#tree wor

[chrisstumps05]

This Giant Pecan Stump Stood in the Way of a New Garage… Until Now!

[snakesnifter]

beryl passed, still rainy and windy. but we are ok, no major damages

[chaotic-history]

Since the last post I can find here about it is from 2017, I want to recommend this game to everyone:

You're a guy who's in a cave with no idea how you got there, and as you explore you find a seemingly meaningless world where all choices point to never escaping.

Spoilers in the tags if you don't want to see them

[syatbs]

MORE NAMGYU SMUT PLEASE

Killer of the Heart

summary: Where Nam-gyu has a sick obsession with you and doesn't want to let you go, at least not until he achieves what he wants… Or not?

જ⁀➴genre/au: Nam-gyu x reader [she/her, female anatomy}, smut, 18+, explicit content, mention of murder, stalking, obsession, mention of drugs.

જ⁀➴ Word Count: 2.923k

Find me on Ao3 for more frequent updates.

[Recommended Song: High Enough by K.Flay]

Obsession.

A term where I had never imagined myself crossing paths before. A disease that inflames my insides and ascends from my sternum up to my mind, where the wisdom lies within.

Such a disease that decays the brain and leaves the human flesh guided by nothingness. However, that is not quite my case. In fact, it is far from that. I’m being beckoned by feelings. Feelings that revolve around you and only you.

“Can you slow down?”

The hackles at the back of my neck rose at the sweet sound of your voice, a thrill blazing down my spine as from my periphery I could see you clutching the cushion of the passenger seat — a pathetic attempt to prevent yourself from the damage in case I swivel the wheel and crash into one of the thick trees’ trunk.

You are scared, I can tell with eyes closed. The flash of your cheeks, your gaze flicking every so often at me and trapping the bottom lip between your front teeth, gives the spot sans using any effort to call you out. Though, your mettle and the faith you have in me, elicit a smirk to curve at the corners of my mouth.

Despite knowing what a man I tend to be, you still chose me as your driver to return you home safe and sound. Call it stupid, but to my belief, it seems the wisest choice you ever made.

I’m high as fuck and a stinging pain throbs at the upper side of my face every time my eyelids flatter shut for a blink. The drugs I previously consumed vibrate in my bones, my system, and of course, my cock that twitches in my pants, begging for relief. I am going to lay my cards on the table and profess that the third sensation is due to your presence. Just having you here, right beside me where your warmth radiates and floods in me, has me mentally groaning at the fantasy of fucking you raw until you’re a breaking mess. To scream my name and your nails to scratch my skin until blood oozes out… To squirm around me and fight to escape me.

“I’m sorry love, but I’m afraid that I can’t.”

You scoff at the lack of verity in my tone. “Why?”

“Because you are a fucking cunt who doesn’t stop spreading open her legs for every dick she finds in her wake.”

Obviously, I don’t tell you that aloud, yet the spur to sing it out has me in a painful chokehold. Because of you, the lifeless body of a guy you allowed to slip his fingers beneath your panties and inside you, a few weeks ago, is now at the back of my car with ten lost fingers and a throat slit open. In a few words, I have a corpse in my vehicle and I have no interest in encountering any of the police who lurk in such late hours.

Again, I don’t say that aloud either.

In lieu, I press a few buttons, and music fills the suffocating atmosphere. It drowns for a short period my sick fantasies and a sigh falls past my lips.

Before you called me to pick you over from a party that one of your girlfriends hosted, I was out there hidden in the bushes as I stalked you from the windows of her apartment. I took plenty of your pictures and jerked off when you danced or did karaoke. I was so addicted to your sight that when I saw you almost getting hooked up with a stranger, it militated me from stalking you, to await the right moment to savage him.

It won’t be a difficult challenge.

Like the dead guy, he will soon follow the same tragic fate. Either I will feign that I’m a fellow student in his university and pose that I want to become his friend until I gain his trust so I can deliver the blade readily on his throat or go the easiest way and invade his apartment to catch him off guard.

I have connections at the Pentagon club where I work and in case things go south, they will have my back to erase any trail I leave behind. Every proof and evidence that gives away that it was me who committed the murder.

Notwithstanding that, I have the impression that you sensed my lingering thoughts back at the party. You didn’t fuck him and satisfaction licked my limbs like ravenous flames. Yet, that didn’t suppress the longing to torture him for the audacity to touch you, let alone speak to you.

You are mine.

The canopy of trees hedged us in at all sides of the empty road and far afield where the prying eyes could see what I was about to do. Perhaps you noticed that I missed a turn and now I was driving at the pits of the dark forest.

The night was still young and will be too bad if I stop directly outside the building you live. Let alone, wait for the precise moment when you will call me once again to help you out since no one is there for you. I grew bored playing the role of your best friend and it is finally time to make a statement… A message that signifies that I own you and nobody else.

“That is not the right way. You clearly missed a turn.” You said through gritted teeth. You tried to steel your spine to show me that you are undaunted but failed miserably.

We will work on that. Soon enough, come to that, because after I’m finished with you, there is no exit for you to skitter off. And if you dare to test it out and escape from my claws, I will chain you up on my bed or break your ankles so you cannot outrun me… Ever.

“Did I?” I mused, playing with your waters.

“You ask the obvious asshole. Don’t fucking mess around, I’m tired.”

“My sincere apologies, love.”

And I pressed the speed pedal harder.

As your back sank abruptly at the seat, you whipped your head to throw me one of your lethal pointed looks. You were seething, baby, and all my bloodstream gathered on my already swollen cock.

My voice dropped an octave. “Do me a favor first. And I promise after that, within ten minutes, you will be home.”

“Hardly to believe that.”

“Where is the trust, I’m your friend.”

Arguably it was the drugs that compelled me to act cocky because the way you pinched your freckled nose had me hot all over and not the terror of the possibility of losing you by my deviant demeanor. Your reaction made me goad you on.

Finally, you huffed and rolled your exposed shoulders back, to slacken off the stiffens that gathered on your muscles. “Fine. What is it?”

Darting my tongue to lick my lips, I tossed you a dark yet lustful glance. “Play with yourself.”

At that, you burst out laughing, your enchanting girlish sound a specter on my eardrums. However, when you saw me more earnest than ever, you sobered up, and a pink hue flashed on your cheeks. “Shit. You are actually serious.”

Unzipping my trousers, I fisted my erected dick. “Was I ever a liar, love?”

You cocked a brow at my falsehood, though it dissipated when your eyes dropped to my erection — something different licking your bright orbs. You watched me as I wiped with my thumb the precum that was leaking from the veiny tip, before giving a light pump with my fist.

My other free hand grasped tight the steering wheel and giving a jerk of my chin to your direction, I drawled. “Fuck your cunt, before I pull over and do it myself.”

I’m deeply aware of what personality I have created to become your trustworthy companion. Lying about being in a relationship, feigning that I’m gentle and caring was enough to waltz in your personal bubble and make you spit out your secrets in exchange for my comfort. Conversely, my eyes first spotted you at the club where I work and since then my obsession for you has only grown.

First, I followed you home. Then I broke into your apartment when you were at the university and set hidden cameras at every corner. Two weeks later, I spiked your water bottles that were stored on your fridge and fuck-fisted my manhood while lying beside your drugged form. Sometimes I undressed you and came undone at your bare pussy and before I wished you a goodnight, I slipped my fingers that were coated with my cum inside your tight walls.

I’m not proud of what I did, yet it was the only thing I could draw myself close to you.

Nevertheless, my whole point is that you never encountered me so blunt and crazy about you. To speak to you in a rigorous manner that forces you to press tight your thighs, desperate for some friction.

Reluctantly, you push apart your long skinny legs, forgetting immediately at what speed the vehicle runs. Your mini skirt rises at the stretch and dipping your hand, I see the sight of your drenched panties.

“Bloody hell… Already wet for me.”

Maybe it was the alcohol you imbibed at the party or the exhaustion that dances on your features because the furry that a moment ago festered you like a hurricane, now ebbed.

A moan of yours blooms inside the car and at that moment I regret having you in a small space and not somewhere where I could admire you and not the fucking road. To gather with my tongue the moisture in your folds and swallow. To be drown on you and only you.

Sensing your heating gaze down on my dick, your hand disappeared to your panties before pushing a finger into your tight pleading hole. Curling it inside you, you whine and I nearly lose control of the steering.

It was utterly different, hearing and watching you from up close and not behind the computer that is connected to the cameras.

“Nam-gyu…”

“You’re doing so well baby, fuck.”

My fist tightens its hold around my cock as I pick up pace. It throbs painfully and your hidden pussy makes it worse.

My tongue clicks at the roof of my mouth. “Take them off.”

There is a slight pause in your actions but quickly fades as your hips rise and do as I commanded. The thin layer slides down to your luscious curves and on your ankles before getting an angle that allows me to see your beautiful cunt.

The regret churns harder in the pit of my stomach.  

You add a second digit, thrusting now both of them on your opening while your gaze remains either on my profile or at my hard erection. You observe as I fuck my fist with the sounds you let out and my eyes narrow at the envisions that loom before me. The kind of envisions where I’m shoving my dick past your lips until it hits the back of your throat. To degrade you until tears well up on your trembling orbs and your pussy to pulsate in need.

 Your neck cranes as your back arches from the jolts of delight that jump on your nerves, and my frustration only festers.

I can’t refrain anymore.

Putting on the brakes, the wheels screeched at a sudden halt.

“Where are you going?”

Taking out the keys, the roaring engine switched off. Only the bright headlights remained on, to enlighten our surroundings, and kicking open the door, I rounded the vehicle. I stopped in front of yours and a flick of wariness gleamed on your tired eyes.

Without being willing to give you a reply, my hand hovered over the door handle, and slipping my other one under your bicep, I dragged you out.

I liked the way you writhed on my iron grip, but unfortunately, I had no passion to tease you. Pinning your torso on the hood, and your back to collide with my hard chest, my hips thrusted in the curve of your ass and growled.

When you tried to kick me, my fingers dug at the soft skin of your hips as I pushed one knee between your legs to mitigate the chances of kicking me on the shin or any other body part that I’m damn sure will hurt as hell.

“Quite feral, aren’t you kitty?”

You gasp offendedly at my comment and squirm once again. “Stop messing around, Nam-gyu. You play dirty!”

There was no disturbance or fear in you by the fact my bare cock is twitching in your rear. I’m your best friend, hypothetically, and you don’t even confront me for treating you so nastily. Baby, I start to think that you actually want this and what you display in front of me is only one of your woeful fake attempts to stop me. What you are doing, is simply an act.

“Dirty is my second name, if you haven’t guessed. And I played dirty games since the night I first met you.” Kissing the back of your ear, you sighed. “Tell me, did you ever feel like someone was watching you?”

It was too late to seal my lips as I had already fallen into the burning depths of hell.

You stiffened underneath me, yet before you demanded a better explanation, with a lift of your skirt I thrusted all my length to your heat. My eyes rolled at the back of my head as you screamed at the sudden stretch.

You were so fucking tight and tensing over my words doesn’t help the euphoric experience at all.

Finding your clit, I growled. “Focus on my finger. Feel what it is doing to you.”

“Stop…” You cried. Pulling out, I drove another thrust of my hips making you obtrude at the hard push. “Ah!”

Once your tight walls coated us both with your wetness, I picked up the pace, slapping my hips harder against you. Your cries and my groans joined alongside the night's crickets, stealing their performance with our sinful one.

My hand snaked around your throat and pulled you against my chest. You lolled your head towards me seeing now the devious glint that filled my expanding pupils. You were hazy, yet you still had the energy to shiver at the madness that flooded every apex of my body.

“Can you feel how your sweet pussy grips my cock?” I rasped.

You nodded as tears streamed down your face. My panting breath skimmed over your lips, before dipping my head and claiming them. My tongue fought entrance, your nails clutching at my leather jacket as I was showing no mercy at the assault of my hips and mouth. Our make-out session was brimful of lust, and a lecherous frisson ran down my spine. 

You were battling for a breath and I, to savor you. To ravage your sweaty flesh and my teeth marks to remain on your skin like favorable tattoos.

You are meant for me.

“Good. Because no one will have that but me.”

In a flash of movement, my hand forced your head back to the hood, and focusing on the thrust of my hips, my balls tightened as I ejaculated inside you. Letting my high linger for a while, I finally withdrew to fix my trousers.

Then I bend down to your entrance and sucking my cum from your red cunt, I grab a fistful of your hair, craning your neck to the side. As if you knew what I was planning, you opened your mouth like a good girl and I spit my seed for you to swallow.

I slapped your cheek with a mischievous smirk stretching across my lips.

“You did drugs, didn’t you?” You finally fess up once we are back in the car and ready to head back to the destination of my apartment. You might think I abide by the promise of returning you back to your house, though I won’t. After that experience, I don’t think I will be able to let you out of my sticky webs.

“Like someone wise said, don’t ask the obvious.”

You smiled at my tease, thus I noticed at the corner of my eye that there was sadness on your exterior. You weren’t fond of, since we first crossed paths, about me caning to such substances but it is easier to resume rather than quitting.

Soon your brows knitted into a deep line, losing yourself in your dreaming bubble. “You said about someone watching me when… You know…”

“Bending you over and fucking you?”

Blush crept through your cheeks and I repressed a laugh. “Yes. What was that about?”

Oh, how much I wanted to confess my sins of watching you on the restless night were exhaustion couldn’t reach me due to being far gone with your image invading my brain like obnoxious wasps. Therefore, when I glanced at your way and saw you skeptical, I just couldn’t.

In the end, I lied that it was simply a razz and there was no truth in my statement — thanking the destiny when you seemed convinced by my falsehood.

However, when you opened the sun visor to fix your smeared makeup, a photo slipped, before falling on your lap. And that photo was from nowhere else but you at the party I picked you up from.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Under The Old Oak Tree - Clark Kent X GN Reader

Title: Under The Old Oak Tree

Clark Kent X GN Reader

(Can be seen as any iteration of Clark Kent/Superman.)

