#Three Things to Keep in Mind When Choosing Your Grave

[thatsbelievable]

[francixoxoxo]

BILLY THE KID BASED OFF OF TAYLOR SWIFTS SONG ‘you belong with me’

Like he doesnt realize readers feelings for him because maybe hes caught up with some horrible girl but then ends up with reader after reader silently pining for forever 💕💕

You belong with me⋆.˚𖥔

Billy the Kid x fem!reader

desc; Billy mistakes infatuation for love, choosing another woman over you. You try to keep your feelings for him stifled, as you always have. But you can’t just stand by and watch him be played.

𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐱𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞! 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐗𝐨𝐱𝐨

You loved Billy since you could remember.

Even when you first met him, shooting empty bottles off a fence, you found him handsome. Though you watched from afar, sitting in the crook of your claimed oak tree, you could see the practiced skill in his movements. He wasn’t doing anything fancy, wasn’t showing off. Just a young man practicing his aim.

The second day he came to that field, dotted with daisies and wildflowers, he noticed you and Introduced himself. Struck up conversation with the pretty girl up in the tree, reading away. Wasn’t long until he spent more time talking with you than shooting, wasn’t long at all until you knew everything about him and he knew everything about you in turn. A few months until attraction turned into love.

Billy trusted you with information he wouldn’t even tell Jesse, that later on he wouldn’t even tell Charlie or the Regulators. Information he would’ve taken to the grave, had you not come along. And you told him things you never dreamed somebody would lend their ears to. You never loved someone like you loved Billy. You held out hope that he loved you the same. Held out hope for many, many months that as the seasons changed, so would his feelings.

Your hopes were shot when Billy came to the field, full of glee as he sat down beside you against that old oak tree. “What’s got you smiling so hard?” You furrowed your brows, smiling at him. You hadn’t seen him in at least a week. “Where’ve you been?”

“Met a girl.” Billy couldn’t keep his joy to himself. He took off his hat, putting it behind his head as he leaned against the tree and sighing like a wistful teenage girl. You felt anything but euphoric. Your stomach sank to your knees, quite frankly. “She’s great, just great. You’d love ‘er, yanno. I— well, I think I love ‘er.”

You felt like throwing up. Truly sick to the stomach, not even trying to put on a smile. “Love her.” You repeated. He nodded, eyes wide as saucers. He was serious as death, wasn’t he? Oh, God. “How long have you— Who’s ‘her’?” You traded the first question for the most important in your spinning mind.

“Joan.” Billy said the name like it had been the only one he remembered how to say. You swallowed hard.

“Joan Black.” You breathed. You knew her. Your fathers were good friends, actually. She was a sweet girl. Beautiful, too. Oh, you really felt ill at the way he beamed and nodded. “That’s nice.”

It was not nice. Billy’d known her for a week, you found out after you circled back. Walked her home from the market when he saw she had three bags to carry all on her own. One week. One week, and he said he loved her? You felt like something had been torn from deep within you before you could truly appreciate it. Well. You couldn’t be upset, could you?

He wasn’t yours to begin with. So you bit your tongue to stifle a scream, to muffle a good telling-off about the difference between puppy-love infatuation and true, deep love. You sat through excruciating stories and ramblings about Joan for weeks. Painfully sweet descriptions of her dark hair, her gentleness, her apparently expansive knowledge of just about everything. You tried to brush off obvious red flags, because you didn’t want to seem jealous. Which you shouldn’t be.

Because he wasn’t yours to begin with.

What hurt most was that Joan seemed to be a good girl. You couldn’t blame Billy for finding her attractive, both in looks and personality. You tended to beat yourself up over that, until Joan and her father called on your father. It had been maybe two weeks since Billy broke the news to you. While the men talked in the sitting room over a bottle of whiskey, you had the chance to chat with Joan. You let her sit in your favorite rocking chair on the porch, trying to keep from glaring at her, from judging every hair on her head.

You’d never been so jealous. It was vile, the way you thought of her! She was just another girl who’d fallen head over heels for Billy, wasn’t she? You two should’ve gotten along. You opted to bond over him. “I heard ‘bout you and Billy. How’s that going?” The words were like bile on your tongue despite your sugary tone.

Joan shrugged, fixing her dark curls over her shoulder and smiling knowingly. “He’s all-right.” You couldn’t help furrowing your brows.

“Just all-right?”

“Well. He’s like a puppy dog, s’ almost annoyin’.” She rolled her eyes, smirking in good fun. As if this was just girl talk. You felt your stomach wrap itself into tangles. All you managed was a meek, “Oh.”

But she continued over your lame response, “I’m kinda twixt men right now, yanno? There’s Billy, sure… But you know David Peña? The ranchers son?”

It took you a moment to collect yourself enough to speak. What the Hell? Joan had a man like Billy, and she couldn’t accept just that? She just had to have it all, didn’t she? Oh, your blood was bubbling over, you wouldn’t be surprised if you looked down to find your dress stained crimson. “Yeah.” Joan looked at you expectantly, as if she wanted more of a response, so you shifted uncomfortably and nodded. “Peña’s handsome.” You really had to swallow down the bile in your throat to say, “I don’t blame you for wanting both.”

You absolutely did blame her. Billy being taken hurt you, but if you couldn’t have him then you’d atleast want it to be a woman who’d treat him right. You’d at least want to be able to admit that she was better than you. Joan smiled appreciatively, going on to talk about something you couldn’t care less about.

All you could feel was a strange.. satisfaction. It was selfish. So, so unbelievably selfish of you. But this meant that you hadn’t been bested. Joan wasn’t the better woman for Billy, not even close. It meant that you may have a chance.

Your hopes soared as you met Billy at the oak tree again. You weren’t sure how to break it to him, and suddenly, when you were looking into his eyes, you felt awful. How could you have been happy? Joan’s infidelity would crush his heart. What was a chance at being Billy’s girl when he’d be heartbroken?

Atleast, you felt bad until you finally got the words past your lips, and he looked at you like you were the devil. His jaw ticked, his eyes harshening as he stood up and told you, “Joan’d never. Don’t you say that about her, goin’ ‘round spreadin’ rumors ‘bout my girl.”

You’d been furious. But you swallowed it down along with every other emotion you felt about Joan. You remember shaking your head. “Do what you want. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” he mirrored you, shaking his own head and huffing like a stubborn bull. When he stormed off, you’d only see him again in passing glances in town. Oh, did that hurt you. You should’ve kept your mouth shut. But you couldn’t bear the thought of such a good man as Billy being mistreated. Now he must’ve hated you for such a silly reason as talking badly about Joan.

He must’ve told Joan about it as well, because her eyes seemed locked in a perpetual glare at you. When her father called on yours again, she didn’t accompany him. Whatever. She wasn’t exactly a friend of yours, anyway. What you really mourned was the loss of Billy’s friendship. You considered it good as dead.

Though, when your father told you to put on a nice dress and come with him to a party Joan’s family was putting on, your hopes soared despite yourself. As you brushed a comb through your tresses, your mind dreamt up scenarios of running into Billy again. Maybe he’d forgive you for slandering Joan (even though it was for his own good!) and, in your wilder dreams, would confess that Joan was no good for him, and sweep you into his arms, kiss you like the fairytales…

You were being daft. Stupid. You put your hair into a neat bun, sighing at your reflection. Billy just couldn’t see that you were the one for him. Perhaps that was selfish, but lately you were finding that you were more selfish than you thought.

As soon as you arrived, a few daughters or other well-to-do ranchers and businessmen swarmed you, beckoning you to sit with them. You were actually grateful for the company. Though you were having a nice time, you didn’t see Billy anywhere. Your hopes stayed high, eyes darting around the room and training on any dark-haired man. None of them were him.

Joan, on the other hand, arrived soon after you. You couldn’t help staring at her as she kept to the edges of the room, talking to a girl you knew when you were young. You couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed that Billy wasn’t with her or sick that her other man must’ve been.

You forced yourself to avert your eyes when said man sauntered up to her, greeting her with a kiss to the cheek. Why did you do this to yourself? You shouldn’t have cared so much for a situation that— Billy had made very clear— didn’t involve you. But you cared for Billy. Even if he wanted nothing to do with you, you wouldn’t stop desperately wanting him to be happy.

You hesitantly sipped a mock-tail one of the girls had given you, pushing away thoughts of him, trying to have a good time. That was, until you felt a hand ghosting on your shoulder, and threw your head over it to see Billy, looming over you from behind the couch and smiling crookedly down at you. God, did he look handsome. He was wearing that navy hat, shading his eyes yet not hiding the beautiful azure of them. He was dressed well, too, not to the nines as you and practically everybody else in the room, but as good as an outlaw could get. A new navy button-up, a black vest and even a neck scarf. His clothes were only a ribbon, anyway, a neat little bow tying off the strikingly handsome man wearing them. Who, did you mention, was smiling at you for the first time in weeks?

“Hey. Long time no see.” Billy said it with a grin in his voice, so easily, like it was nothing. It was everything to you. You bit back a snarky Whose fault is that? In favor of smiling and nodding almost shyly. Words seemed impossible with how tight your chest was from happiness. You thought you caught him glancing you over quickly, your pretty dress and up-do. Billy threw you a little wink and nodded politely at the other girls around you. “Hope y’ladies don’t mind if I borrow her a sec?”

The girls nodded passionately, smiling and raising their brows at you in mixtures of second-hand excitement, congratulation and surprise. You set down your drink, excused yourself, and let Billy guide you to the porch. You gave Joan another look, grateful that she was busy.

“What is it?” You couldn’t help picking at your nails, pinching your brows. God, this was all so nerve wracking.

Billy stopped only a foot in front of you, his jaw tensing and his gaze flicking away for a brief moment. When those brilliant, gorgeous eyes settled on you, with so much intensity, you almost felt weak in the knees. “I wanted t’say m’sorry for bein’ so cold. It was petty of me. And wrong.”

Damnit. You wanted to be mad. You wanted to yell at him for treating you so badly for just looking out for him, but… you couldn’t. Damn him for being such a mature man. Looking up at his expression, his eyes, the set of his mouth, (you shouldn’t be looking there!) he was so sincere. He wasn’t staring at you expectantly, he wasn’t waiting for your forgiveness because he wasn’t apologizing to receive it— he was apologizing to apologize.

You weren’t too in love to be honest even with how hard your heart was thumping. You’d been waiting for so long for those words to slip from his lips, too long to let them pass by with a simple it’s okay. “It hurt. I never meant to upset you, Billy, I was just..”

Billy shook his head, reaching a gentle hand to your forearm before letting it slip just as fast, as if remembering something. “Y’didnt deserve that. Y’were just tryna help, I shoulda known that. I shoulda known you were just misled.”

You pressed your lips at that. Sure, you had your apology, but he still didn’t believe you. “I wasn’t misled.” You huffed, and Billy didn’t reply. His eyes brushed you up and down, but you didn’t lose become shy this time. “I’m serious. Joan isn’t good for you.”

Billy sighed your name, a bit exasperated but trying his very best to be polite. He shook his head, those baby blues bare and honest. “Why don’t you like her?” You opened your mouth to protest but he lifted a hand and huffed. “No, I can tell. Since the beginnin’ you haven’t liked her any further than you can throw her.”

“Because, Billy, she’s not an honest girl!” You scoffed, crossing your arms. Realizing you’d raised your voice, you took a breath and muttered a lame apology. “You barely know her, n’ you already trust her. You don’t have any reason to, if anything you have reason to hate her!”

Billy’s eyes were buggy, staring down at you in shock at this outburst of passion. But you wouldn’t give him a chance to reply. If anything, you stepped closer. He didn’t backpedal. “You deserve a girl who wouldn’t take advantage of you. She’s playing you, Billy, and I’m sorry for overstepping but I can’t stand by and let you devote yourself to somebody who won’t do the same!”

Billy turned his cheek a bit, eyeing you as if seeing something new. Something he didn’t exactly mistrust, but something so unbelievably foreign in you that he couldn’t help being skeptical if he was seeing it at all. Suddenly his gaze was so honest, so raw and searching you felt a bit self conscious, that gumption wearing off to fumes.

“I am the woman who wants you to win, and I’ve been waiting for you to love me.” You breathed, swallowing hard you wondering if you might’ve gone too far. You’d only just gotten Billy back a minute ago, and here you were jeopardizing the most important friendship you’ve ever had. “You belong with me.”

The friendship of the most important man in your life.

The man who was staring down at you, close as he could be without blatantly touching you, his brows furrowed and his eyes raw. opening his mouth to speak but being oh so cruelly cut off by a man barging outside.

“Charlie?” The name was put to the face as Billy eventually and reluctantly turned his head to him.

Charlie had a remorseful expression, beckoning Billy inside. “You’re gonna wanna see it f’yerself.” When Billy stepped inside, you trailed after him, expecting a commotion but not finding one. Just a beautiful, dark haired woman kissing a mediocre (to say the kindest) man.

“What the fuck?” Billy breathed, stomping closer and shoving Peña off Joan roughly, his nostrils flared. He looked to Joan with wide eyes, huffing, “Joan? Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

Now there was a commotion. Socialites stared and chattered, Joan desperately tried to explain a situation that didn’t need explanation. Much less such a feigned one. “Billy, he’s not— oh, it’s not what it looks like!”

Billy shook his head, rubbing his temple and throwing a look over his shoulder to you. Maybe he was expecting an I told you so, but you didn’t give him one. You frowned deeply, hoping that your eyes were enough of an apology for the time being.

If it wasn’t a scene a moment ago, it certainly was now. All the room’s eyes were on the three, and Billy must’ve known that, because he muttered something to Joan to be kept twixt them. Her face fell, and she reached out for him, but he was already storming to the door. Now it seemed to be Peña’s turn to be upset with Joan, but before you could see anything else your father grabbed your elbow and declared it was time to leave— A blessing or a curse, you were too confused to say.

But one thing that reared its ugly head through the blur was heartache. Heartache for Billy. You’d warned him, you had every right to feel righteous, but you loved the man too much for his pain to be anything but excruciating. Even if this opened the door for you, how could you be certain Billy wouldn’t close it for fear of another broken heart?

The next day, you returned to the field and the oak tree. Maybe you were expecting Billy to show up, because you didn’t bring your book. You simply tied your Appaloosa to the tree, sitting in the overgrown grass and looking out over the plains. They were dotted with wildflowers this time of spring, dappled yellows, purples and whites. It wasn’t long until you heard hoofbeats, as you expected to, making you quickly rise to your feet and dust off your riding pants. You picked against your cuticles as you watched Billy tie his quarter-horse to the tree with yours.

“I’m sorry about Joan.” You blurted the moment he came close, watching him adjust the brim of his hat. That easy smile he wore faltered.

“Not your fault, sweet. If anything it’s m’own fault for bein’ so dumb.” There went those brilliant blue eyes, flicking over you and making your belly erupt in butterflies. “You’ve been the one person on my side since the beginnin’. And I didn’t appreciate you.”

You shook your head passionately, pinching your brows and training your own eyes on your boots. You had to change the subject before your heart gave out. “You still love her, though?”

Billy shook his head and snorted. Actually snorted, as if anything about this was funny. You hadn’t realized he was so close until he used a bent finger to tilt your chin up. “Puppy love, m’ realizin’.”

If his hand were to drift to your neck he’d find your pulse frozen. That gentle set of his lips, the subtle draw of his draw brows, shaded by the brim of his hat— Oh, Christ. You were always comfortable around Billy. But something about the air here was charged. Your words on the porch rang in his head like the echo of a birdsong, he just couldn’t help confront them.

“But this ain’t that, is it?” Billy mumbled, as if the words were a secret twixt you two. Your eyes widened, you had to swallow down any rash words. Rash words like I love you. Your mind was swimming, until Billy’s hand moved to your rosy cheek. Something about the touch made everything still.

