Here is a snippet of my current Eddie Diaz WIP, intended to be set during season 10a timeline (I started before all those other spoilers, so they will not be included):
Eddie didn’t know what possessed him to knock on Buck’s door, especially knowing that he was expected. Ever since Buck had admitted to abusing opioids, he’d done everything he could to regain the trust of his friends and family. In fact, Buck had all but insisted everyone come on in, especially if it was planned.
Even so, Buck opened the door instantly, clearly already just behind it.
Eddie had taken care to adjust his appearance in the car, trying not to give anything away.
As if rumpled hair or something in his teeth would scream I have cancer.
As if he wasn’t going to say those words aloud in a few minutes anyway.
Buck still studied him, probably clocking this was serious. Less than twenty feet away, Chimney, Maddie, and Hen were lounging on the couches, all of their heads now turned in Eddie’s direction.
“What’s going on, man?” Chimney asked.
“Are you okay?” Hen added.
Words failed Eddie as he took in a breath.
Buck angled himself closer to Eddie. “Do you want to talk privately first? Just the two of us?”
God, Buck knew Eddie well. Every bone in his body was saying yes, please, hide me away from this.
But Eddie took a breath, knowing that it would be better to tell everyone himself—Buck would be willing to take on the task of telling the others, and Eddie, because he was a weak man, would probably let him. That wouldn’t be fair.
So Eddie shook his head and then cleared his throat. “No. I want everyone to know.”
He took a beat to calm him pounding heartbeat.
“I went to the doctor a few days ago, because I had a fever and wanted to get cleared to come back. And, well, the doc was concerned when he saw I had some swollen lymph nodes, which I had only just seen myself. So they, uh, excised one of the nodes.”
Eddie paused, and saw looks of understanding dawning on Hen, Chimney, and Maddie’s faces. Not surprising, considering the medical backgrounds of the trio.
Eddie couldn’t see Buck’s expression because he refused to look at him. He would lose his nerve otherwise.
“It’s cancerous,” Eddie continued, shocked by the steadiness of his own voice. It was as if he were speaking about somebody else.
Eddie heard Buck exhale sharply beside him. Eddie still didn’t look at him.
“I find out the type, stage, everything else in a few days. They’ll lay out the treatment plan and we’ll…go from there.” Eddie swallowed; it hit him that there was literally nothing else certain to report.
For a moment, the air stood still around him. Then Maddie was on her feet, crossed the room in several steps, and wrapped both her arms around Eddie.
AU where shinigami can see soulmate strings, and the shinigami eyes give you the power to see soulmate strings too. You cannot see your own string. Misa sees Light's string attached to L and absolutely cannot believe it. Nothing about the canon events change 🥀💔
Man I need to write for First more.
Anyway! Another one done and polished, nice and soft and technically a continuation/missing scene from one of last year's one shots that I'm really glad to be able to finish and post.
As always the reader pov is gender neutral (can lean either side to whoever is reading) and can be read as romantic or platonic and in or out of an LU context, though I am mainly writing for an hypothetical iteration of First in LU since he is not officially in the comic but a lot of people accept him as part of the official Chain (the author included), and really that's what we have aus for lol.
(Also uh, possible TW{?}, just to be safe for those who are squeamish/can't handle graphic descriptions: OoT Dead Hand and it's lore is it's own warning and I do reference it. As always mind your safety and health dear readers. )
Enjoy your reading!
Long, pale, thin arms bend in shapes not meant for a human body, too many joints bend with sickly cracks, thin fingers adorned with elongated, winking crimson claws hook around your arms and legs, too many limbs that should not belong to a single being reanimated through a sickness of the world holding you in place with indomitable strength fueled only by rigor mortis and hunger no matter how hard you struggle. A stabbing pain upon your skull rips a howl from your throat, a sound better suited to a dying animal than a human being, in the corner of your eye you see the thing slowly slinking closer, once pale robes a mottled, dusty gray, bloodied from the life force of previous victims and fellow tortured souls.
You are a pinned butterfly upon a board, frozen with a primal terror as the claws lacerate through flesh digging, tearing like a rabid dog's teeth upon an unfortunate deer, the things wide, staring eyes meet yours from the top of an impossibly long neck barely supporting it's elongated head, instinctively your struggle renews itself. Gagging at the sickly sweet smell of rot and sick, the scent of metal thick in the air squeezes the breath from your lungs, a cocktail of desperation and helplessness flooding your entire system.
("H—")
It died starving, and hunger still settles over it's decaying features. A broken jaw contorts and twists in a cold, toothy mimicry of a human grin, grotesque and unnatural between the rotted gums and exposed teeth, burning it's stark, decaying and sunken features into your mind.
("—ong?")
The putrid corpse's too blunt, too human teeth sink into the hollow of your collarbone, tears through skin, rips through tendons, it cracks and grinds through bone and meat, something sinks into your pores and it burns. Something too thick to be saliva, closer to tar as it nests beneath your skin like an infection, eating you inside out and you scream and scream and scream-
"Wake up!"
