#but maybe now Slash will let her mother him

[forever-eternal]

More Atlas fanart. This time Chapter 50, with our man LH and Vee!

“Where is my family?”

[ickadori]

++ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔

[summary] your parents have no place in getou’s new world, but you do.

[cws] fem reader. death. murder -> getou is killing your monkey as parents, but it’s not described, just hinted at! yandere vibes but i didn’t lean into it heavy. mentions of getou’s past crimes (village slaughtering/killing his parents). hinted that reader used to like getou. unedited.

“You can’t be here.”

If your body hadn’t locked up in fear, you would have given yourself a pat on the back for keeping your voice so steady despite the panic curdling in your chest at the sight of Getou Suguru standing on your doorstep—your parent’s doorstep.

“I can’t visit my dear old friend? We are friends, aren’t we?” No, you had stopped being friends with him the moment you heard of what he did to his parents—no, not even then, because you couldn’t believe it at first.

“Getou Suguru killed the people of the village, as well as his parents.”

You had balked when Yaga first said those words to you, and then you had spat venom as you vehemently denounced the claim. I mean, it was Getou. He wouldn’t—he couldn’t. Someone had gotten something terribly, terribly wrong. He wasn’t that kind of person, he wasn’t evil.

There had to have been some kind of mishap — an anomaly. Perhaps his technique had failed and one of his curses had turned against him and killed the villagers, and he was powerless to stop it. Or maybe there had been some kind of colluding - it wouldn’t be the first time that the higher-ups pulled a nasty, underhanded tactic for their own hidden agendas.

But then Gojo had come to you with bloodshot eyes and wild hair, and you had known it was true, even though the both of you had desperately wished it wouldn’t.

Even then, with the confirmation that Getou had turned his blade against the people you all had spent your life training to protect, you still hadn’t turned your back on him…until you had seen the state of his childhood home.

The walls, once painted a a soft cream, had been stained a dark red, splatters of blood stretched high up to the ceilings. The pictures on the walls that contained images of a young Geto positioned in between his parents, beaming smiles on all of their faces, had been smashed beyond recognition. The recliner that you vividly remember seeing his father napping in, book laid on his chest and glasses slipping down his nose, had been flipped, the fabric slashed to shreds and the cushion spilling out. His mother’s apron, a gift that you had given her one year for her birthday, had laid in bloody tatters next to it.

You would have thought he hated them with the savage way he had killed them (didn’t he, though? Was this his way of showing you all just how serious he was?), he hadn’t even left behind a piece of bone to properly identify them, and the implication that he had let the curses he hosted consume them had made you sick to your stomach.

That’s when you began to hate Suguru Getou, but even more than that, you began to fear him.

“No, we’re not.” Whatever steel that had been in your voice before was now gone, and the waver in it was clear as your hand tightened on the doorknob. You wanted to slam it close and turn the lock, but what good would that do? He’d get in, and while you were a decent enough sorcerer, him and Gojo had been the real hotshots, you just happened to be entertaining enough for them to let you tag along. He could kill you easily, your parents even easier, and your stomach twists into painful knots as you think to your mother who’s only a few feet away and sitting on the couch, curled into your father’s side as they watch a movie together.

“That hurts my feelings,” he smiles, and instead of the fluttery feeling that it used to give you, it only makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. “I considered you family, y’know—I still do.”

You bristle, eyes narrowing into slits as a wave of anger washes over you, quickly replacing that all-consuming fear. “Is that why you’re here? To kill me just like you did your family? Your parents?”

“My family?” He tilts his head, a look of confusion taking over his features, and you finally notice his new look. He’s garbed in a monks robes, and his hair that had usually been kept tidy and out of the way now flows down his back. A fleeting thought of his attractiveness passes by, and you don’t entertain it. “Oh, those monkeys.” An easy smile graces his lips as he bats his hand in the air, as if shooing away something bothersome. “No, I’m not here to kill you. You actually have a place in this world, unlike…” His eyes make a motion to the side when he hears your mom’s grumbled complaint of the show, and he���s been inside your house enough to know exactly where the couch sits.

“Leave, Getou.” His eyes slide back to yours, that smile still on his face, and the fear from before comes back tenfold at his unspoken intentions. “Now.”

“You don’t have to look so scared,” he laughs lightly, and you jump when you hear your mother call out to you.

“Who’s that at the door, sweetie?” You hear the sound of her shuffling towards you, and your heart lurches up into your throat as you freeze. What do you do? What can you do? Tears well up in your eyes when you come to the realization that whatever you did would be pointless in the end. If he wanted your parents dead, then they’d be dead.

“Please, Suguru.” The floorboard creaks behind you, and his smile widens further at the desperation in your voice. Please don’t hurt them.

“Honey, who are—oh! Getou? I haven’t seen you in ages! How’re you doing, hun? I thought you were still overseas.” Your mother sidles up beside you, a pleased smile on her face as she takes him in. Getou looks to you, clearly wondering when he had gone overseas, and you think back to the lie you had told when your mother kept questioning you about where your ‘handsome little friend had gone’.

“I’ve just gotten back tonight, actually.” He smoothly lies, hands disappearing into the sleeves of his robes, and your heart rate skyrockets as your brain conjures up various scenarios, scenarios in which all end the same exact way. “I missed your daughter so much that I just had to come and see her.”

Your mother swoons.

“H-He’s leaving, actually.”

“I’m not, actually.” He retorts, and your mother throws a glance your way, and you meet her gaze, hoping and praying that she’d realize the gravity of the situation by the look on your face. She’s your mother, she raised you, she knew all your moods, good and bad, surely she should know when something was seriously wrong with—

“Why don’t you come inside then and get out of this cold? You can tell us all about your stay overseas over some tea.”

Nonononono.

“Oh, how kind, I’d love to.”

-

“How are your parents doing, Geto? I haven’t heard from your mother in a while… she missed out on the market’s half off deal last Saturday.”

Dead. He killed them. He killed them and he’s going to kill you, too.

Your stomach gives another lurch, and you press shaking hands in between your thighs and squeeze them together tight. I can call Gojo, you think. He’d get here in seconds thanks to his teleportation, and in a battle of strength between him and Getou, he came out on top every time. Of course, somehow being able to sneak away to grab your phone would be a risk. But you had to try, you couldn’t just keep sitting here and prolonging their death while they chatted about an overseas trip that never happened, and parents that had long been murdered by their own son.

“…find yourself a partner yet, Getou? I’m sure you have, with your good looks and all.” Your father gives his wife a raise of his brow, but otherwise keeps his attention on the television. “Oh, it’s a pity. You know…” Your mother gives you a sly look, and you narrow your eyes at her as you give a firm shake of your head. “I always thought you two had a little spark going on.”

“Mom.”

Getou grins like the chesire cat, and you wonder if he’s always looked this devious and you were just too blinded by…whatever to notice. “I actually haven’t found anyone yet, although I do have someone in mind.”

“Oh.” She jovially laughs, her hand softly batting at your shoulder as she throws you another look, and you couldn’t keep the grimace off your face if you tried. “It wouldn’t happen to be my lovely, sweet, beautiful, hardworking, amazing cook—”

“—I’m not listening to this.” You shoot to your feet, using the excuse of this embarrassment of a conversation to your aid. It’s a good enough reason to make a swift exit —a mother trying desperately to set her daughter up with the man who’s plotting to kill her and her husband— and swift it is, your feet quickly carrying you up the stairs and down the hall.

“—oh, come on, honey! I’m just playing around!”

Your mother’s voice fades out as you push open your bedroom door and immediately lunge for your phone that’s lying on the bed. You grab it with shaking hands, fingers frantically tapping in your password, and your eyes dart between the screen and the hallway.

A silence falls over the house, and you make a choked noise as your mind jumps to the worse. He’s killed them. He finally got tired of playing nice and killed them. Oh God, he’s killed them.

“…just down the hall and to the ri—well, you’ve been here plenty times! You know the way!” A wave of relief washes over you at the sound of your mother’s voice, only for a surge of panic to rise when you realize he’s on his way and you’ve still yet to call Gojo. You’d have to settle for a text, then.

Your fingers fly across the screen as you move to the text chain you have with Gojo, and you begin to type a message. Getou is here please help, quick and to the point. Your thumb moves to send it, only for a blob of something black to suddenly engulf your hand.

You suck in a sharp breath, eyes widening and arm flinging to the side as you try to fling whatever the hell is on you away, and go to release it in a scream, only for a hand to clamp around your mouth from behind, nails painfully digging into the fat of your cheek. There’s a numbingly cold presence at your back, and your ears twitch at the ragged breathing in your ear.

You know before you look down and see the dark, ghoulish hand that it’s a curse, and you gag as the scent of rotting flesh floods your nostrils. The sound of your bedroom door lock clicking into place reaches your ears, and your eyes snap up to see Getou leaning against it, hands clasped in front of him as he looks at you through his lashes, head tilted down so his chin reaches his chest.

“Your mother doesn’t know when to shut up.” He sighs, and then he’s pushing away from the door and sheathing his hands back into his sleeves, eyes slowly taking in your room. “A second longer and you would have gotten that text off. To Satoru, I’m assuming?” The blob that had engulfed your hand plops down to the floor, and you gag again at the sticky liquid that drips from your palm and onto the carpet.

Getou splays out his palm, and then the phone is spat out and up from the curse before landing in his hand. He glances down at the screen and tsks. “I should kill them right now.”

You scream into the curse’s palm, your head frantically shaking wide to side as best it can. The nails dig in deeper, and you moan in pain, your own hands moving to attempt to free yourself, only for the thing’s other hand to snag ahold of your wrists and wrench them behind your back.

“They were supposed to be dead two hours ago, but I figured I’d let you have a few more moments with them for old times sake.” He smiles as he stoops to look at a picture on your bedside table — it’s one that you had taken the winter before Getou had turned into what he was now. You were sandwiched between him and Gojo, a grin on the white haired man’s face as he leaned his elbow on the top of your head. You were in the middle of sending your fist into his stomach (that of which had been blocked by his infinity, you faintly recall) while Getou watched the two of you with a small smile on his face.

It was the last picture that the three of you had taken together, and you had thrown it away countless times, only to later find yourself rooting through the bin as you frantically searched through it.

Your eyes fill with tears once again.

“Those were fun times, yeah?” He comes to a stop in front of you, and the curse that had been restraining you suddenly lets you go. It steps around you, and you watch, frozen, as it takes hurried steps out of your room. You gasp in a breath, your hands flying to his robes as you clench them in your fists.

“I’m begging you,” you croak, the tears freely falling down your cheeks. “Please don’t do this, Suguru. Please don’t hurt them.”

“They have no place in my world.”

“Honey…do you see that? Oh my God, do you see that?”

“Suguru!” You wail.

“But you…” His hands move to cup the sides of your face, and you sob when you hear the first scream. “You do.”

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 6

Part 5

Most of the time, being the son of Batman was a point of pride for Damian. Today, it was an exercise in frustration. Not only had Father deemed him too emotionally compromised to participate in the investigation of his so-called brother. Not only was he benched from patrol until Batman returned from abroad. He also had to continue attending school as if nothing had happened! He could probably teach most of the classes better than the adults! Oh, but ‘socializing with his peers’ was deemed too important to miss out on.

No wonder Damian was in a foul mood when he returned home. It had been the last school day before fall break, and a week ago he had been looking forward to the opportunity to patrol without having to worry about getting up early in the morning. Then that damned apparition had dropped the bombshell that had upended all of Damian’s carefully laid plans. Now half of the family was off chasing leads and he was stuck at home cooling his heels. It wasn’t fair!

After doing his customary check on his pets, he had changed into training gear as soon as possible and was now in the process of running through the latest combat program Father had designed. The flow of dodge-weave-counter-strike was helping him vent his frustration and clear his head. And if the training bots ended up more damaged than usual, well that just served Father right. He wasn’t some hapless child to be grounded!

Spin. Strike. Jump. Slash. He was moving on instinct, letting his training take over. A symphony of violence the background track to his churning thoughts, the questions that had been plaguing him all week.