“No.” You admitted gently. That hat was casting too deep a shadow over his handsome face in the noon light, and you reached forward to tilt it upward. Much better. “It’s never been puppy love.”

The corner of Billy’s lips pulled a bit. Once again you’d disregarded just how close he was, because when his nose nudged yours, you sucked in a soft gasp that made his eyes flick up to yours. He made a move to back away, your anxiety jumping at even the slight movement, as if he’d run away and never come back. Your hand flew to the back of his neck, your lips crushing against his as you pulled him down to your level.

The kiss was not bruising. It was not demanding. His lips were just as lovely as you dreamt, slightly chapped and warm. This kiss as ardent and loving as you’d read in the fairytales. This kiss was honest.

So of course you went for more the moment he pulled away. You had nostrils for a reason— and Billy had no problem with kissing you until his chest was tight. By the time your lips disconnected, his hand was strong on the small of your back, the other threaded in your hair.

Billy let out the softest laugh after a moment, you couldn’t help breathlessly giggling. Here was everything you’d ever wanted, in your arms, pressing another kiss against the corner of your mouth and smiling broadly. You were the woman who loved him all along, and now he was the man who loved you just the same.

“What took you so damn long?” You couldn’t help jest, wrapping your arms around his neck (with only your toes on the earth, mind). Billy shook his head, that grin softening to a sweet smile that barely pulled his lips over his teeth.

“What, y’don’t like my timin’?” Billy squeezed his arms tighter around you at the sweet sound of your laugh.

You pressed another peck to his lips, unable to resist for a moment now that you’d gotten a taste. “No, not one bit.”

“When would’ve suited your schedule better, miss?” Billy cocked an eyebrow, nose nudging your cheekbone a bit. Oh, you could get used to this.

You pursed your lips in thought. “Last year.” You decided, making Billy’s grin grow impossibly until his eyes crinkled along with it. He hummed thoughtfully, lifting you up with the arm ‘round your back and giving you a little spin that drew sweet giggles from your lips. “That so, lil’ lady?”

Billy didn’t set you down without another, lingering yet chaste, kiss. “Better make up for m’mistakes, yeah?”

Idk how I feel abt this one but it cured my writers block so thank you for the ask!!!

Bonus points if you can clock the Fiona Apple lyric lol

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Did someone say Kanej coded songs by indie artists who deserve more attention? Probably not but I’m gonna give you some anyway

I’m going to limit myself to putting one or two lyrics with each song but just know that I’m picking and choosing from loads of good options they aren’t the only lyrics that work 😁

Pray by The Amazing Devil - “God made all man in his image but honey I’m no man I’m what’s left when children go to war” “Why womanhood is more than crying I’m stronger now than you have ever known, the cracks you made I’ll fill with mortar a broken pot can still hold water”

Metaphor by The Crane Wives - “I’ve gotten good at leaning on metaphors, I’ve gotten good at living on someone else’s page, I cut my teeth on second hand sentiments, you can’t trust a single thing I say” “I keep my closet free of skeletons, ‘cause I’m much better at digging graves, but I always dig up bones in your sympathy, I can’t trust a single thing you say” (I actually have an edit to this that I haven’t posted yet so I guess let me know if anyone wants to see that)

Three Spectres by J Maya this song is the reason I started making edits - “I wonder how people can talk about the past and go to bed, the space around me feels with spectres of what I should have said. The past is a presence, the future is pretend, and the present is a pastor trying to make it all make sense. Will I ever leave this place? This world that I am trying to break? The mind is such a funny space, with these spectres centre stage”

Falling by Florence + the Machine I guess this is kinda borderline indie but I’m counting it and this is an underrated song - “I’ve fallen from favour and I’ve fallen from grace, fallen out of trees and I’ve fallen on my face, fallen out taxis, out of windows too, fell in your opinion when I fell in love with you” “sometimes I wish for falling, wish for the release, wish for falling through the air to give me some relief because falling’s not the problem when I’m falling I’m at peace, it’s only when I hit the ground it causes all the grief” the edits could’ve gone wild for this one if we had the tightrope scenes with Amita/Inej I’m so heartbroken

We Have It All by Pim Stones I have an edit to this one posted if anyone wants to see it - “the print was so small I didn’t understand, he cut out thumbs and placed a feather in our hands, told us we would see all our dreams and plans unfold” “all my life I’ve been heading for hell but never had I thought I’d drag you down as well, I just couldn’t resist what he was trying to sell” “our hearts we have sold for diamonds and gold but hey baby take a look, we have it all, and haven’t you heard? Hearts turn to dirt, along with the rest of your body it’s all claimed by the earth. It will fade and it will wither, but gold it will never, and hey baby, don’t you know? Diamonds are forever”

Run by Daughter - “if I try to get close, he’s already gone, don’t know where he’s going don’t know where he’s been but he is restless at night ‘cause he has horrible dreams” “and I won’t tell my mother, it’s better she don’t know, and he won’t tell his folks ‘cause they’re already ghosts. And we’ll just keep each other, as safe as we can, until we reach the border, until we make our plan to run” “Will you stay with me my love, for another day? ‘Cause I don’t want to be alone when I’m on this state. Will you stay with me my love, til we’re old and grey? ‘Cause I don’t want to be alone when these bones decay”

I might add more as they occur to me but I think this is the list for now, feel free to suggest more!!! ❤️

[stingrayextraordinaire]

Lord Huron Asks

Ends of the Earth 🌎 — What is a land you have always dreamed of seeing?

Time to Run 🏃 — If you were being run out of town on threat of hanging, what would your crime be?

Lonesome Dreams 🛤️ — What is your most frequent recurring dream, and what do you think it means?

The Ghost on the Shore 👻 — If you were a ghost, what place would you haunt?

She Lit a Fire 🔥 — Describe a stranger that you only met once but have never forgotten.

I Will Be Back One Day 🏜️ — What is your ideal place to settle down forever?

The Man Who Lives Forever 🌐 — How would you spend a lifetime of immortality?

Lullaby 🔪 — Who would you go to if you had nowhere else to turn?

Brother 👫🏻 — Who would you want by your side in an apocalyptic battle?

In the Wind 🌬️ — What is the one thing you would wait an eternity for?

Setting Sun 🌄 — Your lover has been unfaithful. Do you actively hunt them down for revenge or wait until they fall into your carefully-planned trap?

Love Like Ghosts 💕 — Rank your top three favorite quotes about love.

Until the Night Turns 🌠 — How would you want your apocalyptic remains to be found? (think Pompeii, but Lord Huron style.)

Dead Man’s Hand ✋ — What would be your reaction to finding a dead body by a desert road?

Hurricane 🌀 — What is your idea of thrill-seeking?

La Belle Fleur Sauvage 🌸 — What flowers do you want in your grave?

Fool for Love 💙 — What is the most outrageous thing you have done for love?

The World Ender 💀 — Describe your “coming back from the dead to take vengeance on your enemies” outfit.

Meet Me in the Woods 🌲 — What experience completely transformed you as a person?

The Yawning Grave ⚰️ — If you were an eldritch otherworldly being, what would you be and what would your domain be?

Frozen Pines 👽 — Have you ever encountered anything extraterrestrial, and if so, what was it?

Cursed 🖤 — What curse would a witch place on you?

Way Out There ⛰️ — What is the furthest you have ever gone from home?

Louisa 💞 — If you died, what is the one thing that could revive you?

The Night We Met 💜 — If you could choose one moment in your life to go back and change, what would it be?

Lost in Time and Space 🌌 — Where would you go to start a new life?

Never Ever 🎨 — How would your life change if you found out that your SO was just a figment of your imagination?

Ancient Names (Part 1) 🔮 — What part of your future would you like to know most?

Ancient Names (Part 2) 🗝️ — What do you believe happens after death?

Wait by the River 🏞️ — Where do you go to collect your emotions?

Secret of Life ⭐ — What is a dark secret of the universe that you would give anything to know?

Back from the Edge 💊 — What is the closest you have ever come to death?

The Balancer’s Eye 👁️‍🗨️ — What do you think is the one unforgiveable sin?

When the Night Is Over 🛣️ — What is your favorite thing to do in the rain?

Moonbeam 🌗 — If you could appear in someone’s dream, what would you do?

Vide Noir ⚫ — If you were a drug, what would you be?

Emerald Star 💚 — Write a poetic description of your favorite person’s eyes, using as many unusual metaphors as possible.

The Moon Doesn’t Mind 🌙 — What do you look for in the night sky?

Mine Forever ♾️ — What can you not live without?

Love Me Like You Used To 💗 — Where would you go if you lost everything and wanted to feel something again?

Meet Me in the City 🌃 — Describe your ideal place for a secret rendezvous.

Long Lost 🗻 — Where does your spirit feel the most free?

Twenty Long Years 🍺 — You’re twenty years older than you are now, and you’re in a bar when a stranger comes up and asks you to tell them a story. What do you tell them?

Drops in the Lake 💧 — Describe yourself if you were a lake.

Where Did the Time Go ⌛ — What feels like it happened yesterday but actually happened a long time ago?

Not Dead Yet ☠️ — Would you rather be half alive or half dead? (Or do you think there is a difference?)

I Lied 💔 — Would you make a promise to someone you loved if you knew you could not keep it?

At Sea ⛵ — What would you do if you were stranded on a ship for a week?

What Do It Mean ✍️ — Write an epitaph for yourself.

Time’s Blur 🕰️ — What is the furthest out of your mind you have ever been?

Your Other Life 🎭 — If you could live a double life right now, what would your other life be like?

Mighty 🦁 — What frightening power would you wish for?

Son of a Gun 🔫 — How would you take revenge on someone who abandoned you with a child?

The Stranger 👥 — If you met Death, what would you ask him?

When Will I See You Again 👋 — Write a poetic goodbye to someone you will never see again.

Into the Sun ☀️ — Who would miss you the most if you sailed away, never to return?

The Problem with Your Daughter 💖 — If you had been kept hidden away for 20 years, how would you escape?

We Went Wild 🏝️ — How would you spend thirteen days on an island?

Moon Song ✨ — Write three superlatives that you think you could win.

The Birds Are Singing at Night 🐦 — What would put a smile on your face if you saw it as you were dying?

Last Night You Were a Dream 💤 — What is an experience that was magical the first time and disappointing the next time?

Ace Up My Sleeve 🃏 — What is the “ace up your sleeve” that you can always fall back on?

[sweatandwoe]

Gravedigger reader x Terzo (maybe reader is not a sibling of sin but takes pride in their job?)

Thump.

It's a cold night when you first hear the noises. A soft thud when you pass by a newer grave, almost too quiet to hear. A gentle thud of what must have been a branch falling or a rock being swept by the wind. For there could've been nothing else.

You had seen what was in that glass coffin. It would be hard for the body to respond to movements when your head had been detached.

So you ignore the noise, thinking it must be something, perhaps even just a trick in your mind. You hadn't slept well last night or had your usual snack, that must've been it.

Ignoring it even as the noise carries, pounding in tune with your heart in a fearful melody.

Thump. Thump

And that works for the three days, but on the Fourth, you notice a figure as you approach the gravesite. There is no technical closing hour for a cemetery, so you just move down your path. It's only when you're close that you realize you don't hear it anymore.

When you glance at the figure, a white eye takes over your vision. The soft glow of it barely illuminates his face in the darkness.

And what a face it was. Pale, like a corpse, with black paint to give him a skull-like appearance. He's covered in dirt and wearing some robes, heavy and glimmering.

It's the man you buried not two weeks ago.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Excuse me," he starts, his voice hoarse and when he strains forward, you can see the golden thread connecting his head to his neck. "Amico mio, do you have a phone I could use?"

You stare at him, hand tightening around your shovel. It's hard to believe that he's standing before you, and you blink at him harshly. "I buried you."

"Yes." He blinks slowly, hands gripping the gravestone harshly. Either to keep his balance or some deeper emotion you're not sure, but the stone cracks under his grip. "If it helps, amico mio, you are probably the third one who has done so. Two weeks is the longest I've gone without causing any havoc. Bravo." The half-bow he gives is drenching in mockery, more so than his gaze.

The action has you reminded of your job. That, someone, had to respect the dead, even if he chose to not lay in his coffin anymore. "Stop that."

His lips curl, and you can see the hint of golden claws now, glinting while he stretches out his fingers. "Give me your phone."

You stare at him. Then realize, that this entire thing is stupid. There was no reason to fear because the dead do not come back to life. Whatever this was, was most likely some kind of prank set up on you. "I think I'll use it to call the police."

The dead man glares at you. You glare right back, shoving your flashlight under your elbow to fish out your phone. Showing him the screen, you dial 9-1, and then pause. He's still glaring at you but you finally arch a brow at him.

He stills after a moment. "You're not a church member."

You stare at him, brow furrowing. "No? I haven't said an Our Father in years."

The man, the corpse, whatever he was, winces. "Not that kind of church." There's a sigh, and he moves to rest against the stone.

Slowly you find your strength, raising your chin. "This is a horrible prank you know. There are people suffering, grieving and you choose to walk over this grave-"

When he glances up at you, his white eye had gone red. His voice has gone from a smooth tone into something deeper, darker. "I did not come here to desecrate the dead's resting place. I have returned from my own, and I will be given the proper respect." There's a light in the back of his throat, like fire when he speaks.

You stare at him, and after a moment he approaches. It's awkward, heavy steps like he isn't used to walking. Golden-clawed fingers pluck your phone out of your hands once he's close enough, quickly erasing the 9-1, and then sighing. "I don't know who to call this time."

For a moment you both say nothing, just glancing at each other. Your heart is too busy being in your throat, as the dead man just moves about like normal.

Finally, he speaks, "I apologize. I realize this must be a lot to take in. I should've controlled my temper better."

"Yeah." Your voice cracks when you speak, and he sighs.

The man moves in closer, brow furrowing while he got completely up in your personal space. His eyes narrow, and then raises a hand. One finger comes to your neck, resting gently against your pulse point.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Thump.

He draws his hand away like the final thump had burned him. Staring at his finger, before glancing back up at you. "Shit."

"What is it?"

"Something I can explain later." Closing his eyes, he mutters something about a Cardinal, and stupid dark magics, before mumbling other sentences in what you assume is Italian. "Is there a place to rest for now?"

You nod, still feeling in fear, and his hand circles your wrist while you lead him back to the staff area.

But you realize halfway there, why he had been so startled by your heartbeat. You can feel his, matching beat for beat, from where his fingers press in tightly against your wrist.

Well, at least you knew, he wasn't truly dead.

-

amico mio - my friend

[littlelionpaw]

Horizon

Thanks @xxxhellfireravenxxx for the tag! :)

(I went a bit overboard, I think....)

1. ride or die ship (your otp): Ereloy. BUT, to be perfectly honest, I didn’t really see Erend’s appeal at first. Loud and macho and horrible facial hair... uurg, not my type of man, at all. I did like him as a character, but not as a romantic option. When I played the games first I didn’t ship anyone with Aloy. I didn’t even know what shipping was until recently :D At some point I stumbled over a ship-war post/comment on reddit in which everyone was losing their minds, shoving their opinions and ships down each other’s throats and I was like… how can you be so obsessed with pixel people? (I was still so young and naïve back in March…) but it got me curious, and I stumbled across godliath's AMAZING Ereloy art and somehow landed on AO3 and a wonderful fic (The Implication of a Kiss by Emtaz. If you are an Ereloy and haven’t read it yet, or want to become one, GO READ IT, it is so lovely) and was hooked. I decided to write my first own fic, got invited to the two minutes server after publishing it and started to pay more attention to Erend while playing the games and fell in love.

2. most annoying ship: None. I’m only annoyed by people who are mean/condescending/superior idiots about other ships.

