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yourantag · 9 months

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From Winter to Spring

AN: This fic is actually pretty different from my other ones since this is intended to be more like a letter. I listened to a song called "Magic Lily," which inspired me to write something in the perspective of Ithaqua's mother. The song is meant to be romantic, but I interpreted it as a mother waiting for their son to come back from war. Naturally, with themes of winter and suffering, I think Ithaqua, so here we are. Word count: 1.6 words Summary: A carefully written letter, multiple pages long, is stuffed inside an envelope. It doesn't seem like it was ever meant to meet its recipient, yet it resides within his hands. The delicate papers seems to weigh heavy with the love of a mother.

My dearest dove,

It has been a long time since I've last seen your face. It's like it was just yesterday that we went to forage together. You had looked at me with such pride in your eyes, having picked two whole baskets of barberries. We had planned to turn them into jam with honey, a small luxury. You had smiled so brilliantly, so happily at that. To be able to make you happy like that made me feel whole, complete. The fondness I felt overwhelmed me, it almost made me want to cry.

I had never understood when other women spoke fondly of their children. They sacrificed their bodies, health, mind, their everything for them. Yet, children will never completely understand that sacrifice. Oftentimes, they take it for granted. They forget it. But you? You made me understand.

It's odd to think of loving someone more than yourself, but that is exactly how I feel. The stars could disappear from the sky, the heavens and earth could collide, and yet, I think I would not mind for as long as you were alive.

So, tell me why, why would you do this to me? Why have you left me like this?

Once we came back, setting aside our foraged goods, I felt an impending sense of doom. My throat tightened, heart racing as I felt unadulterated fear roll through me. Perhaps it was an instinctual thing, like how many of life's creations can sense death. I could tell my demise was near, be it in one way or another.

You had looked at me with worried eyes, asking me what was wrong. You have always been a sweet child, caring and attentive and so, so very smart. No matter how much I tried to hide my feelings, you always seemed to know when something was wrong. I sometimes wish you weren't such an intelligent boy, but that would be cruel of me. I love you for who you are- to remove any part of you would mean taking away who you are now. I could never do that.

I had forced a smile to my face as I told you I forgot something in my room, something important. You didn't believe me, but you did not pry. Thank you for trusting me, even when you knew I was lying. I know it's horrible to lie to you, but I had to do what I did.

I had ran to my room, throwing aside a cloth to reveal a crystal ball. Divination is not my specialty; it was the specialty of my mother. However, I am still above the rest when it comes to reading fate. What I saw was exactly what I had anticipated, something I hadn't feared before. Now, however, I was. I was beyond scared- I was downright terrified.

Before, I had nothing. My mother had been killed in a witch hunt, my home had been razed, and my friends and fellow villagers had turned their backs on me. I was consumed by rage, sorrow, and despair. I had nothing to lose but my life, I had no one to love but myself.

Still, I could not hate people. I was human as the rest, but I was shunned. I was hated for my hair, for being a woman, for existing. Still, I could only hope, I could only live. To die would be to give into their hate, to throw away my mother's sacrifice for me to live.

Thus, I lived. Out of spite, out of grief. I lived because of love, because my mother would want me to. And, on my travels, I found God. I found peace. Life seemed less like a punishment than it had before.

Then, I found you.

At one point, I had wished my mother hadn't sacrificed herself for me, I wished she had lived instead of me. However, I understand now. I understand why she did what she did. As a mother, you are willing to do anything for your child. Even if it means becoming a monster, even if it means killing someone, you would do whatever it takes to protect your child.

In that moment, watching the future in which not just I would die, but you as well, I made up my mind.

I cannot lie and say I did not want to live. I wanted to watch you continue to grow, to become a lovely young gentleman. I wanted to watch you become an adult, to love, to live. I didn't want to miss any moment of your growth, of you becoming your own person. However, I was willing to give up everything if it meant you'd live.

I got a glimpse of my fate and I couldn't help but shutter. Tortured till my mind broke, till I was no longer human, till I was no longer me. That was my fate should I sacrifice myself. But, was it worse than if you were to be tortured with me? Killed with me?

No, nothing could be worse than that.

So, knowing what kind of fate awaited me, I stood tall and put on a brave face. We didn't have much time, after all.

I asked you to hide in the closet, the men already knocking on our door. They banged against the wood as though it owed them money. The sound was like the call of death, a scythe hovering over my neck. But what can a mother do? I could only smile through the thundering of my heartbeat, through the tears that were rising in my eyes, the tight compression of my chest.