Your eyes snap open as you bolt upright, a scream bitten down with practice from one too many nights traveling in a group haunted by the things called nightmares and insomnia from a life of fighting.
It's just you, the nightly whispering of the woods, the crackling of the fire and First.
The knight's stoic posture relaxes, softens a little, stern features creased as concern flickers through twin azure flames, the moonlight turning his hair the same shade as wheat fields in summer. "My apologies for waking you, I could not bear to watch the terrors interrupt your rest any for any longer."
You breathe in the sight of the hero, of the woods of Twilight's era with it's dark trees shedding honey and maple scales onto the ground as life went to slumber and the smell of birch and maple and hawthorn and attempt to quell your shaking. It's a futile effort, you're shivering from the late autumn breeze like as if the woods' leaves had taken a human shape, the memory of the empty eyes and a sunken skull and fine strands of human hair clinging to a decaying skull sinks it's claws into your mind. "There's no need. It was probably for the best." Your gaze drifts around the camp as you palm around for your quilt knocked over in your struggle, the firelight allows you to see the other boys, and you distractedly note your long dagger is right where you left it; it helps loosen the hold the hooks that night left on you, you swallow thickly. "Did I wake anyone up?"
First shakes his head, your shaking fingers meet fabric and your distracted mind is yanked back to reality when the motions of using it's warmth and weight as a shield against the world are already done.
It's not your quilt, painstakingly made with Malon's help and teachings inherited from Sun on one of the quieter moments you and the Chain had in each era since you've started traveling with them. A mark of friendship that served as a balm for difficult days.
(A little after Sun confirmed you were not a threat, to the relief of your cautious companions, a little before you had found First half delirious with duty not yet fulfilled and death stolen from a mortal body and blood loss and dragged him from the brink with meager medical knowledge and later back to the Chain on your back.)
It's First's cape, as red as the feathers of his and Sky's loftwings, soft and warm and carrying the scent of breezes through hylian fields and leather and metal.
There's a quirk to his generally stern, elegant countenance as you turn your shocked eyes to his, as amused and warm as he's allowed himself to be. First's hand falls over yours as you make to remove it, cautious and with as much care as a bird landing on someone's hand, you can't help but marvel a little at it, the part of you that would either jump for joy or break down into sobs from pride were you not so tired. First was the most distant of the Links, drifting just on the edges of the Chain, with a kind heart that had chunks ripped out both by cruel fate and still bled to this day; he could be cold, of course, but anyone could see how weariness had been carved into the lines of his being. A spirit made to never be broken but not never damaged, who never had a chance to heal.
"You need it more than me." He rumbles softly, insistently. You catch the glimpse of the discoloration on his wrists as his hands reach to readjust the scar, not unlike the tears marring your arms and your heart aches a little.
You've both come a long way.
You stop your motions with a small sigh and as soon as the knight is done, you pick up your discarded quilt, determined to return the favor. You know it's his turn to keep watch, as him, Warriors and Time generally swapped the second turn between themselves (much to your exasperation and the Chain's), but there's no reason he can't continue doing so comfortably.
"Join me? It's chilly and it's not like I'll be going back to sleep anytime soon." You offer, offering him the blanket in turn.
First tilts his head and gives you a look, it's a bad excuse, it's only mid autumn after all, the campfire, and you're both well aware that he's withstood worse than the fall winds between his imprisonment and crossing the skies atop Vermilion.
Still, he nods, the ghost of a smile clings to the edges of his face as he sits by you. Allowing you to wrap the quilt around his shoulders, facing the fire and the woods. "Of course."
You smile, it's a small thing of broken glass and haunted nights, but it's there.
Between the crisp, cool autumn air, the return of your smile, the one who unwittingly guided him back to his fellow heroes and the knowledge that he's not alone, that's more than enough for First.
The two of you spend the rest of the second watch quietly chatting, First about his time with his fellow knights, before the imprisonment, about Orville and the ballads and legends of his time, you trade him stories of your own home, myths and legends, tales and stories you've grown up hearing and reading in your childhood into your adulthood. At some point you drift closer together, his chin atop your head and your head on his shoulder.
It's peaceful.
Neither of you have nightmares that night.
(A gentle hand hesitantly finds it's way to your head, lighter than a feather, clothed in butterfly scales and diamond dust, it brushes softly through your hair. The pale figure smiles, careful fingers softly rest over First's sleeping face, and the being's eyes soften, clearer than the sky on a summer day, a hum leaves the pale entity's slender throat, and the world follows in symphony.
Remus moved about the kitchen with his wand stuck in his teeth, despite his intelligence, and general cleanliness he was a mess in the kitchen, but he loved cooking more than his partners, and was the only one who woke up before 11 on most mornings so usually cooked them breakfast.
Y/N and Sirus always came downstairs at the same time, triedly leaning over eachother, descending the massive amount of stairs in grimmaud place, bumping into eachother until they made it to the kitchen. Ever since they moved to Grimmaud Place, they began to decorate it with nearly every bright obnoixous decoration that they could think of, pleased at the idea that it would piss of Sirus parents.