3. second favourite ship: This is hard. So many lovely characters to choose from. Personally, I always had a crush on Petra. I guess I have a thing for Oseram. I also adore the way Abadund worships Morlund.

4. favourite platonic relationship: I love how Aloy and Morlund click.

5. underrated ship: Uuuh, I know lots of people hate Avad for being so forward with Aloy… but in all honesty – he has been completely courteous and nice about it. He likes her and tells her. He doesn't even want to make her his queen or pin her down or anything… he just wants to get to know her better and accompany her on her travels. So… yeah. I kinda have a soft spot for him.

6. overrated ship: Please see answer number 2. :P

7. one thing i would change in canon: (*three major things i would change in canon:)

The way Varl’s death is handled. I really hate that he is dead, but to be honest, I do like a good major character death in any story, because knowing something like this can randomly happen keeps me on my toes. The world they live in is extremely dangerous, it’s more or less logical for one/or more of them to die. I was actually convinced Erend would die during GEMINI. The way him and Aloy looked at each other when he rode off to his own cauldron gave me chills and a sense of foreboding. Then I thought it would be Beta. OK, back to how it was handled: Other than it sucking and emphasizing the mortal danger they are in and the ruthlessness of the Zeniths it didn’t have any real impact on the story. Aloy had another grave to visit and contemplate over. Yey. I don’t know, it felt flat, empty and in consequence unnecessary.

Second major thing I don’t like in HFW is the way Erend is handled. When you play HFW right after HZD it is especially jarring. The Daunt reunion is still awesome and gives us a matured, badass, no nonsense Erend. It’s one of my favorite scenes of the entire series. But after that? He is reduced to a blundering, insensitive oaf. I can understand that he is uncomfortable inside the Base, sitting around all day studying and reading, right after he tells us what he is actually forged for (paraphrasing: no ledgers, no boring afternoon patrols, just the hammer, just the fight). So, really, him being awkward and a little too loud and too much is to be expected. But there is really no need for the others (including Aloy) to be so mean/superior/condescending about him. Everyone is like haha will Erend even understand anything? Haha can he handle that? Haha please don’t get yourself killed you fool haha. He is loud and funny and a bit crude in HZD too, but he is also VERY competent despite is constant self-doubt. He picks up the pieces after Ersa’s death, cleans up his act and when he is faced with the truth right before the final battle he swallows down his fears and INSTANTLY turns to his comrades boosting their confidence, taking away their fears, showing excellent leadership. He is passionate and eloquent and empathic (see his speech in Mother’s heart!!). There is really no reason or indication for Aloy (or the others) to put him down so much or to not expect him to be able to handle/understand things. *grumble*

Third major thing: Burning Shores. I was so bored most of the time. Glittering, beautiful, masterfully rendered exterior – mostly hot air inside. When I was fighting the Horus I thought oh wow, why place a major boss battle right at the beginning of the DLC? And I laughed out loud when the screen announced it was over, thanks for playing. Yeah. SO MUCH wasted potential. Loved Gildun though.

8. something canon did right: >>>Horizon Zero Dawn<<< It is a masterpiece. And although I’d love for Aloy to get more smooches and experience more love and friendship… I will gladly go without any of that in favor for more of the gripping, deep, excellent storytelling that is HZD.

9. a thing i'm proud of creating for the fandom: I’ve only just started to create things and feel very humble and self-conscious about it. But I’m actually pretty proud of my first ever fic Something New, because it got me into this whole world.

10. a character who is perfect to me (wouldn't change a thing): Bright eyed Morlund! My god, I want to reach inside the screen and squish him. Also: Sylens, *chef’s kiss*

11. the character i relate to the most and why: That’s hard. I guess I can relate to Erend’s constant self-doubt. And his tendency to self-medicate to make things easier. But I can also relate to Aloy’s “I can do that alone, I don’t need any help”-attitude.

12. character(-s) i hate the most and why: Tilda. What a wonderful villain. That person makes my skin crawl. She is creepy as hell and doesn’t have this touch (or more like HUGE GLOB) of megalomaniacal madness that clings to Ted or Ceo. Being so self-centered, cruel, ruthless, and cold while apparently very clear-headed makes her very hard to grasp. Expertly done by the writers. And I want to punch Lanzra. Was there ever a bigger, more hypocritical BITCH than her?

13. something i've learned from the fandom: I’ve learned SO MUCH! I’ve joined the fandom in March/April 2023, I’m still very new here. But since then I’ve started to create things for myself again! Which I haven’t done in almost 20 years. I’ve always loved drawing and writing, so much so that my parents and teachers all encouraged me to do more, to be better, to “do something with it”. Ultimately these expectations/the pressure killed my drive, because whenever I did something that was just fun the question of “what can you DO with it? Can you sell it? Will others like it? Will it bring you fame?” inevitably followed. Drawing or writing about Blorbos is SO useless (in the grand scheme of things) that it is extremely feeing. It gives me so much joy. Second thing I’ve learned: It doesn't matter how “good/perfect” anything is, as long as it gives you joy. I was so confused when I joined the two minutes server, everyone was so nice to each other. So many compliments! No criticism, no tips how to do things better… until I realized that creating for a fandom is supposed to be simply fun. For yourself mainly and for people who happen to like the same things you do. There is no point whatsoever to criticize other peoples work unless they ask you to. Very freeing. It gave me a whole new perspective! I would have considered myself a nice person before, but now I think I’m more considerate too.

Please people, be nice to each other.

14. three tags i seek out on ao3: Don’t have any preferences… I randomly read what catches my interest!

15. a song i strongly associate with my otp/favourite character: Funny story: Shiver, by Coldplay. The thing is, at first I didn’t realize it’s a song about stalking :D lol. I thought it was a song about pining… Erend watching from the sidelines, in love with Aloy, waiting/hoping for her to finally notice him. Haha, although now I know the true intention behind the song I CAN’T get it separated from Erend….

[le-ded]

They Both Die At The End

Omg this was just the first book from all these and i know you won't trust but it is still my favorite though i am not sure if it was better than the prequel ..... the last book i read on this series :) " The First To Die At The End"

Ya so lets talk about thisss bookkkk and the death casttt world

Lets begin

The story happens in a world where there is company called Death Cast which calls you at mid night or after mid night at night only though and they say

"“Hello, I’m calling from Death-Cast"

This line is enough to tell someone that this is the end.

this is the place they will get to know how they end.

this is the place they will get to know why they end.

The beautiful Gay Romantic is just so amazing

The first guy Mateo who is a little shy little less street friendly and not at all an optimist he fears death

the other one is Rufus who is street friendly amazing and of course FUNNY

don't ask me who is bettter they both are fcking crazy and i love both of themmm

FROM NOW I M DIVIDING THE WHOLE SHIT IN 2 PARTS SPOILER FREE PART AND NON SPOILER PART WE WILL START WITH NON SPOILER PART YEAA

*Non Spoiler*

Yea so both of the guys are going to get a call from death cast informing them that they both are going to die

there is a app called the last friend where you can meet people who can give comfort to you on your end day

also i will tell more about this app in the last blog of this series that is THE FIRST TO DIE AT THE END the prequel of this book yea

so these two people are going to live there end day together and there are some more people in this fcking story who makes everything more exciting and fcking emotional

ok you can read the now and then read the SPOILER PART pls read it though you will get amazing blogging experience

And i swear you are not going to waste your time by reading it is fcking amazing i hope it is your next favorite book

signing of for now for you guyss byee......

SPOILER PART

Whoa Hello the readers and lovers of THEY BOTH DIE AT THE END

OMG If you are here and you have read this book and also if you like and i m sure you do cause you have read this far, if yes we are in a very fcking similar state

I am big fan of end day fictions one of them is the count down fiction on which i m surely going to write so now worries

ok lets move on to the fcking storyyyyyyy

my favorite partssss

PART 1

"I sit on the curb outside the gas station. It smells like piss and cheap

beer. There’s graffiti of two silhouettes on the wall with the air pumps for

bike tires. The silhouettes are both shaped like the dude on the men’s

bathroom sign. In orange spray paint it says: The Last Friend App."

How can i say i don't like this part like man this is the part where the two fckign people meet and i love thisss partttttt

PART 2

"I am a little concerned about spending my End Day with someone

who’s accepted dying, someone who’s made mistakes. I don’t know him,

obviously, and he might turn out to be insanely destructive—he is outside in

the middle of the night on a day he’s slated for death, after all. But no

matter what choices we make—solo or together—our finish line remains

the same. It doesn’t matter how many times we look both ways. It doesn’t

matter if we don’t go skydiving to play it safe, even though it means we’ll

never get to fly like my favorite superheroes do. It doesn’t matter if we keep

our heads low when passing a gang in a bad neighborhood.

No matter how we choose to live, we both die at the end."

This one is of Mateo the cute guy ok this is my favorite and also can be counted as my emotional favorites as everything is like duh here and like i love this part

especially how he describes how he wants to do the things about what he dreamt as a kid or with a kid's mind and how by trusting person won't affect his fate no matter what he will die at the end.

EMOTIONAL PART 1

"I get up and turn to my open grave, which is maybe only three feet deep

and uneven. I step in, sit down, and rest my back against the side the

gravedigger hasn’t finished with yet. I keep my toy sanctuary on my lap,

and I must look like a kid playing with blocks in a park.

“Can I join you?” Rufus asks.

“There’s only really room for one. Get your own grave.”

Rufus steps inside anyway, kicks my feet, and squeezes in, resting one

leg on one of mine so he’ll fit. “No grave for me. I’m gonna be cremated

like my family.”

Not only this part but the whole chapter was so amazing Mateo who lost his mother when he was born due to his birth talks to her mother's grave and asks her to take care of him on last day cause he knows he is not like rufus who has accepted death but just after that moment they both sit together inside Mateo's grave.

PART 2

"I snatch the body bag from his hand and throw it into the bushes

because body bags are for corpses and Mateo isn’t dead. I return to Mateo’s

side, choking and crying and dying. “Come on, Mateo, it’s me, Roof. You

hear me, right? It’s Roof. Wake up now. Please wake up.”

I guess this was the best part of this whole journey of death cast world and beautiful pair of mateo and rufus the most emotional the part we knew would come yea the end where they both die.

SOME BEAUTIFUL QUOTES FROM THIS BOOK

“...stories can make someone immortal as long as someone else is willing to listen.”

“I've spent years living safely to secure a longer life, and look where that's gotten me. I'm at the finish line but I never ran the race.”

“But no matter what choices we make - solo or together - our finish line remains the same … No matter how we choose to live, we both die at the end.”

“I wasted all those yesterdays and am completely out of tomorrows.”

“Two dudes met. They fell in love. They lived. That's our story.”

“It's mad twisted, but surviving showed me it's better to be alive wishing I was dead than dying wishing I could live forever.”

“I may not be able to cure cancer or end world hunger, but small kindnesses go a long way.”

“anyone can have pretty eyes, but only the right kind of person can hum the alphabet and make it your new favorite beat.”

“Some risks are worth it.”

“you definitely don’t need the same blood to lose a part of yourself when someone dies.”

With this I am signing off :) have a good day :)

[daegall]

Can you suggest me some nct fics or your fav blogs

anon i am so glad you asked

first off we have my favorite authors!!

@choerrypuffs (masterlist here)

@luvdsc (masterlist here)

@rrxnjun (just found last night but i know everything will be great!! masterlist here)

@gohyuck (masterlist here)

@hirokari (masterlist here)

@navyhyuck (masterlist here)

@osakisho (masterlist here)

@neonun-au (masterlist here)

@hyuck-obsessed (masterlist here)

@d-nghy-ck (masterlist here)

@kopikokun (also stopped writing but arin's works are still chefs kiss ^3^)

@nctsworld (masterlist here)

@ppangjae (masterlist here dude every single work this writer has is so good i kid you not)

@jaemotel (masterlist here)

@lattaeyongs (could not find a masterlist im sorry :( but they still have great works scattered everywhere!!!!)

@neovisioned (masterlist here)

now we have my fave fics!! (i think most are hyuck, i hope you dont mind :( )

and i love her just like that - l.dh (read last night, thinking of it for the next week)

You've known Lee Donghyuck your whole entire life. While he would call you a total maniac and you’d call him a menace to society, there’s a certain bond that brings you two together-- and no, I’m not talking about the obnoxiously deep friendship your mothers share and try to force down both of your throats-- it’s the obvious urge of competitiveness that both sticks you together and breaks you apart just the same. In other words, hate and love, so it seems, aren't that far from each other in the first place.

the dumbing down of love - l.jn

the six times you caught him staring at you, and the one time he caught you. ↳ alternatively: dumb and dumber fall in love.

demigods 00 line series - nct dream 00 line

summers at camp half-blood are never dull—especially when there’s a cute boy at every corner.

not another love song - l.jn

jeno has always just been the quiet (and cute) guy that sits next to you in your creative writing class, but a single open mic night changes everything.

master of all elements 00 line series - nct dream 00 line (avatar!AU)

y/n, a waterbender of the northern water tribe, has been named the new avatar. she must master all of the elements in order to keep the peace of the four nations. which path will she choose first?

not clickbait series - nct dream

do it for the views. do it for your fans. but most importantly, do it for the gigantic, secret crush you’ve been harboring on your best friend. which boy will you complete tiktok’s “today I tried to kiss my best friend” challenge with? oh, and make sure to like, comment, and subscribe, honey bees!

the chase - n.jm

you were not going to be another notch on na jaemin’s belt.

cry - l.dh (super short but hit so hard)

Theres a million things Donghyuck wants to say to Jaemin, but theres a million more reasons to stay and be here for you instead.

oh mr. lee, will you teach me how to french kiss? - l.dh

when you break up with your boyfriend after finding out you don’t know how to french kiss, your best friend offers a rather tempting offer.

this is the story of how we fell in love, apparently. - l.dh

running a youtube channel with your best friend isn’t easy, not when he’s like a ticking time bomb that’s constantly bubbling up something new. what’s worse is that you’ve had a crush on him for the past three years.

all that glitters - l.mk

no synopsis but i'll put the warnings FGIOUSFR

rich people, neglectful parents, mention of deceased pet and said deceased pet’s grave, descriptions of a panic attack, mentions of God, alcohol consumption, an argument that isn’t actually an argument, heartbreak (but it gets fixed!)

the abduction of Persephone - l.dh

part ii.

your sister is about to marry the man of her life, the wedding is in three days and you don’t have a date. Nothing weird, but I forgot to mention that you had told your parents that you were bringing your boyfriend. A boyfriend that you don’t have anymore, because he had suddenly decided you were “too much” for him and didn’t want to make you waste anymore time - one month before the wedding. You should have been the happiest person on Earth, your sister was about to get married and, since you didn’t want to bring any attention upon your lonely entrance, you had opted for something crazy. Crazy, like hiring Lee Donghyuck to be your fake-boyfriend.

home is a feeling - l.dh (FUCK DUDE THIS ONE HITS SO HARD)

Fresh off a break-up, not willing to stomach spending Christmas single with your family, you book a last minute trip overseas to escape the impending loneliness, not realizing that perhaps running away from your feelings will only serve to intensify them. You arrive at your home-away-from-home only to find you’re not the only one staying there. Through some unfortunate (or not so unfortunate) mistake, the AirBnB you booked has also been booked by a handsome young man looking for a similar escape from his own life. Now you have to choose whether or not to stay and spend your Christmas with a stranger or scramble to find a lonely hotel room last minute over the holidays.

all at once, the happiness i knew - l.dh (i cant even this was the best fic ive ever read)

part ii.

no synopsis! but i'll put the themes and warnings

genre: kind of single parent!au??, established relationship!au?( fluff, angst with happy ending, haechan is kind of best boy)  pairing/s: Haechan / Female Reader (ft Jaehyun and Chenle)  word count: 23k+  tw: unplanned pregnancy, might get kind of heavy! but dont worry! bc it ends well!

here you are, anon!! i hope you enjoy these fics and get to know more about the amazing authors!! i worked super hard on this so i hope this doesnt disappoint UHDFIS

[lavendertales]

Inescapable proof || Steve Murphy x f!reader**

Requested by @vanitasgalore​:

summary: fooling around with a colleague can have a lot of consequences, including the loss of your lives. So you decide to break things off with Steve but you get... distracted.

word count: 1.9k

WARNINGS: doggy (safe), choking, some dirty talk, single & ready to mingle Steve Murphy and feels all over the place.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @javier-pena

​

​It wasn’t supposed to go this far. Neither one of you thought that what was meant to be a one night stand would turn into a long-term affair, nor that would the affair itself be—more. Although it is not something that either wants to admit.

