarion's body is tainted, and dirty - there is nothing but horrors in his past.

If someone else was in your place, Astarion would contemplate if he ruined you.

Not with you.

Necrophilia, infanticide, all sorts of assaults, and body horrors. You don't remember that but you were a much bigger monster than he is.

"I will save you. I will find the way," he tells you.

You hope for at least a decade of peaceful life. It's enough to find a cure, to condemn the curse.

Unfortunately, you never get what you want.

Once the tadpoles are removed, your lover has to go into hiding, and you...

You lose yourself to the madness.

The bloodlust, the fury, the violence… You unleash it all and go to commit the unimaginable horrors in the name of Bhaal.

Years pass, then decades, then centuries. Sometimes you hibernate. Like a sleeping dragon, sometimes mercenaries are sent after you, and you flay them alive.

Sometimes you see dreams, blissful and soft.

You see an elf with white curls and red eyes who promises you something.

Something you can't understand.

But nothing lasts forever.

Bhaal is overthrown - maybe it was another, younger god, or maybe the higher deities are tired of him.

Or the immense army of bhaalspawns finally ate him alive.

You don't know.

Your sanity is back.

You vomit at the sight of blood and gore, and you hope memories faded away along with your cursed skills.

The world has changed. It's been a century.

The only person you know, the only person you still love can be anywhere. You have no idea where to search.

But there is a thing about Astarion.

The man can't keep a low profile.

Once he realized he was no longer a spawn but a lesser vampire, he started his own journey of accumulating power and money.

Why bother making deals with devils and risk his own safety, if he can just… achieve everything himself?

Power, money, and skills. Nothing a vampire can't do.

Once you step inside the borders of his own realm, Astarion catches your scent, and he can't believe it's you.

Actually, his first thought is that he has pissed Bhaal, and you've been sent after him.

But his undead heart has been longing for you.

He dares to meet you.

Astarion expects a fight. He expects to see the deranged Dark Urge he's seen twice.

But instead, he sees you, wounded, exhausted, desperate, sick, barely alive.

It's been a century for him, but just a few sane days for you.

He carries you back to his castle and helps you heal.

He's changed - but not for the worst.

Astarion is a powerful vampire lord, running business from the shadows.

And you are his partner, his spouse, his only love - returned to him from hell.

You suffer from nightmares, and your past haunts you.

Astarion knows everything about it, and he cradles you in his arms before the darkness goes.

One day, you ask him to make you a vampire - Astarion can create spawns, maybe not so many, as his former master, but it's in his powers.

He spends a month telling you that it sucks being a vampire.

"You will never see the sun, you won't be able to taste food, you will suffer from hunger."

But he eventually gives up. He can't say "no" to his Bhaal Baby.

He drinks your blood, and you die.

To wake up buried in the ground.

You crawl your way back, and Astarion immediately lets you drink his blood.

From now on, you are a true vampire as well.

Bhaal is forgotten, and so is everything.

There is only eternity ahead shared with the person who loves you and your darkness.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe

#spacebarbarian headcanon #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #bg3 #astarion bg3 #astarion headcanon #astarion headcanons #astarion x reader #durge spoilers #astarion x durge #bg3 durge #durge #dark urge #durgestarion #durge x astarion #evil durge #astarion vampire lord

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grapejuicestyless · 3 months

Text

The Tide Always Goes Out

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

ANGST

Summery: You were sick. You had always been sick. But you looked so healthy, so it couldn’t be true. Conrad could live in denial of his best friend’s inevitable death but there was nothing he could do to stop it and he has to accept it.(Inspired by the book Little Women specifically the scene in the 2019 film between Beth and Jo.) Mentions of illness and death.

We sat on the beach squished on a small blanket. wrinkles from our shifting and creases beneath us from where we sit. We talk about everything and anything all morning. Not minding the grey overcast of the clouds covering the usually very blue sky. Or how the waves are more violent than they usually are. I know this because I remember it vividly. It wasn’t that long ago I was really there. Making sure it would last forever. Only now I wish I hadn’t because it haunts me more than it comforts me. And the entire way it played out still makes my heart ache with regret.

Somehow I end up with her lying over me. She lays her head in my lap, the thin blanket woven together with faint reds and oranges creating a little hammock for her to rest on. I can feel the way her heartbeats erratically over my thigh. The way her lip’s curl into a soft smile. The ocean reflected in her eyes. If it weren’t for the heavy eye bags and the slight tremble in her bones, she’d be normal. A normal girl with no issues. You wouldn’t even know how deeply her suffering ran. Sometimes, on the better days, I let myself become fooled as well. Playing dumb hurts less than facing the truth.

“Con.” Her eyes flick up to mine, and I can’t help the way my own avert her gaze. I am too afraid to face her. Even now. The girl who I worship day and night. I never did pray before her, but now I pray that when I wake up, she’ll still be beside me. And we can enjoy the company the other has to offer just one last time. I can’t look down and see how much she’s changed. It scares me, because the traces of the illness torturing her is evidence to how real it is. And I would rather live in oblivious bliss.

“I want you to know I’m not really scared anymore.” It’s not what I expected to come from her lips, but it’s what she lands on. Theres no room in her wording for me to deny what she’s trying to say. My eyes flick down to hers, and my hands moves the hair blowing in the wind messily across her face.