Brother of blood. What did that mean? A full brother? A half brother? The result of some ill-advised dalliance of his Father? Unlikely. The letter had been addressed to Damian Al Ghul, not Damian Wayne. A deliberate choice of words, most likely. A child of his Mother then. He couldn’t imagine Mother would sully herself with another man’s touch. Even after everything, she still loved Father in her own twisted way. Unless Grandfather had ordered her… Stop it!

Stab. Crouch. Roll. Slice.

Never buried but already mourned. Not a lab grown creation then, to be discarded casually. Mourning meant caring. Love. Did Father know something? The haunted look that had appeared in his eyes spoke of old grief. The same grief that still plagued him when memories of Todd or Damian’s death were close to the surface. But he had never spoken of another child. Would he even bother to tell them?

Strike. Throw. Close distance. Disarm.

Lightning and ice. Defibrillation? Some horror movie style reanimation? Cryofreeze? The entity had meta abilities, could it harness lightning and ice as well? A better son, a more powerful Demon’s Heir… No!

Side-step. Kick. Twist. Leg-sweep.

Strike down the Demon’s Head. Did that mean Grandfather? Or Damian himself if the old man died first? It would be just like Grandfather to arrange for Damian to be killed and replaced by a brother. To get revenge for Damian choosing Batman’s legacy over the League’s while hurting their family in the most intimate way possible. Killed by a brother he should have loved, who should have loved him… Fool!

Damian stopped as the gong sounded to mark the end of the program. Around him, the training bots returned to their starting positions, now significantly worse for wear. A few of them were disabled to the point of uselessness.

Damian sheathed his weapons and forced his breathing to slow as he started his cool down stretches. It wouldn’t do to be careless because of some emotional episode. He was more disciplined than that.

What could Death earn anyway? Death brought nothing but nightmares and pain and torment.

Damian shivered. He didn’t like thinking about his Death.

Shoving the memories firmly aside, he returned his training weapons to their respective places before heading over to the Batcomputer. He needed a distraction. Maybe he should call up Jon and see if he had any plans for fall break. Since Damian was benched he would need something constructive to do with his time. Surely with the two of them working together they would find some kind of criminal enterprise to topple in a Kansas cornfield.

Damian compiled the search strings for any unusual activity in the area and set it to run. Now it was a waiting game to see if anything of note turned up. Leaning back, he idly kicked the console, sending his chair into a lazy spin. If nothing turned up in Kansas, maybe he would widen his search to the surrounding states. If they flew Air Superboy, distance would hardly be an issue. Hell, if Jon was busy maybe he could go visit Richard. Bludhaven was never lacking in crime, and Father wouldn’t be able to complain about a lack of appropriate supervision during patrol. With Drake and Todd having left on a ‘roadtrip’ for at least a day…

Damian stopped his spinning and frowned. Now that he thought about it, it was highly unusual for his two older brothers to have left Gotham together and in their civilian identities. Especially with the Bats already shorthanded due to Father’s absence and Robin’s benching. He had been too distracted by the upcoming school day to make the connection when his brothers had mentioned their plans at breakfast that morning. And Drake had been investigating League activity… Damian’s fingers flew across the keyboard, bypassing Drake’s security protocols with ease. If his brother had uncovered a League connection he had a right to know!

What he found among Drake’s recent search history was not what he expected. Some crackpot scientists from Illinois? That’s what had drawn his attention? Certainly, the older Robin had flagged some suspicious transactions and marked the Fentons as potential threats based on their inventions, but there were heroes closer to Amity Park that they could have foisted the investigation off on.

Damian drummed his fingers against his armrest. Something wasn’t adding up here. Pulling up everything he could find about the Fenton parents, he started looking through medical records, school records, articles… Suddenly, Damian’s heart slammed against his ribs. There, on the cover of a two year old magazine, was the face that had haunted him all week. With trembling fingers, he zoomed in on the image. It only took a few minutes to alter the hair and eye colour. It was unmistakably him. The boy who bore an uncanny resemblance to Damian himself, if slightly older and paler.

Swallowing hard, Damian scrolled through the magazine’s online archive to find the article mentioned on the title page. An almost extinct gorilla species. A chance discovery by then fourteen year old Daniel Fenton.

“Daniel,” Damian rolled the name around his mouth. A fairly common Western name. “Daniel. Danyal?” If he was Talia’s son, surely she would have used the Arabic version… no! He was jumping to conclusions!

Now having a name to go on, Damian dug deeper than Drake had bothered to. The birth certificate named a small town in Utah, but there were no records of a hospital admission. A home birth? There were no records of the Fentons having a residence in that state. No medical records of prenatal care either, though there were for the birth of the older sibling. Had the pregnancy gone unnoticed? Possible, if unlikely. There had been a vehicle registration for a motorhome during that time period though. Had the Fentons been living on the road when their son was born? Or had they acquired the child some other way? If he was an Al Ghul who would have spirited him away to the USA?

The Fentons had settled down in Amity Park about six months after Daniel’s birth, purchasing the residence they apparently used to this day. From there, his records were fairly standard and unremarkable, though there were a higher than average number of doctor’s visits for minor household accidents. Not enough to get flagged by CPS, but certainly worrying if potential mad science was involved. Daniel’s school records showed average grades, with higher scores in Maths and Science. At age fourteen however, his academic performance took a sharp dip, with an uneven performance on tests and numerous unexcused absences. His teachers noted frequent inattentiveness in class or Daniel outright falling asleep. Someone had submitted reports of bullying and suspicious bruises, but the case was dropped and never followed up on. His grades had evened out since then, but the unexcused absences persisted.

Damian knew enough about the trials and tribulations of teenage superheroics to recognize a pattern. And it certainly looked like Daniel fit the bill. If he had acquired meta abilities two years ago it probably took some time to get a handle on them and find a balance between his legal and illegal activities.

Damian steepled his fingers together. There was only so much his digital investigation could reveal. It was time for some fieldwork.

Part 7

[peachdues]

And a fluff thought stemming from bundle of joy just some years after

All I'm cracking up at is this big scary wind hashira, terrifies the lower ranked slayers. Middle of training when they break for lunch, Y/N coming by with their now toddler daughter. Watch the slayers head spin when this lil girl is absolutely delighted to see her dad, running to hug his leg squealing

No, because this has sent me into a spiral.

Imagine Sanemi has the lower-ranked slayers nearly passing out from how brutal his training is, but they're also too scared to actually stop because they know it will just make their day a thousand times worse.

Sanemi is in the middle of laying into one of them because his form was wrongwrongwrong and how can he possibly expect to cut a demon's head off if he can't even hold a fucking sword, when they're interrupted by a shriek of laughter and joy from across the training grounds.

At first, the group of trainees see the Lunar Hashira crossing the dirt towards them, and they think, oh thank god, she's here to save us from Shinazugawa's wrath, she's going to help, thank god, thank god.

But instead she stops, and she's not looking at them, she's looking at the Wind Pillar and the Wind Pillar alone (like hello?? they're here too?? damn), and he stops the entire training session.

Suddenly, a small, white-haired, pink-cheeked miniature human peeks out from behind the Lunar Pillar's leg. She takes one look at the scarred menace who is low-key torturing this poor group of slayers, and she lets out the loudest little shriek of delight and begins toddling towards Shinazugawa as fast as her little chubby legs can carry her because she just learned to walk and now nothing can stop her.

And Shinazugawa smiles, and not in his signature sadistic manner that makes his trainees nearly wet themselves, but he has an actual genuine smile on that scarred face of his. Then, he does something even creepier -- he laughs.

He squats down and opens his arms as this little ball of pudge and snowy hair waddles to him, and he scoops her up and puts her on his shoulders while she claps her little hands together, laughing.

Sanemi then turns back to the group and for half a second, they think maybe Shinazugawa is in a good enough mood to dismiss them for the day because he can't possibly want his little angel to see him all scary and mean and angry, right?

Sanemi does decide he's done with training for the day -- but they're not. Instead, the Lunar Hashira -- his wife -- is stepping in to run them on defensive drills. Most of them haven't trained under the Lunar Hashira, so they breathe a sigh of relief, because surely, surely her training cannot be anywhere near as life-threatening as Shinazugawa's.

The Lunar Hashira looks so kind, so gentle, as she unsheathes her actual fucking weapon and begins using her breathing forms on them (because it's a mostly defensive-style of fighting, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have some very fast, very brutal offensive techniques saved for when she needs them). The slayers are forced to run, to contort their bodies into unimaginable shapes in a desperate attempt to dodge her crescent-shaped attacks. By the time the sun sets, several of them have thrown up, and a couple of them have passed out.

Meanwhile, Sanemi stands off to the sidelines, daughter still balanced on his shoulders, as she oohs and ahhs the display of lights and shapes unfolding before her. She squeals in delight every time her mama makes another pretty crescent moon and is so entranced by the dazzling show before her that she can't hear the screams of the slayers trying desperately avoid getting slashed to pieces.

And Sanemi has never been happier in his entire life.

Sanemi's proudest moment is when his daughter, who just hit speaking age, loudly says "fuck!" in her little, cute voice when she drops her piece of ohagi in the dirt outside their estate one afternoon. Too bad she also said it in front of her mother, and suddenly Sanemi's proudest moment also becomes the moment he learns what true fear is.

[dwindlinghaze]

reader pretending she (or they) doesn’t love peter back when he confesses because she is scared to lose him as a friend if they break up so after some angst and pining and avoiding feelings they end up together? ty!

main thing

(peter parker x reader)

summary : you're scared of losing peter as a friend by being more than friends with him.

contents : fluff, small angst ig, she they pronouns used!!! kind of short and rushed im so sorry but i love this concept a lot so thank you anon !!! 🫧🫧

a/n : im back!!!!! im really sorry if my writting is messy and stuff cuz i haven't been writing fics for months noww,, anyway i hope u like it 🫧☃️☁️ and a little rant here um i have this exact situation with a girl- i like her a lot and i knew she liked me back but i also happened to know that if we were to be together it will not last very long so we just ignore whatever is there between us. but don't worry lovelies r and peter's ending won't be like mine <3

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

the hallway between classes were so full. crowded by students walking in eight cardinal directions. your head felt dizzy, it's like you're seeing everything underwater. your steps came to a halt when you were met with a row of lockers. palm against the cold metal as you gain back your stability.

peter must've seen you from the other side of the hall. frowning as he took in your state.

he walked over to you, cautiously. "you okay?"

you looked up to meet his eyes, immediately closing them back when the ceiling light hit your vision. "not feeling well."

peter placed his left palm over your cheek, rubbing them softly to soothe you. he didn't know if it helped but he smiled nevertheless when you nuzzled your face further into his hand.

you wanted peter to give you a hug, maybe his shoulder can be a good resting spot for your heavy head and his warmth can relax your muscles.

and of course. peter did. without you even asking.

"wanna go to the infirmary?" he asked softly, rubbing the side of your head as you completely lose all energy, so now he's the one that held you standing.

"mmh," you replied, not having the energy to form real words.

"alright then let's go," peter started to pull away but stopped midway when he felt you struggling.

"pete, i'm sorry i can't, i have to lay down," you whispered. so soft and low. if he weren't that close to you, he wouldn't hear it.

"that's alright, just slow steps," he encouraged.

he missed his class but he didn't care. he just wanted to be there with you. showing his affection because of his new slash old found love he has for you.

your migraine has not subsided at all the following day. you decided, for good, to skip class. there's no point in going to school when you're sick anyway right? you'll have ended up in a worse condition by the end of the day.

peter was searching for you left and right, he knew you were sick and he is worried sick about your whereabouts. he called you several times already but you never picked up.

when school finally finished, which for him was the longest six hours of his life, he immediately went to your house.

your mother was the one greeting him, saying that you're resting in the comfort of your bed. he went upstairs, after getting your mom's permission, and knocked on your door softly. "hey, it's me peter, can i come in?"

you gave him a very soft hum, thanks to his advanced hearing he can hear you just well.

you were lying on your bed, covered in tons of blankets. peter felt warmth rushing through his chest, seeing you like this. he approached you slowly and kneeled beside your bed.

"how are you feeling?" he asked ever so gently, hand on your shoulder with the blanket in between.

you peeked an eye open, your room was dimly lit, only your vanity lights were on. "better than yesterday," you answered, pushing yourself up slowly. "the migraine is not as bad as yesterday, my head is hurting- just a little."