The rational choice was to end things, of course. You knew it and he knew it.

But it was not easy.

You tried having the conversation plenty of times, only each time you did, you both seemed to find other physical means to divert one another and to ignore the actual topic. The “conversation” usually solidified itself with plenty of grunts, moans and sweaty bodies lying next to one another.

Steve Murphy is smarter than people give him credit for. He knows the right thing to do is end things and save whatever is left of your careers. But the truth is, he hasn’t felt this way in a long, long time.

After the divorce from his ex-wife Connie was finalized three years ago, he chose to focus on his career. Hence why he came to Colombia, so far away from America and all that it used to mean to him. He got the chance to be in the middle of the drug war, to actually do something and fight the good fight and he was excited about it.

Then you came along.

For weeks, Steve fought with himself to remain amiable and polite towards you, in spite of the perfidiously immoral thoughts that soon flooded his mind. It wasn’t like him to lose his head like that and daydream about you, but truthfully he hadn’t felt that way since he first met Connie and when the initial shock wore off, he began to feel intimidated by his own feelings. He promised himself he wouldn’t approach you nor act on his peculiar crush, and he kept his promise.

For the most part.

One evening, things escalated. It was with your—and his—consent that a discussion led to legs spread apart, huffs and moans, words held back out of fear and pleasure building in nether regions, ready to be detonated.

After that, those forbidden affairs became more and more regular.

But once the war on drugs became more threatening and more vicious, you and Steve realized it was time to call it quits. The situation was incredibly tense at the office as it was, you could not afford any distraction. And besides, you promised each other it was only physical.

Each time you brought up the topic of the breakup, however, either you or Steve found a way to make the situation about literally anything else than the actual breakup.

And Steve liked it that way—for all of the obvious reasons—but it also gave him time to think about what the two of you truly represented.

He didn’t want to rush into anything, especially considering this was his very first real experience with a woman post-divorce. Every alarm went off in his head and he wanted nothing more but to keep seeing you, to keep having you near him.

But tonight, when he opens the door and he’s met with your grave face, he knows what’s going to happen.

He knows this is the end.

And this time it might just be for real.

“Drink?” he offers and you immediately nod, almost desperately so.

“Steve—“

“I know.”

You share a concerned look with him, but it doesn’t go any further than that. Frankly, even though he’s spent plenty of time with you—and on you, under you, inside of you—Steve has no real idea what it is that you expect out of your situation. He’s not even sure if you truly want to call things off to save your ass or if you ever gave a damn in the first place.

The latter kind of hurts to dwell too much into, so he chooses ignorance again.

Steve hands you the drink and you both sip in silence. It’s not uncomfortable, per se; it’s rather gutting, considering you both are perfectly aware of what’s going to happen, but it’s also inexplicably tense.

“We have to end this,” you mutter.

You sound insecure, and Steve picks up on it, but mentions nothing of the sort. Some primal instinct kicks in, a playful one, which dictates he should wait and see how far you’d take things and if he can use your hesitation for anything.

“I know,” he responds. “We got more important things to focus on.”

“Agreed.”

“And if anyone at the office were to find out—“

“We’d be fucked.”

Steve chuckles into his glass without the intention of hiding it. This time you take notice and huff, eyes glued on him.

“Something funny?”

“Nope.”

“Come on, Steve. We’ve been through this before.”

“Yeah. And we failed.”

“Well, now it’s gotta be for good.”

“My agreeing with you does not change things.”

“It has to.”

In sync, you move towards each other, his baby blue eyes locked with yours, a tormenting desire residing inside of them.

“So you agree with me,” you say. “It’s done. This—we’re done.”

“Yes.”

But he doesn’t move. And neither do you. Instead, Steve pours himself another drink and when you extend the glass in his direction, he picks up the cue and pours you one as well. You waste no time in chugging the content down your throat under Steve’s cautious and somewhat starved eyes. A smirk breaks free from the corner of his lips.

“Thanks. I needed that,” you tell him.

“For what?”

“A little pick-me-up before doing another thing that I’ll regret tomorrow.”

You press your lips on his, an insatiable hunger resulting from that action alone. The glass in Steve’s hand falls on the carpet as the kiss deepens. His hands grip your waist and pull you in, whilst your own are clawing on his clothed back. There is almost an exceptional famine, residual discarded in between you two that you now realize it will never simply fade. The realization grows stronger as more items of clothing are removed from your bodies, teared in a haste; Steve pins you against the wall with one hand, the other fumbling with his zipper. You hear a familiar tear of a condom and all you’re left with is waiting. But the waiting is always a killer and you rub your thighs together however you can, your desire growing more and more.

A sudden touch against your weeping core has you nearly in tears.

“’We have to end this’,” Steve says, and you hear the nasty smile in his voice. “So how come you’re here this wet?”

You don’t know what to answer, so you opt for silence. Your breaths are irregular as you start to beg the universe for him to just—do something. It’s unbearable to sit there, half naked and on a pretty display just for him.

You moan out loud when a palm sticks itself to one of your ass cheeks. Then another one a few seconds later. And another one. You’ve always figured Steve was an ass man but you haven’t thought about it to this sinful extent.

“You look so pretty all flushed like this,” he says in your ear, and you realize he’s not talking about any redness from your face.

Again he smacks you, to your utter delight and pain simultaneously, and—as if intuiting your needs—Steve aligns himself with your entrance and starts thrusting a moment later. Mouth agape in pleasure at that first contact, you smile and close your eyes, the feeling of him moving inside you again too delicious to ever forget.

It was true that you had to end this. But if this encounter—just like the many before – proves anything, it’s that staying away from each other is not an option. And there have been plenty of instances when you felt like this exceeded the “just fucking” stage. You’ve grown to care for the man more than you thought you would. If anyone would ask you to jump in front of a grenade to protect him, you would. And while a terrifying thought, it was also somewhat… comforting, reassuring. Who wouldn’t seek something so real and intimate?

And this is intimate, too. Although there is nothing sweet about the way he’s pounding into you now, picking up a rough pace from the start and occasionally smacking your ass to mark you, in a way. But there’s no need to. You were his from the beginning, and you are now completely, body and soul.

One of Steve’s hands snakes on your back to grab your neck while the other simply presses you against the wall at a better angle. He applies just the right amount of pressure, enough for you to feel the hold he has over you.

“This is—what you like, isn’t it? Taken from behind—like the filthiest—“

“Y-Yes—“

The affirmation seemingly lights a fire inside Steve. He loves molding and bending you at his will, but he loves it just as much when you do the same with him, when you use him in your search for your own pleasure. He keeps smashing his hips into yours, watching mesmerized how your ass bounces with each thrust of his cock further inside you.

“Yeah, you l-like it rough—and fast—and needy—the dirtier, the b-better—“

His voice breaks and puffs, barely able to form coherent sentences from the chaotic thoughts. A few strands of blond hair are bouncing on his sweaty forehead, and he’s simply sent into a frenzy watching himself disappear in and out of you so fast and how good you take him, how your ass reddens under the weight of his hands—

“F-Fuck, I—I love this so much—“

In another world or circumstance, those words would’ve taken you by surprise. But considering the fact that you’re fucked against the wall with unimaginable speed and strength by the guy you’re most likely in love with, they come naturally, almost desired to be heard.

After that, all he says are affirmations and some cuss words here and there. You can’t reciprocate; air is simply knocked out of your lungs and you’re waiting for the inevitable explosion. Sure enough, when Steve’s thrusts get messy and he grunts relentlessly for seconds in a row, you feel him twitch inside of you, knowing he reached his blissful high. But he doesn’t stop. He keep going in and out of you, aiming for that sweet spot, and with a few more thrusts and pulls at your hair, you reach your own. Your body shakes, seemingly trapping his cock inside. You’re a mess and nothing more.

When he gently pulls out and turns you around, he draws you in for another deep and warm kiss. That was the beauty of Steve Murphy, you thought: no matter how rough and needy he can get if all the right buttons are pushed, he always returns to being a caring, loving man.

And for that particular reason you fell in love with him.

[sirowsky]

Chapter 5 - A Most Unexpected Ally

Description: Din finds himself in a strange position, having to decide whether or not to help you, now that he knows what you really are. (Dual perspectives, and we learn a lot more history about the demons.)

OBSERVE! Creator chooses NOT to include warnings on this series. Read at your own risk! Be aware that this story will include violence and is not suitable for minors! 18+ONLY.

Word Count: 3185 Masterlist (This Story) Author’s Masterlist

Link to Chapter 6

–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–

   He’s known from the moment he first saw you, that you’re hiding something.    If the thought had even occurred to him that it could be this, that you could be this monstrous thing, then yes, he would’ve put the pieces together himself.    But he didn’t, because this is impossible. No demon can stop the Burn.    And yet, he can see how you’re fighting, and he wants you to win.

   You can hear him, even over the roaring flames that are trying to escape your body, and when your glowing red eyes meet his gaze, he can see that you want to stop. Even now, when the creature is already consuming you, you recognize him. Something that should also be impossible.    How are you doing it? How are you still holding on to your human form when so much fire is churning through you?

   “Keep fighting, you can do it,” he tells you, the exact opposite of what he should do, which is strike you down before you become nearly invincible.

   All Mandalorians are still taught the history of the Pagwu demons, as well as how to kill them, even though they’ve been believed to be extinct for nearly three hundred years. Because that’s how grave of a threat even just one of them poses.    How you can be possible after no sightings have been made in all that time, is a puzzle for a smarter brain than his to solve.

   Din remembers the classes devoted to the monsters as though he’d sat in that classroom just yesterday, and now the memories flood his mind.    Painted images of old battles, a planet divided between humans and beasts, the former existing by the millions, the latter only a few dozen. To this day, no one knows how the demons came to be, only that their violent nature was there from the start.

   Eventually, the fighting got so bad that all creatures were banished, and a wall was built around the human world, to keep them separated.    But it only worked for a few hundred years, until the creatures learned how to use their flame to propel them into the air, high enough that they got over the wall.    By then, the demon population had grown, and the slaughter that followed was beyond words.

   Millions died within a single hour, only those that made it into the castle keep, deep underground with hundreds of meters of rock between them and the beasts, survived. But they emerged into a part of the world that was no longer alive.    Forced to abandon their homes, the remnants of the human population relocated, and soon thrived again.

   That was the first war of Pagwu. Another four would follow over the next five thousand years, leading up to present times.

   The Mandalorians were first contracted to fight the monsters almost three thousand years ago, and it would take a long time and a lot of dead soldiers before they began to make progress.    It came at a terrible cost, though. A systematic slaughter of children, as innocent as any human child, save for the burden they carried in their blood.

   But it was the turn of the tide in the war against demons, because humans finally had a means with which to scare their enemy into staying away, creating long periods of calm in which they could recover and rebuild.    And it was during that time of uncertainties, almost a millennia after the hunters had first joined the war, that they managed to kill an adult beast.

   They already knew that beskar was the only thing that could break through their hardened skin, but now they had learned where they needed to strike, which would become the single most important discovery of the entire war.    No longer reliant upon untested theories or blind luck, they could now enter the battles with a solid target to aim for.

   And it was now demons that died by the thousands at each confrontation.    But, if the humans back then had known the fury that already fuelled the creatures because of their murdered offspring, they might’ve known that the war would never truly be won. And that the dwindling number of creatures would mean nothing in the end.

   When they’d been decimated to the point of only a few hundred remaining demons, the majority of them gathered around the last of the great cities of Pagwu, Iotya, housing over a million people at the north pole.    The planet was already mostly dead by then, Iotya being one of the last places that still had grass and trees growing naturally.

   Working together, the monsters combined their flames, but didn’t aim them at the city. Instead, they aimed at the ground.    Iotya disappeared into the molten chasm that they created, burning so hot and so relentlessly that the demons drained and killed themselves in the process.    Over time, that area cooled and became what is now called the badlands.

   That was the last war of Pagwu, ending over a thousand years ago.

   It was known that a few demons survived, just as several humans did, so the contract between Mandalore and Pagwu was left intact.    All Mandalorians are obligated to kill any demon on sight, and the Royals are permitted to demand the presence of a hunter at any time, provided that they suspect a creature has been spotted.

   But no demands have been made since the last recorded incident, three centuries ago. And yet, here you are. Burning before his very eyes.    Or rather… fading.    He can hardly believe what he’s seeing, but there’s no mistaking it, the Burn is being halted.

   Din watches in disbelief how the flame is slowly strangled, until your veins eventually stop glowing completely, and you slump, staring at him for a few seconds as if you want to say something.    But you’re too drained. He can barely even tell if you’re breathing. And then you collapse into a pile on the floor.

   He looks at the prince and the guard, half melted, and half cooked against the opposite wall from you, and every ounce of his training is telling him to cut your head off.    Instead, he goes to the door and peeks outside, to check if anyone seems to be on their way, before returning to you.    You’re still too hot to touch, hot enough even that the stones underneath you are getting charred, so he has to wait.

   Even if he had water to spare, it would evaporate even before it touched you. Hell, even a full bath of ice-water would boil and turn to mist around you within a minute. Yet that heat is remarkably well contained.    Just a foot away from you the air seems normal, even though everything closer than that is being deep fried.

   Yesterday, outside the wall, you must’ve come close, but you’d cooled quickly, so he hopes that you will this time too.    And then what? It had taken you a good while longer to regain full function in your limbs after that much smaller incident, so he’s gonna have to carry you out of here, somehow without arousing suspicion.

   The prince had mentioned that one of the tunnels was to allow him to leave the palace, so there has to be a secret door or hatch somewhere, but even though this isn’t the biggest building in the galaxy, it’s quite a lot bigger than a house. And it’s not like he can just roam the halls to search either.    But, on the other hand, the prince might not have told anyone about his visit.

   Clearly, he would’ve wanted to make sure that anyone bringing news of any tunnels having been discovered in the city would be brought directly to him. But he couldn’t possibly know a person’s case beforehand, so he had to have made sure that all of them came to him.    And he would’ve had all the reason in the world not to share any information with anyone else, until he knew what the case was about. Otherwise, getting rid of witnesses would be much harder.

   So, if Din assumes that aside from the guards at the gate, no one knows that he’s even there, and the palace staff is still not awake, he should be able to sneak around a little bit without risking too many eyes spotting him.    This particular Royal family has no real enemies, so they don’t keep guards roaming the building at night.

   You still haven’t cooled enough that he can tell any difference from a minute ago, so he goes back to the door and quietly slips out into the hall.    Unfortunately, it turns out that the palace has been rebuilt and added to so many times that it no longer has an even remotely predictable layout, and he ends up getting lost twice in just ten minutes.

   Giving up, he tries to find his way back to you, but when he reaches the throne room, after another ten minutes of faulty navigation, he finds it less than empty.    The King himself, Bakol, is sitting in the throne. But he’s still undressed and looking either sad or just very tired, so he probably isn’t there to start working. And that gives Din an idea.