“Y/n, come on. Don’t say shit like that.” I smile, but I don’t really mean in. I don’t find her words funny, and I don’t like that my best friend is sick.

“No, Conrad. I’m serious.” She breathes out, hands pressing against my skin to lift herself up. I feel a chill run through my body without her warmth to ease the morning chill. More than that, I can feel the coolness in my heart when she separates from me, and I long for the next moment I’ll feel her gentle touch.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this and I’m certain that I’ll be okay.” I continue to look at her, but only this time, she is the one looking at the sand, tracing her fingers in it as they stretch past her ankles to the floor.

“And I’m only so sure because I know you’ll be there.” Her eyes flicker up to the sky and I swear I see the sky brighten for just a moment. The blue underneath all the grey breaking free for a split second. “I’ve known you my whole life, and I’ve felt things for you that I have felt with no one else. I know you, and I trust that you’ll come find me in the next life.” Pulling at her lip, she waits for a response.

“But I want to keep you in this one.” My hand finds hers and all I can do is squeeze onto her desperately. Wanting nothing more but to keep her close. So I can watch her. Make sure shes okay. She’s lost all of her fight, her will to stay. And I know it’s because of the pain. I’ve heard her sobs just down the halls and the hushed whispers of my mother and her’s. But part of me wonders if it’s simply because I did not do enough. If I wasn’t enough reason for her to stay.

“It’s like the tide going out. It goes out slowly, but it can’t be stopped.” And we both know it. Theres no stopping what will happen to her. Theres no wish or medicine or fight that could keep her here beside me. It makes me want to cry, but I don’t. It would be selfish of me to get so upset when I am still here. Well and alive. Promised many years to age and achieve things she never was given the chance to.

“I’ll stop it.” I don’t look down at her, but I can feel how she shifts. The way her frown only deepens and the bags in her eyes get heavier. She sighs heavily into the silence, shaking her head slowly. She refuses to cry though. Partly because I know she knows she’ll have plenty of time to cry in the darkness of her room, when the ache in her bones is too much and theres no way of stopping it. And the other part of me recognizes that it’s because there’s no reason to in her eyes.

Y/n knew it better than all of us. She had lived a good life. She could do things and want things some children could never even dream of. She had a warm home with a glowing fireplace that her family often gathered around. A loving sister and a great brother. Her mother and father were healthy and she had the best friends she could have ever asked for. Her only regret is that she had to make her own mother pick out the details for her headstone.

When I pull her into my body, I have no idea it will be for the last time. I have no clue that her sobs won’t part from her lips. Because when she closes her eyes, she doesn’t drift into her usual place of rest. Her eyes don’t flutter open at the soft creak of the stairs when Jeremiah decides he wants a late night snack. Nor does she stir when Steven laughs, following behind him not as skillfully.

Not even when her mother screams early in the morning, hands clinging to her limp wrists, cold and lifeless. The tears from my mother mixing with her younger sisters don’t even make her flinch. And it’s chilling because it almost looks like she was smiling. The lift of her lips is barely there, but it makes me feel better knowing she went in peace.

I remember that day more clearly than ever. How the grey sky haunts me and the way she spoke so surely about her death still sends chills through my veins. I could have only wished to have looked at her a little closer that day. So that even in her darkest moments, I could be as certain as she was that the image of her would never fade, and I would always be able to memorize each wrinkle in her skin.

So I tell myself that when it’s my time, I’ll do what she said I would. I’ll find her in the next life. And I’ll look a little harder at her, and I’ll admire her for longer.

#tsitp conrad #conrad x reader #conrad fisher angst #conrad fisher #little women #conrad fisher x you #conrad x you #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher x reader #conrad #team conrad

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mondsphere · 12 days

Text

Luo Binghe: Original Drafts Edition! Who and why?

“[…] in fact, in his original outline, Bing-gē hadn’t even had a romance plotline; he had been doomed to fade away, alone and unaging forever.” — The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System, Vol. 4 (Mo Xiang Tong Xiu)

The drafts version of Binghe! Not Bing-gē, nor Bing-mei, but a secret, third thing! (I’m partial to Bing-xióng (兄) myself, just for thematic cohesion. Bing-mei remains as he is: Shizun’s special glass-heart maiden.)

So! Who is this elusive, mythical Binghe we never got the chance to meet? What is he? How do I get to pick this one’s brains?

Why is he haunting me! What does he want! So much to think about.

Listen: I love my trash sons, both the racoon and wet dog variations, but I am curious about this handsome demon lord who did not bed thousands, and did not steal his shizun to lovingly coax him into a loving and respectful marriage. Alas, Airplane-bro, as is custom, has left me hanging.

The solitary quote above has been floating around my brainspace for months. Intermittently, I would look up at the sky and sigh a big sad dog sigh, and think of this lonely demon-man emperor who seems to be both perfectly representative of No-Shizunitis Suffering Binghe, and on the exact opposite end of the line. I have spent many a night trying to rearrange the blocks of both SVSSS and PIDW like a sad toddler with no plan but plenty of amorphous longing.

Thus, Bing-xióng. My beloved new toy.

We know he is left alone and unaging. This means that:

He does not marry even once. (Sorry, Other Bing Variants. This one came broken.)