"oh okay," peter replied. "do you need anything? i can bring you food or drink or water? do you need painkillers?"

you smiled, reaching for his hand, "i'm fine pete, just cold. can you turn up the ac please?"

peter did just that, jumping to his feet to take the remote.

after that you fell into a deep sleep again. peter was there the whole time. he was thinking about... stuff. stuff he wants to tell you.

he sat on your bed right beside your blanketed legs, his hands over them. he looked at you, your sleepy face, perfect hair, soft cheeks. you are his friend. best friend in the whole world. no one understands him like you did. just a few months ago he realised that his feelings may have grown.

it's not just a friendship kind of love but a lover kind of love.

he recalled the amount of time he had cried on your arms. laughed together with you. talk about embarrassing things he had done and had regretted. nobody knows him like you do. and peter would not let anybody know him like you do.

you're the only person that he can be vulnerable with. the only one that he can just be himself even if it's not the best. the only one he trusts.

"what are you thinking over there?" your voice pulled him out of his thoughts. he gave you a smile and you gave peter space for him to lie down.

"just thinking about thoughts... ?" peter answered but it's more like a question.

"thoughts about?"

"nothing."

"you know you can always tell me anything right? no matter what it is," you assured the boy.

"yeah..."

"so...?"

"you're sick right now, you should be resting," he said instead.

you sat up, stretching your muscles as you scrunched up your face. "i feel a whole lot better now... hey do you want some meal and we'll talk about whatever you are thinking about? cause by the look of your face, it's something that has been bothering you hm?."

peter thought about it for a while, but he really didn't have to. it was about time for him to tell you how he feels. he just hoped that you feel the same way.

your mom brought the two of you dinner to your room, you thanked her before she left and urged peter to eat. "pete?"

"yeah," he cleared his throat, "um i don't really know how to start this."

"it's okay, you can take as much time as you want, i'll be here," you said as you take a spoonful of the dinner.

that's also another thing about you that made his feelings even more clear. you never pushed him. always waiting for him to be ready.

"i like someone," he started. you stopped what you were doing and turn your focus fully on him. your heart felt like it has been crushed. "i know we never talk about y'know- this kind of stuff together but the thing is, i like her so much maybe i even love her, i don't know yet though cause i don't really know how love feels- but i sure do like her a lot."

"and does she know this?"

"no... but she knows now" peter answered, hoping that you'd get what he meant.

"what do you mean?"

peter sighed looking down at his lap, "well she's my best friend. my only friend actually. i really really want to be more than friends with them because she is everything to me. i smile every morning because i know i will see them later that day. i spent most of my time thinking about the two of us together. and you know just how worried i was when they didn't go to school because she was sick."

"peter-" you warned him.

"y/n, listen to me-"

"peter please don't," you whispered. you thought you would be jumping and giggling if peter ever confessed to you but instead it's the complete opposite. you don't want this. you can't have this no matter how much of you wanted him.

peter's eyes were brimming with emotion, shiny tears fighting their way not to roll down. "you don't feel the same do you?"

you wanted to say yes. yes you feel the same, you like him so much and that's what you're so worried about. "peter it's not that easy. we- we can't," you shook your head.

peter's brows knitted together, he was bitting the insides of his lower lip. "that's ok. i'll just go home now. i'm sorry for making things weird yeah? just forget everything i said. tomorrow is a new day." he forced a smile before he is out the door.

just like what peter has said 'tomorrow is a new day' so you acted like yesterday never happened. you walked into school, seeing peter by his locker. you smiled at him. "morning!"

"morning, y/n," peter said back, voice cracking.

"let's go to class," you suggested.

through out the day everything was just like how it used to be. you still sit besides each other. still eat lunch together. everything was the same... except that peter can't look at you for more than three seconds and you two don't talk as much anymore.

peter still walked you home, though there is no goodbye hug.

you wondered if you had made the wrong decision. what if you just accept your feelings and let peter in? but the thoughts of ever, god forbid, breaking up with him is what makes you back away from accepting his love.

you love peter so much. more than you can ever say. in a world of boys he's a gentleman. he proved so today. even after getting rejected and having his own heart torn into pieces, he still walked you home.

the next day though, peter seemed to be avoiding you.

you tried to come to him several times but he just gives you short replies. you couldn't blame him. he has every right to do so.

it has been two weeks since. you missed your peter so much. you missed his cheeky smile. his science jokes. his laugh that never fails to make you smile.

sure you can live without peter parker, but would it be as exciting? would you let the only person that knows you best slipped away like that just because you pretend to not return his feelings?

it was such an emotional rollercoaster. on one hand you want to wake up beside peter, but on the other you worried that he'll realize that he's better alone so you'd break up. you want to cuddle up next to him, but you fear he'll get sick of you and break up.

why does every intimate thought of him always ends up with breaking up?

you tried to bottle up your feeling until you can't anymore. so here you are now, knocking at his door.

he opened up, looking as tired as one can be. now that you really look at him, you notice his beautiful freckles that doted all over his nose and cheeks, his smile lines around his eyes, his pretty eyes that you love so much. even in his exhausted state he still looked so- so perfect.

"y/n? what're you doing here?" peter spoke.

"i want to talk to you." you mumbled, looking down at the pavement.

peter was silent. complete silence.

"i want to tell you that i do like you too, peter. i was just being dumb because you're my best friend for years and if we ever get together, what will happen when we break up? i don't want to lose you. so by pushing my feelings aside i can just continue like nothing happened... but i can't stop thinking about how i have hurt you. i completely denied and hurt your feelings and i can't forgive myself for that."

peter put a warm hand over your shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth.

"it's fine. if you don't want this then we don't have to." he said.

"but i want this."

"you do?"

"yes but-," you took a deep breath, "but what if we broke up?"

peter shook his head at that, "we haven't even got together yet and you're thinking of breaking up?"

"it's not funny."

"y/n look at me, i love you. i will not let that happen. and if you really think about it, what is there to be the reason of our break up?"

"i don't know something might come up."

"we know everything about each other, we understand each other. if there's something, i'm so so sure we can work it out," peter placed a hand on your cheek, forehead touching.

"really think so?"

"of course," he replied. "i'm also sorry for saying that so suddenly. i should've known better."

"it's okay peter, we're here."

"yeah we are, and we are not leaving each other yeah?"

"promise," you said.

[ultralightpoe]

The Great War - Aemond Targaryen

The Great War - Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: I AM SO HAPPY ABOUT SPEAK NOW! YES!

Warnings: death, cheating, a dragon is killed

Word Count: 2841

The MIDNIGHTS event! (Take a look if you love Taylor Swift) and the upcoming SOUR event (requests for that one are still open so send em in!

Enjoy!

My knuckles were bruised like violets

Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked

Spineless in my tomb of silence

Tore your banners down, took the battle underground

And maybe it was ego swinging

Maybe it was her

Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur

It was funny how much one's life could change within moments. You had never thought you would be here, there had been a time where you absolutely refused the thought of hurting your family or your husband, let alone fighting in a war you had been a pawn to stop in the first place. 

And yet, here you were. 

Covered in blood, head to toe, your hair matted and greased in the braid not that anything but bloodstains really showed. Your armor was black, like your father's armor had been, and the banner you stood by was that of blood red. 

There was apart of your mind that screamed for you to stop, to find a way for peace, just as your grandfather requested. But you pushed that thought away as your sword tore across a mans stomach, slashing into his guts and tearing the green banner from his hands. 

This battlefield was yours now. 

“How lovely of you to join me, dear husband.” You laugh, moving up to where he was hidden, ready to jump out and scare you. 

“You take all my fun, wife.” 

“Not all of it, I am sure.” There is a flash of something on his face that you don’t recognize for a moment, both of you just standing there and staring at each other. You debate if he knew someone had told you, and he must be here to explain himself. 

He had to have known the Queen of Whispers sent you a raven on his whereabouts, everything about his affair with Alys Rivers, and your heart began speeding up. 

You would tell him it was fine, if he asked. You would not be mad. Your mother had made you swear to this marriage for peace in the realm, a realm she would be queen of within days. You could not lose it now. 

But he doesn’t confront you, instead he walks up smoothly and places his lips upon yours in the softest of kisses before pulling your forehead to his own and rubbing your cheeks with his thumbs. “How about a dragon ride today? Hmm?”

“I was actually wishing to sit with my grandfather- since he is sick I think it necessary to-” His lips are on yours before you can finish your sentence, allowing yourself to melt into his touch some more. The rumors about Alys couldn’t be true, not when he loved you so….. “A dragon ride sounds lovely.”

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, sweet dream was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, tears on the letter

I vowed not to cry anymore

If we survived the Great War

He could sense you on the battlefield. As he always sensed when you were near before this. 

It had been an odd trait of his, always knowing where you were lurking and following. Where most people ignored you like a shadow he couldn’t help but see you. You had been his light. 

“I want that Targaryen bitches head!!” A shout behind him has him whirling with his sword until it’s pressed on the man's throat, the sharpness of the blade slicing his neck until blood leaks down his neck. 

“She. Is. Mine.” The man nods , gasping when the blade is taken away as Aemond turns back to the battlefield. 

“She’s announced she wants your head…” Another soldier murmurs, watching your army hit another barrier of his people. 

You want me so badly, wife? Come and get me.

The throne room looked dull and empty, the sunlight barely peeking through what windows were not covered as Aemond stares at the floor before him. 

The guilt was something he never expected. 

It’s not like he wanted to marry you, it had simply been for peace amongst the family, and he already had a relationship with Alys Rivers long before you swore yourself to him. So why shouldn’t he get to keep his love?

So he spent some nights with his mistress and some with you. Only the more time he spent with you the more he craved your presence. It was beginning to wear into his soul. 

And now he stood in the very same throne room he married you in, after spending a night in his mistresses sheets, talking about putting his brother on the throne and betraying the very thing your marriage stood for. The peace treaty. 

“Has it happened?” Alicent asks, a sob raking her body as she turns to the others.  Aemonds own throat tightened up before he felt it. Like a needle entering the small of his spine, hitting the nerves all the way up to his neck, you were close. 

“They killed the beast this morning…” The dragonkeeper murmurs, and Aemond feels like puking. Your dragon, your charming beast had been taken out so you would have no chance of escape, no chance to get back to your mother. 

“Aegon is being bathed right now. And Rhaenys is still deciding in her chambers, though I still think we need to-” Otto begins only for Alicent to scream. 

“WE’VE ALREADY KILLED ONE DRAGON TODAY, THERE WILL BE NO MORE DEATH!”

There is a gasp from the doors and everyone's heads whip around to them, before he can stop himself Aemond is rushing to get to them. But there is nothing there when he opens them. 

You drew up some good faith treaties

I drew curtains closed, drank my poison all alone

You said I have to trust more freely

But diesel is desire, you were playin' with fire

And maybe it's the past that's talkin'

Screamin' from the crypt

Tellin' me to punish you for things you never did

So I justified it

You think on your grandfather kissing your head the day of your wedding, the heavy veil weighing your head down as you tried not to cry when he whispered a thank you for your sacrifice. Then you thought of your first night with your husband, scared and lonely, wishing you had family when he offered to play chess. 

Oh how you had loved him throughout your marriage, and now….you were gutting anyone who got between you and him on the battlefield. You would make him regret ever crossing your family. 

They forgot Rhaenys, or maybe they didn’t forget her but they thought you would never find out until she had already sided with them. 

You were running through the halls so quickly that your slippers fell off and by the time you got to your great aunts rooms you had a thick layer of sweat covering your body as well as tears. You had sobbed to her as you broke the door down, falling into her when the wood gave out and allowing her to cradle you for a moment before she rushed you to stand again. 

You had no dragon and hers was locked up, so you had to concentrate on what to do next. 

All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the bombs were close and

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, the burning embers

I vowed not to fight anymore

If we survived the Great War

He finally sees you from a distance, swinging his sword at a giant coming for him smoothly as he scans you for injuries. A vision covered in blood, your eyes narrowing in on him the second he smiles at you. 