Additional Characters: Clark's parents (Mentioned)

WC: 3,560

Warnings: Can been seen as any iteration of Clark Kent/Superman (just got inspired by the teaser trailer for the new Superman movie), italics, teasing, banter, flirting, mentions of his Superman duties, nervous Clark, brief mention of marriage, confessions, crying (good), very mini angst, and fluff

“Can I open my eyes now?” You asked through a chuckle, your voice lilting with playful impatience. The soft fabric of Clark’s red bandana rested over your eyes, leaving you completely blind to the world around you; however, you could hear the changing of terrain, the other cars on the road, and so on, so that was nice. 

The blindfold was his idea, of course - despite being your loving, compassionate, kind, and handsome boyfriend of three years, he didn’t seem to trust you when you said that you would keep your eyes shut the entire ride. He knew that the temptation of opening your eyes would be too much, so blindfold it was.

“Not yet,” Clark replied, his deep, steady voice was laced with a hint of nervousness; that you somehow didn’t pick up - you usually were pretty good at picking up on his emotions but it seemed that the excitement and anticipation were clouding your usual sharp instincts. His fingers drummed lightly on the steering wheel, a rhythm that matched the quiet hum of the song playing on the radio. “We’re almost there, I promise.”

“Where is ‘there’ exactly?” You teased, tilting your head in his direction even though you couldn’t see him.

Clark let out a soft laugh, and you could picture the way his lips curled into that warm grin of his. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

You couldn’t help but smile, warmth bubbling in your chest. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little.”

The sound of gravel then slipped away, replaced with what you thought was grass. The truck shifted and rocked gently as it moved. You tried to piece it together but it was no use. And it didn’t matter anyway, in a matter of seconds, you would find out.

The truck came to a stop, and so did your heart for a brief moment. There was a rustling as Clark turned off the engine and unbuckled from his seat. You then felt his presence as he moved over the center console slightly, his movements slow. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine before his lips brushed softly against your skin in a tender kiss to your cheek.

“Clark…” You breathed, your heart sputtering as you turned your head; your hands itching to take off the blindfold.

“Are you ready?” He murmured, his voice low and impossibly gentle.

A smile tugged at your lips as you nodded, “I’ve been ready since you blindfolded me.” You felt his fingers move to the back of your head, his touch careful and precise as to not accidentally tug at your hair as he untied the bandana. The fabric slipped away, and the light began to filter in, soft and golden. You blinked rapidly, your eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness, and when your vision cleared, your breath caught in your throat. “Oh, Clark,” You whispered, your hand coming up to rest over your chest, where you could feel your heart thudding against your palm.

Before you stretched the field where you and Clark had your first date, and it was as breathtaking as you remembered. Rolling grassy hills spread out in every direction, their lush green softened by the warm light of the afternoon. Dotted throughout were wildflowers in shades of yellow, purple, and white, swaying in the gentle breeze.

At the heart of it all stood the giant oak tree, its massive branches stretching out wide, casting shadows across the grass. Its leaves were the most perfect shade of green. It was the same spot where the two of you spent hours talking, sharing stories and laughter as though the world had stopped for you.

You couldn’t help but be swept away by the vivid memories that filled this place. Like the time you had insisted on climbing the tree. You had managed to scramble up a few sturdy branches, laughing as Clark stood below, clearly amused by your determination. As you got to a pretty thick branch to rest on, you had looked down and teased him about being stuck on the ground, but then he simply floated up to meet your gaze, making you roll your eyes jokingly.

Then there was the quiet afternoon when you had both decided that the day was perfect for reading. So, you both sat at the base of the tree, the shade cool. Clark’s head rested in your lap, a paperback novel in his hands. You’d been absentmindedly carding your fingers through his dark curls, marveling at how soft they were while you tried to pay attention to your own book in your free hand. He glanced up at you every so often, his blue eyes full of warmth, and he’d just smile…

And who could forget the picnic where you had fed him strawberries, only for him to lean forward and kiss you, his lips tasting of sweet fruit? Or the time he’d coaxed you into lying on the grass to stargaze when you both stayed at the field a bit longer than usual. His voice was soft as he named constellations, with his hand warm as it held yours, and your cheek nuzzling into the fabric of his flannel. 

It had been a while since you had had the time to come to the field. With work and life in general, neither you or Clark really had much time to take the forty minute drive down. As you stared at the beautiful scenery around you, you sighed… You really did miss this place.

You turned to Clark, tears welling up in your eyes at the memories that he had brought back to life. “I can’t believe you brought me here.”

He gave you that smile - the one that made your heart ache in the best way possible, “I know we haven’t had much time lately,” He admitted, his tone tinged with both apology and fondness. Deep down, he knew that around fifty percent of the reason why you hadn’t come to the field was because of his… Superhero duties. And he also knew that if he said it out loud, you would immediately brush it off, telling him he didn’t need to feel guilty. What he did helped people, saved people. You understood. The wait is always worth it, in your opinion. Still, the thought lingered, tugging at the corners of his mind. “But I thought it’d be nice to come back here. It’s been too long, and I didn’t want us to forget how special this place is.”

You didn’t respond, at least not with words. Instead, you smiled at him, your lips curling into something soft and tender as you let out a dreamy sigh. Your gaze lingered on him, drinking in every detail of his face, your heart swelling with such profound love for him.

Clark cleared his throat suddenly, as though he’d just remembered something. “Oh! Wait a second,” He spun on his heel and rushed to the back seat of the truck, opening the door with a bit more urgency than necessary. After a moment of rustling, he straightened up, holding a picnic basket in his hands. He turned to face you, a nervous but undeniably endearingly adorable smile on his face. “I, uh… I thought a picnic might be fun.”

You sighed once more, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude and affection for him rising in your chest. Your Clark… Your beautiful and thoughtful Clark… He was simply the best at planning dates.

Clark reached into the basket and pulled out a picnic blanket, but before he could unfold it, you stepped forward, taking it from him with a soft laugh. You stayed close as you did, the proximity enough to make yours and his heart race. Without thinking, your free hand found its way to his cheek, gently cupping it, your thumb brushing along his soft skin as you searched his eyes. 

“This… This is the best surprise, Clark,” You muttered, your voice barely audible as you leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

The kiss was brief, sweet, but it conveyed everything your heart had been holding - everything words couldn’t express. You pulled back gently, a smile curving on your lips as you met his gaze. Clark’s eyes were soft, his lips slightly parted, as though he was still lingering in the warmth of your lips against his. A faint blush colored his cheeks, and his usual confidence seemed replaced by something tender, almost vulnerable; his gaze never left you.

A short time later, the two of you were at the base of the tree, the blanket spread out beneath the branches. You worked together to set up, arranging the food and drinks with care. A small thermos of iced tea, sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, and a container of fruit. The simple utensils - plastic forks and paper napkins - were set out in an organized fashion. It wasn’t much, but it was perfect, made all the more special by the fact that it was the two of you, here, in this spot where your journey together had begun.

Clark was nervous. Incredibly so. He was surprised you hadn’t noticed the way his breath left his lungs with a slight shake or how his hands fumbled over the simplest of tasks, like unwrapping the sandwiches. He caught himself stumbling over his words more than once, trying to mask it with small smiles or glances your way. But, maybe you did notice. Maybe you didn’t want to say anything. That wasn’t like you, though - you always noticed. When he was nervous, you’d take notice right away, always asking if he was alright or if something was troubling him. So why now, when his heart raced and his nerves felt frayed, hadn’t you asked? Did you really not notice? Or were you simply giving him the space to sort through it himself?

He didn’t know.

But it was making him more nervous, if that was even possible.

You were telling him about your day at work. All about the boring business meeting you had to go to, it was mandatory for some reason, even though it could’ve just been an email. But, when Clark surprised you by picking you up after work really turned the entire day around. “Seeing your face always brightens my day,” You said with a soft laugh, your gaze meeting his.

Clark tried to focus on your words, to give you the attention you deserved, but the weight in his back pocket was impossible to ignore. And it had been for the past three weeks since he bought it. His thoughts kept drifting back to it - the small, velvet box that felt heavier than anything he’d ever lifted. He shifted subtly on the blanket, his fingers twitching as they clenched around the fabric under his hand as he propped himself up.

“Clark?” Your voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, a hint of amusement lacing your tone. “You okay? You’re awfully quiet.”

Oh, who was he kidding? He didn’t have only one weakness. He had Kryptonite and then you. He blinked, realizing he’d been staring at you a little too intently. “Huh? Oh- yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” He replied quickly, the slight waver in his voice betraying him.

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “You sure about that?” Clark bit his lip, casting his gaze down at his half-eaten sandwich, his brows knitting together. Your amused grin faltered, replaced by a softer expression as concern etched itself into your features. You leaned closer, your hand gently resting on his arm. “Clark,” You said softly, your voice laced with warmth and care. “What’s wrong?” 

The subtle weight of your touch and the genuine concern in your eyes made his heart ache. He let out a shaky breath, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket as he tried to find the right words. “It’s… Nothing, really,” He mumbled, but even he knew how unconvincing he sounded.

“Clark,” You pressed gently, your thumb brushing against his arm in a soothing motion. “You can tell me. Whatever it is, I’m here.” He looked up then, his blue eyes meeting yours. For a moment, he was struck silent by the way you looked at him - so full of love and trust. And that only made the weight in his pocket feel heavier. You then tried to lighten the mood, a playful smile tugging at your lips despite the concern still lingering in your eyes. “Come on, Clark, whatever it is, it can’t be worse than the time you told me you were Superman.”

His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile almost breaking through his nervous demeanor. “That was pretty bad, wasn’t it?” He murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of fondness and anxiety.

You chuckled, giving his arm a playful squeeze. “Oh, I remember. You sat me down like you were about to confess to a crime or something. ‘It’s a big deal,’ you said. And sure, finding out my boyfriend wears tights under his clothes was a lot to process, but hey, we survived.”

Clark chuckled softly, the sound warm and familiar, easing some of the tension in the air. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath as he nodded, his hand absently smoothing over the blanket. “This… Might be bigger,” He admitted quietly.

Your brow furrowed, and your teasing smile melted into something softer, more reassuring. “Bigger than Superman? Now you’ve definitely got me curious.”

Clark cleared his throat, his eyes dropping from yours as his nerves began to take hold again. He sat up straighter, his posture more rigid, and the soft frown crept back onto his face. You waited patiently, your heart racing in your chest, but you didn’t push him. Whatever he needed to say, you’d let him say it in his own time.

He raised his fist to his mouth, clearing his throat once more before turning his body to face you fully, sitting cross-legged in front of you. His eyes locked onto yours - determined but still nervous. “Y/N,” He started, but then he faltered, huffing in frustration as he shook his head. Raising his hands, he tried again, but halfway through the sentence, he stopped. “Do you remember…” He began anew, his voice a little steadier, “That week we went to visit my parents? We stopped at that little diner about twenty minutes from the farm.”

You tilted your head slightly, nodding with a soft smile. “Of course. How could I forget? Their milkshakes are legendary.”

Clark’s lips twitched into a small, nervous smile. “Right. You ordered two milkshakes for yourself - one chocolate, one strawberry - because you were so confident you could finish them both. But halfway through the second one, you were practically pleading with me to help you finish it because you didn’t want to waste it, and you were getting brainfreeze.”

A laugh bubbled out of you. “Hey, in my defense, they were huge milkshakes. I wasn’t expecting the glass to be a foot tall.”

He chuckled along with you, his eyes softening as he continued. “Yeah, they were pretty tall glasses. But that wasn’t what stuck with me. It was the way the sunlight came through the diner window, hitting your face just right. Your hair had that golden glow to it, and your eyes… They were brighter than anything I’d ever seen.”

Your smile softened, and you could feel the warmth creeping up your cheeks. “Clark…”

He shook his head slightly, pressing on as if he had to get the words out now before his nerves got the better of him. “And then you laughed. Not just a little laugh, but the kind that made everyone else in the diner turn to look at you. You didn’t care, though. You just smiled at me, completely unbothered by the world. And then…” His voice grew quieter, his gaze holding yours as he spoke. “You leaned across the table, stole a fry off my plate, and dipped it into your milkshake…”

Your laugh was softer this time, your eyes glistening as you watched him. “Is this an intervention about stealing your food all the time?”

“No…” Clark smiled warmly, his hand brushing over the blanket as he stared at you. “You were perfect. And in that moment, with the sun on your face and that laugh… I knew.”

You blinked, your mouth slightly open as your breath hitched. “Knew what?” You whispered.

He took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. “That I wanted to marry you.”

You watched with bated breath as Clark shifted, his hand reaching back to pull something from his back pocket. Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly, you knew. The realization hit you like a wave, and you could feel the telltale sting of tears burning at the back of your eyes. “Clark…” You began, but couldn’t finish as you slowly raised both hands to cover your mouth, your breath catching as the small velvet box appeared in his hand.

Clark’s fingers trembled slightly as he held it, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve been carrying this around for weeks,” He confessed softly, a nervous chuckle escaping him. “Waiting for the perfect moment… But the truth is, every moment with you feels perfect.”

Tears spilled over your cheeks as you shook your head slightly, overwhelmed with emotion. “Oh, Clark…” You managed, your voice muffled behind your hands.

He smiled, his own eyes glistening as he opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside. The band shimmered with a soft, delicate shine in the light, and at its center was a brilliant stone. “I love you more than anything,” He said, his voice steady despite the emotions coursing through him. “And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So, Y/N… Will you marry me?”

You took in a shaky breath, blinking rapidly as tears continued to stream down your face. You stared at the ring, then back up at him, your heart racing with disbelief and joy. Suddenly, you surged forward, collapsing into his arms, wrapping your own arms tightly around his neck. The surprise knocked him backward, his back hitting the blanket beneath you both.

You sobbed into his shoulder, barely able to breathe through your emotions. “Yes… Yes!” You cried, repeating it over and over, your fingers weaving into his soft curls, “Yes, Clark!” Clark’s heart swelled at your answer, and he smiled - a huge, bright, beautiful smile that lit up his entire face. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you closer as if he never wanted to let go. You lifted yourself slightly, staring down at him, your heart full as you gazed into his eyes. “I would love nothing more than to marry you,” You said softly, your voice thick with love. Without another word, you leaned down, capturing his lips in a kiss.