He is not defeated, killed, or left to suffer his not-father’s fate of sulking under a mountain.

From 1) we can assume two more things! Xin Mo either gets fixed/doesn’t influence this Binghe the same way, or: Xin Mo is completely written off à la Airplane Retconning, making Binghe potentially even more individually powerful than his younger counterparts.

(Or he just. Takes people’s cultivation ad-infinitum. Interesting thought, but too straight-forward for my tastes. Airplane’s thoughts? Unknowable.)

From 2) we can also assume Binghe cannot die, is under the influence of the Protagonist Halo unto infinity, and will only be put out of his misery once the heat death of the universe deems it a worthwhile endeavour. Either that or the story ends, but. It tickles a miserable part of my brain pink to think Binghe will not be let off even then.

Anyway. Bing-xióng, of course, has the same source material to work off of. Up until the Abyss, and including it, the plotline should be if not the same, adjacent enough to be indistinguishable.

However. This means:

Bing-xióng never got coerced into sex by Qin Wanyue, thus not starting him on the path of sex-dependency/addiction, avoiding Bing-gē’s fate by virtue of the Butterfly Effect. (Read this post because it explains Bing-gē's whole thing better than a lot of things I've seen.)

Again, Xin Mo implications.

Alternate Universe Shenanigans make an appearance. (Shen Jiu’s fever and death was actually meant to happen, Bing-gē just got very, very unlucky and his Universe’s Yue Qingyuan very, very lucky. For a few years. Either that or there is a Shen Yuan for every Binghe! Again: sorry, Bing-gē. You need to find your own. Middle child issues…)

Once the drafts/original outline got lost, all bets are off and now the characters become real people, without narrative influence. This also has the very fucked up implication that Bing-gē is actually a result of exclusively external forces and would have never gone down that path if not forced onto it by Airplane’s unwitting hands. I do and do not love this version. Very Mo Ran-esque, if looked at from afar and squinting.

Other options I’m either too not-high to think, or too high to put together. (Cold medicine is insane?)

I am fascinated by this… Schrödinger’s Binghe. A jaded, lonely emperor left in the ashes of his world, gazing upon his own history and finding fucking nothing and no one. Metaphorically and, like, practically, if I’m understanding Airplane’s musings correctly. Isolated, cursed by his own blood in a completely new and fucked up way!

I need Airplane to speak with me for like, half an hour. This is paramount to my mental health, I’m losing my braincells by the hour.

What happened to this impervious, cocky, badass demon bastard lord to become so alone? How did it happen? Why did it not happen to the other two, or at least Bing-gē, who has had every horrible and shitty thing possible and impossible piled onto his head? What the fuck is up with Xin Mo? Why isn’t it eating away at Big Bro Luo? Or, worse: why is it eating away at him in such a way that instead of turning into a violent yet charismatic, horror-creature of a man, it turns him into the existential terror-fate I’ve contemplated and abhorred since I was seven?

Tianlang-jun as the final boss. Discovering Huan Hua Palace Master’s crimes, deceit and… stuff. Perhaps even uncovering Shen Jiu’s backstory.

Ooh! Worse! Or better? What if he finds out everything, after having followed Bing-gē’s path, and simply… gives up? A grown up Bing-gē, minus the marriage and surrogate-lover part(s).

(More unlikely than other options, but still there, I guess.)

Fucking insane of MXTX to do this to me, personally and specifically.

I can only speculate forever, I guess! Left… alone and pondering forever.

So. Not a Bing-gē, and not a Bing-mei. A Bing-xióng, if you will.

#svsss #luo binghe #svsss meta #if you like. want it to be #the fact that this is the first post on this blog is upsetting but also completely in-line with who i've become as a person #i'm sure someone else said it better than me asp #this is all to say i'm trying to plan a longfic with drafts!binghe as my one and only 2024 project #and it is eating away at me #because i understand and also NOT #the concept itself is so ????#its insane that one single line of text from mxtx from almost a decade ago can do this to a person #scum villian self saving system #lbh #lbx #hey why would i say this to me

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deadlynavigation · 8 months

Text

Ben Solo Is Dead

Warnings: Mentions of murder/death.

Author's Note: Based on my poll from yesterday :) Written with fem!reader.

(Navigation)

“So it is you, then.” Your words echo across the room, the syllables bouncing off the walls as they attempt to fill the emptiness that these chambers have been swallowed by.

The masked man glares up at you, face illuminated by your white saber held just underneath his chin. And though you would never do it, the threat is still imminent, still enough to force the man’s helmet off and reveal his face.

You swallow the pain of seeing your once-partner down before speaking once more. “Or does Ben not exist anymore? Am I looking into the eyes of a stranger- a monster?”

“Shut up.” Kylo mutters. But his spiteful words are made void by the flash of pain that occupies his dark eyes, letting you know that Ben is still in there, just buried beneath layers of pain and manipulation.

Forgoing Kylo’s words, you decide to keep talking, keep walking the fine line of whatever your relationship with him is. “You know, after the Temple was destroyed, I had always assumed you went off into exile. Followed Luke’s footsteps like the cowards you both were, hidden away from the consequences of your actions. Assuming what is best for everyone.”