His heart begins to beat through his chest as you step towards him, one step first slowly followed by another before you full blown charge at him. His breath catches as he watches, hand tightening on the sword and his feet preparing for the blow, and for the smallest moment he thinks of letting you kill him. 

Letting you get your vengeance. 

If you had killed his dragon and betrayed his family isn’t that what he would want himself?

“We need to go Aemond.” Otto Hightower snaps, following his grandson through the halls of the keep, a fuming look on his face as he does so .

But Aemond refused to listen, no, he needed to find you before anyone else did. He had to be the one to tell you of what his family had done. The only problem being that no one had seen you. 

Not your maids or your ladies in waiting, not even the castle maids. 

When he tears through your shared apartments he doesn’t see you and the anxiety rising in his chest begins to take over. You knew. You had to have known.

That’s when he sees it, the small parcel you had hidden under a vase of flowers beside your side of the bed. Just the corner had been peeking out and when he tugs on it he finds a letter written to you by the Queen of Whispers. 

There is a cracking feeling in his chest that rises up his neck and into his ears, and all he can see is red.  “Y/N!”

It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

Your finger on my hair pin triggers

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

I really thought I lost you

By the time he is within arms reach you are swinging your sword as hard as you can, his own steel hitting yours with a crash before you both draw back and start again. It’s like a dance between you two, one that you haven’t done in years but feels so exhilarating all the same. 

One turn and you slice his arm, only to have him slice your thigh, so you duck and swing upwards. He dodges back and the tip of your sword hits the very tip of his nostril. 

A moment of pride fills you when he takes in a deep breath, pulling your sword in and getting into the proper stance. 

“Is that all you got?” He laughs and you find yourself smirking. 

“I was just getting started.”

“You know, I remember the first night I had you…. You had been so scared I was sure you’d sob the entire-” He knew what he was doing, that much was evident when he blocked your blow with a smirk and retaliated just as quickly. 

Your knees wobble when the force of it sends you back, but you grit your teeth and grab his wrist before he can pull away, trying to wrestle his sword free as he uses his body strength to throw you. 

“There are many people here…” You murmur, ducking behind your veil as your new husband leads you to the dance floor, your hand gripping his own so tightly you feel as though you might break the bones that lie underneath. “I might fall or-”

“Do you not trust that I would keep you upright, my dear ni-wife?”

“You haven’t given me a reason to trust-”

“Then today I shall.” He whispers in your ear before getting ready to start the dance. And you follow his lead, the nerves making you hesitate every step of the way, but soon enough you found your way with Aemond and it no longer mattered who was watching. 

He lifted you and spun you around, a smile on his face that many people gawked at. It was a well deserved smile. 

We can plant a memory garden

Say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

And we will never go back

He has you pinned to the mud below and a snarl written on his face, his back screaming at the amount of pressure he has put on it today but the feeling of satisfaction at you being stuck was far too big to give up now. 

“We can forget this, you and I, just say the words and I’ll let this fit go.” He warns, applying a bit of pressure on your neck to cut off circulation. “By morning you can be on my side and I’ll have maids wash that blood out of your pretty hair. You can be my wife again.”

Something in him is begging you to take the deal, please please please. Please don’t leave me, please don’t make me do this….

He wondered for a moment if you would, seeing the tears well up in your eyes as you struggled to free yourself from his grip. If you would just listen, let him make this right without any of your blood being spilt, he would. 

He would swear himself to you over and over if you gave him another chance. 

The first night he knows he has feelings for you is the first night he turned down Alys, stopping her fingers from touching his pants as he mumbled out an excuse, forehead resting on her shoulder as he pictured your disappointed face. 

He never wished to see that face, and by the time he leaves Alys’ hut he would be sure he never would. 

“It’s been weeks of this Aemond,” She snaps, pulling into herself as he reaches for his leather tunic. “You said you married her to make your father happy, a death wish.”

“I did.”

“Then what is this-”

“I DON’T KNOW!” He screams, whirling on her. In truth he didn’t know what was happening, all he knew was you were left there, in the halls of the red keep as he was out there betraying you. 

You had made a vow and kept to it, why couldn’t he?

“I thought you hated basta-” Alys begins her sentence with tears in her eyes before he is upon her, blue eye sparkling in the candlelight. 

“Maybe you cursed me then.” It’s a spit in the face, the nail in the coffin as she reaches to slap him. The sound echoes across the room as his head snaps to the side, his cheek stinging from the pain and it takes everything in him not to retaliate. 

He had to get to you, none of this mattered anymore. 

To that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, the worst was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War

Always remember

Uh-huh, we're burned for better

I vowed I would always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War

If you agreed he would fly you away to a remote island, just the two of you. He would find you another dragon egg and grow you a garden. Nothing would ever harm you again. 

He sent a quick prayer up to the gods for this before a sharp feeling is sliding between his ribcage, the cold of your dagger meeting his skin like a cool kiss on a heat ragged day. 

He doesn’t really comprehend it, just grunts out in pain and loosens his hold on you to lean back, his hands flying up to see what damage had been done. 

“nO.” He gasps out, eyes flying to where you are in the mud. 

If he was scared in this moment he had no clue what you were, eyes wild as you sob, your chest rising and falling with every short breath you take. 

“KILL HER!” Someone calls, and for a second all Aemond can think to do is crawl to you. Ignoring the pain in his side as he removes his bloody hands from it, he makes his way to you, bringing one hand up to your cheek as an arrow marks through you. 

Your body shudders as it pierces from your back to your stomach, sliding right into Aemonds own stomach where he has wrapped his body around yours. If death was to greet him today then he would be sure not to be separated from you. 

Soldiers charged in at once and you let out a couple more sobs, and he found himself whispering in your ear “Just a second of pain, and we’ll be free.”

Uh-huh

Uh-huh

I would always be yours

'Cause we survived the Great War

Uh-huh

I vowed I would always be yours

Alicent buries you both together, a black veil over her head, her hands bound by rope with Cregan Stark keeping her close. 

This would be her final day outside, for the rest of her days would be in a tower, no freedom and no allies. 

She yearns for her children, and she yearns for her dear old friend, looking at the grass growing from the burnt earth surrounding your grave. 

Yes, she thinks while allowing the tears to fall, you both would be together after the war.

[luna-naoffcial]

Criminal Love

—PART FIVE

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! Reader

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

PART ONE | PART FOUR | PART SIX |

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

19 years old

Since you and Paul became official, you have noticed that you have been spending less time with Alastor. You couldn't help but notice that he is hardly home whenever you visit, and his mother always apologizes with a sad smile. "Hey, hey, my (h/c) bestie!"

Elizabeth grinned after meeting you at the diner. "Lizzy poo," you cooed, going to squish her cheek. She shooed it away. "Urgh. No touching the face." She groaned, causing you to chuckle. Alastor was enjoying his leisurely stroll after taking some time for himself during his lunch break. A few weeks ago, he had been fortunate enough to secure a position at the radio station.. His long-cherished dream was finally coming true, almost. There was just one thing missing, and that was your presence by his side. However, the sound of a familiar laugh captured his attention, causing him to stop abruptly outside the diner.

He peered through the window and saw you sitting with your friend Elizabeth. A gentle smile graced the new radio host's face as he observed your serene and content expression. As he was about to extend a greeting, he observed Paul taking a seat next to you, drawing you into an unpleasant make out session to witness in front of everyone causing the brunette man to narrow his eyes and growled menacingly. He couldn't dare watch this waste of space man suck on his best friend's face, which is why Alastor had been avoiding you, Paul was practically glued to your hip.

With one last glance, Alastor walked away, not taking the pain no more. Instead, he found a new sense of thrill in his hobby. During an evening stroll to clear his mind. Alastor unexpectedly encountered a distressing situation when he heard a piercing scream emanating from a nearby alleyway. Curious Alastor investigated the situation upon noticing a male individual on top, forcing himself on a defenceless woman being overpowered by this drunken excuse of a man.

Alastor was about to walk away when he reconsidered. He thought about what if this happened to you. This thought ignited a surge of anger within him, causing him to stride over and forcefully remove the intoxicated individual from the woman. "Run," Alastor commanded. The woman, still shaken and tearful from the ordeal, expressed her gratitude before hurriedly departing. "What the fuck your problem?" The individual rose abruptly, their countenance reflecting a state of heightened agitation. "Preying on a woman without their consent, why I think that's very ungentlemanly like don't you think?"

The intoxicated individual squinted his eyes and expressed, "I firmly believe that she was interested in the encounter until you disrupted the opportune moment. I am certain that your spouse must be quite fond of this heroic act of yours, I bet she's a fucking animal in bed. Maybe someone like me, a real man who can handle her pleasurable needs." The drunk cackled out in disgusting spew. Although you weren't together.

Alastor couldn't help but picture the intoxicated man laying even a single finger on you as he felt his demeanour shift pulling out a pocket knife he would carry. "Oh? Brave now are we? What's a small little knife gonna-" the intoxicated man couldn't finish his sentence as Alastor had slashed his neck, the drunk jaw hung low as he held his hand to his throat that poured out with his blood as he gasped for air.

His body collapsed to the ground with a thud. Alastor loomed over him, his gaze fixed intently upon him, his heart quickening within his chest. Alastor couldn't help but let out a sudden laugh from the excitement he encountered. He stared down at the blood on the knife. Enjoying it a little too much. Shaking out from his train of thought from the previous evening, he continued his stroll before resuming his duties at the radio station.

You pulled away from Paul as Elizabeth looked between you both, smirking. "What's that I smell?" She inhaled deeply. "Ah, I smell sex on the table." "Urgh Elizabeth! You groaned as Paul chuckled at the red hair rresponse. "Don't worry, doll, I'll happily wait for you. He softly whispered while placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of your head. With admiration and affection, you gazed upon your beloved high school sweetheart

*******

Following the day at the diner, you were engaged in the process of adjusting the settings of your radio receiver in your bedroom when a particular vocalisation captured your attention, causing your eyes to abruptly open. "Good afternoon, New Orleans! I'm your new host. Alastor. It is an honour to address you all on this beautiful afternoon." "Oh my god..." You gasped. He did it...

You were uncertain about how to feel. Numerous thoughts raced through your mind regarding why Alastor had not shared the news with you. You experienced a combination of contentment and sorrow simultaneously, As you were engrossed. in your thoughts while seated outside your home, you failed to notice the approaching footsteps. "Waiting for someone?" a venice softly inquired near your ear, causing you to scream and instinctively raise your hand to strike the individual Alastor swiftly caught your hand, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Alastor!" you exclaimed, attempting to regain your composure.

"You are so easy to startle, my dear. Considering your level of distraction, I could have easily been a serial killer approaching to abruptly end your life." He chuckled, releasing your hand. Alastor took a seat next to you. Taking a moment to let this sink in, having him beside you again. Alastor was delighted to see you alone for once, having you all to himself. Your eyes gradually met, being drawn into his honey-colored orbs. "I have missed you," you suddenly said, barely a whisper. A frown fell on

Alastor's face for a moment before he looked away from your captivating (e/c) eyes. "Kinda hard to talk to you when your uh boyfriend keeps sticking his tongue down your throat." Alastor mumbled, looking back up to you With a frown, you backnowledged his words. It was true that you and Paul had become inseparable since that fateful night, and it took you a while to realise it. You felt a sense of embarrassment for being overly excited about finding a romantic partner.

"I'm so sorry. Al... I guess I got drawn to having my first boyfriend, and I should be making time for you." You explained. Alastor resignation. sighed in "By the way, congratulations. I heard you on the radio." "You listened to it?"

"Well, I was somewhat disappointed that you didn't inform me when you first obtained the position, but your performance was impressive." You compliment. Alastor gave you a sorrowful smile. "I invested my attention for that position. That was actually my first broadcast," Alastor confessed. "Well, I am delighted to have had the opportunity to listen to it, and the many more you intend to produce. After all I shall undoubtedly be your number one supporter." You smiled as Alastor chuckled in response. "Well, I am delighted to meet my most ardent admirer."

He joked as you playfully gasped with your hands on your chest. "May I have an autograph, Mr. Alastor?" You playfully said. The radio host playfully shoved you. "Get away from here, you crazy woman." "Get used to it." You teased as you both burst out in a fit of laughter. "I see we kissed and made up?" That abruptly stopped you and Alastor's laughing fit when you both saw your mothers standing in the doorway of your home.