The kiss started gentle, your lips brushed against his, warm and soft. His hand found the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, deepening the kiss. You responded, your fingers continuing their journey through his hair, tugging him even closer. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness and you melted into him, completely lost in the kiss.

As you slowly pulled back, your breaths mingling and your heart racing, you couldn’t help yourself - your hands gently cupped his face, and you pressed soft, joyful kisses all over him. First, you kissed his forehead, lingering for a moment, then moved to the smooth skin of his cheeks, your lips barely grazing his skin before you kissed the tip of his nose.

Clark’s eyes fluttered closed with each kiss, a soft chuckle escaping him when you kissed his nose, before rubbing your nose against his. His hands gently gripped your waist, pulling you closer as he leaned into your touch, his face breaking into a warm, adoring smile. He let out a soft sigh of contentment, clearly overwhelmed by the moment. “You’re incredible,” He whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Eventually, the two of you slowly pulled back, sitting up together. Clark took a deep breath as he reached for the small box that had somehow fallen to the side - which were next to his glasses, which flew off as well - and with careful hands, he slipped the ring onto your finger. 

After admiring your ring, wiggling your fingers to watch the gem in the middle sparkle in the sunlight, you looked up at Clark - well, your now fiancé, “Well, guess this means you're officially stuck with me forever, huh?” You teased, grinning playfully.

Clark rolled his eyes lovingly, a soft chuckle escaping him. “You’re the one who’s stuck with me,” He said, his voice warm, yet playful. Then, without another word, he gently took your hand, the one adorned with the ring, and pulled you close; his eyes softened as he leaned in, sealing your lips with his. You let out a soft sigh, your free hand coming up to cup his cheek, and for a moment, you let yourself completely lose yourself in his warmth and love. 