I was scared.

For me? Maybe. Mostly, it was for you. If they found you, I don't know what I would do.

The door swings open and I meet a painfully familiar face, as well as many armored ones. His arrogance is unlike your humility, the way he smiles is so different from your own. It's like a bearing of fangs, like a predator that had found its prey. It's horrible, terrible, what he does with your face. Your brother he may be, if only in blood, but he could never compare to you.

His words are laced with malice and self-importance, his finger pointed at me. I had braced myself for when the armored men would drag me away, manhandle me as though I were a fugitive and not just a lady, a mother.

Then, you came out of hiding.

Looking at your back, so small yet wide, I truly wanted to fall to my knees and weep. Your arms spread out, shielding me, you had stood.

Ah, is love meant to hurt like this? Be difficult like this? Or, perhaps, is it just me?

I couldn't believe my ears when I heard you bargain with them, begging them to take you instead of me, to leave me alone. Words were clogged in my throat as you spoke, everything you said hurting more than any wound I'd ever had.

He had a contemplative look, that child. Then, like a cruel judge, he gave his ruling. He gave into your will, even going so far as to promise he'd place me somewhere I'd never be hunted again.

I had wanted to cry. I had wanted to scream. However, when you had turned to me with a smile so kind, so sweet, so sad and knowing, not a single sound could escape my lips.

You promised to come back to me in spring, like the flowers that withered in fall. You held my hands even as tears fell from your eyes, even as I tried to hold you back with all my might.

Yet, it was not enough.

You were taken from me.

Why? Why did this have to happen? Why did we have to suffer like this? Was this retribution? Punishment? For not having followed God sooner? For living? For existing?

My anger towards that boy, towards God, and towards the world, none of it could compare to the anger I feel towards myself.

This arduous path which I had to take, covered in thorns and decorated with hate, why did you have to take it too?

Ultimately, I believe it is because of me.

(There's darkened circles upon the paper, some smearing the last few words.)

It's been 5 years since then. Every time the snow melts, ushering in the coming of spring, I wait with anticipation. I wait for the sound of footsteps, for the sounds of life.

I wait for you.

It has been 5 years of fluttering frost, blossoming flowers, sunny fields, and bountiful harvests. I've seen the seasons come and go, the birds leaving for winter before returning home. Yet, the most important bird of all, my dearest dove, has yet to return.

There's a special kind of sadness that comes with spring. It starts with joy, which turns to immeasurable sorrow. I always wait, yet you never come.

Are you alive? Are you well? I've been taken to a place where no one despises me, where everyone accepts me, yet I'd rather be pelted with stones than part from your side. I would give up everything if I could just see your face once more.

Is it just me? This spring feels a bit worse than the last. I hope without hope, though I know you won't come. Not knowing if you're alive or well, it drives me mad. My divination has failed me, not allowing me to see anything beyond the veil of reality.

But, I want to believe. I have to believe. You always keep your promises, so I must believe it, believe that you will come back to me. I must weather the seasons, the storms, the sun, the snow, all for the day you return.

Yet, I grow tired of waiting. My heart is heavy, and my soul is weary. My eyes are always full of tears, constantly worried about you to this day.

How many more springs must I wait?

My dear child.

My beloved son.

*****.

Please.

Come home.

#idv #identity v #identity 5 #identity v fanfic #idv fanfic

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how-soon-can-they-kiss · 1 year

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A Soft Introduction To Something I'm Making

Word Count: 2159 T/W, C/W: Drugs and alcohol briefly mentioned, main character being beaten up, implied homophobia, swearing, using sex worker slurs (MC is not a sex worker), being kicked unconscious Notes: This is my own original story, the world and its lore is kind of shaky, so expect some things to probably change in any future one-shots. Kind of a non-canon, canon thing going on at the moment while I figure things out!

Characters: Dorian, Evander

Dorian reasoned that life was all about devouring. Either eat or be eaten. It was easy to be the consumer, taking people into the palms of his hands and his nest. They would always be attracted to his bike, scars, and especially his easy-going demeanour. He relied on the other beautiful people around him. Feeding off their outgoing personalities to lead him around while he picked the roses from their bushes.