Kylo tries to get a word in, probably a sharp insult, but you talk over him. You finally let the resentment from years past boil over.

“And I was left to wander the galaxy, making my way however kriffing possible. Do you know how hard that is, Ren? I had to hop from planet to planet, without anyone, helping where I could and picking up whatever else was needed. I went to bed for weeks on end without anything to eat sometimes. I didn’t have a ship for the first year of my new life.” You’re shouting at this point, and Kylo can see just how taxing the years have been on you. The scars, the miniscule lines, the shadows, all painting your face in a haunting sort of way.

You let him stare for one more moment, picking up on the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Good. Let your pain be his. Let him suffer this time.

“And after so long with scraps for jobs, I get this one offer. Just find the new Supreme Leader-” you spit the title out with disgust, “and tell him of Naboo, of how it requires First Order protection. And since no one else was taking it, I took it. Walked out of that cantina with my blade in hand and ready for anything- but how naive of me.”

“Y/n.” Kylo mumbles. You push your blade a little closer to his skin.

“But little did I know,” You pause, drowning in your emotions, “Little did I know that the Supreme Leader would be none other than-”

“Y/n.”

“None other than Ben Solo.”

“Enough!” Kylo shouts, knocking your blade out of reach with a wave of his hand. “Ben Solo is dead. I am what has risen from him, what has been built.”

You snort. “If Ben Solo was truly dead, I would not be standing here right now. Kylo Ren would have struck me down where I stand now, laughing over me while I choke on my own demise. Stop pretending, Ben.”

That’s it. Kylo has snapped. He lunges at you, tackling you to the ground before reaching for his lightsaber. But you’re prepared for this. You call your own saber to you, using it to press against his own as it comes crashing down at you. The red and white lights dance with each other until you push as hard as you can, forcing Kylo on the offensive. And if you remember correctly, he was horrible at holding his own- choosing instead to gain the upper hand on his enemies.

And as the two of you fight, with you rapidly gaining ground and Kylo slowly realizing that he’s been backed into a corner, your memory proves correct. In all these years, his technique still has not changed. It is fueled by a lot more anger though. Misery pierces you through the force when you try to access his emotions, and that is clearly translated into his desperate swings and forceful movements in the fight.

This dance seems to last forever, but the spell is broken when Kylo finds himself pressed against the wall and you blocking him in. Your saber is once again tucked underneath his chin, ready at any moment to slice through his neck in one clean swish. Kylo’s saber hangs uselessly at his hip- he knows that if he tried anything, he’d be fatally wounded within seconds.

“So you’re going to kill me.” Kylo says, still glaring at you. It’s not as intense, though, soothed by memories of your duels together back at the Temple. How swift you were in victory, how much adrenaline would rush through your veins. How the smug look on your face made him want to either punch you where it would hurt or kiss you until the suns went down. He could never make up his mind, and apparently he still can’t.

After a minute, you sigh and retract your glowing blade. “No,” you admit. “Because Ben is still in there, somewhere. And I’d be a fool to strike down the man I love.”

With that, you leave the room, running to the ship’s exit before any more Stormtroopers can pick up on your presence.

And Kylo is left speechless, weak in the knees, and regretful of his every decision up to this fateful moment.

It takes him almost an hour, but Kylo does eventually leave the room, striding down the halls with an almost hopeful aura about him.

He walks down about two hallways before Captain Phasma passes him, before quickly backtracking and adjusting her route to fit his. She’s picked up on his unusually hopeful attitude, and not knowing what had caused it would make her lose sleep tonight.

“Did something happen, Ren?” Phasma questions carefully.

Kylo glances over at her before nodding curtly. “Yes. Execute total ship lockdown. She should still be in here- she couldn’t have gotten far.”

“Of course.” Phasma holds down on her comm, letting the units know to shut down all exits and seal all doors. “May I ask, who has gotten away?”

“No one yet, Captain. Search the ship, bring the woman to me. The grey Jedi- she’ll have a white lightsaber and scraps for clothing.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.” With that, Phasma salutes and turns the opposite direction, almost running into Hux as she does so.

Kylo, too caught up in his thoughts, only vaguely notes the incoming force signature before Hux catches up to him.

“Why in the galaxy are we on full lockdown, Ren?” Hux seethes, his anger a welcome source of entertainment for Kylo.

“There’s a woman on board. One I need to have a conversation with.” Kylo mutters, paying little mind to the General.

“Another girl, Ren?” Hux chuckles mockingly. “I thought we were done with that.”

“She apparently did not think so.”

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren #ben solo x reader #ben solo x you #ben solo x y/n #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars x y/n #star wars #redemption #childhood friends #enemies to lovers

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llondonfog · 7 months

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twst (horror) tober — day 4 (needle)

➤ Day 4: Needle | “It’s just a tiny sting. You won’t notice it at all.”

"I do not blame you," Malleus whispers in his ear, sonorous voice saccharine sweet with sympathy. Silver trembles as if held in place, a flickering, dying flame against the madness that looms supreme over his shoulder. "Is that not what you wished for? Absolution from your prince?"

There's the ghost of a smirk lurking beneath Malleus' merciful words, they both know it. The derisive irony of it all— a prince of a stolen kingdom, lost to the cruel passage of time, and groomed so perfectly to the very model of a sacrificial soldier, bending the knee to those who could have been equals instead of superiors.