You had forgotten that your mother had invited Alastor's mother over for tea. "We were never fighting?" you said, raising an eyebrow. Your mother playfully rolled her eyes and walked back inside, while Tara stared at her son with a knowing smirk before retreating back into your home. "I made your favourite," Alastor's mother suddenly yelled, which instantly brought both of you rushing in like children again.

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

Comment if you want to be tag in the next chap!!

:D

[formosusiniquis]

the bells, the joy (together in darkness)

Robin Buckley & Steve Harringto WC: 11963 | T | Tags/Themes: hivemind, Post S3, Scoops Troop Friendship, Nonbinary Steve and Robin, Blink and you miss it Steddie and Buckingham pre-slash AKA It's the Stobin Hivemind fic y'all! thank you very very very much to @spectrum-spectre for beta-ing this for me!!

Steve has never done LSD before. Which is the kind of statement his father would call ‘qualifying’ and ‘implies other kinds of wrongdoing, Stephan.’ Like the time he’d said he hadn’t smoked anything other than cigarettes that weekend. Apparently the ‘that weekend’ was a qualifier that got his very small pot stash flushed, and forced him into a second transaction with Eddie Munson in as many weeks.

Yeah okay maybe there were worse things, as far as punishments go.

Qualifying or not though, Steve has never done LSD. Not after the weekend he spent reading the supposedly true diary of a supposedly real teen that had been left on his bed. Like mother, like son, his father had sneered when he'd caught Steve curled up with it, like the whole plan to keep him from becoming pot-addled and destined for the gutter, or whatever, hadn’t relied on his gossipy nature.

It was mostly stupid, the book, but Steve figured it didn’t hurt to stick to weed. The stuff about that he knew for sure was totally fake.

Except now, he wishes he maybe knew a little bit more about what LSD was supposed to feel like. So he knows how to portion out blame for his current state. It’s currently 50% Upside-Down-Shit and 40% Russian-LSD-Shit and 10% Concussion-Shit, but if he’s being fair he’s blamed the Upside Down for about half of everything that’s gone wrong in his life since 1983. He’s willing to acknowledge that maybe the blame breakdown should be readjusted for this one.

“Hey Robin?” Trauma changes people, makes you want to stay close to the people who are changed the same way you are. Robin had shown up at Steve’s house the Monday after everything, trumpet case and duffle bag in hand. Apparently, she had walked from the school where she was supposed to be catching the bus to Band Camp, like she does every year. Apparently, when you undergo traumas heretofore unexperienced by any teen ever, Russian torture and flesh monsters, it’s okay to skip Summer Intensive to move in with your new best friend without telling your parents. Apparently, if you’re the kid that the Band Person, Director, wants to keep happy because in addition to the billion and seven languages you can play any instrument with a mouthpiece -- except trombone, slide positions, Steve had pretended he knew what that meant -- then you can just leave school to deal with your ‘mall fire smoke inhalation’ at your ‘aunt’s house’ instead. Apparently this is fine and Steve doesn’t need to worry about any angry former hippies beating down his dore because ‘what they don’t know won’t hurt them.’

So he can call out for Robin, without raising his voice because he knows she’s there. Somewhere in the house, the weight of it changed now that someone else is in it with him. He can call out even though he’s pretty sure she’s holed up in his Mom’s library on the ground floor, because he can feel her in the back of his brain and he knows she’ll hear him.

Drifting in an unfocused middle distance, he can imagine Robin. Curled up, she knows she’s been called for but isn’t in any hurry to comply, Steve will wait. He's fine with waiting, at least for the five minutes it will take for her to finish her chapter. He can see her, slotting her bookmark in place and sitting up straight for the first time in hours. She stretches, uncurls from the window seat that Steve also favors, gently sets the book down before letting a foot dangle and brush the floor to actually stand. And she leaves the library. She starts to feel closer, her presence looming stronger in his brain and Steve aware of himself in his own body. Then he hears her feet on the stairs.

“What is it, Dingus, did you know your Mom has a whole collection of French books? I’m in the middle of a bunch of lesbian short stories.”

“Yeah, she speaks it, not sure why.” He answers absently, “Have you ever done LSD?”

“I’ve had half a pot brownie and gotten way too high before.”

That’s not really the same thing, Steve thinks.

“I know it’s not really the same thing, Dingus, I was using it as a framework.” She flops facedown on the bed beside him, wiggling into what he’s started thinking of as her side. A lucky coincidence that she prefers to be tucked in on the side closest to the wall. Probably because she’s never seen anything burst out of one.

“Okay don’t think that, cause now I’m never going to be able to sleep again, I don’t think you’ve got enough space for us to pull your bed into the center of your room.”

He can see the way she imagines it. His bed, an island in the center of the room floating in a sea of plaid. Something about it is even more unnerving than if it stayed up against the wall.

“Not a good look.” He doubts anything will come from the walls again anyway, the Upside Down has proven to be surprisingly adaptive; it doesn't seem to attack in the same way twice. It makes it harder to be prepared, but he’s less worried about not being able to protect Robin in the middle of the night.

“Savior complex. Your mom has psychology books down there too. What does she even do?”

“Reads mostly. Do you think there’s anything down there about LSD?” He doesn’t think this is normal.

“Nice leap, Steve, I don’t think there are many drugs that link your brain with your coworker.” She says coworker, but he feels friend. Even that concept isn’t enough to describe the depth of warmth and affection that he feels wash over him as she thinks.

He lets the silence hang for a second, thinking but not sure what yet. His thoughts are slower to arrive and more jumbled in these early days post-concussion. His right hand curls, his fingers flex. First and third finger tap, then one and two, then none, one and two, and two, and none.

Robin’s knee jostles the bed as her leg bounces just a little.

“I think something else happened to us.”

“Wondered how long I’d have to tap your fingers for you before you got there with me.”

Read the rest on AO3

[shoshiwrites]

"gamble" or "quiet"? kissing out where nobody can catch them? - for Jo & Egan, of course, because I live the life of an enabler handing you another juicebox 🧃

You are the best, Killy, and thank you to you and @mercurygray for helping me break my little sick-time writer's block ♡ Bucky Egan/War correspondent OC, also on Ao3!

close to you

She’d gone with Kay back to London for a few days. Enough time to catch herself up, wire the stories she hadn’t already, knock her head against the wall a few more times over what did and didn’t go through. The damn blue slashes. Black ones too. Hell, a woman at the corner newsstand had showed Jo a letter from a boyfriend, cut into the RAF’s version of a paper snowflake. It fluttered strangely in the humid breeze, in the young woman’s hand. 

She’d seen Bill March’s broken arm, sustained in some manner during an air raid, though the correspondent still had his usual cheerful smile for her, and the pallbearers carrying a distant cousin of Kay’s out of the church in Marylebone, all of twenty when his ship had been torpedoed off the coast of Italy.

She’d gotten back to Thorpe Abbotts on a Friday afternoon, the air still soupy, her suitcase with a half-broken latch and her bitten nails, a growing hole in her last pair of stockings.

It wasn’t raining. Maybe that counted for something.

Trousers then, and maybe she was optimistic, thinking she felt the air cooling a bit around her. There were small scraps of blue sky, like she’d found them in the bottom of her mother’s rag bin. Calico up in the firmament.

The coffee’s warm, if bitter, she hardly pays attention to that now. A few Clubmobile women cleaning trays in the kitchen take pity on her and sneak her a donut. She dips, sloshes, remembers the good old days of milk and cream, and wanders back outside, wondering if she’d made a mistake in coming here straight from London. Her room is still hers in Norwich. Mrs. Fitzgerald had made sure she knew that. It’s a kindness she doesn’t quite have the words for. 

She’ll stay in the Clubmobile quarters tonight, on the extra cot. She’d left a book in Crosby’s care last week and he’d returned it to Tatty Spaatz, a piece of stationery stuck in the middle with neat, if hurried, observations. His handwriting reminds her of Evie’s, the block print of a planner.

“Major Egan will be happy to hear you’re back,” Tatty says, and there’s almost a smile playing at the corner of her mouth, her lipstick the color of red wine.

Jo hardly keeps stone-faced, a little scrunch somewhere between a question and an acknowledgement, distaste and curiosity. “I haven’t seen him,” she says.

They yawn, the seconds between the conversation outside and when he’s walking, seeing her, redirecting his path. His eyes look like he’s been squinting in low light, the mask-marks raw across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He’d come out of his office. Post-mission administration, she thinks. Letters home. He writes them longhand, someone had told her. He’s never spoken about it. She’s never asked him.

And she’s not sure happy is the word she’d use, right now. But Tatty knows what she said. Happy is on the ground. A girl smiling at you. The smell of her hair, clean. 

The question comes on an exhale, the tie loosened around his neck. “You wanna go for a walk?”

It feels faintly ridiculous, the way she’s not used to being asked. And it’s faintly ridiculous too, the way propriety and a respectful difference between his boots and her lace-up shoes becomes a sneak-around, a glancing journey to the far edge of the airfield, the side of an outbuilding backed by trees. 

Maybe he wants something else, she thinks. Another jigger of whiskey, playing cards on the table, chips or dice or jacks. Someone else. Someone who lets him forget.

He kisses her before they’ve even stopped moving, as she rounds the corner in the half-tall grass. 

She hasn’t snuck around like this in — god — she can’t remember. Years. 

She can’t remember the last time she’s been kissed like this. A sunlit kitchen, softer. Before the leather interiors of fancy cars and class rings. She never thought it could be dressed like this, callused hands and muscle. The flutter of tiny wings falls still. A fly buzzes around their ankles; she can hear it between the sounds of his mouth, breath hot between them.

She can feel that little swatch of damp at the small of her back, the feeling of her hipbones beneath the wool of her trousers. He breaks away to kiss the side of her mouth, the short hairs of his mustache brushing her upper lip. 

John, she wants to say, but maybe she can help it, the desperate act of naming him. It all sticks in her throat, like a glob of too-soft caramel. Hardening. John, John, John. “Afternoon, Major.” 

He looks like he’s trying to decide something, kisses her again by her nose while he does. She’ll do the same if he’ll let her, the cuts of the oxygen mask and the freckles she can see in the light. “Afternoon, Captain.”

[crazyk-imagine]

I Mean It

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!reader Characters: Fem!reader, Daphne Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Simon Basset Warnings: Fluff, cringey content, this has been in my drafts for a while, it’s more modern than our classic Bridgerton time, I manage to write the most heartfelt sentences a man could say like five minutes before I have to go to work, no regrets for this bad boy, anthony and the reader denying their feelings, anthony breaks so he can have the reader, daphne and benedict are very proud of their plan, vague backstory for readers ex, the reader being the smartest when it comes to bridgerton sibling fights, I hope you all can find it in you to enjoy this  Word Count: 2,662

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“Another line left in yet another book for you, I see,” Daphne teases you. 

You roll your eyes. “Would it hurt you to quiet down.” 

“Yes, truthfully. It would.” 

“You exaggerate.” 

“I do but only because you don’t want to try and figure out who it is? Or even suspect that maybe it could be-” 

“It’s not him, stop trying to bring it up every time we’re here.” 

She opens the door, gesturing for you to go inside. “Chickens first.” 

You narrow your eyes at her, “rude.” 

“I am not rude. I merely, tell the truth.” 

“Like I believe that.” 

“Believe whatever you want but when your secret admirer comes to light. and it is A-” 

“Good morning, ladies,” her older brother greets with a smile, having some idea that he was interrupting but not seeming to care (or so he lets you believe). 

“Good morning to you too, Anthony,” she returns with the same upbeat he had in his tone, only stressing his name as she turns back to you. 

You ignore her and smile, nodding your head to greet him. 

“Daphne, you have five minutes before your shift.” 

Her head snaps in his direction. “What? Why? I have more than five minutes before I start.” 

“That was until you started showing up late and not staying to lock when I needed you to.” 

“But I had plans before coming in and you know that.” 

“I do, which is why your lucky mother doesn’t know about what’s going on right now. I ask that you start your shift now because I need you to take over, okay? I need to be able to focus and give my full attention to the next wave of customers to come in.” 