Sirus and Y/N leaned on eachother, on a countertop, sharing a cup of coffee, watching Remus leave a mess of eggshells behind on the counter trying hard not to burn eggs. He turned off the burner and turned to his lovers, they looked so cute in the morning. Sirius hair wild all over his head from sleeping. Her hair still holding a soft and subtle curl that she hadn’t brushed out yet. The sun drifting through the window in fractured slants, shining brightly on their faces, the way they leaned on eachoter, and passed a cup of coffee between eachother.
Sirius was lazily blinking, and she still had her eyes shut, and he took in the sight, before turning off the stove and walking towards them, he took the cup from Sirus who made no effort to hold onto it, and kissed him on the temple of his noise. Y/N made a quiet disgruntled grunting noise of jellouslty. She wanted Remus kisses. Remus clucked.
“ You’ll get a turn soon, pretty girl,” he said, and he continued kissing Sirus, till he was vaguely responsive, and Sirus lifted his hands to Remus chest, dragging his nails along his chest.
Then he moved Y/N, who was patiently waiting with closed eyes. He kissed at her neck until she quietly groaned and pulled away from both of them and returned to the stove to keep on fiddling with the eggs and toast.
_________________________________________ hello everyone! This is a special fic for a very amazing writer, slay aka the one who encouraged and is probably the reason I'm writing a fanfic right now. also while I'm at it apologies for unannounced hiatus in my writing.
Ps this is a fic of Katsuki Bakugo, a character from Mha (my hero academia) and slay's oc, Kansatoki Hikari so this won't be a character x reader, at least for this fic.
@slayfics hope you enjoy this fic and your birthday
_________________________________________
As Kansatoki started to wake up, rubbing her eyes slowly, having no energy at all to deal with people and the day in general. Then as she looked over to her phone, there was a notification from her calendar app, what now she thought as she clicked it, still groggy in the process.
As she saw the date on her phone, her eyes widened when she saw the date, March 17th. It was her birthday today, she almost forgot about that type of thing as she didn't have any fond memories of this day. She hoped none of her classmates would remember or even pay attention to it.
Kansatoki started to get ready for the day, there weren't any classes today so she didn't need to wear her black uniform, so she grabbed an oversized t-shirt and some shorts. Then she forced herself to go out of her dorm then made her way downstairs.
After the signal appeared from the elevator, indicating that it was the bottom floor, Kansatoki exited it, only to be greeted by a massive amount of people greeting her happy birthdays and stuff like that. As she scanned the room, looking for a specific person, only to find he wasn't there. She was confused so she searched around, planning to ask his friend where he was. He would know, right?
"Hey Kirishima, where's Bakugo?" Kansatoki asked
"Oh hey Kansa! Bakugo said and I quote "I'm not spending my rest day with you extras" so that might be the reason why you can't find him" he explained, she laughed a bit at the answer. I guess she would expect him to be locked in his room, this was bakugo we were talking about after all.
After that short conversation, Kansatoki got to the elevator once again, heading for bakugo's floor.
After she got there, she started to bang on his door loudly. After a while Bakugo opened the door with a scowl plastered on his face.
"Oi! What the hell do you want, you damn women. You're gonna break down my door" he reprimanded, talking loudly like always.
"You're not even going to be nice for a girl on her birthday? What kind of gentlemen are you?" Kansatoki teased, of course bakugo being mean was always the standard but she just couldn't help but tease him for it.
"Yeah yeah. Happy birthday or whatever" he retorted, clearly being forced to say it. Then he took his hand out of his pocket, revealing a small box. As he opened it, Kansatoki saw a black necklace with the initials K.H on it.
"Getting soft now are we Bakugo?" Kansatoki taunted him, as she took the box from him and examined it closely, almost not believing that it was a gift from Bakugo.
"I swear to god tell a soul and I'll fucking kill you women" he grumbled, but knowing him, he might just actually do it. She laughed it off as she wasted no time, taking the necklace outside the box then wearing it.
So.... I'm gonna give myself a target of posting 30 pieces of written content about Elvis by the beginning of September!
It might be an imagine, a chapter of Sparkly Little Thing or a headcanon, but whatever it is, it'll be Elvis themed!
I have some drafts ready for posting, but if you have any requests, my inbox is open too - go wild!!
I'm really excited about this, I want to post stuff that I'm proud of and I want to be more consistent too! 🧚
I'll post each new bit of writing here too like a mini-masterlist, but it'll always be on my actual Masterlist too!
1. HEADCANON: The way Elvis interacts with Innocent F!Reader in public
2. HEADCANON: You and 70s!Elvis have a controversial age gap but his opinion is the only one you care about
3. Alternate Ending: After giving Innocent!Reader her first orgasm, Elvis watches her fall into little space
4. One of the Memphis Mafia's friends tries to take advantage of Innocent!F Reader