Nothing else mattered as he absorbed himself in the bodies. The music was so loud that the bass made the glass coffee table buzz, and his ears faintly rang during song changes. When it came to parties, the drugs and booze were a plus; he frequently became intoxicated with the others, indulging in the same bottles until there was a pile. Nothing could compare to the sensation he felt while dancing and sliding his hands along someone's neck and shoulders.

Everywhere they touched felt like the summer sun, making him forget what it was like to be cold. During these moments, he was blank, clinging onto them and letting their hands melt him away. He never bothers to learn their names, preferring to take what he can and leave them to find another.

He desired more of his cake no matter how much he ate; something was wrong, and all Dorian could do was satisfy his craving until he couldn't feel it anymore. Nothing he did was ever enough, his hunger staying just as ravenous night after night.

A right hook knocks him onto the filthy, damp tarmac, where debris and grime have been crushed into the crevices. The frat house lining the alleyway added to the stench.

Dorian laughs as he reaches up from the ground, his palms scratched and littered with loose pebbles from the fall. As he glanced up at the large man, his nose spilt blood all over his mouth and shirt, his palm collecting part of it. His teeth are stained with blood as he smiles.

"How about supper, just the two of us? A working man like you deserves a nice little place."

His attempts to stand are futile, as each time he is kicked back down, the man’s steel-toe boots penetrate harsher than the ordinary kick Dorian was used to. He lays down when one of the kicks connects with his stomach, and he heaves, leaning against his forearms to keep the chips and dip at bat, his entire body shivering from the pain.

"Not such a pretty sight now that you're on the ground bleeding like that, are you?"

The man spits next to Dorian's trembling body, staring down at him as he gathers his breath, tears mixed with the blood on his face as he stares down at the asphalt. The booze raging through his system did nothing to soften the blows.

"Your brother finds my vulnerability charming. I'd bet he'd still kiss me with blood on my mouth." Dorian hisses and swallows, his throat feeling dry and tight.

The man calmly walks over, kneeling down to grab Dorian by his curls, hairspray crunching as his head is dragged back by his roots. His smile was long gone, replaced by a scowl as he stared into the eyes of the man hovering over his face.

"I’ve warned you before, slut." The pejorative rolled off the stranger's tongue smoothly, "I didn't care who you talked to, as long as you kept your soiled hands away from my brother. You don't listen too well."

"What your brother does is none of your business, in my opinion."

The man scoffs, shoving Dorian's face into the tarmac, gradually increasing the pressure. Dorian was punished every time he lashed back at the man, rocks biting into his cheek.

“Don’t go near him again. I’ve heard plenty of rumours about you whore.” He steps away from Dorian, the gravel crunching beneath his feet as he pivots to return to the party.

“You kiss your mommy with that mouth? I’m sure she’d be embarrassed if you said such things around her.” Gravel scuffs against the ground, and before he can understand the fast-approaching feet a steel-toed boot leaves no room for negotiation as the rubber strikes his skull, and Dorian collapses unconscious on the ground.

When his eyes crack open, all he can taste is rubber, and he squints, the still dark alleyway being too bright before he fully closes his eyes for a few minutes longer, his body gradually awakening to severe aches.

Pressing his forehead against the asphalt leads him to jerk upright, his hand reaching up to touch the dried and tacky blood, moaning as his hair is lathered in the same stickiness. His fingers brush across the wound, the pain so intense that his vision flashes white. Unable to process anything, he pulls his hand away till it is again laid on the ground.

He stands carefully, leaning against the wall for support as each movement reveals a new throbbing and uncomfortable spot. The sun was rising, and his ride had long since vanished. He takes his time adjusting to standing, nausea increasing while he attempts to suppress it, staring at the ground. Dorian walks down the sidewalk towards his house, the taste of boot lingering behind the acidic sensation that’s growing on his lips.

Dorian took a moment to recognise the gate of the apartment complex before punching his code into the keypad and making his way through the parking lot.

The elevator is calm, muffling any extra noise as the doors slowly close. Dorian punches his floor number. He selects his floor number and leans against the railing. He couldn’t look at himself in the reflective metal, knowing full well that he looked just as bad as he felt.

It had been weeks since he had stood in front of the cheap plywood door, his keys jingling in his jacket pocket as he nervously flipped them over in his fingers. With a sharp exhale to ease his anxiety, he pushes his key into the lock and opens the door, grimacing at the smell of cooking food and the news playing on the TV.

“Expect thunder and lightning today, starting at around 9 and lasting…”

Dorian toes off his shoes at the entryway, trying not to make too much noise and hoping the newscast would drown anything.