“Kind as ever, Anthony.” 

They give each sarcastic smiles before she runs off toward the back of their family’s shop. 

You’ve always loved coming here, not just because of the company but because it has each family member’s touch. 

You have Anthony as the head of everything, making sure everything runs smoothly. 

Benedict creating news pieces to put up for display or customers to buy. 

Colin... he’s not as much involved as a few of the older siblings, but he does help out when it comes to calming down a particularly angry customer. Now that you think about it, he’s more of a diffuser than anything. 

Daphne is basically a manager assistant but doesn’t work like it, she likes working in the book section of the store (not just because it gives her an excuse to have girl talk with Eloise and vice versa). 

None of the other siblings have yet to step into the role of working here, nor have they talked about it. None of the older siblings seem to mind, if they decided they don’t want to (maybe Eloise, but even then, she’s just teasing them). 

You realize you’ve been too lost in your thoughts. 

Daphne shakes her head, knowing that you have, in fact, gotten lost in your thoughts and Anthony could care less. 

With her other friends, he’d be grumpy and force them away from the door slash the edge of the register-counter combo but with you, it’s an entirely different story and she doesn’t know how you don’t see it. 

No matter how hard she tries to persuade you into knowing that he does, in fact, feel the same. It just means she has to try harder and open your eyes. 

Anthony moves you away from the doors, not wanting anyone to bump into you. He lightly shakes your shoulders, wanting you to stop looking dazed. 

You owlishly blink, “what?” 

He narrows his eyes, furrowing his brows in confusion. “You were thinking about something.” 

“Was I?” 

“Definitely.” 

“Sorry, I’ll just- I'm going to get out of your hair.” 

He opens his mouth to argue but you halfway away from him before he could. 

-

“How was your morning interaction with Anthony?” 

You shrug, “fine.” 

“He’s still staring.” 

“No, he’s not.” 

“He is.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

She chuckles, restocking the bookshelf. “Then look for yourself.” 

You pout, furrowing your brows in annoyance. “I will.” 

Anthony turns away as fast as he can, immediately helping the next customer to walk through the door. 

“He wasn’t.” 

“He was.” 

You’ve never been one to give into her ideas, she thinks it’s because you don’t see it, but the truth is, you don’t want to give in and get hurt. 

Your previous boyfriend was a bit of a, what’s the right phrase... ah, right, a dick. 

He was nice in the beginning, treated you like you were a princess which included saying and doing all the right things. 

But things slowly took a turn, and he wasn’t as nice, he never laid a hand on you, but he ruined the mental image yourself and it took a while before you told Daphne about what happened... or even went over to the Bridgerton household after you two parted. 

None of her brothers know, you were barely brave enough to tell Violet what happened. 

Another reason Daphne feels you and Anthony would be good together, she knows he won’t treat you wrong; he’d take care of you and won’t let you down. 

“Do you want to have dinner tonight?” 

“What are you thinking?” You ask her. 

“Something filling but not too expensive.” 

“That could be anything,” you giggle. 

“I know.” 

-

Benedict nudges Anthony, as the latter’s lips curve upward as he watches you look happy. “Ask her out.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Chicken.” 

“Get back here you lit- hi, welcome to the B-Ton Store.” 

-

Daphne texts you that she can’t make it and sent you something better. 

A knock on the door pulls you away from the TV, you’re still unable to decide what you want to watch tonight. 

You look through the peephole and are surprised to see another Bridgerton at your door. “Anthony?” 

“Sorry, I just- Daphne told me you’d be here alone and I- mother told me to come over.” No, she didn’t. 

“Oh, okay. Come on, come on in.” 

“Or I could- I could leave?” 

“No, this is better than what I had planned.” 

“Not going out tonight?”

“Exactly.” 

“I see you have some bags with you,” you comment. 

“Observant, aren’t we?” 

“Don’t be mean, Anthony. I am starving and you interrupted me.” 

“Were you cooking?” 

“Not exactly.” 

“So, I didn’t interrupt.” 

“That’s rude of you to say.” 

“I brought your favorites.” 

“My favorites?” 

“Yes.” 

“And how would you know my favorites?” 

“Please, you’ve been to our family home so many times, I think it would be a crime if I didn’t know what you liked.” 

You resist the urge to smile. “Let’s go set these down in the kitchen.” You try to grab a bag from him, but he pulls away. 

“I know where it is and I am a gentleman, I won’t let you carry any of these.” 

“Anthony-” 

“No.” 

You sigh and follow him. 

“Go sit in the living room and find a movie or something I can tolerate because I know you were watching one of those romance movies, I can’t watch any tonight.” 

“Why not?” 

“Francesca and Hyacinth forced me to watch one too many this weekend.” 

“Oh, okay. So, I’m going to go and find all of mine.” 

He lets out a fake chuckle, secretly watching as you walk out of the kitchen. He shakes his head and starts setting up the plates. 

You click off the movie you were watching before and search for a comfort movie of yours. 

He enters, handing you your plate and setting his beside you while he runs into the kitchen to grab drinks before setting down beside you. 

“I told you; you don’t need to serve me here. You’re the guest.” 

“It’s okay. I got it.” He sits down beside you. “What are we watching?” 

“Something.” 

“Oh, I see. I feed you and you don’t tell me what we’re going to watch.” 

“Exactly.” You don’t think you’ve ever been alone with him before and it’s nice, usually you two are civil towards one another but this, this just feels different. 

You glance to the side when you hear his voice mumbling along to the words. “Do you-" You hesitate in the middle of the question, unsure how he'd react if you do. 

He doesn't move and before you know it, you're asking him. 

"Do you know the lyrics to this?” He pauses, not wanting to answer you but he knows you and you aren’t the kind to stop asking until you get an answer. “A few lines," he answers vaguely. 

“More like all of them.” 

You bounce in your seat. “When did you learn them?” 

He shrugs, pushing himself off the couch, taking your plates into the kitchen. The corner of his lips twitch at your excitement, suddenly his sister’s pestering doesn't seem like it was as torturous as he thought. 

You don’t care to pause the TV as you follow him. “You can’t just avoid the question. You know more than Daphne does and she’s seen this more times than I could count.” 

“I- I don’t know. I heard… you listen to it and it sort of... got stuck in my head.” 

“So, you played it until you somehow knew all the words, didn’t you?”

“I’m not going to answer you.” 

“Why not?” You whine. 

He shakes his head. 

You take a step closer, leaning against the counter. 

"You should go back and watch the rest of your movie." 

"But I want to know when you learned all the words." 

"Just," he sighs. "Go back into the living room and maybe we'll talk." 

"Anthony." 

He sets the plate in the dish drain before wiping his hands on the dish towel you keep beside the sink. "I will not ask you again." 

You don't know where this change in behavior came from, but you don't... not hate it. 

"Fine, you really want to know?" 

You nod even though he's not facing you. 

He spins around, setting the dish towel back in its place. "I learned because my sister's longest and closest friend always sounds so- there aren't enough words for me to use to even begin describing how lovely you sound while singing along." 

He takes a step forward. "You also have no idea how much you're in my head. It drives me insane almost because I wake up and think of you. I go to bed, and I think of you. Before I realized what I feel for you, I hated you." 

You furrow your brows and thin your lips as if you're in pain. 

"But when I talked to my mother about it." He leans against the counter with one hand close to you. "She told me it's not hate, it's love. She also told me to stop acting like a fool but here I am." 

Your brows shoot up in surprise, you turn to give him your undivided attention. "Anthony?" 

"I learned all the words to that musical that's still playing because I wanted us to have more in common. I wanted you to know that I can and will learn all that I can so that I may be closer to you because this- this relationship you have with my family is worth too much to lose." 

The warmth on your cheek isn't just from his confession, he cradles your cheek as if you'll break. "I don't want to scare you with how deep my feelings for you are, so I'll start with saying I like you more than a friend or family friend. I want to-" 

"To what?" 

"I told you I don't want to scare you." 

"What if," you gulp. "What if it won't? I mean, what if I actually like it and you just think I won't." 

"Is that what you truly feel?" 

"I-" 

"Because I think you're acting tough, and you don't mean it. I think you're pretending to want to know just so you can have an excuse to turn me down." 

"What do you take me for?" 

He leans in, "someone who denies themselves the right to be happy." 

"I- No. You're wrong. I am plenty happy." 

"But you can have more." 

"Why are you pushing this so much?" 

"So, you can stop being sad." 

That certainly surprised you. "You deserve nice things too. Even as much as finding the one you'd be able to spend the rest of your life with." He pulls away and you crumble. 

"What if I did find him and it took me a while to realize it?" 

"Do you think you'd be happy with me?" 

You nod. "I know I would." 

He stands in front of you, blocking you, evidently trapping you in between his arms as he leans in and smiles; not moving any further, not wanting to pressure you. 

You know that too which is why you're equally as shocked when you pull him in for a (long awaited) kiss. 

One of his hands slides away from the counter to hold onto your waist, keeping his other on the counter. He smiles at you. "Do you want to go back into the living room and finish your movie?" 

The corners of your lips twitch. "Maybe." 

"Come on," he mumbles, guiding you with one hand resting on your low back. 

You don't know why you're feeling so shy all of a sudden. 

You two sit back down and rewind to where you were before his confession, only this time, you’re not as far from the other. 

You curl into his side, mouthing along to the words as his voice travels through your ears. 

-

Daphne knocks on the door, arriving earlier than you expected, curious as to what happened between the two of you but also because you have plans for lunch before going to her family home. 

She groans and hangs up the phone again, her patience is wearing thin. She knocks on your door harder than before. “It’s me, open up before your neighbors think I’m a burglar.” 

The door swings open, her jaw drops at the sight of Anthony with you curled into his side. 

“Well, well. Now I know why you haven’t answered your phone.” She lets herself inside, leaving her brother to close the door. “We have plans, say goodbye to your girlfriend so we can get ready and then go out to lunch.” 

“Is it where I made your reservation for?” 

“Of course.” 

“I’m coming too.” 

She whines, “no you’re not.” 

“I’m hungry too and it’s under my name. You would have forced me to come sooner or later.” 

“But that was before last night.” 

He raises his brows. 

“You two are a couple now and I won’t have enough time to spend with my friend because you’ll be dragging her around with you.” 

“I won’t be dragging her-” 

“Fine, coupley things.”��

“You can do coupley things with Simon.” 

“It’s not the same.” 

“What if,” you interrupt the two. “What if we go out together?” 

They both are ready to object when you quickly add, “you, me, Anthony, and Simon? We’re going to your family’s home anyway, why not all four of us hangout?” 

Neither of them object, seemingly going along with your idea. “Good. Daphne and I will get ready while you go back to yours then we’ll meet at the restaurant?” 

He nods, pulling back into his grasp. “I’ll leave on one condition.” 

“What’s that?” You ask with a smile. 

“A simple kiss.” 

You peck his lips. 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

Daphne lets out a fake gag as the two of you make out. 

“Go away, Anthony. You’ll see her again soon.” 

Once he’s left, she drags you into your room. “Tell me everything.” 

“Daph!” You chuckle. 

“Spill.” 

“No.” 

“Come on,” she whines as you walk into the bathroom. 

“I don’t kiss and tell.” 

“Oh!” She chuckles, “fine. I’m just happy he stopped leaving you those notes.” 

“He what?” 

“Nothing. Nothing. Finish getting ready.” 

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Forgetting the end of the third part of second chance, all of it just made me feel so sad for Lucien. Someone needs to write something about Lucien being brought to Helion way younger, like as a child or something.

Look at me turning into Vanseera and Helion blog and all this time I thought I didn't have it in me. Also, I think I was supposed to make it better but I might just made it worse... upsie...

warning: blood, beating, child birth, all the warnings that come with Beron.

Live, Licien, live

The wind was so harsh. So cold. So bitter. Rarely were the nights in autumn so cold but it seemed like the world had been suffering today alongside Eris. Maybe it was his father's bitterness that followed him. Maybe it was his ever-seeing eyes, that now lashed at him for disobeying. He was supposed to be in the training hall, kicking and slashing at his other brothers. But he couldn't not after today. Not when he had watched the horrors of it for some time now.