And in that moment, there was nothing else - just the two of you, in love, sitting under the giant oak tree.

~~~

Main Masterlist | DC Masterlist

[letterstoalonewolf]

Poison from the Same Vine

Jasper Hale x Reader

Summary: Jasper Hale was a man at war—with himself, with his past, and now, with her. Y/N was the one thing he could never have, never touch, but the bond between them was suffocating, inescapable—two souls entwined in sin and salvation, running from the daylight yet desperate for its warmth.

Based on the song: Daylight by David Kushner

Telling myself I won’t go there Oh, but I know that I won’t care Tryna wash away all the blood I’ve spilt

Jasper had lived a long life filled with regret. A hundred and sixty years, and still, the weight of his sins sat heavy on his shoulders. No amount of time could wash away the crimson stains on his hands, no prayers could absolve him of the things he had done.

And yet, here she was.

Y/N.

The one thing in this world that made him feel like he could be something other than a monster. And he hated it.

Hated how his body gravitated toward hers. How her scent was the only thing he could never block out, no matter how much he tried. Hated the way she looked at him—like he wasn’t a killer, like she saw something in him worth saving.

Because he wasn’t.

And she shouldn’t.

But he couldn’t stay away.

This lust is a burden that we both share Two sinners can’t atone from a lone prayer Souls tied, intertwined by our pride and guilt

Jasper was gone before he could think better of it, moving across the small stretch of space between them with the speed of a ghost. Y/N barely had time to register his presence before he was there, pressing her back against the rough bark of a towering pine tree.

Her breath hitched.

His hands gripped the tree on either side of her head, shoulders tense, muscles coiled like a predator on the verge of pouncing.

“This ain’t right,” Jasper muttered, more to himself than to her, voice low, desperate.

Y/N swallowed. “Then why are you here?”

The question hung between them, thick as the fog rolling through the forest. Jasper’s golden eyes burned into hers, flickering with something dark, something unspoken.

“You know why,” he rasped.

Her pulse spiked. He felt it, could hear it hammering inside her ribcage like a warning bell, but she wasn’t afraid. She should have been. He wanted her to be. Maybe then, he could do the right thing and leave.

But she wasn’t afraid.

She lifted a hand, fingers ghosting over the sleeve of his shirt. Jasper flinched but didn’t move away, his jaw clenching so tight she could hear the faintest crack of his teeth grinding together.

“Jasper,” she whispered.

His name in her voice was his undoing.

With a growl, he gripped her wrist, pinning it against the tree above her head. He wasn’t rough, but there was a warning in his touch.

“I’m not good, darlin’,” he told her, voice almost pained. “You don’t know what you’re askin’ for.”

She smiled, soft and knowing. “Yes, I do.”

Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time You and I drink the poison from the same vine

Jasper let out a sharp breath, head dropping forward until his forehead nearly brushed hers.

He could feel everything she felt—the anticipation, the desire, the sheer, unwavering certainty that no matter how much he fought this, he would lose.

Because this wasn’t something he could fight.

It was written into his bones, into the very fabric of his being.

She was his.

And he was hers.

Whether he liked it or not.

His fingers loosened around her wrist, sliding down until he was cradling her hand in his, tracing the delicate lines of her palm. Y/N watched him, waiting, never pushing.

Jasper swallowed. “You should run.”

She shook her head.

“You should hate me.”

She smiled. “Never.”

A bitter chuckle rumbled from his chest. “You should.”

“Do you hate me?” she asked.

Jasper lifted his head, eyes locking onto hers. “I don’t think I know how.”

And then, finally, he gave in.

He kissed her.

It was a slow burn, a war waged in silence, in the press of lips and the brush of tongues. Jasper held her as if she was the only thing tethering him to this world, hands cradling her face like she was something fragile, something holy.

And maybe, to him, she was.

Hidin’ all of our sins from the daylight From the daylight, runnin’ from the daylight

The sun was beginning to rise, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold.

Jasper exhaled against her lips, reluctant. “We shouldn’t.”

Y/N ran her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. “Then don’t let anyone find out.”

He smirked. “That easy, huh?”

She grinned. “With you? Never.”

And as the morning light crept over the horizon, they stayed hidden in the shadows, bound together by something neither of them could name—something dark, something dangerous.

Something inevitable.

[ms-snape]

Prejudices (young!remus lupin x slytherin! reader)

request: not a request, request are OPENED

Summary: Remus is in a relationship with a slytherin and his friends are... NOT happy about it

Warning: Angst, argument between lovers, argument between friends...

Wors Count: 2776

Masterlist

---

The soft light of the setting sun filtered through the ancient trees of the Forbidden Forest, casting long shadows on the ground. Remus Lupin stood at the edge of the forest, his heart pounding against his ribcage like a caged bird desperate to escape. He glanced over his shoulder, scanning the clearing for any sign of his friends. He could hear their laughter in the distance, a familiar sound that filled him with both warmth and dread.

“Hey,” a soft voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned to see Y/N approaching, her long Slytherin robes billowing around her. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her green eyes sparkled with mischief. “You’re not going to run off again, are you?”

“No,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face. “I just… I was thinking.”

“About what?” she asked, stepping closer. The air between them was charged, electric, filled with unspoken words and the weight of their secret.

“About us,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She tilted her head, a playful smirk on her lips. “You mean our relationship that’s destined to cause chaos?”

He chuckled softly, but the laughter died in his throat. “You know how it is. I told them about us, but I can't introduce you to them. They’d never understand.”

Y/N crossed her arms, the playful glint in her eyes replaced with something darker. “And why is that, Remus? Because I’m a Slytherin? Because your friends hate my House?”

“It’s not just that,” he replied, running a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “They wouldn’t see past the House rivalry. I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t risk losing them either.”

A flicker of disappointment crossed her face. “So, you’re choosing them over me?”

“No!” He stepped forward, his voice rising slightly. “I’m trying to protect what we have. It’s complicated.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Complicated? Or just cowardly?”

“Y/N, please,” he pleaded, his heart racing. “I just need time.”

She took a step back, her expression hardening. “You know what? Maybe we don’t need time. Maybe we just need to face the truth.”

Before he could respond, she turned on her heel and walked away, her robes swishing in the fading light. Remus watched her go, his chest tight with an emotion he couldn’t quite place.

The next day, Remus found himself in the Gryffindor common room, surrounded by his friends. James, Sirius, and Peter were engaged in a game of Exploding Snap, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. But Remus couldn’t concentrate. His thoughts were consumed by YN, by the conversation they’d had, and the rift that was growing between them.

“Oi, Moony! You’re awfully quiet,” Sirius said, glancing up from the game. “What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Just tired,” Remus said, forcing a smile. He picked at his sleeve, avoiding their eyes.

James raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been off for weeks now. Is it because of that girl Slytherin again?”

Remus’s heart dropped. He had been careful to avoid mentioning Y/N, but it seemed James had picked up on his distracted demeanor. “No, it’s not—”

“Because if it is,” Sirius interrupted, leaning forward, “I’m telling you, Moony, you can do better than a Slytherin. Those snakes will stab you in the back the moment you let your guard down.”

“Yeah, man,” Peter chimed in. “You know they’re all about ambition and power. It’s in their blood.”

Remus clenched his fists, tension coiling in his gut. “You don’t know her, okay? Y/N isn’t like that.”

James’s expression darkened. “Then why are you hiding her? If she’s so great, why not introduce her to us?”

“Because it’s complicated!” Remus snapped, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try us,” Sirius challenged, his jaw set. “We’re your friends, Remus. We care about you.”

“Do you care about me, or do you care about your stupid prejudices?” Remus shot back, his voice rising. The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Moony, we just want what’s best for you,” James said, his tone softer now, but still firm. “Slytherins are dangerous. You know that.”

“Dangerous?” Remus echoed incredulously. “Or just different? Y/N is not dangerous. She’s smart, funny, and she cares about me. Why can’t you see that?”

Sirius’s face hardened. “Because we know how this ends, Remus. You think you can make it work, but she’ll end up breaking your heart. They always do.”

“I can’t believe you guys,” Remus said, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re acting like you own me. I’m not a bloody puppet!”

“Then stop acting like a fool!” Sirius shot back, standing up now, his hands clenched at his sides. “You can’t just ignore the truth because it doesn’t fit your little fantasy!”

“Guys, calm down…” Peter stuttered, glancing nervously between them.

But Remus was beyond reason. He felt the weight of betrayal crashing down on him. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am a fool for thinking you would support me.”

He turned away, storming out of the common room and into the maze of corridors that led to the dungeons. His heart raced as he navigated the familiar path, each step echoing the turmoil within him.

Y/N was waiting for him by the entrance to the Slytherin common room, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. The moment she spotted him, the tension in her posture visibly relaxed. “You came,” she said, relief flooding her voice.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice heavy with unspoken words. “But it’s not good news.”

Her expression shifted, concern flickering in her eyes. “What happened?”

“James and Sirius are idiots,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “They… they still don’t approve.”

“Of course not,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “They’re Gryffindors, and I’m a Slytherin. What did you expect?”

“I thought maybe they’d be okay with it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But they’re not. They think I’m making a mistake.”

“Are you?” she challenged, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“No! I’m just trying to figure out how to make this work without losing you or them,” he exclaimed, exasperation rising in his chest.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before getting involved with a Slytherin,” she shot back, hurt flashing across her face. “It’s not like I forced you into this, Remus.”

“I never said that!” he argued, frustration spilling over. “I care about you, but they’re my friends—”

“Your friends who don’t care about you! They only care about their stupid prejudices!” YN snapped, her voice rising. “You’re so afraid of losing them that you can’t even stand up for what you want!”

“Maybe I’m just trying to be realistic!” he shouted, the words echoing off the stone walls around them. “You think this is easy for me? Hiding who I care about just because they might not accept you?”

“Then stop hiding!” she yelled, tears welling in her eyes. “You say you care about me, but it feels like you care more about their opinions than about our relationship!”

“I’m trying to protect us!” he exclaimed, his heart racing with anxiety.

“Protect us?” she said incredulously, stepping back as if struck. “You mean protect your friendship with people who don’t even see me as a person! They see me as a stereotype!”

“Y/N, please…” he said, his voice cracking.

“No! You can’t keep playing both sides!” she cried, her voice trembling. “Either you stand by me, or you let me go.”

“Y/N, don’t say that,” he begged, desperation creeping into his voice. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Then you need to make a choice, Remus,” she said, her expression resolute. “Because I won’t be your secret anymore. I deserve better than that.”

With that, she turned and disappeared into the darkness of the corridor, leaving Remus standing alone, the weight of his choices crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

Days passed, and the rift between Remus and Y/N deepened. The halls of Hogwarts felt emptier without her presence, and every time he saw James and Sirius, the anger bubbled to the surface again. They had no idea how much he was hurting, how much he missed her laughter and her teasing smiles.

“Moony, you’ve got to get over this,” James urged one evening as they both sat in the Great Hall. “There are plenty of girls in our House.”

Remus shot him a glare. “I don’t want anyone else. I want Y/N.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” James asked, leaning back in his seat. “Just tell her you’re done with the secrecy. Bring her here, introduce her.”

Remus slammed his hands on the table, the sound echoing through the hall. “You don’t get it. It’s not that simple!”

“Why not?” James insisted. “If you really care about her, you’ll find a way.”

Remus stared at them, feeling the weight of their expectations pressing down on him. “You want me to choose between you and her.”

“We want you to be honest with us,I'm sure that's what Pads and Wormtail want as well ” James said quietly. “We want to understand.”

“I’m trying,Prongs” Remus said, his voice breaking. “But it’s hard when I feel like I’m fighting everyone I care about.”

“Then make a choice,” James said softly. “You can’t keep living in the middle. Either you stand up for what you want or you let it go.”

Remus looked down at his plate, the reality of James' words sinking in. It was time to make a decision, to confront the truth of his feelings and his loyalties. He knew what he had to do, even if it meant risking everything he had.

Outside, the crisp evening air hit him like a slap. He walked aimlessly, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. Memories of YN flooded his mind—the way her laughter would light up a room, the way she challenged him and made him feel alive. He missed her so much it was like a physical ache in his chest.

Just as he rounded a corner, he spotted YN standing by the lake, her figure silhouetted against the moonlight. His breath caught in his throat as he took a step toward her, but she turned away, her posture tense.

“Y/N,” he called softly.

She didn’t respond, staring out over the water, her expression inscrutable.

“Please, can we talk?” he asked, his heart pounding.

After a long silence, she finally turned to face him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “What’s there to talk about, Remus? You’ve made your choice clear.”

“I haven’t made any choice,” he replied, stepping closer. “I don’t want to lose you. I’ve been trying to find a way to make this work, but my friends… they don’t understand.”

“Maybe they’re right,” she said, her voice breaking. “Maybe it’s just too complicated for us.”

“No,” he said fiercely, shaking his head. “We can make it work. I want to fight for us.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she replied, her voice laced with pain. “You’re not the one who has to deal with the fallout of being with a Gryffindor. You don’t know what it feels like to be judged every single day.”

“I know what it feels like to be judged,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “I’m a werewolf, YN. I’ve felt that sting my whole life.”

She looked at him, her eyes wide. “But you have friends who support you. I don’t have that. Not now, not ever.”

“You could have me,” he said, stepping closer, his heart pounding. “I want to be with you, but I need you to believe that.”

“Believe what?” she asked, her voice trembling. “That you’ll stand up to your friends for me? That you’ll choose me over them?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed, the words pouring out of him. “I choose you. I choose us.”

“Then why don’t you prove it?” she challenged, her gaze unwavering. “Stop hiding me. Bring me to your friends, face them together. Show me you really mean it.”

Remus’s heart raced at the thought. He had been so afraid of the consequences, of the judgment, but now he saw clearly. YN was worth it. “Okay,” he said, determination filling him. “I’ll do it. I’ll bring you to them.”

A flicker of hope crossed her face, but it was quickly replaced by uncertainty. “And if they don’t accept me?”

“Then we’ll deal with it together,” he vowed, his voice steady. “I won’t let them dictate our happiness.”

She stepped closer, her eyes searching his. “You really mean that?”

“Yes,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I won’t let fear keep us apart anymore.”

YN hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, their fingers intertwining. “Okay, but if they make a scene…”

“They won’t,” he promised, squeezing her hand gently. “I’ll make sure of it.”

With a small smile breaking through her tears, YN nodded. “Then let’s do this.”

The next evening, Remus gathered his courage and headed to the Gryffindor common room with YN by his side. His heart raced as they approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, her gaze scrutinizing them both.

“Password?” she asked, her voice dripping with skepticism.

“caput draconis,” Remus replied, his throat dry.

The portrait swung open, and they stepped inside. The warmth of the room enveloped them, but the laughter and chatter stilled as everyone turned to stare. James, Sirius, and Peter sat at a table in the corner, their expressions shifting from surprise to confusion.

“Moony?” Sirius said, rising to his feet. “What’s going on?”

Remus took a deep breath, feeling YN’s hand squeeze his for reassurance. “I want you all to meet someone,” he said, his voice steady. “This is YN. She’s… she’s my girlfriend. I told you about her”

The silence that followed was deafening. Sirius’s expression hardened, and Peter’s eyes widened with shock. James looked between them, a sligh smile on his face.

“You can’t be serious,” Sirius finally said, disbelief etched on his face. “You brought a slytherin into our commun room?”

“Yes,” Remus said, feeling a surge of defiance. “And I care about her.”

“You know she’s not like us, right?” Sirius pressed, crossing his arms. “She’s a Slytherin.”

“Last time I checked, love doesn’t have a House,” Remus shot back, his heart racing. “She’s a person, just like you and I.”

Peter stepped forward, trying to mediate. “Look, Moony, we just want to protect you. You know how Slytherins can be.”

“Right, because all Slytherins are the same,” Y/N interjected, her voice sharp. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about who I am.”

Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but Remus held up a hand. “Let her speak.”

Y/N took a step forward, her confidence shining through. “I’m not here to cause troubles. I care about Remus just like you three, and I’m willing to prove that to you. But I need you to give me a chance.”

“Prove it how?” Sirius asked, skepticism still etched on his face.

“By showing you that I’m not a stereotype,” she replied, her voice steady. “I want to get to know you all, but I can't do it if you’re going to judge me before you know me.”