He sneaks around the corner, dragging his hand along the wall, halfway to the toilet, and his chest feels lighter because he thinks he's gone unnoticed.

“Dorian?”

His steps falter and then slow to a stop as he leans against the wall. Everything hurts, and his head is pounding.

“A new rift opened this morning around 5 a.m., tearing Edoth in half, and citizens are scrambling to…”

“That’s the second cavern just today, how many do you think will come out?” His roommate's voice is quiet.

They both watch the live video in silence, people gathering around a massive crack in the ground and peering down into it. Some lie on their stomachs or go over with ropes in their hands, pulling humanoids from the darkness.

“I need to bathe,” Dorian interjects before his flatmate can speak again, and he walks to the bathroom, closing the door with a crisp click as news readers continue to speak over the footage.

The warm water lulls Dorian to sleep several times, his head resting against the wall. The steam moistens the blood once more, causing it to smear on the tiles as he shifts around. After thirty minutes, Dorian is sound asleep in the cooling water, bruises developing on his stomach and sides.

The door creaks open, followed by a sigh as it is fully pushed open.

Evander stands in the doorway, peering down at Dorian in the bathtub, taking his time to look over his chest and ribs, admiring the markings that complimented his physique.

Dorian crawled out of a rift sixteen years ago, his skin so black not even the sun could reflect off of it. He was the first of hundreds that day when a new species emerged from a pit of darkness, forever altering Cleo and the people who lived on her.

They begin as blank slates, all with similar markings on their bodies, with just slices of colour, indicating that they had some form in all of the blackness.

Evan was in his fourth year of pursuing his research-oriented doctorate. When the incident occurred, delaying graduation by two years. It shook the ground and caused parts of his school to collapse, briefly halting his studies until his lecture hall was repaired.

They quickly gathered around the gaping maw in the ground, and Evan was the first to notice a hand clutching and digging into the grass near the edge Panic sprang up in his throat as he rushed over, yelling that someone had fallen and needed help. However, his shouts died in his throat as he helped the person up, and all he met with was void. Their form was difficult to discern, almost appearing two-dimensional in the 3D landscape.

As he recoils, he wavers. From the grass, bright blue eyes peered up at him, and something so kind shone through them. Nothing could make him regret the day he sat down and smiled at the new creature. His voice was quiet as he shared his name, and the eyes squinted with brilliance in response.

Evan approaches the bathtub, crouching down and studying Dorian’s body more closely, dismayed at the dark green bruises. When he sees the blood on his friend’s forehead, his spine goes rigid, and he cautiously reaches up to push his curls to the side, revealing the wound on his head.

Dorian’s eyes flicker open, he grunts at the sudden presence next to him, the water sloshing as he sits up a little more in the tub, gently brushing the hand away as he yawns, his body shaking with the intensity of it.

“You look disgusting, you need to take a proper shower.”

Evan rotates Dorian’s head around, checking for additional wounds as he holds his face in his fingers, scrutinising every inch of flesh before making eye contact.

“You’re mad,” Dorian states bluntly, attempting to find a comfortable posture in his friend’s grip.

“Of course, I’m mad, Dorian. Someone beat the shit out of you and I haven’t seen you in weeks.” Evan scoffs, pulling away as he reaches over to a nearby cabinet and retrieves a washcloth, dips it in the lukewarm water and carefully begins to clean around Dorian’s wound.

Dorian hums softly, leaning into Evan’s palms as he holds his face again, watching his face as he concentrates on cleaning the blood off without scrubbing at the inflamed region.

The silence is soothing as Dorian allows himself to be tended to, his hair thoroughly scrubbed through. The water reactivates the sour smell of hairspray before artificial kiwi overwhelms and gradually washes it away.

“Take a shower, this water is disgusting.”

Evan takes a step back after lathering Dorian’s hair, wiping his hands on the soiled towel before tossing it in the laundry basket and drying his hands on his pants.

Dorian sits in the tub while the water drains, casually turning on the shower head once it reaches a certain level and watches the water splash over the tiled floor before draining down the drain embedded in the tiles.

“Can you stand?” Evander asks with a tone of worry evident in his voice as he offers his hand, leaning down to brace himself in case Dorian fell or couldn’t bear his weight.

Dorian gratefully takes his hand in his and stands with ease, the last of his grime and blood finally rinsing off, as does the soap clinging to his hair. Evander rests against the wash basin, glancing down at the tiles while Dorian cleans himself, using the wall as support.