How long can one neglect the inner voice? Shouting and clawing at you that it was all wrong. That this was not how the world worked. Couldn't be. His father had been wrong. Real power couldn't lay in the joy of making others suffer. Beg. Bleed beneath your feet. Eris had already done so many things wrong. Had given in to his father's cruel demand. Out of fear of dying himself, had bled others dry. But he never forgot their faces. He could name every single soul he sent to the other world. But this time. This time he couldn't sit still.

Eris's mother had given birth a couple of hours ago. Yet from the moment the pregnancy was announced, Eris felt that something was off. Beron valued his litter. The fighting dogs his wife provided. Eris had watched her go through childbearing multiple times and his father's hands would soften when the swell in her stomach rounded. Yet this time she was offered a cell. A bucket. Beatings. Water if she was lucky. And Eris had never been more confused. Was Beron suddenly against having more sons?

He tried to raise the question to his father. It wasn't in a pleading way, he approached it as a future high lord and yet the furry that left his father the moment Eris spoke his mother's name. The beating had been like no other. Eris hadn't even crowded out of the throne room after. Just laid there hoping that his body would heal a little and then he'll drag himself out. But that was more than enough for him. The baby growing wasn't Beron's. That was clear.

So Eris slipped into the cell as often as he could. He still couldn't properly feed his mother because someone would notice but he kept the food as nutritious as possible. Enough to keep them both alive, to help the baby grow and his mother go through labor. He had bribed the guards who had been ordered to beat her. Eris couldn't stop them fully because his father came down here almost every day to watch his wife fade away. But enough to keep the kicks and slashes away from her bump and breasts, enough to soften the blows.

Eris had pleaded for days for her to tell him the truth. Tell him who the father was so that he could hold onto something. Know why the furry in his father burned so hard. She said nothing, "Not your burden to carry", she said day after day. Until she went into labor. Way too early. Way too fast. The beating that night had done the trick. Even her body had given up on growing that innocent soul within her.

Eris had found her in a pool of blood, panting, gritting her teeth. Pleading with the gods to not let this happen. To let her keep him within her womb just a bit longer. But fate was cruel. It had laughed at his mother that night. No one came to help her. The cell doors had been locked tight the moment her screams echoed through the basement. Eris knew that this was another way of making her pay. Having her die like a rat there while bringing a bastard into this world.

Just Eris had learned parts of the house no one besides him knew off. He had dragged buckets of water there in a hurry, blankets. Did he know what he was doing? No. But his mother was there. The one source of decency. The only reason why he wasn't like his father. So at that moment, he didn't care what he had to do, he was going to fight for them if they refused to. He was going to try and save them.

Of course, his mother had tried to usher him away. Beginning to let her be in her shame. Let Mother Nature do her thing but Eris was unmoved. He crotched next to her. Pushing heaps of blankets behind her and beneath her back. "You'll get yourself killed", she sobbed, watching as he wetted the cloth to soothe the dizziness she was feeling, "Go, before his blade slashes your throat". But her words did little to inflict fear in Eris. He braced his hands on her legs, just as he had seen the healers do many times. Their eyes met and he could tell that something in his mouth had shifted.

Eris heard her scream even here. Even as he ran across the dark forest. At times the wind sounded just like her. No longer like his father. It sounded as if she was crying for her two boys. Her two sons who still had hope of keeping their hearts untarnished. Eris wished he could erase the image of her lifeless body, though. Wished he could have frozen the smile that brushed her features when Eris brought the baby closer to him, pressing his palm over his mouth, to drown out the sobs. And then in the blink of an eye, she was gone. Just a pile of broken limbs and a pool of blood. Eris had talked one more glance before he fled. Maybe they were going to assume she just died like this with the baby instead her. Just bled to death. He hoped they would. For everyone's sake.

The baby inside his arms let out a cry. A cry Eris wished he could have let out as well. Lucien. His mother had whispered the name before she went. Little Lucien. Eris only held the boy closer. Not even hours in this world and he was already fighting toughest battles. But Eris was going to make it better. He was going to save him. He could feel the baby squirming against his chest, feeling the little tears that fell onto his skin, "You'll live, you'll get to live. Live, Lucien, live", Eris muttered over and over as he rushed.

It only dawned on him how this all might look when he was standing right outside Helion's castle. The guards had pointed their weapons at him and here was Eris Vanserra, trembling like a leaf with a screaming baby in his arms, "I need to see him", he pleaded, "Let me see Helion". But no one wanted to listen and no one would have if not Helion himself had heard the commotion and the sobs.

"What's all of this", he had roared, making the guards stagger back. It's only when the red hair came into his view did he halt himself. That same color of hair Helion had kissed so many times on his lover. But it couldn't be her. There was no way for her to leave just like that. It's the panic. The smell of her. The smell of blood. That made him order everyone away as he pushed Eris through the gates.

Eris only managed to make it through into the hall before his legs bucked and he sank to the floor. "Boy, what's all of this? What's going on?", Helion demanded, yet it wasn't anything like the way Beron demanded. Helion had still left him a choice to refuse to answer. Eris didn't trust his words. Not just yet. Not after everything that happened tonight. He pulled his cloak off, pushed the side of his shirt aside, and pulled back the messily wrapped fabric.

Helion's eyes had grown big as he inhaled sharply. Eris could tell that he understood what this meant. That he hadn't expected it. But he knew what this baby was. "Yours", Eris crocked out. Letting the high lord reach out, to pull the baby out of his arms. "Mother died", those words made Helion's body shake, jaw clenching. But he only held onto the crying babe stronger, "Mother died but Lucien lives. Keep him alive Helion. Keep him alive".

[jomiddlemarch]

For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought

“You’ll be late for practice, Blythe,” Charlie said, once again using Gil’s surname as if they hadn’t known each other since their mothers had had them in lace-trimmed dresses. Gilbert scowled, partly at Charlie’s attempt at bluff heartiness, but mostly at the lines in front of him, which wouldn’t scan. Or rhyme. Or behave in any way as a sonnet should, which Gilbert, who genuinely enjoyed reading Spenser and Donne as much as attending biology lecture, knew well enough.

As Anne would know even better.

Queen Anne, his own Faerie Queene, with her glorious bright hair and her shining eyes, her delicate eyebrows drawn across her fair skin like chalk—

Like chalk. It was drivel. Worse than drivel—senseless and thumping and everything Anne was not. He slashed through the words instead of crumpling up the paper and throwing it aside. He’d wasted too much already, his mother would frown most decidedly and then snort if he admitted what he’d been doing, reminding him the stable could use a good mucking out if he wanted much to do with manure.

Charlie was likely to snort as well, unless he was still doing the Redmond act he’d whipped up after the first fortnight away from Avonlea, right around the time he started growing a mustache and using slang with an affected nonchalance.

The mustache was more convincing.

“We have a little time left,” Gilbert said. Perhaps the answer was to drop the reference to her eyebrows. Nothing rhymed with eyebrows, unless he picked the singular and then used “highbrow,” but Anne would laugh and then offer to never speak of the sonnet to anyone, not even Diana, whom Gilbert was fairly certain would give him credit simply for attempting to write a poem for Anne, rather than the actual product.

Your eyes my North Star, he wrote, then lifted the pen. There was something there, but how her two eyes equaled one North Star was an offense to astronomy as well as being markedly short on iambs and dactyls. 

At the very least, his growing frustration might be useful on the practice field, where the coach often complained Blythe was too careful of his fellows and wouldn’t be prepared when it came time to challenge an opposing team. Charlie leaned in, peered over and managed to read a little before Gil pulled the page back.

“You don’t forget mine own wingéd creature nearly brained you for pointing out she was a redhead,” Charlie remarked.

“She still is,” Gilbert said. “And she didn’t nearly brain me. I had a worse goose-egg from that time Moody chucked a ball at me after Sunday School—”

“She did break her slate,” Charlie said. “Anne of the wings and the whatchamacallit, gleaming albatross—”

“Alabaster, you dunderhead!”

“She had quite an arm on her, we all thought she’d take your head off,” Charlie said. 

“I know. I was there. I still liked her then and I do now,” Gil replied, letting his exasperation with his lack of poetic ability find a release in sniping at Charlie Sloane. Anyone in Avonlea would have understood the satisfaction therein, except maybe for Josie Pye at her Pye-est, as Anne would say. 

“Come on, leave it, go to practice with me and then to the pub,” Charlie said. “Your chicken-scratch epic on Anne Shirley’s orange symphony of tresses will be waiting and maybe you’ll have a better idea. In vino veritas, they say.”

“I’d have to be drunk to keep writing this,” Gilbert said.

“That’s the spirit, Blythe! Come to practice, get pleasantly addled with me, and then see what poetic flight of fancy a pint of ale makes possible.”

Years later, some golden afternoon at Ingleside when the children were all running about in Rainbow Valley and Anne was left to her own devices and a garden that required no deadheading, Gilbert returned home to find her at his desk in the library, squinting as she leafed through a collection of yellowing pages; she had finally embarked upon her long-awaited plan to organize their college memorabilia, which he knew was a polite way of saying clearing out some more space for the latest shipment of books Paul Irving was sending up from New York.

“Does this say ‘albatross,’ Gil?” she asked, her amusement only lightly mixed with the confusion engendered by his poor handwriting. She often said he could have no other career than medicine, given the hand he wrote and the physician’s reputation.

“Alabaster,” he said. “I was a poor enough poet, but I would never have compared you to an albatross.”

“It might have been an allusion to Coleridge,” she said.

“It wasn’t,” Gil replied.

“You poor dear darling man. Boy really, this was our first year at Redmond, yes?” she said, those grey eyes of hers bright, still his North Star though he’d never resolved the quantity issue to his satisfaction.

“Yes. But before you console me too generously, I’ll have you know someone else also thought it read albatross,” he said.

“Who?” she said, a puckish smile on her lips, one that would make Susan Baker shake her head at Mrs. Doctor’s incomprehensible ways and then serve even larger slices of her strawberry rhubarb pie to set the world straight.

“Charlie Sloane,” Gilbert said.

Anne burst out laughing and Gilbert joined her. When they’d both caught their breath, she spoke first.

“That’s me put in my place.”

“Not quite,” Gil replied. “You’re too far away—”

“Shall I fly to you then? For I am a wingéd creature,” she replied.

“You’re a belle dame sans mercy and well you know it, Anne-girl,” he said.

“I can be merciful,” she said. “I’ll show you. I’ll pack all these poetical endeavors away and I won’t show the children until we’re very old and very grey.”

@gilbertsmustache see what thou hast wrought! Or, be careful what you prompt for :)

[mizusnose]

Love, Poisoned by Betrayal

heavy heavy TW for emotional abuse, implied physical abuse, and toxic relationships. Mikio is also a TW because I hate this man so much. be safe reading.

“How did this terrible creature come to be? Hate alone wasn’t enough. It took one more ingredient:”

———

Getting away was supposed to be helpful. Leaving her small town, her abusive father and absent mother, Mizu thought she’d be able to make her own way in the world. Yet, as she sat near the edge of their shared bed, Mizu gripped the hot spill of blood leaking from her knee, and thought: This isn’t what I thought I wanted.

It was an accident. Mikio had bumped into her. Sent her to the ground and she felt silly thinking about it: the story she would tell to her friends. A lie to calm them, one she’s gotten used to keeping like a prayer.

Her homework was still unfinished. Had been for the past few days now since Mikio’s been angry. Her thoughts felt scattered and unfettered, a birds molting wings in birth, the rot of it in death. There had been more arguments, more yelling, more crying. No time to finish her essays, even lectures felt like too much work these days.

So today was supposed to be a peace offering. Her, outside to visit her friends. Mikio, home, without her or her whining or crying or distractions. Something she thought he’d wanted.

“You..you upset me.”

Mizu shuddered. Held the clean sweep of blood in her palms. Her breath taut like a string of the guitar she’d been learning how to play—the same one Mikio had been teaching her on. His own.

“You made me do this.”

Mikio was there again, his face still faint with the lines of anger. A frown indented between his brows, the scruff of his beard, his canines peaking out wild and hurt.

“I’m sorry..”