   “Good morning, Your Highness,” he says, stepping out of the shadows and coming to stand before the two steps up to the throne.

   The King twitches in surprise but then smiles when he sees his company.

   “Greetings, traveller. How good to see a hunter back in the city, it’s been a while, if memory serves.”

   “It has, sir. I was here some years ago, but only for the day,” Din explains, and Bakol nods as his smile widens.

   “We met, didn’t we? You had a different armour then, but I remember your voice.”

   “You’re correct, sir. It was the case of your daughter’s stolen painting.”

   “Ah, yes! She was so happy to have it returned, I thank you again for your assistance, good hunter,” the King says before nodding at him, and he bows in respect.

   Only then does it seem to occur to the man that he doesn’t know why there’s a Mandalorian in his house.

   “Forgive me, traveller, but what brings you here this time, and at this hour? I haven’t heard of any cause for you to be here.”

   This is where he’ll have to choose his words carefully, if he is to fool the King into helping him escape with you.

   “I’m here to see prince Tonolju at his request, but I can’t seem to find him, Your Highness” he says, and Bakol looks puzzled.

   “How odd, bringing you here at such a time. Do you know what it was regarding?” the King asks, and Din hesitates.

   Lying is frowned upon, if not directly a violation of the creed, but if he doesn’t bend the truth now, you’ll never get out of here alive.

   “No, sir. Only that it was urgent. Enough even to halt my efforts to find missing children, and bring the woman that was helping me, in here with me simply for overhearing the message that demanded my presence.”

   Bakol pales hearing this, and Din knows why. He’s framed the lie so that the only possible answer is that the prince suspected that he’d found a demon. Nothing else would require such urgency and secrecy.    However, if this had been a situation where the contract really had been put in effect, the prince would’ve been obligated to speak to the King before sending any message.

   “I’ve left the woman where she can’t overhear anything,” he continues, “but, sir… I know what this kind of procedure implies, and yet, the prince is nowhere to be found. If this is some game…”

   “Tonolju will answer to me for whatever this is regarding,” the King interrupts him. “It is absolutely imperative that those procedures are respected. We must be able to count on the Mandalorian contract to be upheld, there is nothing more important.”

   Din waits for a moment, while Bakol takes a few calming breaths.

   “Shall I assume that this was a false alarm then, sir?” he asks the King, who sighs and looks at his own aging hands.

   “He was always a playful child. Drove his mother into fits of anger with his trickery.    I had hoped that age would stifle his need for stimulation, but it seems only to have evolved,” the older man says, somehow looking even more tired now than when Din first walked in.

   “You may go, good hunter. And of course, the woman too,” he adds after another few breaths, before something else occurs to him. “What’s her name? The woman that’s helping you find these children… who is she?”

   “Uh… The only name she’s given me is Pan. A nickname, I believe.”

   “Hm. Well, give her my apologies, will you?”

   Oh, if this man knew just how much pain and hurt you’ve already caused him, he’d never speak of you with such a heavy heart. He likely never will again.

   “Certainly, Your Highness.”

   The King waves for him to leave then, and he does his best not to run for the chamber to find you.    He expects that it will take some time for anyone to discover the bodies, as it’s unlikely that anyone will have known where the prince had brought the two of you, but he still wants to get out of here sooner rather than later.

   He’ll be marked a traitor for this, if or when the truth is pieced together, and he’d prefer to be far away from Pagwu by then.    Returning to the chamber he finds it in the exact same condition he left it, albeit somewhat cooler now.    He carefully touches your skin and while it’s warmer than it should be, it’s no longer dangerously hot.

   Placing your arm around his neck, he picks you up and cradles you to his chest, so that it looks like you’re just sleepy to anyone that happens to see the two of you on your way out. It’s entirely plausible given the time of day and the story he fed the King, suggesting you’d been up all night.    Which you also have.

   The guard at the gate has it open for him by the time he gets there, and he nods in thanks as he passes through, hoping that she won’t hate herself later, for letting him go.    Once out of sight, he shifts you onto his shoulder and starts making his way towards the port and his ship. He has no idea where he’s gonna take you, only that you can’t possibly stay here, even one more day.

<><><><><><><> 

   You wake up slowly. Even the effort of just opening your eyes feels like it might be too much. And your body aches like you’ve never experienced before, all the way into your bones.    Your head is throbbing with every beat of your pulse, and you feel confused, as though there’s something you should know or understand, but which evades you right now.

   The sun is just climbing over the horizon, stinging your eyes when you finally get them open, so you look to the sides instead, and discover that someone is sitting next to you.    It takes longer than it should, but eventually you recognize him, and everything comes surging back into your head, as though the memories had been locked away and you just found the key.

   A flare of energy passes through you, enough that you can move your head, and you look down on your arms and hands, to make sure they’re still… you.

   “You stopped it,” the Mandalorian says quietly, and you hear something like awe in the edges of his voice.

   Your mind is still sluggish, and the memories are garbled, but you know that this man shouldn’t be at your side. No one should, but especially not this man.

   “W-why…?” is all you manage to croak through your dry and burnt throat, but it’s enough for him to understand what you’re asking.

   “Because…” he starts, but then pauses and takes a breath, looking for the right words maybe. “Because you stopped,” he finally says with a little shrug and shake of his head, as if he knows the words aren’t enough, but they’re all he can find.

   You feel like crying, but your body isn’t recovered enough to produce tears yet. You’re still healing, and while it’s happening faster than it would for any human, it could be hours before you’re fully recovered.    He should’ve killed you. He’s obligated to, even now, but here he sits beside you, having apparently carried you out of the palace and saved your life.

   “W-what… now?” you ask, trying to get a grip of what’s going on.

   “I need to get you out of here. My ship is being repaired, but as soon as it’s ready, we’re leaving.”

   He says it like it’s any day of the year, like nothing special is going on at all. As though the idea of bringing the most dangerous creature known to all the galaxy onto his ship, is an average workday for him.    You love him for that. For treating you like a person, even though he knows the truth. But you also fear for him, not just for the threat that you pose, but for everything he’ll suffer if anyone finds out he’s helping you.

   “Lea..ve… me,” you say, trying to let him know that you don’t want him to suffer for you.

   “No.”

   The one little word is spoken with such conviction, and you simply don’t understand why.    Sure, it makes sense that he would be impressed by a demon that can stop the Burn, especially since he knows just how impossible that should be. But what doesn’t add up is why he chooses not to see how dangerous you still are.

   “You… can’t… save me.”

   The pain in your heart at the truth of those words, is enough to make the tears form, despite the lack of moisture in your body.    You see his head turn towards you, and there’s something too still about the movement. Something disgruntled.    He shifts where he sits, just a fraction, and you feel a determination settle into his frame.

   “I can try,” he declares simply, putting an end to the conversation.

   Because what are you supposed to say to that?    It doesn’t matter anyway, because anything you might have tried to say would’ve been drowned out in the noise of the sudden scuffle that erupts when Royal guards show up.    The Mandalorian tries to fight them, but he stops when they put a gun to your head.

   You’re too tired to fight anymore. So much so, that not even the flames within you react to the danger.    And still, the hunter pleads for your life.    You watch him, hoping that he’ll be the last thing you see, this kind warrior with such an unusual heart, and you hear him beg them to spare you.

   Then pain flares on the side of your head, and everything goes black.

–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–

Link to Chapter 6

Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging, I’d greatly appreciate it <3

@idreamofboobear @tanzthompson @winter-fox-queen @tiffanyleen @shsoba05 @toomanystoriessolittletime @nolanell @myfavpedrothings @harriedandharassed @bruxasolta @tintinn16 @pedrostories @littlemisspascal @sj-draws00 @gallowsjoker @spishsstuff @little-mrs-morales @bilibiche @gallowsjoker @insomniamamma @thelion-sroar

[ohworm-writes]

APOTHECARY, n. The physician's accomplice, undertaker's benefactor and grave worm's provide 

: AMBROSE BIERCE

Well, would you look at that. Granted, I thought today was my one year anniversary, but it seems that way was on the 28th of February. Whoops! Anyhow, one year, ey! That’s... quite a long time, is it not? I hadn’t really thought I would have ever gone this far. I mean, I was- what? A sophomore in highschool when I started this? I had nothing to do during my classes so, hey! Why not make a writing blog because, 1. you can write, and 2. you love reading fanfiction, so why not add what I want to read?

And then BOOM! Here we are over a year later with nearly (20 or so off, give or take) 1000 followers? Me? That’s insane. Compared to the people I’ve met through this website, I don’t think I hold a candle to them. Truly, and that’s not some way to try and gain compliments to boost my ego or anything like that. The people I’ve met here are so f*cking talented and I am in awe every time I see them on my dash. And the fact that many follow me back and enjoy what I write? Hello? It’s... wild to me that I can say I’m mutuals and even friends with these people.

Now, I didn’t really have much planned to celebrate my one year. Again, I didn’t even realize it was actually a month ago, but hey! This has to count for something, right?

So, in commemoration of such an event, I thought: Hey. You still have most of the prompts from your 700 follower event that haven’t been done, and you’re creative enough so, surely you can whip up a writing event, yeah?

So, without further ado...

Worm’s One Year/ 1000 Follower Writing Event!

The guidelines for this event are simple! Any writer, no matter the fandom, writing experience, or any other related factor, is able to participate! This will be an event for you to write about whatever you want, so long as it covers the stated prompt(s)! 

The rules are as follow:

No explicit NSFW! You can elude to such things if you want, but please keep it SFW. Additionally, the work can be either platonic or romantic (or both).

There is a limit of three (3) people per prompt! While I don’t expect many to go in head first and take up prompts in participation, please keep this in mind.

Similarly, you can choose as many prompts as you like!

You must post the completed work on your account (and tag me) so that I’ll both be able to see/ read it, as well as be able to reblog it.

You can write in whatever format you wish! Whether it be headcannons, a full fic, or whatever else! I just want to see what you come up with.

Send me a DM or an ask to tell me which prompt(s) you are choosing and wish to write for!

The deadline for this event will be MAY 1, 2022, so please make sure to write and upload it before then! The prompts are listed below.

PROMPTS

1. “Come lay with me?”

@flxffyclvuds with Venti (Genshin Impact)

2. “You missed. Your lips are supposed to touch mine, you idiot.”

3. “A sleepover? What are you, eight years old?” “Just let me in”

@wilczachannn with p!cc!Tommy (McYT)

@wldflvrs with cc!Quackity (McYT)

4. “Is this okay?”

5. “You looked like you could use a hug.”

6. “I didn’t mean to say it out loud but, yes. I love you.”

7. “You are ridiculously comfortable.”

8. "Take a small break, for me?"

9. "Touch me again, and I'm pushing you off the bed."

10. "This... isn't doing work. But I don't think I mind."

11. “When was the last time you said you loved me and meant it?”

12. “What is it about me that isn’t good enough?”

13. I can’t lose you.” “You already did.”

@sunniewrites with c!Wilbur (McYT)

14. “You weren’t there…why weren’t you there? I needed you! I needed you! And you weren’t there!”

15. “For what it’s worth, I never gave up on you.”

@god1ngs with c!Sam (McYT)

16. “Don’t call me that, you lost that privilege a long time ago.”

@unhonest-iago with c!Fundy (McYT)

17. “I loved you! You were everything to me, and I was nothing to you.”

18. “Oh, so now you love me?”

19. “Can I hug you? Just one last time?”

20. “Even if I die here, I know that someday I’ll see you again.”

21. “There wasn’t even a moment when you smiled at me like that.”

22. “Please don’t leave me.”

23. “Can’t you listen for one second?”

24. “I didn’t realize I was such an inconvenience.”

25. “Because it’s my job, and it’s important.” “And I’m not?”

Tagging mutuals who may want to join or just take a look at the event!

@jschllatt @krabmeat @wldflvrs @maybeshroom @lakifaki @sarahwasfound​ @valoinnit @simpoot @sushisoot @piggyjeans @sunniewrites @angstyx @wilczachannn @beepbopbee @earthtooz @arcademoss @mitzimania​ @ttakinou​ @mentally-unavailable​ @anarchiststories​ @god1ngs​ @dreamwvrld​ 

[the-last-kenobi]

*kciks down door* ReQuEsTs?!??! uh, 18. “Is it all right if I hug you?” with Obi-wan and character of your choice (please, this boy needs a hug so bad)

Hugs!!!! What an excellent ask.

Took me forever to pick a character though. I came this close to writing multiple hugs throughout the years but it would’ve been very long...

It’s still long. Whoops.

Note: I skipped the actual sentence and instead went for ✨vibes only✨

(From this various prompts list.)

_

Obi-Wan is twenty-three standard years old, very nearly twenty-four.

It is a delightful stage of life. (It’s awful.)

He’s growing in independence, so close to Knighthood he can almost taste it. (Is he? Nobody seems to have a clear opinion.)

He’s receiving more and more solo assignments, and on his missions with Master Jinn, the older Jedi makes an effort to at least await the Padawan’s input before making a decision, sometimes even deferring to Obi-Wan’s word. (Only in public, though, is there a sense of equality. Behind the scenes, Obi-Wan is still very much the learner.)

He longs to be free. (He doesn’t want to be alone.)

The confusing clash of thoughts and emotions is, in and of itself, a creator of more clashing emotions, all resulting in a bundle of self-doubt that crouches near his heart, like a greedy bird, picking away at his strength and certainty when he most needs it.

Doesn’t your doubt show you that you’re truly not ready? the pestering creature asks.

Doesn’t your longing for freedom prove you don’t deserve it? it says, tapping against the veins of ice and fear that lie right against the heat of his heart.

Doesn’t your need to be reassured tell you that you’re too hesitant, too weak to be alone?

His desire to fly is wrong. His desire to be sheltered, even more so.

Both together, coexisting in his heart and mind, could quite possibly mean the one thing he had been dreading for over a decade now, the thing older Jedi, real Jedi, had put into words and addressed to his face when he was only twelve, only eleven, only ten.

You are too emotional, they said.

You are overeager, they said.

You are not destined to be a Jedi, Qui-Gon had told him. I will not train you.

He had, in the end, and Obi-Wan has been wondering in the depths of his heart for all these years of it had not been a dreadful mistake. As much as the Force sings in his ears Jedi, Jedi, Jedi, endure, Jedi, Jedi, it felt like everything he touched, everything tangible, argues back failure, weak, selfish, foolish, unwanted, not fit.

Obi-Wan is twenty-three, almost twenty-four, and he is years into adulthood and light years away from proving that he’s capable of handling it.

When will he be Knighted?

Nobody seems to be expecting it from him.

Do they know, he wonders, have they known since the beginning that I am doomed to fail? Has this all been a gracious attempt, a thank you for my actions on Bandomeer, and they have drawn this out and out and out as long as they can?

How much longer can this go on?

Still, there are moments when he is at peace, when Obi-Wan is sure. When he meditates, when he accomplishes something new, when he walks away from an assignment feeling unashamed when he translates his memories into a tidy mission report.

When he has one of his long talks with Master Yoda, or Master Windu, who despite their revered status have taken to talking to him more like a friend than a child, outside of the Council chambers.

When he remembers the Force whispering inside, Jedi Jedi Jedi Jedi, endure, Jedi...

And then, on one of the missions assigned to both himself and his Master - still the overwhelming majority of his assignments - he and Qui-Gon are separated during a violent uprising.

There are bodies in the streets and buildings are aflame; children weep over the bodies of their parents and parents cradle the bodies of their children and scream as if the sound is their only companion left in the world. The standing government has a point, the rebellion has a point, the civilians caught in the crossfire don’t say which point they agree with because they’re too busy screaming and perishing, and Qui-Gon is simply gone.

Obi-Wan, faced with the threat of further bloodshed right here and right now even as the air is still clogged with ash and flame and as another body topples from a rooftop in front of his feet, raises his hand in surrender and calmly proposes a truce, offering himself as a legal hostage against the government that brought the Jedi here.