James looked at Remus, searching his face for a sign of uncertainty. But Remus felt only determination. “She’s right. If you want me to be happy, you have to accept the person I care about.”

The tension in the room was palpable, and for a moment, it felt like everything hung in the balance. Finally, James sighed, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his glasses. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Let’s give her a chance.”

Sirius shot him a look of disbelief. “James, are you serious?”

“Yeah, I am,” James replied, his tone firm. “If Remus cares about her, then we owe it to him and to her to see what she’s really like.”

Remus felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Thank you,” he said, glancing at YN, who looked equally surprised.

“But,” James added, raising a finger, “you better not pull any Slytherin tricks on us, or I swear…”

“I won’t,” YN promised, her voice steady. “I just want to be treated like everyone else.”

“Just don’t expect us to let you win at Exploding Snap,” Sirius added with a smirk.

The tension in the room began to dissipate as the other Gryffindors resumed their conversations, albeit with curious glances at YN. Slowly, she began to relax, and Remus couldn’t help but smile at the small victories.

[transformers-spike]

hey! been reading all your stuff and absolutely love what you do. i got an idea regarding team prime having their first christmas party at the base (june insisted), and they’re each introduced to the concept of kissing under mistletoe

I'm going for something where the reader is already in a relationship with the bot of choice. It's mostly just cute interactions with a hint of spice mid post.

Optimus takes it rather well considering… everything. He’s got a team to lead, a dead planet on his conscience and a homoerotic rivalry with his ex-best friend/murderous dictator who’s obsessed with him. Life could be a lot better right now. But it also could be a lot worse. He’s content watching from the sidelines as his fellow Autobots enjoy a new part of Earth culture. Don’t mind him, he’ll join in once his work is done. For now the best he can do is flash you an encouraging smile as you fail to string out the Christmas lights for the fifth time in a row – you can do it, he believes in you. He tries his best to seem oblivious when you climb the ladder June is holding still (the ultimate wingwoman), keeping a close optic behind the terminal just in case things go south and he has to catch you. When you call his name with the goofiest smile on your face, he beams at you, equal parts pride and cute aggression. “Hey,” you drawl, doing your best to seem as charming as possible while holding on for dear life on the only thing stopping you from plummeting to the ground. “So there’s this Christmas tradition you may not have heard about…” He attentively listens to the explanation, nodding his helm and faking surprise when he hears what mistletoes entail. His spark stutters in his chassis when you ask him, sheepishly averting your gaze, if he’d like to partake in this human tradition. He graciously accepts, hovering a servo over your frame (in case you stumble back in shock) and leans in for you to initiate the kiss. Yes, Miko told him. Yes, she ruined the surprise. No, he won’t tell you because he’s never seen you happier getting to kiss him.

Ratchet is unimpressed. At least that’s what he wants you to believe. He’s so invested in decorating he spends every minute off work painstakingly stringing obnoxiously bright garlands around the railings and holding the kids in his servos to reach the highest branches of the gigantic and possibly illegally uprooted Christmas tree. He’s complaining about the time he will waste taking down the decorations, but everyone in the base knows damn well he’s going to keep them on as long as he can. You don’t even have to bring up the mistletoe, he’s overheard enough from the crappy Holiday-themed movies the kids have been watching to secretly crank up the charm while scoffing on the outside. You’re watching the kids place the final touches on the tree, a mug of eggnog in one hand while helping yourself to some Santa-shaped sugar cookies. You barely notice Ratchet leaning in with a minuscule strand of mistletoe between his massive digits. It takes a moment for you to understand, what with the plant being nigh invisible in his servo. Finally, you swallow thickly and stand on your tippy toes (on the couch no less) to reach his intake. The kiss is the longest he’s ever experienced up until now, and while he has the kissing abilities of a dying fish, he melts into it while you forget how to breathe.

Bulkhead is clearly enjoying himself, watching bad Christmas dramas with the kids, trying to figure out how to remix old carols with Miko adding a rock (and occasionally death metal) twist. It’s simultaneously the funniest and most mind-boggling Holiday celebration anyone has ever experienced, add Wheeljack into the mix and now Ratchet is watching these two like a hawk in case they roughhouse too much and crush the Christmas tree. Miko would actually love to see that, and you and Bulkhead both have to be the responsible adults of the situation and try to keep the damage at a minimum while Wheeljack acts like the world’s worst influence on a teenager. By Primus, Bulkhead is actually tempted to join it, and now you have to reel in two grown adult mechs eons your senior and one 15 year old girl. Primus save you. And yet, beyond all expectations, said 15 year old girl is your wingwoman for the evening, which is simultaneously humiliating and a godsend. When she pulls out the plastic mistletoe from her pocket and holds it over you and Bulkhead’s heads from her vantage point on his neck, a move she’s been planning months in advance, your soul exits your body. The staring contest between you and her robot dad breaks only when Miko urges you to do something at least. The kiss is short and sweet, Bulkhead is screaming inside during the whole ordeal no matter how brief, hoping to Primus he didn’t somehow kiss you so badly during a five second interval you’re willing to break up with him. Nah, you’re blushing so intensely June thinks you’re about to have an aneurysm.

Wheeljack is a menace, and it’s entirely your fault. Mentioning the tradition wasn’t supposed to end up like this, but alas, horny dumbassery always leads to worst case scenarios. Bulkhead told you to go for it, meaning well with his encouragement but sealing your fate for the next 24 hours. Ratchet asked you if you were out of your mind, the voice of reason and simultaneously the bitchiest best friend you could ask for, telling you loud and clear if anything happened it would be on your conscience alone. June put a hand on your shoulder and (half) jokingly said she would ask to be assigned to your hospital room. Truly, you have the will to live of a hamster doing its hardest to die a horribly gruesome death and reach hamsterhallah. What a genius you are. Wheeljack wasted no time getting you under the mistletoe Bulkhead helped string up, and maybe you envisioned it differently when he narrowly bruised your lips going in for the kiss. You tried to keep the sloppy makeout session brief, but from the way Bulkhead was shielding the kids behind not one but two giant servos, you might have overdone it. What you especially did not expect, however, was waking up in the Jackhammer’s passenger seat with the worst migraine of your life and dry transfluid slathered all over your crotch. Now, trying to recall the events of last night with the worst eggnog hangover you’ve ever experienced, you can only wait for Wheeljack to awaken from recharge in the pilot’s seat. You note the traces of transfluid on his lips, and your eyes trail down to your suspiciously bluish hand. Did you fist Wheeljack on Christmas Eve?

Bumblebee is having the time of his life. You got Raf (and his Autobot guardian) some discount Christmas-themed games from the only offbrand Gamestop in all of Jasper as an early present. You watch with rapt amusement as they laugh at the frankly abysmal coding and game design, enjoying themselves to the fullest despite the sub-optimal gameplay, but you almost choke on your spit when Raf actually starts analyzing the code for the game and applying level-breaking cheats in a matter of minutes. Cheesus Christ, that kid can hack into the Pentagon at this point. You move in front of Agent Fowler’s line of sight to stop him from seeing just what kind of threat to national security Raf can become. As the day nearly comes to an end and you’re half sure Jack is scrutinizing Ratchet who’s flirting with his mom who’s tucking her hair behind her ear in the single mom sign for “I will fuck this alien robot”; you beckon Bumblebee closer and hold out the mistletoe over your head and his uh… forehead. You kiss him slowly, holding onto the railing as he leans his face into your lips, beeping happily. Little do you know, Miko saw it and now she’s going to hold out a mistletoe over your heads for the next 5 hours until your mouth grows numb from kissing him. He looks so damn happy whenever he notices the mistletoe, you can’t say no to him, not when Dadimus Prime is watching from the other corner of the room.

Arcee is ahead of schedule. She knows what you’re going to do, and she’s already planning to one up you. Yes, she’s been especially busy giving the kids a lift to put up the final ornaments on the tree in spite of her initial protests, but now you’re fiddling with your fingers stealing occasional glances like you’re desperately hyping yourself up for what’s to come. You have no idea what you’re doing to her looking so shy and cute. She could just eat you up. You’re unsure when you go up to her, Christmas fun fact on your lips and sweating bullets just thinking about what you’re going to do - and your jaw drops down to the Earth’s core when she gingerly holds a strand of mistletoe over your heads. She wishes she could capture your expression and lock it inside her spark. When you kiss, it’s deep and longing, filled with a need to give yourself up completely in spite of being so finite next to her. And she welcomes it, all of it, taking your eagerness and savoring every minute with you. When you pull away heaving for breath, your hair’s a mess and you’re redder than Cliffjumper’s plating. Your eyes twinkle when you look at her, equal parts love and desperation to surrender yourself to her with all the trust in the world. She will protect you until the day she offlines.

[deathbxnny]

You and Me here. | Kisuke Urahara x Gn!Reader

This is so self-indulgent omg... but I've been feeling motivated to write so much lately, so this is my official and first offering to the Bleach fandom-

Synopsis: Kisuke always had secret worries regarding your relationship and past together. He felt like your choice to still be there with him was out of necessity due to your unfortunate situation... but you're more content with it than he may think.

Content: Vague mentions of Kisuke's past, angst, fluff, established romantic relationship, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns.

((Not fully proofread))

When you gave up your life in the Seireitei for the man you loved more than life itself, you were asked why you'd do such a foolish thing for him. Was he really worth it? Worth the banishment and exile from your home and old life? Worth the pain and agony of knowing you could never return? Worth losing identity, your family, your friends, your status… Everything?

And your answer back then, the one that led you to now calmly stand in a small kitchen, humming to yourself peacefully as you made breakfast, was yes. He was worth it. Even if the man himself, legendary Kisuke Urahara, former captain and prodigy, thought otherwise.

The morning sun was filtering in through the open windows of the Urahara shop, the chirping of the birds and rustling of trees alike blending in with the sound of you pouring tea into a cup. It was way too early for any of the two children, which you considered your own, to be awake, and therefore, you took in this moment of idilic peace for as long as you could. Gentle and careful hands suddenly then grabbed onto your hips, familiar blonde locks tickling the side of your face, as a certain someone took a content breath of your sweet scent and food you had made. "Morning, my love." He hummed into your ear, his thumbs absently rubbing circles into your hips in silent thanks. You turned your head with a smile, one that made his tense shoulders relax. "Good morning, Kisuke... did I wake you?" Your voices were hushed, not wanting to wake anyone.

The man closed his eyes and hummed a lazy 'no' into your neck, unwilling to move away from you despite the tasty breakfast practically dangling infont of him. "That's good... come on, let's eat before the kids come." You chuckle, dragging the man into his chair and handing him his well-deserved meal. It was a routine you both had fallen into over the many years, centuries, you've spent here now in your home. But today... you were quick to notice the difference in your lover's behavior. What would usually be filled with a morning of teasing words and laughter was now simply silent and solemn. You could feel the unsure energy shift, the nervousness in his pensive gaze that turned to the window, the unsaid words that lingered in the air that must've burned on his tongue.

You could tell he was thinking about something important, which he always did in the form of new plans and equally as questionable experiments. But you knew there was something else on his mind this time, something much more sinister, perhaps. You've known him for way too long not to notice, of course. And he must've known that, as he placed down his cup of tea with a sigh. "Yoruichi is coming to visit today. I hope you don't mind taking over the morning shift for a while? I'll reward you with a kiss if you do~!" He attempted to fake his usual playful tone, quick to stand with no further elaboration, not that he really needed to. His old companion visiting was not unusual, and if anything, it was more than welcome. But that wasn't what made you arch a brow. "Sure... are you okay, Kisuke?" You asked, watching as the man passed you and made his way out of the kitchen with a hum.

"More than okay~!" He sang out, and you had no time to inquire about his issue any further when Jinta and Ururu came rushing in for their share of the breakfast, too. Your eyes lingered on his retreating form, lips pressed together in worry that you pushed away for the sake of the starving kids.

"Y'know... I believe you're just overthinking this again." Yoruichi hummed, her hand idly swishing around her cup of milk tea as she spoke. She knew the man well, and therefore was easily able to tell what exactly was bothering him. "Besides... if they really were unhappy here with you... then they would've never followed you to begin with. You should know that." The blonde sighed at her words, knowing she was right. But even so, there was something in him that still disagreed. It was irrational, very much emotionally driven, than anything else. It has been bothering him for decades now, corrupting his mind and leaving him restless on most nights, even when you've never left his side for more than a day in all your time here. So what was it that made him still doubt the sincerity in your choices?

"I... am aware of that. But that doesn't make me feel better about it." "So you're feeling guilty?" He bowed his head to conveniently sip on some tea as she said those painfully true words, which confirmed her suspicions. Putting her cup down with a slight thud, the woman crossed her arms and gave him a stern look. They've had this conversation many, many times before. And whilst she understood his worries to some extent, she didn't want him to ruin what he had with you. You were good for him. More than he could ever acknowledge.

"Urahara Kisuke!" She called out, leaning forward with a narrow of her eye. "Have you even slightly attempted to bring this up to them? I bet they'd be more than elated to tell you about how much they love you. I'd know..." She said, a small grin tugging at her lips at all the times she had to listen to you do that exact thing. But the man still looked stubbornly unconvinced. "Yoruichi-" "-Yeah, yeah, I know what you're gonna say." She attempted to mock his posture, clearly trying to get her point across once and for all. "Oh, but they ultimately had no choice! They would've had to leave one way or another!"

"Is that really how I sound to you?" The man asked, his eyes hidden by the shadow of his stripped bucket hat. The cat woman gave him a stern glare, clearly not liking that he was avoiding the situation again. He was intelligent and brilliant in many things... until it came to you and your feelings for him. You've been a couple for many decades now... and yet, he still acted as though he made you to at gunpoint. It would be funny if she wasn't so exhausted of it. And she was sure that you, too, were starting to catch onto his insecure thoughts and shenanigans.

Back then, before your life's in the world of the living, his worries mostly surrounded his unexpressed feelings for you. He didn't think he was worth your affections, especially not if other captains like Shinji existed, who had already tried his luck with you. And Yoruichi remembered how hard she had to fight to make the man in front of her even consider speaking to you again afterward. It was a struggle, but now she can say she was proud of herself for pulling through... until the next challenge came by in the form of whatever this was supposed to be.

Shaking her head, she tilted her head at him, eyes now alot softer in knowing empathy. "Listen. I get it. What they did, everything they've sacrificed, it was crazy. But that's just proof that they love you more than you know... man, for someone who's supposed to be a prodigy, you're painfully dense." Kisuke chuckled weakly at her words, his eyes glinting slightly in the sun with an unreadable look in them. "Hm... maybe you're right." Yoruichi felt her eye twitch. "I know I'm right!"

Pushing the door to the shop open, Kisuke stepped inside and let out a hum when the familiar sound of your and the kid's laughter filled his ears. He considered himself lucky to hear it, no matter how many times he did. Many years ago, when he first met and began developing his deep rooting feelings for you, he dreamt of coming home to moments like these. Leaning his body against the doorway to the small living room, he watched you three play a silly board game together. You were smiling brightly, hand reaching out to mess with Jinta's red hair, whilst Ururu cuddled into your side on the couch.

Yoruichi's words rang in his mind, reminding him of all the good he had in his life through your presence in it. And you were beautiful like this. So radiant and alive. You had changed alot since your time in the Seireitei and know that Kisuke was watching you so closely, he realised that you've changed for the better. You were free and could be yourself here. Here with him. Your eyes suddenly found his, and it felt like he was breathing again. You were the air that filled his lungs, as without you, he'd die. His world was worth nothing before you came into his life.

"Kisuke! Come play with us!" You called out, patting an empty spot next to you. The man gave you his usual grin back, quick to do as you asked. And as the children were momentarily distracted to ponder over their next moves, you leaned your head against his, your lips brushing against his ear lovingly. "Do you feel better?" You asked, and he chuckled gently in response. You were so perceptive. But that would be a conversation for another day, as he was beginning to understand his own misconceptions and flaws regarding your own feelings. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, a kiss pressed to your cheek affectionately before he responded.

"Yes. I feel better now. Thank you."

[philokaliist]

'A Glimpse Of Serpents'

Clarisse La Rue x DaughterOfMedusa!Reader