He needs help stepping out of the tub, Evan carefully holds him under his arms and practically lifts him out, covering him in a towel, exhaustion evident on Dorian’s face. Dorian is enveloped in a familiar blankness as he settles in, allowing himself to relax against Evan.

Evan starts squeezing his hair with the towel, only getting a few good fistfuls before wet hands on the back of his neck distract him from his task. He looks down at Dorian, right into friendly and admiring blue eyes as his fingers wet the short hair on the back of his head, pulling him down to meet for a kiss.

“I love you, Evan…” Dorian’s voice is quiet as he pulls back, flinching as Evan resumes his drying.

“I know.”

#original character #original story #theyre gay your honor #original world #fantasy #creative writing #i hope you like it #Dorian OC #Evander OC

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niksfics · 3 years

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↬ WHAT COULD NEVER BE

↬ PAIRINGS: bokuto x f!reader? (Side) atsumu x f!reader

↬ WARNINGS: nothing really. Just some heart wrenching angst, bokuto is careless with your heart I guess

↬ SUMMARY: you fell in love with your bestfriend but your bestfriend has never felt that way about you.

↬ A/N: I totally did not cry while writing this pft

↬ WC: | 1.7K |

My first year at Fukurodani had been lonely to say the least. I had been new to the area wheras everyone else had gone to middle school together, and I'd been the odd one out. The cliques had already formed leaving me to fend for myself.

My second year though I'd seen a flyer for the boys volleyball team needing a new manager. I signed my name against my better judgement and hoped for the best. When I'd shown up to the first practice game after a talk with the coach, I had realized signing that flyer was the best decision I'd ever made.

Bokuto Kotaro a second year -at the time- like myself was just a ball of energy. He was an honest to god enigma. Being around him was just intoxicating, a rollercoaster you never wanted off of. We got along fairly quickly and him and the rest of the boys had made my second year a little less lonely.

In my third year I was always greeted in the halls, by my fellow classmates who'd known me because of Bo. When he'd learned that I was basically friendless in my second year he'd gone around and introduced me to just about everyone he knew. Eyes shining with love and happiness. That was the third time my heart had skipped a beat because of him.

By the time I realized the butterflies in my stomach increased as the months went by in my eventful second year, the more I realized I was falling in love with my best friend. My heart thumping against my rib cage every time he'd look at me. My skin lighting on fire as his skin brushed against mine. My breath catching in my throat whenever he'd look at me a certain way, or whenever he leaned down to whisper something in my ear. He made me feel breathless and I could never get tired of it.

The day I realized my bestfriend, Bokuto Kotaro, just might not be in love with me as well was the day I'd stayed late after practice to put some of the equipment in the storage closet. I'd been proudly wearing his jacket. It swallowing my body because that's just how big he was. He'd rounded the corner into the closet and smiled at me sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

"Y/n, I was wondering," he'd paused and my heart beat against my chest almost as if it was gonna burst right through my skin. The breathless feeling coming back and I felt myself starting to smile until he'd finished his sentence, "well uhm... I was wondering if I could have my jacket back, Koyuki is cold and I don't want her to freeze," my smile dropped in an instant. The way he'd said her name, it was.. well it was different than whenever he said anybody else's name. "Oh yeah sure Bo, lemme just put this stuff down really fast," I'd turned from him nose stinging from the tears welling up in my eyes, and I swallowed the lump forming in my throat down. Suppressing every single emotion in my body.

I'd handed him his stupid jacket back and slammed the door closed as I watched him drape it over her shoulders and she smiled brightly at him.

I should have known then. Known that he was falling head over heels for akaashi's twin sister, because when bokuto falls in love it's not quiet, its loud and powerful and passionate and it'll swallow you up if you let it.

Koyuki akaashi did just that. Let his love consume her like the raging fire it was. They were a beautiful couple. A match made in heaven.

She was beautiful and confident. His personal little cheerleader. She was undoubtedly the most wanted girl at our school. She was perfect for him. I knew that. I felt it, and I tried my damn hardest to be so happy for him. To love him differently. The way he loved me. Platonically. I watched them fall in love.

Watched him kiss her with a passion I only dreamt of feeling from him. They held looks of love whenever they looked at the other. The hardest part though. The hardest part was she was the kindest, sweetest girl you'd ever meet. A heather. No hidden agenda. Nothing like those girlfriends in the cliche best friends to lovers trope books. She welcomed me as a friend and fully supported me as bokutos bestfriend. She was impossible to hate, and how could I hate her when she was the reason my best friend smiled the way he did. The reason his breath caught in his throat just the way mine did.