Obi-Wan is led away with his hands bound behind his back and his lightsaber taken away, and though his face is calm, the furrow between is brow speaks of his inner turmoil, which sounds like tapping against the cracks in his heart and Qui-Gon, where is Master Qui-Gon, I don’t know what I’m doing, if I fail more people will die, if I fail it will be my fault, is this taking charge or stepping aside, am I a leader or a victim?

He spends not days, not weeks, but three standard months as a hostage. He spends a terrible amount of time sitting in a cell and pondering his uselessness, the gravity of his foolishness, but every time someone opens the door and escorts him out to hold parley with the leaders of the rebellion and the ministry of the planet, he holds his head high, tempers his fear, and speaks to them with all he has.

Which is honesty. Humility.

You don’t know what to do, he says. Neither do I.

We all know we must do something. No matter how much blood you spill and how much earth you scorch you will eventually come back here to this table to have this same discussion until either both of you are broken beyond belief or one of you has been crushed, and half your planet’s voice stolen away. And you will have sacrificed two of the Republic’s Jedi along the way, a black mark against whichever victor is left standing.

Or, he says, we choose to pass over the violence and talk here and now, and choose this again and again and again. You have already had your fighting. Your people are already hoping for negotiation.

Are you here for their sakes or to kill them for show?

He does not use these exact words.

He sews them into his brief speeches, hammers in the point sharply when he must, weaves the common thread over and over again.

He knows they fight while he is locked away.

But he believes, from the growing respect in the eyes of these people who hold him both by his and against his will, that he is making a difference. He must be.

And Obi-Wan is twenty-three, very very nearly twenty-four, when he finally walks free to witness the signing of a treaty like this planet has never had before, to witness the formation of a new government, and he discovers not ashes and mass graves when he sees daylight for the first time in three months — but instead, a city and a planet marred only by scattered battlefields, and marked more clearly by the way its people have fought to keep it clean, to keep it safe.

Children race through the streets, unafraid, because they have had real shelter during the war. It has not entered their homes since that first terrible day.

Neighbors from opposing sides of this fight and friends who staked no claim in this war mingle freely. Their smiles are a little hesitant, but they are there.

The dead are all honored equally.

It is leaps and bounds, it is a civilization that propelled itself through years of struggle in three months, and Obi-Wan is awed by them.

He knows it cannot be this way everywhere.

He knows that there will be wars where no one wants to surrender, or where one side will be so certain of their point of view that they would rather raise hell than cease, and he knows there will be people who resist them.

But today it is real.

Obi-Wan looks at his pale and clammy hands, the marks around his wrists where he was so often bound, and feels the way his limbs shake from months of too little sunlight, not quite enough food, and more than his share of fear and doubt and self-recrimination.

As he smiles for a camera that will record this moment forever, he glimpses Qui-Gon amongst the crowd.

Someone explains to him, when he asks, that his Master had been injured during the uprising and spent the first three weeks of Obi-Wan’s captivity in convalescence. The remaining time, he has spent on the sidelines, forced there by his Padawan’s actions. With Obi-Wan a willing hostage, playing negotiator and leverage both, Qui-Gon had no role except to mingle with the people, offer them comfort and aid.

Something Obi-Wan knows his Master loved, but — he had still stolen his Master’s role.

He had thrown himself into a stupid, foolish situation, and how many times had Qui-Gon teased him about playing damsel in distress? And here he has gone and surrendered of his own accord. What would Qui-Gon have done if Obi-Wan had led them all to ruin?

Obi-Wan slowly loses his confidence, his relief, his silver tongue, as the press and the people recede, and he and his Master walk to a room that has been prepared for both of them, as honored guests by this new government.

Qui-Gon says nothing to him.

They walk in silence for twelve minutes.

And then, as soon as the door has shut behind them, Obi-Wan finds himself pulled into a fierce embrace, one of his Master’s hands buried in his hair, Qui-Gon’s chin resting atop his head.

Obi-Wan hesitates.

Does his Master think him a child?

Perhaps Qui-Gon senses his thoughts, because the man pulls away briefly, still holding his Padawan by the shoulders, as if unwilling to let him go completely, else he vanish like smoke.

“Padawan,” Qui-Gon says, and his voice is loud and strong and brimming with warmth that washes over Obi-Wan like sunlight, like water, like an embrace. “Well done, my Padawan.”

And then he is pulled again into Qui-Gon’s comforting arms, and Obi-Wan breathes in and gives in, folding against his teacher like a child, and if a few tears stain Qui-Gon’s robes or drop into Obi-Wan’s hair, neither of them speaks of it.

Obi-Wan lets his Master hold him, lets go of fear and pride and doubt, and finds that he is safe.

~

[house-of-no-regrets]

No Regrets [in the wee hours]

Took a bit longer than expected, but I’ve finished the next little story! Hopefully I’ll be able to keep a decent pace on these. No overarching plot, just little stories in the same universe with the same characters. Warning for ~*murder*~ in this one!

-------------

I've been all-too-easy to wake up since I was a child; I'd often needed to go from dead asleep to functional, if groggy, as soon as I heard my father demanding action or attention. While I no longer need that reaction time, the old man long since locked up to rot, my brain is set in its ways and very convinced that I need to be able to bolt out of bed and fight God if a dust bunny moves too quickly in my vicinity.

Which is how I found myself waking up in the middle of the night, the sudden shift in the atmosphere bringing on consciousness with all the subtlety of a foghorn.

My room was silent, still, but I knew without opening my eyes that there was a spirit somewhere, and I didn't even give them a chance to speak before I pointed at the sign posted on my wall, barely shifting from my comfortable snuggle in my blanket and not even opening my eyes. Yes, this happens more often than I care to admit. No, I do not enjoy it. At all.

"Resurrection hours are noon to eight. I'm still alive and still need sleep to function."

There was silence, but the presence didn't leave, so I groaned and raised my head, finally opening my eyes to see the translucent, vaguely glowing, and unfortunately blurry spirit at the foot of my bed.

It did finally speak in a bewildered voice.

"Um, I'm being murdered."

Ah, fuck.

I grabbed my glasses from the bedside table and put them on. The spirit at the foot of my bed was tallish -- I've always been bad at estimating height, maybe half a foot shorter than Yvette? Five-nine... ish? -- and seemed to be in his twenties. There was a considerable dark stain on his chest and belly; likely blood, and the cause of his death. The newly-dead tend to show things like that, as they haven't had the time to get used to modifying their form.

I really hate it when brand new ones find me. I'm not sure how it started, but it seems like more and more often, now, the dead are drawn to No Regrets before they even realize they're dead, at least if they're the type to need my help. Wish I wasn't the one who had to break it to him. I'm not great with people.

"Sorry, bro, but I'm afraid they succeeded. Where was it? I'll get the police over there."

"Uhh... my house. I think. It's a little..."

I sighed. Right.

"You're probably a little out of it still... fresh dead usually are. C'mon, I'll take you around until things look familiar."

Climbing out of bed, I headed over to grab my hoodie from the back of the chair. I learned the hard way that sleeping is not a tits out sort of occasion when you're liable to get the dead dropping in at all hours of the night, so I sleep in pajama pants and a tank top. Little too chilly for tank tops outside, though. I shoved my phone in my hoodie and my feet into loafers, then started heading out of my room and down the hall.

"You remember your name?" I asked, trying to make conversation and learn what I could.

"Uh, Davis. Craig? Craig Davis."

"Well, Craig Davis, I'm sorry to hear about your passing. You're gonna need to possess me for this little adventure, by the way, but I'll walk you through it once we're outside."

"I- what?"

Considering how often I find myself lost in normal conversations, dealing with confused new spirits is especially difficult. Still shaking off my body's angry demands for More Sleep was not helping matters in the slightest, either.

"Possession. I'll explain it in just a minute." I rubbed an eye and yawned as I stopped in the foyer to pull a set of keys off one of the hooks on the wall.

Usually, I've got a driver. Not for vanity reasons, but after three or four near-misses caused by Sudden Spirits appearing in the car with me, I elected to hire someone to drive me into and around town as needed. But it was Fuck-This-Shit O'Clock in the morning, and Graves deserved their rest. The dead don't need to sleep, but they can if they so choose -- and it does, after all, conserve energy. The same goes for Yvette and Ashby; it was too early in the morning for most people to be out and searching for a necromancer to kill, so I wasn't gonna disturb them. I could handle a simple spirit chauffeur and 911 call on my own.

The keys were to the motor scooter; it was the better choice in this situation, allowing for more mobility and no passenger seat for any extra ghosts to drop into. That did, though, mean that Craig would need to ride shotgun in my body.

When I got out to the green scooter in the driveway, I paused and looked over at Craig.

"Hey, I know you're probably still a little out of it, so Possession 101." Script time. At least having this stuff memorized made it easier to do while dozy. "Our bodies need to take up the same space, so c'mere." I beckoned Craig over.

"So like… step into you?" He asked. Good, seemed like his head was clearing up some.

"Yeah, that's part 1."

He nodded and complied, crossing the space between us and settling in the same location, the two of us clipped into each other like bugged NPCs. It always felt so weird, those moments before a spirit actually possesses you. A sort of wobbly, in-and-out feeling like physics is trying to crush you and the spirit together, or, failing that, just kick your ass to the ground so you're not both in the same place at the same time.

"A'ight, now turn around and face the direction I’m facing, and overlay your hands onto mine as best you can." It was just a moment for him to obey, and I continued. "I'm not resisting, so you're gonna start feeling like you're being pulled in and pushed out at the same time. Space is trying to equalize. Let yourself be pulled in. It's gonna feel a bit like-"

The whirlpool effect kicked in before I could finish, the sudden snap and release of tension as Craig's spirit sank into my body. I wobbled a bit and grabbed the handlebar in front of me, then shivered at the sudden chill and dizziness. I'm pretty good at taking on passengers like this, but that didn't make it any more pleasant.

"You in there, buddy?" I asked out loud. Especially with new spirits, trying to think at each other was more trouble than it was worth. My lips moved to answer, though it wasn't my voice coming out.

"Uh- yeah. Yeah I'm here."

I grabbed the helmet hanging on the other handlebar and snapped it on, kicking the stand up and plopping heavily onto the seat.

"Great. Let's go."

"Wait, why am I not in control?" came Craig's confused voice. He felt almost frustrated, an undercurrent of emotion that wasn't mine despite being in my mind and body.

"Because this is my body, and I let you in willingly. Easier to keep control when you're letting someone in. Plus," I gave a little snort. "You just died, dude. I've been letting spirits possess me since middle school."

I felt his frustration turn to grumpiness, and then the pressure in my head, like a storm rolling in, that I knew from experience was him trying to take control. I froze and let out an irritated huff.

"You stop that. I'm not dealing with you doing some dumb shit with my body. Either chill out or get out."

"Oh- uh. Just wanted to see if I could…"

"Uh-huh. Anyhow, now that you're together enough to try joyriding, do you remember much about where you were before you were killed?"

I started up the scooter as emotions rolled through my mind, detached and distant, almost like the muffled dissociation I was used to mid-shutdown. Possessing spirits' emotions always felt weird like that, both mine and not mine, held at arm's length. Craig's was especially turbulent for a new death, but given that he had been murdered… I didn't fault him for being a little confused and angry. Even if it did put me a little on edge. 

"Uh- South Pine Street, Dogwood Acres housing development."

"Baller. That's not far from here. Once we get close to your body, you should be able to feel where it is, so I'll have a house number for the police. Don't want to have them scream in all blue lights and loud sirens and have your killer go to ground before they know which house, y'know?"

The muffled flare of anger that I felt was definitely not my own. I took a deep breath, hoped that the killer had panicked and tried to clean up instead of get rid of the body first, and puttered off towards Dogwood.

The housing development was quiet, lines upon lines of identical suburban boxes lit by flickering street lights that cast the sidewalks and yards in harsh white light. The occasional house had the glow of yellow within, but most of them were dormant. Weaving my way through the maze of streets, each one absolutely indistinguishable from the one before and the one to come, I felt terribly exposed -- and alone despite the spirit currently hitching along in my body.

I turned onto South Pine and brought my scooter to a puttering stop, stabilizing it with both feet on the ground. I couldn't help but bounce my legs to replace the vibration of driving; the sudden lack of sensation would ratchet my anxiety up even if I wasn't currently letting a frustrated dead man hang out in my head to catch his murderer.

...I should be more than a little anxious, really, but half-asleep Tabby once again wrote a check that more-awake Tabby is having to cash, and more-awake Tabby is very used to having to deal with the consequences of her idiot decisions. It occurred to me that normal peoples' consequences didn't usually involve murder, but when you live with the dead, you're bound to meet a few killers.

Two houses down, I could feel- not a tug so much as a presence, an echo of Craig's spirit reacting to his body. It was the only one on the street with its lights on and its garage, while not lit, was open. There was a car in the garage, another in the driveway, and a pickup at the curb in front.

"258?" I asked Craig, though I knew the answer already. His anger flared and I felt the oncoming storm again. I snapped at him. "That's two strikes, Craig. I'm sorry for your death, but if you end up driving my body into a crime scene or, god forbid, getting me killed next, I will kick your ass to whatever afterlife you're headed for and stay there to keep kicking it for eternity."

Big words for a short fat lady, but this is, in fact, my body on the line right now. I probably wouldn't be able to follow through on any ass-kicking, but dammit, I would try.

Craig was silent, and I could feel him steaming, petulant like a child denied a toy but with the power of a grown man behind it. With my stomach tying itself in knots and my hands starting to tremble, I dialed 911, hoping it would help quell the rising panic.

"258 South Pine Street. I think there's been a murder. I don't know the state of the crime scene or if the perp is still there, but you might be able to catch them if you hurry. The victim is Craig Davis, white adult male, either shot or stabbed in the chest, likely multiple times-"

"Wait, is this Tabby? The necro girl?"

Oh god I hope that isn't what the operators call me regularly-- I know I'm a bit of a 911 cryptid, since the usual intruder calls are to the non-emergency line, but if I get known as the necro girl I might have to move to a different state.

"Yeah, uh, necromancer, yeah-" I couldn't help but stumble over my words, now, with my train of thought derailed by the interruption. "-uh, murder?"

"Right! I'll send someone."

I murmured a thanks and hung up before she could ask me to stay on the line. I already had to stay around for the cops so Craig could give a statement, and making small talk with the 911 operator was not in the spoons tonight.

I don't like cops much, but in my line of work, they're kind of a necessity. I need to stay on the police force's good side because I need them to remove attempted murderers from my property on the regular. ...and also because graverobbing is still technically illegal, even if I do have the body owner's permission to dig them up.

At least most of the locals who know of me and my employees are chill about it. It took a bit of effort to get to that point, but now at least people don't run screaming from the less-presentable of my employees…

The blue lights of the police showed up fairly quickly, followed almost immediately by the red flashing of EMS. I puttered up slowly and parked my scooter just out of range as the officers set to work surrounding the house, then hung my helmet on a handlebar and walked up the rest of the way to watch the impending train wreck. I could feel Craig's anger boiling higher and tried my best to ignore it; Craig himself seemed to have fallen silent and sullen after I called him out.

"Tabby!"

I was standing just off to the side of the ambulance when someone stepped up behind me and called my name, making me jump and cringe.

"Oh- oh dear, I'm sorry, Tabs. I thought I heard you were the one who called this in!"

I straightened up immediately, face burning. I recognized that voice, bright and smooth and kind and--

"J-Jenna!" My voice was barely a squeak as I turned to face her, looking up at the round, dark face of one of the EMTs. She was a good six feet tall, maybe more, towering above me even in her uniform flats, with a brilliant smile and full lips and gorgeous natural hair pulled through the back of her uniform cap, the streetlight illuminating her from behind like a halogen angel.