A/N:Love,love,LOVE the concept of this but Idk how to feel abt how this turned out

Clarisse finds out her girlfriend's heritage and the fact that she inherited her mother's petrifying gaze

In the golden glow of a summer afternoon at Camp Half-Blood, Clarisse La Rue strolled through the training grounds, her armor glinting in the sunlight.

As Clarisse neared the archery range, she spotted her girlfriend,you,leaning against a tree.You,the daughter of Medusa,always wore sunglasses – a necessary shield against the curse that lived within your gaze.Clarisse greeted you with a warm smile, but something in the atmosphere around them felt off.

The sunlight caught the lenses of your sunglasses, and in a fleeting moment, Clarisse saw a reflection that sent a chill down her spine. It wasn't just a normal reflection; it was a glimpse of something unimaginable. In that fraction of a second, Clarisse saw the twisted, serpentine eyes of yours, eyes that mirrored the cursed heritage passed down from Medusa herself.

Clarisse looked at you,eyes wide for a moment,but then a scowl forming on her face as she decided to question you - to confirm if what she just witnessed was right. "What's with the shades all the time? We're in camp,not some fancy set." she grumbled.

You hesitated for a moment,then sighed,deciding to tell her "Clarisse, there's something I need to tell you, but you have to promise not to freak out.Please."

Clarisse scoffed, "Just spill it already."

Taking a deep breath,you removed your sunglasses - not meeting Clarisse's gaze,you revealed eyes that mirrored the unsettling gaze of your mother, Medusa. Clarisse recoiled, her anger momentarily replaced by shock.

"What the hell!?" Clarisse's voice trembled with a mixture of disbelief and betrayal.

You nodded solemnly, "I didn't want you to find out like this,but I didn't know how to tell you."

Clarisse's fists clenched, her expression hardening. "You've been keeping this from me? Are you trying to turn me into stone or something!?" she was furious now,and it was showing - both from her face and her tone.

You pleaded, "No, Clarisse, I love you. I wear the sunglasses to avoid accidentally turning anyone to stone. I've been trying to protect you."

Clarisse's anger flared up, "Protect me?!Protect me!!? By keeping such a major secret? You think I can't handle it?!"

You stammered "I was scared, okay? I thought you'd hate me!"

Clarisse glared at you, the hurt evident in her eyes. "You could have trusted me.But instead,you lied to my face!!"

You gasp,panic setting in,stumbling backwards. "Clarisse, please don't..."

But it was too late. Clarisse snapped, her temper boiling over. "Get away from me! I can't believe I trusted you."

You winced,devastated, turned around and fled deep into the forest. Clarisse, seething with anger and confusion,stood alone near the archery range.As you ran,your tears mingled with the constant muttering of "monster, monster, monster" echoing through the trees.

Clarisse was still grappling with the revelation and the harsh words she had just hurled at the person she loved. Deep down, she knew you weren't a monster, but the shock had ignited a volatile reaction. As the echoes of your footsteps faded, Clarisse was left with the weight of her own regret, realizing that the trust they had built might be shattered.

Eventually, Clarisse found you sitting by the lake alone, staring at your reflection with a mixture of self-loathing and fear. The raw vulnerability in that moment softened Clarisse's anger. She approached you with a gentleness that hadn't been there before.

As you looked up,tear-stained eyes meeting Clarisse's amidst the shadows of the ancient trees as you cried harder and spoke,your eyes still hidden behind the sunglasses. "You don't understand,Clarisse!You can't understand!I'm a monster.My mother's curse runs through me.I never asked to be born a monster!I didn't...I really didn't..." your words seemed to catch in your throat as you sobbed.

Clarisse sighed,still obviously upset - but she spoke in a calmer tone,attempting to calm you down.She kneeled besides you and spoke "Look,sorry for how I acted back there.It just..I was disappointed and sad - sad that you didn't tell me,sad that you lied to me...but I'm not running away from you.I would never run away from you." Clarisse spoke softly, her voice a contrast to the anger from before. "We're in this together,no matter what.But you've got to trust me,even with the parts you consider ugly."

Clarisse gently reached for her girlfriend's hand, her expression softening. "I know I can be a handful, but I'm not going anywhere.We face things together, good and bad. Trust me, okay?" She offered a small, reassuring smile, hoping to mend the moment and strengthen your connection as you embraced,hugging eachother tightly.

A/N:This was kinda fun to write but I mean - it's something? Anyways finished my hw 💀

[mqrrstarr]

Hi!! ‘Tis the season! Can I request how Geta and Caracalla (separate please) celebrates Christmas (or really Saturnalia) with you? Any gifts of special moments they’d strive to create? I know they throw one hell of anChristmas party- Tysm !!

A/N: YIPPIE! MY FIRST REQUEST THANK YOU DEAR PERSON!! I’m going to write for my glorious emperor Caracalla bc he’s my precious angel and he’s such a cutie in my eyes who deserves all the love he can get. Will post a Geta version after!! - xoxo mqrrstarr

Christmas With The Emperor (1/2)

Emperor Caracalla x GN! Reader

how Caracalla would celebrate the holidays (Saturnalia / Christmas) with you!

Warnings: not edited, and it’s like half headcanons and half story, also I wrote about it Saturnalia first and then Christmas!!

GO READ GETA’S VERSION!!

Summary: Caracalla spends the holidays of Saturnalia and Christmas with his SO!!

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Caracalla enjoyed spending time with you.

His cherished partner, the one who vowed to love forever. The holidays had come around in Rome, and Saturnalia was all the rage. Outside the palace and in the streets were lines of vendors, performers, and even cooks who were eager to feed the public. Caracalla always took comfort in this period of celebration, and as a devotee to Saturn.

“Darling, are you ready to leave yet? I don’t want to miss any of the activities!”

The man was giddy with excitement, and eager to see you in newly made red, purple and golden clothes, the traditional Saturnalia colors. You nodded and the both of you took off in Caracalla’s chariot with two guards along.

The wheels on the dirt roads guided you to where the main festivities took place, the sacrifices of young pigs to Saturn. Caracalla took your hand as you were his, and smiled as the public bowed down to the both of you.

“See? They bow to the most elite of Rome.”

He kissed you before providing his own sacrifice, a young pig provided by Geta. (Caracalla couldn’t bear the thought of killing his own pig, so hence Geta supplied it.)

Soon after, you left to go to the markets. You noticed how happy Caracalla was, his pale cheeks all rosy and his smile as giddy as a child in a candy store. It was good for him to feel this way. Signs of respect and gifts were thrown your way, and Caracalla eagerly accepted each and every one. You hesitated a little bit, as you did want to financially compensate the merchants.

“I suppose I must, Lord Saturn might ruin the Empire’s farming and harvest. Thank you for telling me.”

He’d give sacks of money to his guards to give the merchants, as he’d want to get home. Caracalla had spent time running around in the road and then wanted nothing but to eat and spend time with you.

“Darling. This was fun. Didn’t I tell you?”

He smiled.

“I’m eternally grateful to the Gods that they gifted me you, and that I live to witness our rule and life until the day it is over.”

He’s absolutely adorable and falls asleep in your arms. A few days later, it’s time for Christmas. The whole month of December was been exhausting. You’ve been busy helping Macrinus choose new gladiators, been meeting with the senate and Geta to figure out tax issues, and studying. On the other hand, Caracalla’s just been doing whatever Caracalla does.

Yet, Caracalla takes the time behind your back to get you the most lavish gifts ever. New robes, a shiny new pair of sandals, golden jewelry, and most importantly; himself.

You’d wake up after him, (which is surprising, as he usually wakes up after you) and he’d been sitting with the gifts under his tree.

(help I don’t think this is time period accurate but whatever)

“Surprise!! All the luxuries you wanted are here! Merry Christmas!”

He’d grab your hand and twirl you around, dancing in the room and kissing.

“I couldn’t ever imagine life without you.”

He paused for a second, clearly trying not to burst into tears. You caressed his face, as he looks up at you in this state and says,

“I love you. I know I am not worthy of your affection, yet you still give it. I thank you.”

You smile and reassure him that isn’t true. You take this chance to pull out your own secret gift for Caracalla and gift it to him. It’s a copy of his favorite childhood book, and a necklace made of both of your favorite gemstones.

This makes him burst into tears, and all you can do is hug him and cherish the moment between the both of you.

(GOD PLEASE HES SUCH A CUTIE 😭)

[morgan-va]

if u dont mind me requesting,maybe a rocky x reader after he got his head injury? :D

Yes yes

Masterlist

Rocky x GN!Reader After His Head Injury

The midday sun spilled through your kitchen window, its warm light pooling on the floor and across the table where you sat, absently picking at a sandwich. You’d been trying to distract yourself all morning, but your thoughts kept circling back to the bootlegging reconnaissance Rocky had left for. He hadn’t called, hadn’t sent word, and the absence of his usual chaos left a knot of unease in your chest.

The sound of the front door creaking open shattered the silence.

You turned quickly, your heart leaping into your throat, and there he was—Rocky. Or at least, what was left of him.

He stumbled in, his lanky frame leaning heavily on the doorframe, one paw gripping the edge as though the floor beneath him might give way. His usually pristine—well, relatively pristine—blue suit was tattered and caked with dirt. His hat sat askew, nearly crushed and inside out, and his tie hung loose around his neck. But it wasn’t his clothes that made your stomach drop.

It was his face.

A poorly stitched gash ran along his forehead, dried blood streaking down his nose like crimson paint smeared by a drunken artist. His eyes, usually alight with mischief, were glassy and bloodshot, darting around the room as if he weren’t quite sure where he was.

“Rocky!” You were out of your chair in an instant, rushing to him.

He blinked at you, a slow, disjointed recognition dawning in his expression. “Ah! My dearest!” he crooned, his voice wobbling between his usual theatricality and a strange, unsteady slur. “Look at you! A vision of—of—uh…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing as he seemed to forget what he was saying mid-sentence.

“Sit down,” you urged, wrapping an arm around him and guiding him to the couch. He resisted for a moment, swaying on his feet like a tree caught in a strong wind.

“But- but I have stories!” he exclaimed suddenly, his voice bright with manic enthusiasm. “Adventures! Danger! Thrills!” He laughed, the sound sharp and jagged, nearly unhinged.

“Rocky, please,” you said firmly, steering him toward the couch. “You’re hurt.”

He let you guide him this time, collapsing onto the cushions with a dramatic sigh. “Hurt? Oh, no, no, no! Merely a scratch! A trifle! A—a… wait.” He paused, his grin faltering as he brushed the stitches on his forehead. His expression darkened, and for a moment, the chaotic energy drained from him entirely.

“I messed it up,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “The whole job. Everyone… they’ll blame me. They always blame me, even if they don’t say it. Can’t say I’d blame them.”

“Rocky, stop—”

“Why’d I come here?” he cut you off, his bloodshot eyes meeting yours with a sudden, piercing intensity. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this. I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t…”

“Rocky,” you said softly, kneeling in front of him and placing a hand on his knee. “You’re home. You’re safe now. Just let me help.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Then, as quickly as it had come, the heaviness in his expression lifted, replaced by a wide, strained grin.

“Safe, you say?” he said, his voice taking on its usual grandiloquence. “Ah, but my love, safety is such a dull affair! Why, just the other day—”

He launched into a story, one you were sure had been pieced together from a half-dozen half-truths, but his words slurred and faltered, his narrative tripping over itself. He stopped abruptly, his head lolling forward as his paw pressed to his temple.

“Dizzy…” he murmured, almost to himself.

You moved to his side in an instant, gently tilting his head back to rest against the couch. His pulse thrummed unevenly under your palm.

“Rocky, you need rest,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay calm.

“Rest?” He chuckled weakly, his paw waving dismissively in the air. “Who has time for rest? There’s so much to do, so much to… to…” His words trailed off, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

You sat beside him, running your paws across his mud-streaked fur as you tried to soothe him. He leaned into your touch, his breath evening out slightly, though his bloodshot eyes never quite focused when they opened again.

“Do you hate me?” he asked suddenly, his voice small and fragile.

“What?” The question hit you like a punch to the chest.

“Do you… hate me?” he repeated, his eyes glistening as he looked up at you. “For… for all of this? For being… me?”

Your heart ached as you leaned closer, pressing your forehead gently against his. “Rocky, I could never hate you.”

For a moment, he was silent, his eyes searching yours as though trying to find something solid to hold onto. Then, slowly, he smiled, a real, soft smile that made your heart ache even more.

“You,” he said, his voice barely audible, “are the only thing that makes any of this… worth it.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, focusing instead on helping him lie down properly on the couch. “I’m going to get you some water,” you said, your voice steadier now.

As you stood, his paw caught yours, his grip surprisingly firm despite his state. “Stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, giving his paw a gentle squeeze.

And as he finally drifted into a fitful sleep, you stayed by his side, your heart heavy with worry but resolute in your determination to see him through this.

[imhappierthanever]

This is part two my lovelies.

“Can I open my eyes now?” You asked as Billie lead you out of the room you had opened each other’s gifts in. The gifts you told the other you didn’t need because you had each other, but still there you both were.wrapping paper littering the floor, neat bows and bells all around. New things to love and cherish but again, not as much as you loved the other.

“Just a little bit more, my love. Few more steps.” You felt the air getting colder as your curiosity grew. You felt Billie’s hands leave yours as your bodies stopped. “Okay, now.” She said softly. And you did, eager to see just what she had been up to. A gasp escaped as your eyes widened, taking in the beautiful view in front of you. Billie had created a winter wonderland just for the two of you. Fake snow blew lightly in the air, her cute little crochet snow flakes hanging from everywhere and you wondered when she found the time to make them as your eyes landed on the snow covered trees and the cute little snowman. Both dressed like you and Billie. Your heart fluttered, not believing her for one second. That is, until your eyes met hers. “Billie.” You cooed softly, cupping her cheek. “I can’t ever believe you. You did all of this for me?”

“I wanted the moment to be something you wouldn’t ever forget.” She said as she grabbed your hand, holding it in hers. “My love, I always knew. From the moment that we met that I wanted to spend the rest of forever with you. You make me feel incredible every single moment we’re together, and I find myself falling so much harder. You make me feel so happy and loved, so cared for and I just know there’s no one else in the world for me, but you my darling girl. Spend forever with me and make all my dreams come true?” She asked starting into your eyes with so much love you felt yourself melting with each passing second. She was melting you into a puddle in the middle of your own personal winter wonderland as memories of you both flooded your mind and your heart.

You knew she was your everything. Your future, your world entirely. And in truth, there was no one else for you. You let the tears fall down your face that had been threatening to fall. She swiped them away, holding your face in her hands, smiling at you with that perfect smile of hers that made your knees go weak still.

“Billie.”You said choking on your words as well as your thoughts. “I feel like I’ve been in love with you my whole life. There’s no one else I would rather be with, no one else who could make me feel the way that you do. I want to wake up to you every morning and get lost in you until we go to sleep. I want to drown myself with you and never come back up for air. I want to watch all of your dreams come true and be by your side for it all. I love you so much, Billie. Forever with you is all I’ve ever wanted. “ you said ending your rant, seeing how even she was beginning to tear up.

“Then I guess there’s only one thing to do.” Billie said pulling out a velvet box, quickly opening it as if she were in fear that you would change your mind. But you both knew. This was the start of your forever.

“Marry me?” She asked presenting the ring to you. The ring she had so carefully picked out, a symbol of everything you shared. “Yes my love. A thousand times yes.” You said admiring her hard work as she slid the metal onto your finger where it would always stay. “I love you so much. I can’t believe you’re all mine now.”

“I love you more!” You challenged, tears beginning your journey down your face for the millionth time that day. You grabbed her face in your hands, kissing her with as much passion as you could before you inched her body down onto the ‘snow’ covered ground, fake flakes clinging to you as you kissed her lips with as much passion that your body contained. Both of you repeating the words mine and yours over and over again. As many times as it took for you both to realise that this was real.and no Christmas could ever compare to this one, or the way you made each other feel. Now you really did have everything.

[stars--eternal]

finally started my acotar re-read, and here are my thoughts on the first two chapters:

tl;dr: feyre is an angel. elain should have been written more consistently with the personality sjm claims she has, but she can be redeemed. nesta sucks.

feyre is so selfless, it's insane. she was the one risking her life and providing their basic necessities, and still her thoughts were never focused on her own hunger or needs, but on that of her family. "i knew the expression that would be on my elder sisters' faces when i returned to our cottage empty handed yet again.", "we wouldn't last another week without food."

she had to ask for handouts from the wealthier townsfolk, and just imagine how humiliating that must have been for her. really let that sink in. the youngest in the family, the baby, had to ask for charity because the people who should have been responsible for her were useless.