When we graduated and I'd become a cheerleader for the MSBY Black Jackals, because I'd promise Bo to not leave his side. Promised I'd followed him to the ends of the earth. We were y/n and bokuto. We came in a pair. It was hard. Hard being around him when he'd talk about Koyuki and how he couldn't wait to feel her again and how it was so hard being away from the person you love more than anything, and then he'd say "you know?" With his puppy eyes, and I'd just shrug and agree.

The way I'd wished and hoped that it wouldn't last. That somewhere in bokutos head he'd realize she wasn't the one. That they'd get in a fight too big to cool down from. The more I'd wished that the more I felt guilty. Why would I wanna ruin my bestfriends happiness? Why would I wish that to go away?

So when shoyo hinata asked me on a date, I'd excitedly agreed. Finally I could, maybe, forget about the big himbo I'd fallen for. No. In fact that made it worse. I found myself comparing hinata to bokuto. The way hinata walked, the way hinata talked, the way Hinata's touch didn't make my skin burn up quite like bokutos did. Me and hinata didn't last. It was a disease, and I was dying. Being eaten from the inside out. My very heart collapsing in on it self, and when he'd proposed to her. God, the way I cried. The way I ached. The way my chest clenched and the tears finally fell.

"Y/n, what's wrong?! What did I do?" He asked desperately grabbing my wrist as I'd gasped and tried to turn.

"Nothing Bo, I'm so happy for you!! These are happy tears Ko!"

He smiled big and bright. Bokuto wasn't dense. He was more aware of anyone's feelings than he was of his own. Either he saw the pain in my eyes that night and ignored it, or he saw it and in fear of our friendship crumbling right in our hands that night swallowed down what he'd wanted to say. It was the latter.

The day of the wedding finally came. Here I stood, next to my favorite boy. Waiting at the end of the aisle for a girl who was not me. My bestfriend, the boy.. no man I'm in love with. Tearing up as is his wife to be walked closer towards him.

Tears gathered in my eyes and I forced a smile as they fell down my face. Atsumu tapped my shoulder. I turned and he'd held open his arms. I'd buried myself in the tight embrace of the setter who knew. Who knew the story. Who'd held me as I cried many times. Times just like this one. He kisses the the top of my head and I turn back around catching the eyes of bokuto.

After the ceremony everyone had gathered at a venue for the reception. I walked away from the laughter. The buzz of the party and the cheers as the groom dipped the bride and kissed her.

Unfortunately for me, he'd soon noticed my absence and come to find me. "Y/n" he whispered hand closing over my elbow, and a warm, salty tear rolled down my cheek and stopped at the corner of my lip.

I turned away from the salty water washing over my feet, and my toes dug in the sand. "Don't touch me" I tried my hardest to sound determined, but my voice cracked.

"What was it? What does she have that I don't Ko?" I asked. Desperate. Reaching for anything. Grasping at straws.

That's when I looked at him, and his eyes said it all. He was never very good at hiding his emotions. His eyes always gave him away, and he'd known. He knew the whole time. I knew that now.

Lovely Bokuto Kotaro had known all along.

He was quiet for a minute. "You have everything that she has and more." He said what he felt and bokuto never lied. He hates lies I knew that.

"Then why not me? I know you knew. You knew the minute we were sitting in that boba shop and you looked at me staring at your hands interlocked. I know you realised. Then and there." I pulled my elbow away from his hand.

"I love you y/n, just not in the way I love koyuki," he says it so casually as if he'd just told me he'd left my purse on the counter. Not tenderly. Not carefully.

My eyes closed collecting myself, "don't you think I know that Bokuto? Don't you think I've cried over that every night for years? I know you do, and God it's so fucking hard to be happy, and bite my tongue. To swallow down the word vomit, because I love you so fucking much, kotaro. I've loved you since the middle of our second year, but now you've gotta let me go. Leave me behind." I turned back facing him again.

"Please don't ask that of me, you know I can't do that. That'll kill me sweets-" I stopped him and turned to glare at him, "you can't fucking call me that anymore. That's a pet name for lovers, not for a man who is married to use on his bestfriend."