Jenna had shown up to one of my early calls for assistance at No Regrets, and then she kept turning up, not every time I was in a situation where I'd be around EMTs, but often.

Concern showed on her face as she leaned to look me over.

"Are you okay? Did you see it happen, or-"

I shook my head, buying time to sort out words by tapping my temple with a finger.

"N-no, I uh- the victim woke me up, he's in here, uh, in case the cops need somethin' from him."

"Oh… are you getting enough sleep, dear? You sound exhausted. Do you want to sit in the back of the truck?"

It took me a second or two to recover from the way she called me dear, my face burning bright red. I couldn't make eye contact even for the second or two I can usually manage so that people don't immediately think I'm being dishonest.

"I- uh- um- w-well, it's, uh, it is like 4am--" I stammered, trying desperately to find words. "I-I guess 'm sleepin' okay, uh, how're… you doing??"

I have never been a great orator and the list of why that is gets a bit longer with every um and stutter.

Jenna's face bloomed into a gorgeous, open grin.

"I'm on 12-hour overnights right now, so I'm basically at least 60 percent Red Bull at any given time. Everyone okay up there at the House? Last I heard y'all were digging up half the lawn.”

I nodded, unable to keep from grinning. At least this was a subject I could talk to her about without making an absolute ass of myself--

"Yeah! The new girl, Chris, she's gotten Daryl and Roy to help her get the vegetable garden going! It's plenty big enough to take care of all of us, and I worked out a deal with the soup kitchen so that they get any of our excess, once things are running smoothly, and I can use their account to buy from that bulk food program that's usually only open to chari- oop-!" I bit my tongue and cringed. Right. I'm pretty sure that's technically fraud and I just admitted to it in front of-

There was a commotion from the house that snapped me back to attention, and the cops were leading a man out in handcuffs. He looked pale and shaken, spattered in blood, and not quite… present, like he had just checked out of reality for his own good. That… was a familiar look. I furrowed my brow. He certainly didn't look like a maniacal killer-

"He caught me with his wife," I said. Well. Craig said. I jumped. Jenna jumped. I flushed and covered my mouth reflexively.

"N-no that was him! The victim!" I squeaked. Jenna laughed, a hearty belly laugh, and covered her own mouth, though she was doing a terrible job of hiding her grin.

"I figured! If he caught you with his wife, it would be an upgrade!"

At this point, you could probably fry an egg on my face. Hell, my glasses were starting to fog up-- I stammered for a few moments, trying desperately to find something to say, and it was Craig who saved me, if you could call it that. I was too caught up in my embarrassment and awkwardness to realize how much anger and frustration he was radiating.

"Motherfucker told me he'd have my job! Son of a bitch thinks he can get away with doing this to me, he's gonna fucking pay--"

The oncoming storm crashed over me before I could get a grip on it, and all of a sudden I was lumbering forward, snarling words that weren't my own, and dragging a gardening pickaxe out of my truck -- Craig's truck -- on my way to the man and the cops--

I let out a shriek, in my own voice, feeling the sound cutting my throat raw. I wrested control of my body back with a lurch, falling on my ass in the yard with the force of it while the silvery-blue form of Craig was ejected from my body, screaming obscenities.

I threw my hand forward, fighting for whatever thoughts and words I could find to fix this. I saw Craig right himself and move back towards me, and the first incantation -- if you could call it that -- that my brain grasped left my lips in a single desperate breath, with a dizzying rush of power--

"INTHENAMEOFTHEMOONIBANISHYOU--!!"

The force of the hurried exorcism rushed outward like a sonic boom, strong enough for even the mundanes around me to feel, and Craig's spirit let out a yowl of rage for a brief second before twisting around itself and collapsing in with a sickening crunch, crushing smaller and smaller until it was gone.

I winced -- not my best exorcism. At all.

As the flare of adrenaline dropped almost immediately and I came back to myself properly, I realized -- blurrily, as my glasses had gotten thrown off somewhere -- at least two officers had their weapons half-drawn at me, though they were looking over at where Craig's spirit had disappeared.

I collapsed the rest of the way onto the grass, shaking, and covered my face with my hands, trying with everything within me not to start crying. I should have realized he'd try something like that, why hadn't I been paying attention- I could have been attacked, I could have been arrested, I could have had to watch myself beat a man to death and I- fuck--

The sob that came out was squeaky and pained, and I pressed my hands harder against my face, like that would stop anything else from going wrong. I should have brought someone-- I shouldn't have let him possess me-- I should have been paying more attention--

Warm tears ran from the corners of my eyes, down my cheeks, to pool in my ears, making my already-trembling body shiver harder with the unpleasant sensation. I'd let myself get complacent, hadn't lost control of a possession like that in years, and- I'd almost- fuck--

"Honey, honey, sit up for me. Tabby? C'mon, let's get you up--"

Numbly, I let Jenna help me into a sitting position, where she wrapped a blanket around me and pressed an open bottle of water into my hands.

"Take slow sips. Are you okay? Just shaken?"

I nodded, some part of me grateful that I couldn't quite see her face properly without my glasses, because I didn't want to see what she thought about me after that. She sighed, though, and sounded relieved when she murmured "Good."

My whole body felt like jelly, trembling so hard I could feel the water in the bottle sloshing around, and I kept flashing from too hot to too cold to too hot again, and I couldn't even sort out my thoughts--

Jenna sat down beside me and rubbed my back. If I wasn't having a complete breakdown, I might have enjoyed it.

I don't know how long it took for me to calm down and clear my head, but the car with the other man had left, and the other EMTs had loaded Craig's body into the ambulance while Jenna sat next to me and made sure I was doing okay.

After a while, though, I blinked and shifted my torso, then opened the blanket more and cursed at the bloom of red on my hoodie.

I heard Jenna curse as well as she stood up, but I grabbed her pants leg.

"N-no, 'm okay," I mumbled, and instead of trying to speak more, I reached to pull my hoodie and tank up my stomach to show bruised, but completely unbroken skin, covered in blood, rivulets following my stretch marks and making it look even worse despite my being otherwise completely uninjured. "See, 'm okay." This was not the first time I've had a possession lead to the dead's cause of death showing on my own body. It wasn't even the bloodiest.

Jenna sat back down, and I could see her leaning in a bit.

"Well damn. Magic ghost stuff, huh?"

I nodded.

"Magic ghost stuff."

I could see the flash of white against dark skin as she grinned.

"So that exorcism… Artemis or Usagi?"

It took me a moment to parse her.question, but all of a sudden I was completely back to myself, just in time to absolutely die of embarrassment.

"L-listen, I- y-you can exorcise i-in anyone's name, i-it's the power and conviction that counts--!!"

"Usagi, then." I could hear the laughter in her voice, laughter that bubbled out moments later. I wanted to crawl in a hole in embarrassment, but- it didn't feel like condescending laughter. I knew what that felt like. She seemed just genuinely amused. "I grew up with Sailor Moon, too."

I couldn't stop the squeak that eaked out, and I covered my face again.

"G-god I hope word about this doesn't get out, people already think I-I'm weird enough, and to- to fall back on anime for magic i-in a pinch is just--"

"Cute," Jenna finished.

I squeaked.

Jenna moved away for a moment, and then she settled my glasses on my nose. I couldn't make eye contact, but I did glance over at her and sheepishly murmur my thanks.

"The officers still want a statement from you, since you made the call and tried to go after the perp, but I don't think they're looking at any charges, given…" Jenna trailed off and looked over at where Craig had disappeared. "...yeah."

I nodded, slowly, and then found myself yawning, the adrenaline drop setting in especially hard.

"...d'you think it can wait 'til tomorrow… 've kinda had a rough night."

"I think they'll be okay with that."

[hawnks]

Party Attire 

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

r18 (mdni)

wordcount: 1,600

my drabble for the valentines day exchange uwu. for @some-kindofgnome hope i did your wants justice. smooch. 

warnings: dom/sub undertones, oral s** (giving & receiving), edging, spit, size kink

.....................................................................

He’d warned you about that skirt. 

In the hall outside the bathroom of the four star restaurant his parents invited you to. Crowding you against the posh wallpaper. Fingers digging into the skin just below your hemline. Admittedly, it was pushing the boundary between business chic and let me get railed on my five break and then meet you back here to talk about the budget requests. A cute, pink pleated number you’d thrifted a few months back. The weather had just turned right to wear it with some knee socks. It was fun and flirty, you thought. A little daring, sure, but not enough to draw any attention that was too salacious.

Katsuki had other opinions. 

“We get home, I’m fucking you so hard you won’t be able to form a coherent thought for days.” 

He made good on his word. And after pampering you a little bit (no thinking required with your boyfriend literally carrying you wherever you needed to go), Katsuki passed his final judgement on your dinner attire. 

“No.”

You put on your best pout, waggling the (now very stained) skirt at him. He slapped your hands out of his face, but you didn’t miss the way his eyes followed the swish of the fabric, or how they fell to the marks he left on your thighs. 

“Throw that shit out,” he groused. 

You know he would never actually dare to tell you what you can and can’t wear. You also know he had a soft (and inexplicable) spot for that particular outfit. So you don’t feel bad about tucking it away for a rainy day -- after a very thorough washing, at least. 

Now seems like the perfect occasion to break it out again. 

Your boyfriend hasn’t been home in three days. The two of you keep up a constant back and forth over text, but you could tell the stress is beginning to wear on him, his responses getting pricklier and shorter the longer he’s away.

Finally, you get the message you’ve been waiting for. Home in ten.

Just enough time to get ready. 

You hear Katsuki pull into the garage. He likes his cars fast and loud, which has never bothered you -- but the sound of the motor cutting out has your heart thundering in your chest. You’re seated on the plush couch in the den. You’re not sure if you should arrange yourself pleasingly or just plant yourself. You try several poses before you hear the front door open and shut, and Katsuki appears in the doorway, peering at you through the dimmed lighting as you struggle with one leg on the floor and one off. 

It’s an uncomfortable position, and you can’t extract yourself without doing a bit of an awkward shimmy, which you suspect is endearing but not exactly seductive. Finally you end up with your legs hugged against your chest, your eyes trailing over to your boyfriend as he watches you, not moved from his spot by the entrance.

He’s in civilian clothing, sweats and a dark t-shirt, both perfectly fitted. It’s the first time he’d changed from his hero uniform in days, and the loungewear feels strange on his skin. Unnatural. 

He leaves his coat on the floor in a heap, forgotten as he finally starts stalking toward you. His expression is bland, impassive -- but you catch a glimpse of interest in his eyes before your gaze darts, landing on his thighs. They’re massive, just like the rest of him. Sometimes you catch yourself watching him on slow days, as he leans over the stove, or grabs something from the top shelf from you, just marveling at the sheer size, the strength of him. It’s like he was designed with you in mind. Like he was made to make you feel small. 

You can feel the divine heat of him as he stops before you, knuckles brushing your chin up until you meet his gaze. “Cute.”

You lean into his touch, and he cups your cheek, thumb petting the soft skin. “Missed you,” you say.

“Oh, yeah?” He stares at you for a second, the arches and slopes of your face. His thumb continues stoking, moving ever so slightly until he’s rubbing your bottom lip, dragging it down until he can see the dark color of the delicate inner skin. His forefinger creeps in, prodding against the soft point of your canine before finding your tongue. He presses down, a gentle pressure, but one that won’t let you ignore it. “Prove it.”

Your tongue presses back against his finger, licking around it, sucking. You do all of this without modesty, groaning when he presses back, gagging when his finger sinks deeper, edging toward your throat. 

Katuski has big hands. You know that -- how could you ever forget that every part of him is a mountain -- but it’s moments like these that remind you just how big. How much bigger than you. How well he can fill you, in any way he chooses.

Your teeth are held open against his knuckle, and strings of drool begin to trail down your cheeks, land on your chest. Katsuki takes all of this, you, in with red eyes hooded, his other hand clenched at his side until he can’t hold himself back any longer.

With one arm he picks you up by the waist and repositions you, laying on your back beneath him as he straddles your midriff. He wipes the spit from his index finger off on your cheek, peering down at you as you let out another low whine.

“Impatient, huh?” he murmurs. At your eager nod, he grins, all teeth. “Guess I gotta show you who’s in charge here.” 

One hand on the arm of the couch, the other cradling your chin, he crawls up your body until his hips are hovering over your face. 

He lets go of you for just long enough to rip down his sweats, cock hard enough to tap his stomach, just from playing with your tongue, then his fingers are back on you, teasing open your mouth. He grits his teeth as you so willingly let him tap himself against your tongue, a dab of precum already budding at the tip. 

You’re caged in by him from all directions, his thick thighs framing your temples, his hand stroking his cock in slow jerks just above your face. You should feel smothered—instead you feel intoxicated, drowned in his and his domination, and your lips continue to part further and further as he teases you, until you’re gaping and he’s grinning down at you. 

“That’s it baby,” he hisses, nudging his cock in (finally in) to the warm cavern of your mouth. 

He’s too big for you to take all of him like this, laying down, his legs splayed over you, but he continues to prod at the back of your tongue, his hips rolling in a firm, shallow rhythm. He edges himself in your mouth, pulling out and letting his cock smack gently against your cheek, smearing precum and your own spit across your skin. 

“Yeah,” he says, voice worn thin, self control fraying. “So goddamn cute.”

Twice more pulls out just before cumming, smearing your face with your combined slick, groaning as his hips jerk against your jaw. 

With a hiss he crawls off you, goes to his knees on the floor. In less than a second he’s manhandled you into the position he wants, hips hung off the couch, your whole body supported by his strong arms. With a wicked growl he flicks your skirt up, then he lowers his face. 

Nothing Katsuki does could ever be considered sloppy. He’s perfect, sometimes maddeningly so. When he’s between your thighs he does things with a brutal finesse, one that you appreciate to the fullest extent. But what’s happening right now can only be described as messy. 

He still knows how to treat you right, the exact pressure to make you buck, the spot inside to stroke with his index and middle finger while his other hand squeezes the meat of your thigh just this side of painful. But all of that is interspersed with split seconds of ravenous mindlessness. There are moments you don’t know what’s happening because it’s all so much, before he pulls you back in with a perfectly timed tweak of your clit, a particularly firm thrust. 

And when he pulls back, just before you reach your peak, once, twice, three times, his praise is gravely and soft, his eyes have that mean glint that you hate love. 

“Too soon, princess?” he says. 

Or, “I told you to be fucking patient.” 

Or, “Look at you, so fucking fucked. Just let me take care of things baby, I got you. Fuck that look on your face. So good for me—“

And when he finally (finally) let’s you cum on his tongue, he’s quick to follow after. You didn’t even know he’d been jerking off while he was eating you out, but you watch him rise up onto his feet, keeled over as he spends right on your pretty pink skirt. 

He takes a moment to just look at it, you, all fucked out, a loopy smile on your face. He doesn’t think about what does it for him, how he likes how delicate you are compared to him, or how sometimes he just wants to fuck you up a little, how the urge lives closer to the surface when he’s stressed. Like today. 

He runs an index finger through the cooling puddle caught in a pleat of your skirt, brings his wet finger up to paint your swollen bottom lip. 

He says, “Was thinking about Italian for dinner tonight.” 

[opheliawillowbrook]

How the Cookie Crumbles

To say his brothers fought would be an understatement: They warred. That. That was the better word. However, it was Dick who was the peacemaker among them. The mediator extraordinaire, translating all his brothers’ woes and misunderstandings into less doom-pending transgressions. But to say this unofficial, yet very necessary part he played was tasking was yet another understatement of unspeakable proportions. It was a FUCKING LOT.

“I swear to God, Drake. You and Brown are a special kind of stupid.”