there is this really heartbreaking moment in the very third page of the book where feyre, who was living on survival mode for years, stopped to admire the swirl of the snow and the way it coated the trees. she says she couldn't remember the last time she had stopped to look at anything lovely or interesting. what a miserable life. and then she says she just wished nesta and elain would get married already, so there would be enough food to go around between herself and her father, and some money to spare to buy paint. . . this is literally heartbreaking. look at the way she had to live, the things she had to give up, because her family was leeching off of her. imagine if she had actually been selfish like people claim her to be, then she would have only hunted for herself, provided for herself, and used the money all on her. but also imagine how this could have been so much different if the whole family came together to help in providing, they were their own enemies, for real, they were in the way of themselves living a better life. not perfect by any means, but any help would have been an improvement to them.

"i needed new boots, but elain needed a new cloak, and nesta was prone to crave anything someone else possessed." this literally summons their personalities. feyre needs something, but so does elain, so feyre will let her have it, and nesta is a selfish bitch lol

"my sisters' voices fluttered out to meet me. i didn't need to discern their words to know they most likely were chattering about some young man or the ribbons they'd spotted in the village when they should have been chopping wood, but i smiled a bit nonetheless." i swear, she's gonna make me cry.

"no mention of the blood on me. i'd long since given up hope of them actually noticing whether i came back from the woods every evening. at least until they got hungry again." it's insane to me that SJM wrote things like this about feyre's family, but she expects people to forgive them. how can you possibly read this and let it slide? lol

granted, she made an effort to leave hints that elain was not so bad, though she isn't off the hook, i really like this part: "it wasn't that elain was cruel. she wasn't like nesta, who had been born with a sneer on her face. elain sometimes just. . . didn't grasp things. it wasn't meanness that kept her from offering to help; it simply never occurred to her that she might be capable of getting her hands dirty. i'd never been able to decide whether she actually didn't understand that we were truly poor or if she just refused to accept it. it still hadn't stopped me from buying her seeds for the flower garden she tended in the milder months, whenever i could afford it. and it hadn't stopped her from buying me three small tins of paint — red, yellow, and blue. it was the only gift she'd ever given me, and our house still bore the marks of it." this? this is understandable. this is redeemable. this is fixable.

feyre painting every little corner of the cottage a la rapunzel because she wanted to be remembered after she was gone :(

i hate their father. he's the worst.

"nesta snorted. not surprising. any bit of praise for anyone — me, elain, the villagers — usually resulted in her dismissal." this bitch is so miserable lmao and this is who we're supposed to forgive and understand and root for down the line? nah, let rhysand deal with her.

sometimes feyre would speak and SJM made a point of writing that the family ignored her, like they didn't even hear her at all. this is what i don't get about elain. if she's supposed to be different from nesta, if she's supposed to be this lovely, docile girl without a mean bone in her body, shouldn't she show a modicum of sympathy for feyre? definitely listen to her when she speaks, and answer her. maybe offer to dry the meat, or not spend feyre's money on herself, or at the very least defend her from nesta and stick by feyre rather than nesta. like, this is the bare minimum of what elain could and should have done in order for those traits to be believable about her character, instead SJM had elain arguing with nesta about who would get to spend feyre's money, but spoiler alert: it was never feyre lol

nobody talks about feyre's trauma having to watch her father get beaten up and assaulted by those men as a child, that's actually so sad.

and i'm expected to feel bad for her?! please, whatever she gets isn't bad enough. this is also the same person that was hissing and barking at elain in the same scene, but we're supposed to believe nesta would have whored herself for elain, who she literally thinks of as a dog and has said as much in her spin-off, but live, laugh, love "healing arc", right?

reading about the dresser feyre painted, the night sky that was just for her, makes me all sorts of happy and giddy skshsks feysand really are the blueprint, guys, i'm afraid no other couple will ever touch them.

fuck mother archeron for asking feyre to promise to take care of the family, and fuck sjm for not developing this further because there is literally no reason for feyre to ride so hard to keep a vow to a dead mother that never gave a rip about her? this part specifically is so undeveloped, it's annoying.

"you can't chop wood for us, but you want to marry a woodcutter's son?" LMFAO, a rare snarky feyre in sight!

"but i'd made do, even if it had killed not to have white paint, to do something so flawed and lasting." baby, please :( feyre is so humble and grateful, dude. i just know she thanks rhys for every little thing, and it breaks his heart the way it does mine, that she views even basic necessities as luxury.

"believe me, the day you want to marry someone worthy, i'll march up to his house and hand you over. but you're not marrying thomas." — feyre about nesta. she knew and cared even about nesta's heart, about the life she would live in private, and she wanted nesta to find someone WORTHY of her. this is the sister that you all hate on, by the way. but you love the sister that slut-shamed her right after this display of nurturing feyre showed.

this is also the difference between feyre and nesta when it comes to elain. feyre would have never allowed elain to be engaged to a guy like grayson if they were still in the cabin at the time. elain, who she liked more than nesta lol for sure, she would have been more watchful with elain.

but back to how inconsistent sjm is with elain's supposedly lovely character: "i laid my palms flat on the table as i stared her down. elain removed her hand from where it lay nearby, as if the dirt and blood underneath my fingernails would somehow jump onto her porcelain skin." this isn't the behavior of someone who is kind and caring and thinks of others. this is the behavior of someone who is shallow and arrogant and selfish. also, for somebody who is later on spoken of as not caring about dirt because she gardens, this doesn't add up either lol but i digress because sjm is known for showing little consistency with her writing.

feyre calling nesta a burden to her face is some good fucking food, where is this feyre in acomaf? acowar? acosf? sjm really shut her up for no reason, let my girl fight back for once in her life.

literally talking to feyre like she's an animal and not her own baby sister. and this is the perfect display of abuse and emotional torture, by the way. nesta literally admits in her own book to enjoy causing feyre pain and hurt. she's deranged, mentally deficient, and i don't know how she even has a single stan. and she has the nerve of being like "as if our life was that bad", "since having sisters sucked so much for you", like SHE wasn't doing all this 😭 the perfect display of a narcissistic abuser fr.

and again, elain showed sympathy to who? exactly.

my heart goes out to feyre so much. how could she possibly have hope when everybody was leeching off of her and abusing her? she feared she was going to be lost and forgotten to time, and nesta fed into that fear. there was no hope for her.

anyway, this post is already too long, so i'm finishing it here, but i expect to pick up on the pace soon, i probably won't have much to say about tamlin and lucien 'cause i don't really care about them as characters so yeah lol

[helpbutton95]

The Tortured Poets Department

Read on A03. Also this is entirely @lucyllawless 's fault.

The road was winding out in front of them. The dark leaves sticking to the soles of her feet. Agatha hated it here. She hated the darkness, the way it warped around everything, clinging to it like tar. She could hear Billy behind her, following closely as if he was about to miss something. He wasn't. They had lost half the coven. Alice was her fault and Lilia. Lilia had sacrificed herself for them. It made her skin crawl. She could remember the one constant who had saved her. Over and over again. Unconsciously, she brushed her thumb over the underside of her ring. She sighed, pushing her hands into her pockets. She could remember every time Rio had come to her rescue. Every time she had given her that smirk and by the Gods, what was she doing on this stupid road again. 

Jens sniffle made her pause. Turning, she could see the tears tracking down her cheeks.

“Crying isn't going to bring her back,” wow, way to be sympathetic. 

“She wouldn't be dead if this wasn't for you,” Jens anger came through harder than Agatha expected but really Agatha should expect it. Jen was a formidable witch. She always had been. They had once been friends. Kind of. Well, more acquaintances. They had only really crossed paths before once. When Agatha was nine months pregnant and in labour. Typically, Rio, who had gotten her into that situation, was not there to get her out. But now, watching Jens face contort in anguish, it made something stir in Agatha. 

“I know,” Agatha admitted. “I know the seven were my fault and I'm sorry that they took Lilia but we can't dwell on it. We need to get to the next trial so we can get out of this forsaken place.”

Jen had paused in front of her. “You're scared too.”

“Of course I'm scared, Jen.” Agatha revealed. “Alice is dead, Lilia is gone and Rio-”

Agatha bit back her emotions. She wouldn't show the fear of her wife on her face. 

“What about Rio?” Billy asked. 

“Rio's vanished,” Agatha lied. She knew exactly where Rio was. Rio was ferrying bodies to her realm. 

Agatha turned, she wasn't interested in listening to them mourn the losses. 

“Would she come for Lilia?” Billy's innocence made her feel nauseous and she spared a glance as they walked at Jen. 

Agatha couldn't help the words that escaped her lips. “Death comes for us all.”

No one answered. No one made eye contact. Instead they continued walking. One foot in front of another. That was all she could do. All any of them could do until the night grew darker. The air grew colder. Agatha found herself looking around as they came to a large meadow the road widening. 

“We should stop,” her suggestion was met by stern looks as she turned. 

“Why?” Billy's spite spat around her and Agatha pushed away the hurt.

“Because it's late,” Jen answered for her. “And I'd like a break from this road making my calves into tree trunks.”

Billy's scowl back at her made her lift her hand in a half shrug but then they were moving, collecting wood and lighting a fire. Just like they had with the rest of their coven. 

The crackle of the fire was the only sound that filled around them. It made her stomach twist in pain. Agatha wanted to say something, anything to make it better. Instead, she looks down at her hand and twists the dark rock on her hand. Nostalgia itched at her. Memories began to creep into the corners of her mind. A crunch of leaves made her look up at Jen. Jen who stood in front of her. Uncertainty on her face. Dark eyes looked between her and the space beside her. 

With a sigh, Agatha waved her hand and Jen quickly sat. The taller woman watched Billy collect firewood and then begin making a makeshift shelter.

“So,” Agatha shifted uncomfortably. “Do we get smores or-”

“Did you mean it?” Jen snapped. Agatha reeled. Her lip curled ready to attack but then Jens question came softer. “Did you mean to take Alice's power?”

Agatha stuttered before clamping her jaw shut. “No,” her genuine words felt odd on her tongue. Just like when she had told the Teen about the Sigil. She had known deep down. Jen waited and Agatha hated that the priestess was determined for more information. But she gave it. “It was an accident. I-I can't control it. For so long it was second nature and then not having it. I think my powers just reacted.”

“Agatha-”

“I know a 350 year old witch who still doesn't have her shit together,” Agatha’s humourless laugh echoed in her chest. 

“So you didn't mean it?”

“No, Jen, I didn't mean it,” Agatha swallowed the emotion that threatened to clog her throat. “I didn't even know I was doing it until it was too late.”

“And your coven?” Jen prodded deeper. “Rio said your mother wanted you executed?” 

“She wasn't exactly mother of the year material.” Agatha deflected. She looked down at her hands, she didn’t like this. It felt damaging like if she opened up, Jen would see every little imperfection that came with her. Imperfections that she had smothered and hidden over the centuries. 

“I’m sorry,” Jen muttered, her face contorting as the words tasted sour. “About leaving you in that trial. I didn’t know-” 

Agatha shrugged. “All you know is that I killed my coven. Why would you care that they were the ones who started it.” 

“Is that what happened?” Jen prodded and it made Agatha’s skin crawl, she had to get to the end of this godforsaken road and get away from the Spanish Inquisition. 

“I wanted to learn,” Agatha pursed her lips. It was Jen. Jen who she hated but also Jen who had handed her her son in the middle of the worst snowstorm in New England history. “But it was above me to know that.”

Jens brow drew tight but it was Billy who asked, “They were going to kill you for trying to learn the craft?”

Agatha’s tight smile made her look away. “It was above my station,” Agatha repeated her mothers words that fateful night. 

“Covens are protective of their craft,” Jen explained to the boy. “Especially old ones. There's a hierarchy that they respect.”

Jens pointed look makes Agatha lift a shoulder. Honestly, why was it so bad to learn? 

But Billy wasn't stupid, his gaze narrowed on her as she tried to school the memories of her mother finding her with the grimoire. Trying to find out why her magic presented differently. Purple, not blue. 

“You were trying to learn about your power.” 

“And we all know how that worked out,” Agatha drawled, looking back down at her hands. She had been scared after it first happened, to understand why she had murdered her kin but then she wasn't sure it was such a bad thing. They had never understood her, looked down on her. Her own mother had kept her at arms length for most of her life. Rio had been the one to save her. To pick up the pieces and tell her it was all ok, that she had a unique gift, one that could build empires and burn worlds. 

She stared at her palms, now devoid of that power. She turned them over and examined the ring that had sat on her finger for nearly 250 years. The first century with Rio had been fun. They had spent a lot of time enjoying the revolution across the north east. Particularly causing issues with Governors daughters. Agatha had been close a few times, close to getting caught, to being revealed as a witch. But every time Rio popped up just in time. Saving her, being charming to those around them and whisking her away to spend days in each other's company. For the first fifty years, it had been in throws of passion, seeking physical touches to remind each other of what they had found the first time they had met in the forest near Salem. But, like everything, the season changed, things aged and matured like the trees that surrounded her small coven. Her relationship with Rio had changed, it aged, it became something comforting. That’s not to say the passion faded. If anything it got worse. But them, together, it was something Agatha couldn’t put into words. For centuries, she gallivanted around the globe, gaining power like a drug and Rio was there by her side, collecting the dead and then returning to Agatha for their time together. 

Agatha turned her hands back and stared at the dark rock nestled between two silver branches. Agatha remembered the day she got it. 

“You're ring,” Billy's annoying inquisitive voice broke her thoughts. “Was it your mothers?”

Agatha tried not to snort at the look Rio would have given him had she been here. 

“No,” Agatha stated simply and she glanced at Jen who looked down at her own ring. 

“What-what do they do?” Teens brow was drawn tight and Agatha's eye caught Jens. Jen who blushed and looked away. Jen knew exactly what they meant. 

“What does your textbook say?” Agatha nodded to the leather bound book. 

His frown drew deeper and she watched him dig through the little grimoire. 

“Will it even be in there?” Jen asked under her breath. Agatha shrugged, it was worth a shot. The fire crackled as he dug through page after page. As he did, Agatha revelled in the warmth of the fire. The temperature had dropped from autumn in New Jersey to winter. The cloud of their breath spilled around them and she could see Billy tightening his jumper around him. 

Rio was close. 

Only death was this cold. 

“Life ties?” Billy's voice broke her thoughts and she saw Jen smirk. “Wait, this can't be right, it says here that life ties bind your soul to that person so that when you perish. They perish too.”

Agatha waited and watched the way his little brain caught up. 

“You managed to get a soul tie to Death?” Jens judgy voice beat the kid. 

“What can I say I'm irresistible?” Agatha teased. 

“It says that you can't harm each other,” Billy voiced. “but she cut you when she was in your house.”

“Harm as in kill,” Agatha explained. “At least not directly.”

“So if she threw you off a cliff?” Jen proposed. 

“It'd be allowed,” Agatha relented. “On the technicality it was natural.”

“But she threw you off the cliff?” Billy's frown reminded her eerily of Nickys when faced with a difficult quandary. The similar draw of his brows into a deep frown, the way his lips tilted downwards. “She's the cause.”

With a roll of her eyes, she repeated the same response Rio had given her nearly 315 years ago. “The Living Tribunal doesn't tend to look at it that way.” 

Jen opened her mouth with widened eyes clearly ready to go full steam ahead down the track but Billy's questions stopped her. “But stabbing you. Not allowed?”

“Look at you keeping up,” Agatha huffed. She wasn't sure she enjoyed this curiosity but it was better than them asking about her mother. Or Nicky. 

Billy's head dipped back down to his little book and then his head snapped back up. “But it says that your lives are bound to one another. That it's sacred.”

Jens voice broke through next, “Keep up Teen, it's basically a witches marriage.”

His jaw dropped as a blush rose in his cheeks. 

Agatha looked over at Jen, “Spoil sport.”

“He wasn't going to get that we are all on the rainbow scale.” Jen drawled with a huff, smoothing out the dirty wrinkles of her dress. Billy's brows rose impossibly higher into his hairline. 

“You too-”

“Please, you don't live for 150 years and not try something new. No one is that straight,” Jen snapped impatiently. Honestly, she was a terrible teacher. 

“I forgot how good your bedside manner was,” Agatha smirked, looking back down at her ring. 

“You were a bit busy bringing life into the world,” Jen shot back. Agatha’s smirk dropped. Her hand unconsciously went to the locket. Jen watched her, her eyes widening only a fraction as Agatha tore her gaze away. The taller witch didn’t apologise, she never did for her barbs but Agatha could see the regret in her stance. 

“Wait,” Billy asked, oblivious to the tension between the elder witches. “It says that the protection on it is linked as well, that they can always feel where one another is. Is this like some weird soulmate thing?” 

Agatha didn’t respond. She knew the stone was something that only Rio had made. An original stone of the universe. 

“Does Death even have a soul?” Billy whispered, looking between the two. 

“She did,” Agatha muttered. “Once upon a time.” 

“What happened?” God, he was nosy. 

Agatha glanced around at both of her companions and she saw no malice. This is what covens did, they shared with one another and hell, at this rate none of them were making it out alive so what was the point in keeping it all tucked in. It wasn’t going to hurt her. 