"You long for it, do you not?" Malleus continues in the way of a flood— relentless and inevitable. "For the simpler times, before you were burdened with the weight of such poisonous knowledge." Dark-tipped talons caress through his hair fondly, almost infantilizing. Silver can feel the ink sloughing off those sharp nails, spilling over his scalp and staining the moonlight gleam of his hair. He does not pull away.

The dark, at least, is familiar; it is the dawn now that he fears.

"I cannot righten the wrongs of your father, the secrets that were not his to keep from you. But I can ease the ache within your heart." Malleus sighs, a full-body release that seems to carry within it all the pent-up sorrows of the world as he rests a heavy hand against Silver's shoulder. An anchor, lined with lead. "My dear knight, what kind of prince would I be if I could not do that for you— you, who has suffered most of all?"

As if in response, the emerald glow around the needle of the spinning wheel before them beckons with a lovely, pulsing blur; a heartbeat of sorts, and he can feel his own breath slowing to match the soothing, rhythmic call.

To not think anymore...to sink into the deepest of shadows, where he could be alone forever, unable to haunt the pleasant dreams of his father with his repulsive visage so like that knight—

He thinks he lifted his arm first, but he can no longer tell as Malleus takes his hand in a farce of fealty, sliding that accursed ring on his finger in a twisted pledge of loyalty, a sick reversal of roles. "Allow me to protect you in your dreams, princeling," the murmur suffocates his senses, laying upon them in a syrupy haze. "You need not keep up this silly pretense of chivalry around me."

Silver ought to protest, but his tongue is too thick for his mouth, his limbs feel as if they've been lined with cotton, and his thoughts simply slide like oil and water if he attempts to consider anything but the enchanting gleam of the needle, shimmering before him with a kindness he does not deserve. He ought to protest, but it is far easier to feel the dull sting of metal pierce the willing flesh of his finger, to watch through fluttering lashes as crimson dark as berries wells up to drip along his skin, staining the ring affixed there, to consign himself to a sleep deeper than death— the only gift he has the right to give to his dearly beloved family.

"Sleep, dear prince," Malleus' voice comes from so very far away, and he listens, obeys, faithful to the very end.

"And may the blessing of my eternal night be upon you."

#lettie writes #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland silver #twst silver #malleus draconia #twst malleus #diasomnia #twst spoilers #twisted wonderland chapter 7 #slowly getting back on track....#twst chapter 7

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bengiyo · 6 months

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Alright, new question, I know how much you enjoy your Sad Gay Boy Hours. What shows, besides Until We Meet Again, because I know how much you love it, satisfy your Sad Gay Boy needs?

The Boys Who Suffered

The big thing about The Knowing is The Suffering. There is a melancholy that seeps into you and makes you think you aren't enough. These characters are hard to watch. I know you asked about shows, but I'm doing some movies as well because I've been thinking about genre history lately. For this it's about whether or not the quiet sadness in me connected to the quiet sadness I perceived in a character in this show.

Moonlight (2016)

He is the saddest boy in my heart. This is the moment that breaks him forever.

For The Boys

Jamal, Syed, and Anthony have suffered for being who they are, and they are hurting. They cling to each other and it's often too hard.

youtube

Weekend (2011)

This man is so lonely even if people love him. I feel melancholy for days any time I watch this film.

Big Eden (2000)

I don't know who taught him shame, but there's this sense of surrender in Henry that has haunted me for fifteen years.

A Single Man (2009)

Colin Firth and Stanley Tucci play some of the saddest gay men who have ever existed. This entire project is about grief.

180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us

Inthawut is the saddest man in BL.

Given (2019)

The reveals about the depths of sadness in this boy are really some of the best I've experienced.

Eternal Yesterday (2022)

He was suffering even before Koichi died, and it saddens me so much that the world bent to let him say goodbye to help him grieve.

The Pornographer Series

I just knew there was something fundamentally off about Kijima and the rest of these men.

The Day I Loved You (2023)

I keep meaning to write something about this show, but there's something special about going into a relationship you know won't be forever because of external factors, and also choosing to make that time as special as possible.

Tokyo in April is...

Ren suffering for Kazuma gets me every time.

Like in the Movies (2020)

I'm never getting over Karl and Vlad. I'm sad we'll likely never see them again because in so many ways the specific pieces of melancholy in each of them are why they didn't walk away together.

To My Star 2: Our Untold Stories

These two were not left at HEA and they didn't end there this time, either. Both of these two are carrying some heavy shit in their hearts, and I find comfort in seeing them stumble and keep trying.

What Did You Eat Yesterday?

Shiro makes me so sad sometimes, and I'm so glad he found Kenji.

The Eclipse

Every boy in this show is a sad mess.

The Eighth Sense

I'm glad Jae Won found Ji Hyun, because that country twink won't give up on him.

Kabe-Koji Nekoyashiki-kun Desires to be Recognized

I recently rewatched this and feel so much about Mamoru and Issei.

Our Dating Sim

Lee Wan was wrong, but I get him.

We Best Love

"Yes, I'm in love with you, but that's none of your business."

Stuck On You

The Philippines crushed the pandemic. This is quietly one of the better ones about people who were already suffering.