“Shut up, Damian! It’s a good idea!” Tim grumbled in reply.

“Yeah! You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first!”

Dick’s face fell upon hearing the argument and considered turning the other way, but he’d learned the hard way that his lack of interference could result in bloodshed. Damian did have a history of stabbing Tim, and Robin had an impressive body count, according to Jason. I’d better  make sure he doesn’t add two more.

“Well, fuck me and my  entire life,” Dick droned in frustration. “What are you three bitching about now?”

“Damian keeps saying our idea is stupid,” Stephanie tattled.

“Yeah!” Tim added with crossed arms. “He says we lack the fortitude for good ideas!”

“You do!” the current robin exclaimed.

“Damian?”

The youngest batboy rolled his eyes and reasoned, “Listen, I know these two brain donors barely have two brain cells to rub between them—”

“That’s not the only thing they rub!” Jason called from the other room.

Damian again rolled his eyes in contempt and continued, “And I’ve accepted, as a member of this family, that everyone gets to act a little stupid from time to time. However, as much as I would like to respect their commitment to their shared stupidity, I feel as if they are abusing the privilege and it needs to stop before one of them gets hurt.”

“Wow, he actually cares,” Jason added from still in another room.

“Have you been sitting there listening the whole time?” Dick asked, near facepalm.

“Affirmative,” Jason confirmed, entering from the hall.

“And you did nothing to stop them fighting?”

“It’s funnier this way.”

“Do I always have to be the responsible one?”

“Affirmative,” all four said with little thought.

“Okay then,” Dick sighed with reluctance. “Damian, I know you find it hard to accept the choices of others, but you need to understand that free choice and expression is about accepting that others may not make the same choices as you, and that’s okay. It’s the same as you choosing not to take my dating advice and ask Raven out because you’re afraid of rejection—”

“Shut up, Grayson! This isn’t about me!!!” Damian spat.

“Damian has the hots for Raven?” Jason teased. “You have good taste, Mighty Mouse. She got a great—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Todd!” Dick and Damian ordered in unison.

“I was gonna say personality,” Jason droned. “Get your minds out of the gutter. I mean for fuck’ sake.”

“Sure you were,” Tim replied with a glower.

“Yeah Tim, cause you never stare at her tits while you talk to her,” Jason added, throwing him doubly under the bus.

“Dude, are you trying to get me killed?” Tim said, shooting an elbow into his brother’s ribs as Damian and Stephanie both glared. Spurring Dick into a further mood for murder.

“My point being is, just because you don’t like other peoples’ ideas, doesn’t mean they’re stupid.”

“Tell them the idea, guys!” Jason urged, stirring the pot.

Stephanie and Tim looked at each other and nodded, as though they’d discovered the holy grail itself. “We’re gonna write a series of YA novels and sell them on the web!” Steph sang optimistically.

“Yeah, it’s a huge and diverse market,” Tim added.

“And with established characters, we’ll make a killing.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “That sounds like fanfiction?”

“It sounds like utter bullshit,” Damian sneered, not single fuck given.

“It’s not bullshit,” Tim snapped. “YA novels make up a huge portion of the market. People love those things.”

“Then name one YA novel that has sold more than a manga in the last 10 years?”

Tim shrugged. “I can’t think of one at the top of my head, but there they definitely exist and sell.”

“Yeah, so does my fanfiction based on this family,” Jason added under his breath.

“What?” Everyone asked.

“Nothing. Continue.”

“So anyway, I told Damian it’s a foolproof plan.”

Dick rolled his eyes with a bit of doubt, but who was he to judge or discourage their creativity. I mean, he dropped out of college after all? “I’m not saying I believe it’s bulletproof, because frankly, nothing is. But I’m curious why you would consider telling Damian? I mean, he hates most things.”

“And Drake. I hate Drake.”

“We’re all very aware, Dami,” Dick drawled in annoyance. “But yeah, why would you tell him anything important to you? Especially that?”

“Well, we kinda needed a loan. I knew Bruce would undoubtedly say no and, well, Damian has money.”

“Because I make good business decisions.”

“I don’t know why I thought of asking you?”

“You didn’t, Jason told you to,” Stephanie confessed, recalling an earlier conversation.

“Jason, really?” Dick tsked.

“Hey, Damian does make good business decisions. Who do you think cleans and invests money? It’s certainly not Alfred.”

“Because Alfred would have nothing to do with your blood money, Jason. And Damian, I’m very disappointed in you!”

“Grayson, I don’t know what high horse you are riding on today, but you better come off it. Father told me if I wanted money, that I needed to earn it and that I should get a job. So I got one.”

“Laundering money for Red Hood’s criminal Enterprise is not a job!”

“Actually it is. Mighty Mouse made us an LLC and everything. I own several Wash & Folds, all legitimate! Thanks to Hell Spawn here! I’m actually considering making him a partner.”

“So will your LLC fund our YA Novels?”

“Oh fuck no!”

“Come on, Jay! We have a solid business plan,” Stephanie pleased.

“You’re business plan is a bunch of meaningless numbers written on the back of a napkin and poorly illustrated versions of us,” Damian said, holding up the napkin in question.

“Okay, so it’s not the final draft, but we’re working on it!” Tim said pointedly.

“Yeah, as tempting as this all sounds, I didn’t make my money making half baked business decisions,” Jason reasoned

“No, you made it by taking over Gotham’s drug trade,” Dick clarified with disapproval.

“Which was a solid business decision.”

“Why do I even talk to you?”

“I don’t know why I talk to any of you,” Damian scowled, arms crossed, grateful there was no shared genetics between him and his adoptive kin. “I don’t understand what father saw in any of you.

“I can’t answer that,” Jason replied. “However, I can tell you, from personal experience, what he saw in your mom.”

“Do you wanna die, Todd?”

“Do you wanna not have a job?” Jason wanted. “Also, been there done that. But hey, if I died twice then I’d have buffy status so don’t threaten me with a good time, kid.”

“On that note, I’m leaving,” Damian grimaced. “I have to meet Raven, anyway.”

“Oh,” Dick sang. “You have a date!”

“It’s not a date.”

“Bet you wish it was a date,” Stephanie teased. “Y’know, if you just stopped acting like a dick all the time, I bet she’d go out with you.”

“Shut up, Brown.”

“Oh no,” Dick smiled. “I know it’s hard to believe, but he’s nice to Raven.”

“Hey keep that shit up,” Jason added. “If you’re nice to her, she’d be nice to you!”

“I hate all of you,” Damian proclaimed and stormed away.

“Fuck you too! See you at work Monday! Jason called, earning a tiger middle finger.

“He might be an asshole, but he’s a good kid,” Jason nodded with a sense of pride, causing to Dick to silently scoff. “Still needs to get laid though.”

“Bruce is gonna be so pissed when he finds out you pulled Dami into your bullshit.”

“You’re using Raven’s pet name for him now?” Jason mocked. “And fucker’s gonna have to prove it first; there’s a reason I hired ‘Dami’ for that job.”

“Dude, fuck you; dig your grave,” Dick lamented. “And don’t come at me with one of your tired ass death jokes, they’re getting old.”

“Suit yourself,” the Outlaw glowered as silence set in.

“So Dick,” Tim dared sheepishly. “You, um, wanna invest in--”

“Absolutely not,” the elder hero replied.

Leaving Jason to chuckle. “And that’s the way the cookie crumbled.”

If you enjoyed that feel free to leave me kudos 👉 here on Ao3 lol. If you have any remdom prompts send them my way; maybe I’ll feel inspired 😘

[kusagrasskusa]

Yandere! Itachi X Reader Headcannons

The reader is precieved as a normal civilization rather than a ninja.

ALSO I learned how to do the "read more" thing on my phone and now I'm happy uvu- and to any friends that read this, I'm so sorry but I've never been so dedicated to a fandom in a long time lol. I might make a oneshot later for this, too, and I do, you should see a link under this paragraph somewhere.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🖤 Itachi is a mature and collected person, so I'd think it'd be unlikely for him to just grow obsessed at once. Itachi would have to come across Y/N many times before releasing he's in love.

🖤 The way he'd meet Y/N would be when he'd be scouting an area for a particular enemy. He'd happen to come across her, who interacted with him a little but nothing interesting happened. Overtime, the two would see each other here and there, until eventually everyday.

🖤 When his enemy he was looking for had been eliminated, he said his goodbyes to Y/N before leaving. He expected to move on, but his mind would wonder back to her no matter how hard he tried.

🖤 Eventually, Itachi would see Y/N whenever he had free time. He'd make room in his day to spend hours together; they'd go out to eat, participate in festivals, talk, and more.

🖤 On Y/N's side, it didn't take long before she started to feel romantic interest. Afterall, Itachi was calm, collected, smart, strong, fun to be around, and seemed genuinely interested in her. She was definitely in love before he was.

🖤 Around the time Itachi would visit the Leaf Village to find Naruto, he strangely started to worry a lot about Y/N learning about who he was and fear him. He couldn't help but want to shield her from the truth, and if the people around them learned that the man Y/N was with was wanted, it would end bad for them.

🖤 Itachi was inevitably worrying a little too much about the possibility of her finding out. He went to see her and did his best to distract her from any gossip or drama whatsoever to ensure she'd never hear about the Akatsuki. His time spent with her increased from a few hours to half the day.

🖤 Itachi wouldn't ever want to kidnap or drag people into his life. He hates killing, he hates being "evil", he hates everything about his dark lifestyle. The decision to either abandon someone he began to care for or to take her away was a very hard one.

🖤 Itachi realized something in the process of thinking of a solution. He loved Y/N; he loved her to the point where the thought of her hating or fearing him scared him so badly. Even with Sasuke, the thought of him having him was terrifying but something he could live with.

🖤 It was releasing to learn about his own true feelings. He was desperately in love with Y/N, to the point where she was like air, or food, or water. Like in order to live, she had to be around.

🖤 As word spread about two strange people walking around Konoha and that Orochimaru took the last Uchiha, it was inevitable that Y/N would learn about the info. The next time she saw Itachi, she brought it up to him and expressed her discomfort in the fact that she could be among evil people.

🖤 He was scared. So scared that she would hate him for his lifestyle after finding out about who he really is. So that was it; his mind was made. He took Y/N away that night.

🖤 When word about the Akatsuki in Konoha, he received a lot more looks when he was in public than normal. He'd usually have a normal kimono on and have his hair in a different, though similar, style in order to appear normal. But he knew deep down in his heart that people are bound to start suspecting him of being an Akatsuki. And overhearing someone talk about an S class Uchiha member is what did it.

🖤 "You've been asking about where I live for a whole now. Would you like see my home?" Itachi asked. Y/N happily agreed to go, and sorta expected his home to be outside of her village. But the further she traveled, she grew a bit nervous and wanted to return home (as you would if you were led outside of your village into deep woods)

🖤 Itachi wasn't escorting Y/N alone. Of course, the Akatsuki is bound to learn about that girl Itachi insisted on bringing up in most of his little amounts of conversations. It was obvious he was obsessed with her, as much as he would try to hid it, but he just couldn't get her off his mind. So the night where he choose to bring her home, Kisame was watching the two frkm afar in case something happened.

🖤 Before that day, Itachi had mentioned that he wanted to protect Y/N. Over the three months Itachi spent with Y/N, he had plenty of time to talk about her enough to where the other members basically knew her.

🖤 Itachi actually got a few of the members (ex. Kisame, Deidara) were interested in Y/N as well. How could someone as "heartless" as Itachi Uchiha fall in love, and in such a dramatic way at that? They were sorta curious to see what was so special about her.

🖤 Anyway, you can imagine how Itachi convinced Y/N to go far enough into the woods to go to a small little cottage. Was it part of the Akatsuki hideout? No. Itachi would never trust the Akatsuki members with Y/N alone, and she needs her freedom to walk around a house.

🖤 The inside was sorta minimalistic, but not completely empty. To the far right was a kitchen was a small dining table with two chairs, and on the opposite side was two rooms. In one room was a single bed with a closet in it, and in the other room was a bathroom. Between the kitchen and two rooms was a small living room with a couch, coffee table, and more. There were bored games in a little dresser in the living room, along with a full bookshelf with books of all genres.

🖤 "Care for dinner?" Itachi had asked. He wanted to tell Y/N why she's there over a dinner he made and had prepared in advance. It turns out he was amazing at cooking.

🖤 It wasn't very easy, but Itachi managed to explain his feelings towards Y/N. Of course, Y/N happily excepted and was quick to hug and express her feelings towards him. He returned the hug and spoke about how he loved her very much, however he had so much more to say to her.

🖤 Justifyingly so, Y/N was frozen in shock when Itachi told his story. He killed everyone in his clan aside from his brother, the well-known Uchiha. How he fled his clan after committing the murders and joined an infamous group; The Akatsuki.

🖤 While displaying himself as calm, he was so overwhelmed and scared within his mind. He knew he'd have to tell her why she's staying at the house and why, from now one, she'll never leave. But he was smart enough to know she wouldn't simply except living here out of love. He would have to be a bit manipulative to keep Y/N.

🖤 Y/N was mortified and didn't notice the tears pouring out of her eyes. She fell desperately in love with a murderer. She felt so sick, so scared. She stood up, begging to go home so desperately, trembling over her own words. She was so scared for her life now, and what Itachi's intentions were. Truly, Itachi's heart broke at this.

🖤 "Y/N, darling," Itachi spoke, his words laced with love as she softly grabbed Y/N wrists and leaned close. "I had to take you away. I couldn't let them take you from me."

🖤 He was very delicate with Y/N as he calmed her down, as if she was glass. His heart ached at her pain, but he truly believed it was for the best. In a way it really was; people saw Y/N with the tall raven boy many times in public, and her parents and friends had met him too. Once they find out that boy is the Itachi, Y/N could be killed if they think she was aiding him.

🖤 Itachi did his best to show her around and make her feel comfortable. But no matter what he did, Y/N felt so broken, so empty, so confused. There's no way that sweet Itachi she loves is a killer. He has to be lying.

🖤 Over the course of a few days, Y/N learned to except the fact she's held at that small home. She tried to think on the good side; she could decorate it how she wants, has more freetime, can focus on her hobbies and learn to cook new things, and more! Even if she's never allowed to leave the house, Itachi let's her do basically anything around the home.

🖤 Y/N still loves him. As months go by of being alone for a few days without Itachi, some days with him for a little bit, and some full days with him, she still couldn't help but appreciate him just as much as before. No, she appreciates him more even. She just can't help but love him, and he loves her too.

🖤 Itachi felt much more relaxed around Y/N and tried to spend every second he could with her. He was so shameful of keeping her from her home, but it was for the best wasn't it?

🖤 Most of Itachi's emotions about keeping her was all because he lived her and never wanted to see her with anyone else. But he had always found an excuse as to why it's for the best that she's never with anyone else.

🖤 Kisame had met Y/N a few times. She was never comfortable with him however and was typically holding onto Itachi's sleeve, or leaning on him when he's around. However Kisame would be around when Itachi wasn't sometimes to keep watch.

🖤 As long as Itachi or Kisame was present, Y/N is allowed to go outside and visit close villages other than the one Y/N is from. She would be allowed to buy anything she wanted and could afford from these places, but she had to go home eventually.

🖤 At the end of the day, Y/N had quite a lot of freedom and eventually, she was happy. She was happy to be living with Itachi and was perfectly happy calling him her husband.

🖤 Itachi never wanted a marriage though. He was going blind and he planned to be murdered by his brother and he never dared to make her a young widow. When Izumi had died, he felt so distraught and he knew Y/N is bound to feel the same, but even worse if they got married.

🖤 When Itachi died, as said, Y/N was distraught. No, she was mortified. Absolutely mortified. Even if she was free, she had lost the last person she had a connection with. And she carried that sorrow to her grave.