“She gave it to me,” Agatha recalled. Her thumb brushed the stone unconsciously, bumping over the sigil within the stone. “You’d be surprised at how many enemies she has.” 

“I mean, she literally ferries the dead,” Jen pondered. “So it’s not really surprising.” 

“No, you don’t get it,” Agatha muttered, her defences rising. “Even she isn’t invulnerable.” 

“But surely she can’t die?” Jen asked. “She’s already dead.” 

Agatha shook her head. “It’s complicated.” 

“So uncomplicate it,” Jen pushed but Agatha was pushing to her feet. She turned to both of them and thought about it for only a moment. 

“No.” Instead, Agatha turned, and walked into the darkness. Her arms curling around herself to keep the heat in. She didn’t want to reveal Rio’s secrets, they were hers to keep. That was the oath they had sworn to one another in the depths of New England, in the home they promised to build together. The home they did build together. The home they destroyed together. 

Agatha looked down at the black stone on her finger, the sigil glimmering in the moonlight. “You really outdid yourself this time.”

“I'd say I learnt from the best but we all know it was the other way around.” 

Agatha didn't turn at the sound of her voice. At the taunting to get a rise out of her. 

“What are you here for?” Agatha asked, looking forward into the darkness. “Me?”

“No,” she could practically hear the pout. “You'll meet your end the natural way.”

“The boy then?” 

“He broke the rules.” 

“He didn't know.” 

Rio's exasperation was clear. “He's not-”

“I know who he is,” Agatha snapped, turning to the dark eyes that watched her closely. She was in her full dark clothing, ready to collect. 

“You're protective of him,” Rio observed, stepping closer. “Why? He turned on you the moment you showed him who you really were?”

“He's just a kid,” Agatha wasn't giving Rio more ammunition. 

“No,” Rio pouted. “That's not it.” She moved purposefully around Agatha each step crunching the frozen leaves beneath them. “He tugs on those human heart strings of yours. The ones you try to pretend aren't there.” Agatha glowered. “You always were soft when it came to children.”

“You know how I feel about that?” She shouldn't have snapped. She should have kept that card closer to her chest. 

Rio smirked. “It’s life, Agatha. The road of life isn't an easy one.”

“You don't get to tell me about that,” Agatha’s emotions reared as her mind went to her son. 

Rio had the decency to look wounded for a second before her face became void. “I'm sorry. I've always been sorry. You know that.”

“It doesn't excuse you taking him,” Agatha tried to swallow back the emotion but the softness crept into Rio's gaze. 

“You know as well as I do that we couldn't control what happened to Nicky.” 

Agatha flinched. It had been so long since his name had been spoken aloud by either of them. Especially in one another's presence.  She had to protect herself to stop this line of questioning. 

“Yes, well, it's the past.” Agatha huffed, pulling her arms tighter around herself. “So what now? You just go kill the boy?” 

“You know that's not how it works,” Rio drawled. “I would have been out of your hair sooner but you're pleading warmed the heart.”

“You don't have a heart.”

Rio smirked, her eyes landing on Agatha’s ring. “Yes, I do. It's yours.”

Agatha curled her hand involuntarily. She shifted her feet on the freezing ground. It was growing colder by the second, she could see her own breath. 

“You’re cold,” Rio’s head tilted. 

“Well you aren’t exactly a ray of sunshine,” Agatha huffed and Rio stepped closer, her hand sliding up her back. It was automatic. The reaction of her body relaxing into the warm touch. 

“I can be exactly how you wanted me to be,” Rio’s breath ghosted across her ear, as scalding arms encircled her. 

But Agatha knew the game the witch played. She had played it so many times before. “So I give in and give you Billy?” 

Rio stiffened. “Honestly,” she pouted. “He’s just one life that broke the rules.” 

“He made a mistake.” 

“Like you did?” 

It was like a slap. 

Rio didn’t flinch, didn’t move as Agatha turned slowly to look at her. Her brow quirked in that perfect arch. 

“Goodbye Rio.” 

Agatha turned, stalking past Death as she made her way back to their small camp. Rio didn’t move. Didn’t utter a word. As soon as she made it back to camp, she curled in front of the warmth of the fire. Jen and Billy both curled up, eyes closed. Agatha subtly checked they were breathing before settling. She didn’t close her eyes, instead she watched the road around them. Knowing that Death clung to the darkness. They would wake and continue on the trial and meet Death at the end. 

[penny00dreadful]

AO3

Death had visited Hawkins many times in the last few years, far too many times for their liking if they were being honest.

The twisted and unnatural things that had gone on within that small town were against Nature and Death was a part of Nature.

The cycle of the world was just one great big event of Life and Death but there had been so much here.

They remembered coming for Barbara Holland and though it might have seemed unfair, it was her time. Death didn’t take anyone before their time but at the very least they tried to bring her some peace, letting her see the stars one last time from underneath the water of the pool and letting the stars see her right back, twinkling above her as the water held her close.

Bob’s passage was less gentle. Stuck inside where nature couldn’t reach, torn and shredded and in agony, but still, Death tried to make his passing less terrifying, softly caressing his face and enveloping him in their dark wings quickly, not wanting him to be in pain any longer than he needed to be.

The others after that were more difficult.

A great big mess of people in a damp basement who did not deserve to go the way they did, disintegrating into a sludge of bodies, only to be puppeteered by a vile excuse for a human, then killed again. Nature had been forced to twist away from that one.

Death couldn’t do anything for them, no matter how they tried, there were just too many and too quickly, but still they hugged them all close and brought them to their passing.

It was times like those when Death wondered if their quiet, curious fascination with human life was something that was even worth continuing.

Humanity had such a talent for killing each other en masse and Death would be forced to observe, along with the grass and the trees and the clouds and the wind.

But humanity kept pulling their focus back. There was such a capacity for them to love each other too, even though sometimes they were hated for it. 

For the simple act of love.

Death watched as the two boys, children themselves really, though forced to become so much older, parted with a kiss at the Quarry, forced into a clandestine meeting after they had saved the world because of other people’s hate.

The wind tried to push them away, urging them to run, to move faster, to push themselves out of the series of events barrelling towards them but the boys just laughed, brushing hair from each other’s face before leaning in again.

The Quarry echoed up towards them, hoping to spook them into jumping into their own cars and peeling out of there at high speed, but the boys didn’t notice, too wrapped up in each other.

The evening sky watched on in silence, unable to do anything about the incoming storm and the small group gathering on the other side of town, ignorant and fearful and wanting to hurt in return.

Death had visited Eddie Munson before, just once. Not to take him, but to help him hold on. It wasn’t his time to die, no matter what others in the town thought. 

The boy was loud and brash and passionate, bursting at the seams with life and energy and light and Death didn’t want to see that pass unnecessarily. They refused to take him before they were due to.

They had leaned down, brushing a light kiss against his lips and had stepped back as his friends and one boy in particular threw themselves down next to him.

Steve Harrington had received multiple visits from Death over the years. 

Their first meeting had come on the tail end of a vicious beating and a plate over the head. The ground below him had shuddered with the impact and while the children around him screamed and he lay unconscious on the floor, Death had flapped their wings and flared that dying spark of life back up into a flame.

Barely a year later they had gone underground and brushed their fingers through his hair, while a girl spat in another man’s face. They could feel the earth around them try to reach out to support, but being held back by metal walls and a sickening aura from another world.

Then again only a day later while the sky and the sunlight and the pollen could only watch through the windows, Death took his hand, pulling life back into him from his slumped position on the couch he’d been sleeping on, still in his uniform.

The next time was more difficult. Trapped in another world that Death couldn’t reach, if Steve died there, then he’d be there forever. But the boy had just managed to make it back to the other side, cradling Eddie’s body close.

It wasn’t until he stepped back outside the hospital, all of his responsibilities temporarily being watched over by nurses and doctors and he had screamed, harsh and loud and bloody into the night. He collapsed, the dirt below trying to cushion him from hurting himself more than he already had been.

Death had stayed with him until someone found him, keeping him warm in their arms, but never closing their wings, not all the way. 

It wasn’t his time.

They watched as both boys came together, feeling young again, even though they had to hide. But they found happiness in each other, even if others could only look on in confusion or anger, threatened by what they refused to understand.

The group across town began to move, intent on driving him out of town for good this time, believing him to be a stain on their pristine lawns.

It was ridiculous and Death could do nothing to stop it.

They watched as Steve buzzed around his empty home, getting dinner prepared for himself, full of light and love.

When the group arrived, they didn’t announce their presence with a polite knock on the door but with a rock through the window, followed quickly by glass and gasoline and fire.

With the window broken, wind could now enter but it stayed away, not wanting to fan the flames as Steve gripped his bat, slowly and carefully walking back towards his patio door.

There were only six of them, but six against one were still terrible odds, no matter the creatures Steve had fought in the past.

His walkie was out of reach, sitting innocently in the kitchen along with the landline and his dinner burning on the stove, too far out of reach.

There was a scramble of movement as they broke through the windows, through the front door. 

Jason’s parents, Andy Johnson, that dog walker, Steve’s own neighbours and Chrissy Cunningham's younger brother were amongst the crowd and wasn't that the most devastating thing? 

Whipped up into a frenzy of hate and fear at barely twelve years old, by those supposed to look out for him, believing they were teaching him to take care of his town, handing the future to him.

Because of course they chose Steve to hunt.

He was one of them. He should be one of them. He was the one their daughters should be bringing home, the one they should be shaking hands with in church or sharing beers with.

Eddie was already an outsider. He wasn't a reflection of them. He didn't hold a mirror up, showing how much they could change, how far they could fall, how empty all of them were inside.

But these were the people Steve used to associate with. They saw him as more of a blight on the town than any of the other outsiders because he used to be them and if he could fall, then they must be able to too, right?

So they had to tear and scratch and burn to convince themselves that no, he was, is in fact wrong. He had always been that way. He was never right, not like them. No, they could never fall the way he did.

He was a disease and so they had to cut the disease out, had to eradicate any trace in case the infection spread.

As much as everyone pretended the religious fervour had died down, the town had only just gotten a taste.

It had whet their appetite for mob mentality and they were thirsty for more, feeling they were morally full to the brim but were in fact starved of compassion, blind to anything outside of their own comfort.

They claimed to be loving, to be healing, to be all welcoming with plastic smiles and greedy eyes but they would run anyone over who stepped a foot out of line. 

And unfortunately, Steve stepped out of line. He broke the mould and they believed they had to punish him for it.

The patio door crashed open and Steve was running out towards the woods before they could find him, his old home billowing thick black smoke at his back.

Death knew his parents wouldn't care. The insurance pay out from the fire would be more than enough to soften the blow, cosy in their new home in New York City. 

They would never publicly acknowledge what happened here but privately they would thank their neighbours for their crusade.

The grass could feel the thud, thud, thud of fearful running footsteps. Broken twigs and slippery leaves caught him unawares and were apologetic but powerless to do anything about it as shouts full of hate and the frenetic energy of bloodlust followed him into the woods.

The trees that surround them, that had shielded Steve and the chasing group alike whenever they needed it, could feel when he was disarmed and the bat was thrown to the side, the bloodsoaked nails digging into the earth as it fell.

None of them were brave enough to use such a deadly weapon against him, fearing too much the consequences of being the one to pick it up and undoubtedly have the responsibility of killing him, and Steve was not enough of a coward to use the bat against the group.

Strikes landed against the trees, from fists that missed him and from impacts travelling through Steve’s body and into the wood, cracking their bark and flaking it off. The earth soaked up the blood that was spilled heavy and hot but too metallic for nutrition. 

Adrenaline came fast and hard but left just as quickly and when the group looked at what they had done, the haze of anger and righteous indignation no longer thick enough to colour their perception of their actions, they took a step back, each of them sickened somewhere deep inside by what they had done but none of them were bold enough to admit it to the other.

Steve was still full of the need to keep living so he took an opportunity where he saw it, forcing his broken body to run again in a slightly delirious way, making it back to his car. 

The group didn’t follow immediately but it wouldn’t take long for them to realise that Steve knew each and every one of them and that maybe allowing him to get away alive might no longer have been an option.

Death could see Steve peel out of his driveway, his car always at the front of the house and ready to go after years of dealing with the end of the world. 

Across town, Eddie was practising a new piece on his guitar, full of joyful energy and barely able to contain his excitement when he got it right, almost jumping for joy and eager to tell Steve the next time he saw him.

Robin was in her room, pouring over books on cryptography, a fascination for her that began in the back room of an ice-cream parlour and hasn’t left her since. She had come to terms with the fact that this might be what she wanted to do with the rest of her life, but she would have to travel far to be able to study it, unsure of how to bring it up to her soulmate because she wanted him to come with her and to bring along his new love as well.

But still it would be a big change.

A big conversation.

The kids sat in the basement of the Wheeler home, giving Will back his DM seat, just between them. It was an apology for all that they had discounted his passions before, just like Steve had advised them to do and the bond between all of them glowed ever brighter.

The blinking stars watched as the car veered, swaying dangerously at speed from one side of the road to the other.

The crunch of metal and the impact splintered some of the thinner trees, leaves and branches falling onto the scene below, one sputtering headlight pointing out into the forest, a lighthouse in the night.

Somewhere in town a walkie crackled to life.

The skies opened up and the rain did what it could to help, washing the blood away and Death descended.

Steve blinked his eyes open.

“Hello.”

Death was unable to respond for a moment, but eventually replied, “Hello.”

“I’ve seen you before.”

“Too many times.”

Death crouched low, one wing extended over them, to keep the rain off his face.

“Am I coming with you? There’s so much left I need to do.”

Death heard it all before. People begged for more time, offering a card game for their soul, but Death doesn’t trade in souls. That was not their business. 

They would always promise Death other lives, other deaths in place of their own, money, power, glory, kingdoms, countries if they would just let them live a little while longer.

It never worked and Death never bargains.

Their time was their time and nothing on earth would ever be able to change that.

Death was nothing if not fair.

But even so, Steve didn’t beg. He didn’t try to bargain or trick. He was just asking. He wanted to know what to expect.

“No.” They answered. “Not yet.”

Death got down to their knees, hovering over him, close enough to throw him into shadow.

“But eventually?”

They nodded. “Everyone comes with me eventually.”

They lowered themselves down, pressing their lips softly against Steve’s as his eyes slipped closed again. 

“But not you. Not today.”

On the road just behind them, a deer jumped out, bounding across the black expanse, spooked by a branch a nearby tree dropped, sacrificed just in time.

Tires screeched to a halt. 

The wind had been at their back the entire time. 

Birds are sent flapping frantically into the sky as the screams of Steve’s friends and love rip through the air.

Death watched from above as they did everything in their power to get him out, get him to safety.

When he was eventually taken to a larger hospital in the city Steve was watched over at every available second by a slowly revolving door of people who would not leave him, even if Death themselves asked them to.

Steve never stepped foot back in Hawkins again after he crashed just beyond the ‘Now Leaving Hawkins’ sign, but he was not without his people.

The family that Steve had built up around him were merciless in their judgement of the town. Those who were able to, leave immediately. Eddie and Wayne only enter Hawkins again to gather up their most prized of prized possessions, happy to never ever look back on it, no matter what might crawl out of the ground.

Robin and her parents, who had come to see Steve as a second son, followed not long after.

Some of the kids' parents were more ready to leave than others, but eventually they all did, all of them disturbed and terrified and angry.

Every single one of Steve’s family was happy to leave the town to rot without them, there was nothing left for them there anymore.

They all follow him. 

Every single one. 

And he is once again surrounded.

Everyone he had ever helped, ever loved, ever stood in front of them and Death for.

They all surround him and they are all there, many, many years later when Death comes for him for the last time. His family was waiting on either side of the veil for him, old and grey and wrinkled.

But they were all there for him. 

AO3

Based off of Take Me To Church

All my love to @hbyrde36, my friend and beta for screaming with me over this.

Written for the @strangerthingswritersguild Hozier Project

Gonna tag @griefabyss69 and @starryeyedjanai who sent in asks about this fic for a previous WIP Weekend post. 🖤