Blueming

Hwang Da Seul's oeuvre always seems to hit my sad boy core.

Sing My Crush

Every time Han Baram says Im Hantae's name I lose it.

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moonshynecybin · 4 months

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the anastasia gifs you reblogged…… rosquez anastasia au….. god this is all i’m going to be able to think about….. vale as the clever conman and marc as the lost prince suffering from memory loss is going to haunt me actually

the thing about anastasia is i love it….

literally YES valentino is a charming con man who used to work at the palace and he secreted prince marc and his brother alex away in the heat of the bolshevik rebellion… marc of course hits his head (unfortunately marc behavior) while escaping and suffers from amnesia… often he has dreams of the family he left behind… alex reaching out for him from the train as it pulls away… ghosts dancing in his mind…

anyways! fast forward to however many years later and valentino is like hey. this kid looks a lot like the young prince. we could do something with that. (ie: make a LOT of money from the exiled prince alex who is holed up with relatives in spain and has been desperately searching for his brother for x number of years.) there are scenes of marc in front of a painting of himself as a kid. there are long flirty arguments between marc and vale on a train. there is santi (who else tbh) and vale trying to teach marc his family history and him knowing a weird amount of detail already… the awareness he may be the real deal creeping in… there is vale teaching marc to dance and getting wayyyy too into it. and like. holding him so close and just kind of swaying… anyways they show up in spain and alex is immediately like okay. that is my brother. maybe the iconic music box scene where marc knows the lullaby their parents always sang to them…

and vale who is fully in love and fully in denial and he knew this was coming but some part of him is still shocked is basically like haha! gimme the money i have to go immediately bc he CANNOT. be in love with a prince that’s bananas. and he’s going to nobly leave marc to be with his brother (marc is SO happy to see him. just something in him settles immediately) and then rasputin (forgot. that this movie has an external antagonist. sorry. rasputin IS trying to kill marc. so it goes.) is going to come after marc so he comes back to rescue him and marc is like. i love you. you moron. and vale’s resilient internal confidence comes back (he didn’t want to lose marc so he left first so when marc says i love you he’s just like oh okay! i’m good now.) and they get marriedddddd and fuck nasty every single day forever amen

#vale is in that slutty waistcoat though he would slay that.#callie speaks #motogp #asks #rosquez #anastasia au

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kerubimcrepin · 1 month

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Live-read: "Les Dessous de Dofus" - part 2

And this is how it starts.

Yes Lilotte. Yes he does.

Pupuces drink blood, as we know from Waven and the Dofus movie. Just because Joris and Kerubim's Pupuce likes to eat kibbles doesn't mean she isn't an obligate uhh hemovore (i made this word up). She wants to drink Lilotte's blood so fucking bad.

We can't really see if this thing Lilotte found is just a piece of fabric, or a dress. It doesn't look very dress-like, but it might be because it lacks any shoulder straps or belts. Keke does like to wear green a lot!

Considering the fact that she, uh, found high heels somewhere, I do think this is a dress. Kerubim has bad taste in clothes.

Joris is just pogging, while Kerubim is so worried about her being bitten everywhere by pupuce... gjsfgsf. (that and the fact that she found one of his drag things. But mostly her being bitten by pupuce)

I think Kerubim's game plan, if Julith hadn't showed up, was to hide knowing who Joris's parents were literally forever. Otherwise, this would be a pretty cruel thing to say, knowing that one day, he would have to reveal to Joris that that's his mom.

The Bakara bits of this comic make me so fucking sad, you have no idea. Just no idea. And her boyfriend is helping her get drunk, constantly.

I had spoken to some select people (in my dms) a lot on the parallels between Ivory Dofus's dragon, Jahash, and Kerubim, as well as Ebony Dofus, Julith, and Atcham. Joris has always been a person associated with neither light nor dark.

As well as parallels between Bakara (who I assume is around 10, in this design) and Joris (who is 10 at this time canonically). Makes me want to to believe that, in the Julith et Jahash comic, Bakara was 7. It'd be cute if they're similar like that.

Now, onto something more topical: Jahash and Kerubim are both idealists, who can make fun of themselves a little bit, but the idealistic view of their career as a hero differs for the two of them.

For Jahash, it is defending Bonta and its innocents.

While for Kerubim, it's about new experiences and sightseeing. It's about defending those who have nobody else, like widows and orphans.

And god, by now you probably know what Kerubim saying that he likes to defend orphans out loud does to my brain chemistry.

He doesn't want any orphan to suffer in life like he did.

Keke, a boomer, thinks that selling weed and catnip is illegal, but considering the fact that this guy went to the guards, — I think it isn't. Also, on the topic of funky plants that exist in the Krosmoz universe:

This is how my headcanon that Joris, Kerubim and Atcham smoke together can still win.

Like, there's a lot of weed near Bonta. Like a Lot of it.

They both haunt one another at night.

Julith having a stuffed doll of Jahash is just... so sad. Kerubim took everything from her, minutes after her husband has died.

And even if Kerubim thinks that she was an evil person, — he wants to protect the widow and the orphan. What happened here is the opposite of everything he stands for.

No wonder he's so protective over Joris, considering the guilt he must feel about killing his mother. He lost his parents too. He knows that, if he doesn't raise Joris himself, Joris has nobody.