Mikio’s hands were larger than Mizu’s. It had been the thing that turned Mizu on so much the first time they met. Mutual friends. A bit older. The age difference didn’t matter—but now, as Mizu watches him push her hands aside and start cleaning up her knee she wonders: This was a bad idea huh?

“Shh. It’s okay. I just—you shouldn’t go.”

Mizu felt caught. A thread through the thin bones of a bird, caged to the ground, forever held from flight like an interrupted tide of breath in sleep. A swift sudden thing, yet one that was there all along, waiting for the perfect time to catch—to devour.

Maybe I’d just been too blind to see it before now..Mizu thought.

It wasn’t unlikely. She’d been so vulnerable a year ago. Caught up in escaping her past life, the pain that came with it. She’d push past the insistent Lets stay friends from Mikio, let him turn away when she’d be naked, teach him how to say I Love You when she had said it first.

There were signs, a scarlet thing in the sea of darkness and yet—she hadn’t listened, didn’t want to.

“This is okay. It’ll be okay.” Mikio pushes too deeply on the cut and Mizu whimpers, pulls away. Doesn’t get far before she’s being pulled back. Mikio’s always been stronger than her, even if she pretended.

Mizu meets his eyes across the small space between them. In their shitty small apartment, the angle of sunlight from outside the windows. A car honks in the distance. Mizu is terrified.

It looks ugly, the cut. It’s held open now by Mikio, a clean slash that aches. The fight starts up again then. It’s Mikio, washed in watercolor blue, red, black. The screaming is simple and Mizu barks and bites: a dogfight that lasts only a couple seconds yet Mizu is wrung out and exhausted at the end of it.

The way he sees her is this: stained sheets against Mizu’s bruised chin, her gasping throat, the working of her jaw as she pants.

And the tide of his guilt brings him back once more. A cry, a whimper, and Mizu is pulled into his embrace again. His words are sweet, soft, bitter like cherry wine.

Mizu texts her friends she can’t make it—traffic is bad despite it being the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. Explains that they’ll meet up later, maybe next week. She knows she’s lying when she types it out and sends it.

Knows because it’s the same way she comforts herself when Mikio gets like this. I’ll leave tomorrow, the day after, the day after that, the day after—

It’s rare, the blood that spills. Takes longer for it to heal, a bump of flesh that was once puckered and leaking. And still, Mizu will ask again over and over: are you hungry for me baby? are you hungry? are you?

And she will give every time.

———

She escapes the awful relationship and finds true love after all this FYI, please don’t hate me :,)

inspired by cherry wine by hozier and the giver by sarah kinsley

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Am I writing birthday fluff because it's my own birthday? Maybe 😁

Lambert/Aiden

pre-slash/platonic

"Birthday tradition." Aiden answered with a shrug as he popped another piece into his mouth before offering to Lambert as they sat in the shade and out of the summer heat. It wasn't unusual to see Aiden with sweet things but his tastes usually ran to anything and everything fruit based, not plain, unadorned honey cake. Which is what had prompted Lambert to ask about it in the first place.

"My mother. We had jack shit when I was a kid, but I remember she'd always surprise me with a honey cake on my birthday." He smiled softly at the warm memory, "It became a bit of a tradition also that I'd pretend I had no idea what it was she was hiding behind her back and try and guess the most outlandish shit I could come up with. Had to find substitutes after I got taken to the Caravan but as soon as I was walking the path and free to come and go." He gestured to the remaining sliver sat between them.

"You've never mentioned before it's your birthday today."

Aiden laughed, spraying crumbs, "Well it's the first year you've actually been with me for it, so it's never been worth mentioning before now. What about yours, since we're on the subject?

Lambert felt the slight jealousy that had manifested at Aiden's story morph into something a little harder as he stared straight ahead at a rather unfortunate squirrel which now found itself on the receiving end of a Witcher's scowl.

"Ah. Forget I asked."

Lambert shrugged as he leaned back on his hands, "Eh. I'm not the first one who doesn't know and I'm not gonna be the last. Half the other boys at Kaer Morhen had no fucking idea about theirs either, same with the caravan I bet." He grabbed up the last piece of cake and swallowed it without tasting before continuing, "Some of 'em who were a bit more sentimental about it would pick a significant date and use that, but that wasn't for me." Why would it be when everything significant or monumental in his long life so far was a day he'd rather forget: the day he got dragged to Kaer Morhen, the day he lost Voltehre, the day he survived The Grasses....all days he still sometimes had nightmares about.

"Well. Be sure to let me know if that ever changes."

"Hmm."

Aiden yawned as Lambert shook him awake for his turn on watch. Usually they wouldn't bother with such things with their enhanced senses but considering they were experiencing an unusually high number of contracts right now they didn't want to tempt fate by being complacent.

"Anything?" He asked

Lambert shook his head, "All quiet apart from a nosey badger."

Aiden gave him a pat on the shoulder as he moved to take Lambert's place against the trunk of a huge oak tree.

"August 9th."

"What?"

"My birthday. Let's just say it's August 9th."

Aiden couldn't help his smirk, "Isn't that the date-"

"The date some arsehole Cat stole half of my contract three years ago and then refused to leave me the fuck alone? Yeah. Don't read too much into it."

"Whatever you say, Lambert. Whatever you say." Aiden replied, settling against the trunk and trying to figure out what sweet treat Lambert would like best for his upcoming birthday.

[lovelywritinglady]

Demon slayer Rui (platonic) x big sis reader. And can it be hurt/comfort is possible? Thanks!! Sorry if you need a more specific scenario (^-^)/

I’ll see what I can do!

Big Sister

Rui x sister!reader

In which Rui gets mad at your for spending time with “mother” instead of him.

Hurt, angst, comfort, little brother/big sister relationship (platonic). Rui might be a lil out of character.

Rui Pov

Where in the hell is Y/n? She's been missing all night and she won't come no matter how much I call out for her. I feel like I've been walking for hours. I sighed looking around once more and after a few minutes I found her. She was cuddles up with mother and they were laughing and giggling while I was suffering. How could she do this to me? After all that I've done for her. A big sister is suppose to love and protect her younger brother and yet here she is spending time with mother. How selfish could she be do abandon me like this? She always said that I was her favorite and that she would spend time with me tonight. Maybe I should let father deal with mother while I deal with big sister. How annoying, I hate when they don't listen to me. God I felt so frustrated right now. I decided that the only thing to do was confront my big sister and make her explain why she would betray me.

I quickly appreared to them and the nerve of those two to seem surpiried that I would interrupt them. How dare they be surprised! I was about to speak when my big sister interrupted me.

"Aww Rui how wonderful of you to join us. Funny enough I was just about to come and get you." She spoke excitedly which confused the hell out of me.

"I don't believe you." I snapped moving closer to her as to intimidate her.

"Oh, I'm sorry Rui but I promise I'm not lying." Y/n pleated but I really didn't care anoymore.

"Then why are you here when you're suppose to be with me." I argued trying to get her to tell the truth.

"Oh my sweet Rui, I really was hoping I could show you later as-" She began to speak but I had heard enough. I slashed her face making her beautiful pale skin stained with blood. I was expecting her to cry or to beg for mercy, but instead she just sat there as calmly with a sweet smile on her face. This made me uneasy and the realization that I just hit her sunk in as I had never had any reason to do this to her before.

"Why did you make me do that!" I screamed at her mad that I hurt her. I was about to run away to try and get some space when I felt her embrace me. She held me so tightly and I couldn't help but feel so comforted by her embrace. "Is this what it's like to have a big sister?" I thought to myself.

"Rui, my sweet little brother, I wanted to surprise you with a human that I found wandering the mountain tonight. This one was beautiful and I thought that you would want to have it. I should have just told you and I'm so sorry." She admitted and a strange sensation bubled up in my belly. One that I didn't like nor did I wish to welcome. I then decided to forgive my big sister and take her gift as an apology.

"You're forgiven big sister, just never hide anything from me again." I told her pulling myself from her embrace.

"Thank you Rui, I promise I won't." She promised me and for some reason I believed her.

"Why were you with mother?" I questioned her as she smiled at my question.

"Oh, I was hoping that she would wrap the human for you. Mother's web is very beautiful." She told me and I believed her

"Good, now lets go see that human that you got for me." I told her but just as I was walking away she hugged me once again.

"I'm so sorry for hurting you Rui, just know that I love you and you're the best little brother I could have ever asked for." Y/n spoke. I suddenly felt tears on my head and I looked up to see her crying. I grimiced at this as I really hated when she cried because I knew she was hurt.

"I already forgave you, but thank you for apologizing again. I'm sorry for hurting your face." I admitted in a soft whisper hoping that she wouldn't hear me.

"Don't worry about that, we demons heal rather quickly and I have already forgotten about it." She proclaimed and softly stroked my hair.

"Now, lets go." she said as she grabbed my hand walking in the direction of the human that my big sister was kind enough to gift to me.

Thank you so much for reading!💜 Thank you to whoever requested this! I apologize if this fic wasn't exactly what you wanted I tried my very best.

Please feel free to like, comment, request, and reblog

Click here to see what I’ll write for

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n and any original characters•

L.W.L

[xhanisai]

Chat Noir is spoiling his Lady too much... (SOURCE: Scarabella)

AO3

Pairing - Ladynoir

Prompt - 'Chocolate'

Summary -

"No, no, no! You will not spend over €300 daily on chocolate for her! She goes through the entire box in MINUTES." Scarabella then momentarily muttered to herself but Chat Noir picked up every single word. "Not to mention that she refuses to share with me or Tikki." She went back to glaring at him. "Oh, and don’t let me get started on the sleepovers."

He could only cock his head to the side in confusion.

~(x)~

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 "Debauve and Gallais. DEBAUVE AND GALLAIS. You just had to be Monsieur. Parfait and get her the most expensive chocolates every time she's on her period! I CAN'T AFFORD TO GET HER THOSE EVERY TIME SHE HAS A CRAVING!!!!" When Scarabella snatched his unassuming frame off the designated rooftop with her yoyo as soon as he arrived for patrol, Chat Noir already braced himself for a verbal lashing from his Lady's best friend. He just didn't expect it to be regarding the way he dotes on the love of his life nor did he expect it to be somewhat of a problem for everyone else...?

 "But my Lady deserves the best in the world." Was all he could answer, coming across as a little bit whingey and just like Guangdang's sad-looking cat (still tied up by the bandalore's wire and his kitten ears flat against his golden hair). "You guys should let me know whenever she has a craving. I can get them right away, it's no problem."

 "No, no, no! You will not spend over €300 daily on chocolate for her! She goes through the entire box in MINUTES." Scarabella then momentarily muttered to herself but Chat Noir picked up every single word. "Not to mention that she refuses to share with me or Tikki." She went back to glaring at him. "Oh, and don’t let me get started on the sleepovers."

 He could only cock his head to the side in confusion.

 "I now get ZERO hours of sleep because SOMEBODY has conditioned Ladybug into becoming a cuddler! Not only does it get so hot and make me all gross and sweaty— her grip is so TIGHT that I swear she's probably broken one of my ribs! Maybe two or three! This is all your fault!" She jabbed a finger at his forehead and not even his surprised little "miaou!?" was enough to cool her down.

 "W-Well. Maybe you should just get stronger. Then her cuddles won't feel so tight. Or just call me and I'll cuddle with her since I’m her boyfriend, slash future-husband in the process. You should be honoured to even get my Lady's cuddles. Hmmph!" He bleated, squirming on the spot and trying to get out of his bounds. Thankfully for him, Scarabella dropped her yoyo to silently scream into her hands and the hero was finally free.

 "You're insufferable!" She whisper-shouted.

 "But my Ladybug loves me this way~! And I’m gonna go buy her five boxes of those chocolates tonight~!"

 The rest of the patrol was spent with Scarabella chasing and nagging Chat Noir like an angry mother and the latter acting like a bratty child who found joy in winding her up. Their bickering was so loud, they unfortunately caused the akumatisation of a very sleep-deprived man who had a shift starting at five in the morning and he did not appreciate their lack of consideration.

 All the while, Marinette was knocked out in her bed, trying to sleep her period pain away and blissfully dreaming about her favourite chocolates that had captured her entire heart since the first bite.

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~(x)~