My hot take, is that Bakara hates Joris, — and by proxy, Kerubim. Because the man took Joris in and loves him.

Sure, she couldn't have raised him, being a child herself, — but not having him in her life is a decision she makes on purpose, until the circumstances force her to interact with Joris.

Even as an 18-20 year old woman, she never contacts her nephew, despite knowing Kerubim and where they live. Even while crossing them on the street.

Think about it this way: She hates Julith. She thinks that she took advantage of her brother. That Julith had a child with him, for some perverted, monstrous reason, while lying about loving him, before destroying Bonta and causing the man to die.

While she probably knows that Joris isn't to blame for anything, her desire to never speak to him is... quite understandable. And probably for the best, for the sake of both of them, and their mental health.

#ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz #dessdofus #kerubim crepin #bakara jurgen

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kaiyaamin · 9 days

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Would you be able/willing to write an Eric Coulter x reader soulmate au where you feel a dulled version of your soulmate’s pain (more of an awareness of there being pain, and knowing where that pain is then actual pain) after you meet them for the first time, and the way that Eric figures out that the reader is his soulmate is because she suffers from chronic migraines and one day she’s missing from training and he finds her curled into the foetal position on the bathroom floor trying to keep still so the room stops spinning long enough for her to stand up? Maybe he takes her to the infirmary or maybe he doesn’t, but the entire time she’s like that he has maybe the worst headache he’s had in his entire life and he knows it’s nothing compared to what she deals with almost everyday.

My Pain

Eric Coulter x Reader soulmate au

I lay curled up in bed hearing the snores and the eerie quietness of the dauntless dorm. I looked around to see everyone asleep but me. This damn headache kept me awake the whole night.

I try to fall asleep squeezing my eyes shut as hard as possible but to no avail. I hear loud footsteps approaching the dorm, knowing it's Four here to wake us up. I silently got out of bed, quickly changing my shirt and putting on my shoes since I decided to sleep in my sweats.

The migraine was still killing me, I wondered if my soulmate could feel the amount of pain I was feeling, or if he was able to get any sleep?

I walked down towards the dauntless cafeteria, hoping I still had an appetite. As I approached, I saw Uriah already awake eating cake. I sat on the bench across from Uriah taking a piece of bread.

"Why are you eating cake at 7 in the morning?" I said with a teasing smile. "Why not? It's delicious" Uriah replied stuffing the rest of the cake in his mouth.

I quietly giggle under my breath. "Are you not hungry, You Usually finish like 5 pieces of bread", Uriah said with a concerned look. "Yeah I'm fine, just a migraine," I said with a fake smile but Uriah saw right through that.

A booming voice interrupted me and Uriah's conversation, "Initiates hurry up, you have two minutes to get to the gym". I look to find Eric standing there with all his glory. He looked out of place among the dauntless maybe it was his emotionless face or his bright blue eyes. But that didn't matter, all I felt was this throbbing migraine, How does one even get a migraine.

I quickly got up rushing towards the gym.

Four told us to run 10 laps, I started running but it kept feeling worse and worse. My head was pounding because of the immense pain, and I felt as if I wanted to puke. We finally finished and by that I mean I was the last one done. Immediately I fell on the floor, trying to regain my breath from the run.

Hearing footsteps, I look up to meet those blue eyes that haunt me. "That was pathetic", Eric said glaring at me as if I was dirt on his shoe. "What," I said getting up from the floor and glaring back at him ignoring the pain I was feeling. " what makes you think you can get into Dauntless if you can barely run 10 laps, He said as if running 10 laps around the compound was the easiest thing to do. Thankfully before I could reply, Four told us to partner up and fake fight. I left feeling Eric's eyes gapping through my head.

I was partnered with Tris, she was decent. I felt so dizzy feeling like I could pass out any minute. I left Tris telling four I had to use the restrooms. I made it in the restrooms splashing some water on my face to wake me up. I sat on the bathroom floor in the foetal position trying to keep still so the room stopped spinning long enough for me to stand up. I sat there for what felt like forever not having the strength to return to training.

Eric P.O.V

Where is she? it's already been half an hour, I said rubbing my hand over my chin and looking for Y/N. I don't know, she said she needed to use the restroom, Four said not even glancing at me but only focusing on that stiff. I huff walking out of the gym to the restrooms, Ever since last night I have been feeling some headache pain but it's been feeling worse recently. I hope she didn't skip if she knows what is best for her.

I expected to see an empty restroom but saw Y/N curled on the floor, crying. Hey, are you okay? I was trying to approach her but didn't know what to say. I am not good at comforting people at all. I gently pick her up bridal style, carrying her to my apartment. I approach my apartment opening the door with my keys.

It was bigger than most apartments because I was a leader. it was spacious with a living room and a bookshelf near my desk. I walked towards my bedroom gently laying her on my bed since she was asleep.

I could she didn't get any sleep because her eye bags and her nose looked so red because of the crying. She looked so peaceful but I know in reality she was hurting. I waited for a couple of hours until she woke up, Training for today was already over.

Y/n P.O.V

I woke feeling well rested, the covers were so soft it felt like silk, It was so warm and I didn't want to ever leave. If I didn't realize this was not the dorm but someone's apartment.

I carefully slid off the bed checking if my clothes were still on. I tiptoed towards what seemed to be the living room but who was there surprised me. "Eric", I whispered his head immediately looking toward me. "how are you feeling? I made some tea if you wanted some, He said but all I could was nod yes. He pats the seat next to him on the couch, and I quickly sat next to him. I waited for him to speak but he just kept looking at me with these different emotions, it felt overwhelming to look in his eyes.

" what happened and why am I in your apartment?", I said trying to recall what had happened. Eric's voice interrupted my thought, "I found you laying on the bathroom floor asleep so I carried you here because they were full in the infirmary." "Thank you, Eric". I felt grateful he had helped me and that my migraine felt less intense than before.

"What happened, why were you on the floor?" Eric began to stay seeing how curious to know what made me pass out. "I had a migraine since last night and It got worse throughout the day". I replied, expecting Eric to kick me out but instead, I heard him whisper last night over and over as if trying to solve a mystery.

"Y/N, I think I am your soulmate", He said putting his hand through his hair. Okay, that wasn't what I was expecting him to say. "what, are you sure?" I said not believing him. You said you got your migraine last night well so did I and it felt worse today, especially when you passed out. And I know it sounds cliche but when I held you I felt sparks.

"Here I will prove it." This man decided to punch himself in the face to prove he was my soulmate. That's kinda sweet but stupid but still sweet. "Owe, Okay I believe you but please don't punch yourself on purpose again", I said as I rubbed my cheek angrily with a pout on my lips.

"I'm happy I found my soulmate, even if it is the scary leader", I said with a teasing grin I probably look stupid right now but I didn't care I was just happy I found my soulmate and didn't have to die lonely. "I am happy my soulmate is someone I tolerate", Eric said smiling. It was my first time seeing him smile knowing it wouldn't be the last.

#eric coulter #dauntless #divergent #eric divergent #erudite #eric coulter imagine #eric coulter imagines #eric coulter fanfiction #eric coulter oneshots #eric coulter x reader #amity #abnegation #candor #fem reader #eric coulter x y/n #y/n #x reader

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

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Uwhwkwjwlbw I'm OBSESSED with Hayes bc holy shit?? Jekyll and Hyde inspired oc??? FUCK YEAH!! Can I make a little request where they just start turning into their version of Hyde while around Y/N?? Also hope ur doing well!

Hayes leaves their house earlier than usual. It's been a few days since that little incident in their lab. Their hands felt numb and every step made their body ache, but they have to leave their house before anyone grew worried. Especially you.

As painful as it might be in very sense of the word, Hayes would have to distance themself from you. They still weren't sure what was going on, but every time they shut their eyes they felt that obsessive side rearing its ugly head; begging to be in your audience. It wasn't like the little voice in the back of their head that told him to confess their love. It was a separate, conscious mind that screamed for its right to be the one to lay claim to your heart - and it was real. A sentient thought with its own goals and no filter on what it would do to reach them. There was not telling what could happen if they meet you in this state, but everything should be completely fine.

Sure, this separate side showed up whenever they thought of you, and their own feelings weren't too far off from its obsession, but as long as you didn't cross paths they could make it through the day just-

"Hayes?"

Fuck.

Hayes slowly turns to face you; worry clear as day on your face. They can already feel light headed as you close the distance between you.

"Oh, Y/n... H-hey.."

"Where have you been? I've been trying to contact you for days."

"I've been... around." The butterflies in their stomach feel like they're welded knives. Stopping being a good friend already so they can suffer in the sanctity of their home alone.

"Is everything okay? You're sweating up a storm... and what happened to your hands?" You grab their hand before they can even answer; bandages wrapped loosely around their wrists. They looked like world's worst mummy; completely inexperienced in taking proper care of themself.

Y/n...

Hayes' vision blurs; breathing sporadic. There was that voice again. The haunt of their waking mind. The cruel reminder that what they've experienced is harsh truth of reality. They start to lose the feeling in their hands - in themself. This was bad.

"U-um.. Y/n? Could you let me go?"

"Hang on a sec, these bandages are a mess. Let me fix them real quick."

Their face flushes as you lift the sleeve of their shirt, unhooking the pin around their wrist that kept their mangled bandages in place. Your perfect skin touches theirs as you rearrange the wraps. Every inch that falls under your touch flares up; an ache that could only be resolved by the lasting trace on contact. Your skin felt so soft. They wanted more, they needed more.

"Really... it's fine." Their voice trails off. They can feel themselves slipping. Everything about you was intoxicating. Your voice, your scent - your entire existence. They wanted to drown in it all.

"Ha... aha.."

"And.. done!.. Are you ok? You really aren't looking so good."

They can just barely process your words, but a smile still pulls across their face. Alright? Why wouldn't they be? They were in the presence of the one they adored. If anything, they were the best they'd ever felt. You pull your hand away from theirs, but they grab it in the last second.

"Hayes?.."

Ugh, how they hated that name. A coward's title; one unwilling to give you their all. Unlike them.

Forever devoted. Forever loyal. Existing only for the sake of you. That person grins as they hold your trembling hand to their face.

"Save the names for later, my love. I'm far better than okay, since I'm finally with you~"

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere story #yandere drabble #tw yandere #yandere writing #yandere fic #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling

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