You could hear someone walking towards you guys, "y/n?" You knew that voice. "I'm here tsumu," you sighed. Moving around bokuto and walking closer to the setter. "Just... just.. enjoy you're honeymoon Bokuto, and please let me move on and heal. Congratulations on your marriage"

You smiled softly at him kissing bokuto on the cheek as you took the hand of the blonde. Atsumu smiled down at you, heart beating faster just like yours did the day you made eye contact with bokuto for the very first time.

#bokuto #akaashi keiji #sad angst #hq angst #haikyuu angst #bokuto angst #miya atsumu #atsumu #hq atsumu #hq bokuto #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #hinata shoyo #shoyo hinata x reader #bokuto kotaro #hq hinata

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ayamturd · 3 years

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yourself│awesamdude

summary: love is precious, love is pure; how insecure thoughts and concerns trouble a scared lover, and how to convince one they are deserving of said love

warnings: descriptive insecure + self-deprecating thoughts, slight angst to fluff

pairing: in-game c!awesamdude

a/n: couldn’t stop thinking of this concept, i wouldn’t physically sleep till i wrote it all out lol

pls know you are loved, that you matter and are important. even if it doesn’t feel like, i’ll say now that i do, i love you. i don’t need to know you to know you deserve love, you deserve to know you are amazing for being yourself and for simply trying your best by existing for what it is <3

wc: (2.1k) - m.list

“Why do you love me?”

It was late. Very late.

The sky was pitch black and the forest held nothing but a ringing silence to screen, the brief sounds of woodland creatures along with lurking monsters occasionally breaking through. While the night was alive by the stir of the wind, the world above was obscured beneath the depths of the newly discovered mineshaft.

You were tired, your body aching and sore from the continuous grind along side your lover for the past few hours now. Unbeknownst to you, the early morn had been replaced with the midnight sky, the twists of the cave’s darkness becoming so lost to your sensitive eyes.

While you were resting on a large boulder, Sam’s stamina was relentless as he worked to mine into the next cave tunnel. He was beautiful, to say the least.

The ever so flicker of nearby torches illuminated only the best of his features, his usual mask hanging low around his neck due to the cramped and tight spaces underground. His brows were furrowed, the gentle concentration that pulled onto his face strangely handsome to observe.

His hair, the dark yet notable green shade, was seemingly drenched with sweat. In spite of how dreadful the thought could come across, it only did him wonders when weighing his locks down to frame his face. It curled around his eyes, the sage emerald-color contrasting his light skin tone while emphasizing the dark glisten of his squinted eyes.

Through his intent and determined grunts with every swing of his blade against the course stone, his stance was firm and strong, each strike crumbling beneath him from pure strength and integrity.

Moments like these were random, but reoccurring. Moments where you could stop to stare at him for hours on end, appreciate him for what he was and all that he did, yet question on why he was still here.

Why someone so talented and earnest in his work could even consider you as someone special, someone worth his attention and love to be with.

You spoke before you could stop to process your words and what possible answer he could imagine. Your curiosity got the better of you, and your insecurity blinded your perception. It didn’t seem like he heard you initially, and as you began to take it as a sign to forget the question entirely, his diligent swings stopped and his heavy panting filled the air.

He carelessly rested the large tool on top of his shoulders, twisting only his head in your direction while wiping the salty sting of raining sweat from his eyes.

“Huh?”

“Why do you love me?” you asked again.

Pushing yourself up, you glanced down while fiddling with your pickaxe, the old wrap around its handle fraying ever so lightly despite its lack of consistent use. You’d need to replace it soon.

“I just- it’s hard sometimes, you know? To think why you’ve stayed with me for so long or why you even want to stay with me altogether.”

You suddenly lost all courage, and couldn’t dare look him straight in the eye from your admittance. There was an unfounded trust your relationship, no doubt, but trust can only go far when comparing yourself to others. This was a question of worth, of importance when believing one has nothing special to give to someone who deserves the world.

“Love…”

Shaking your head, you turned away from him to face the arching gem wall, driving your pickaxe into the thick, shimmering stone with a slam before wrapping your arms around yourself. You bit the inner side of your check, loose and anxious thoughts raging wild to come through in the vulnerable space.

Your hands shook in unpredictable expectations, fingers twitching against your pounding chest.

“I know you’re going to dismiss it as some kind of nonsense, ‘insecurity’ thing and honestly, you wouldn’t be wrong. But I can’t help it when you’re you and I’m me.”

The pause that followed was unbearable. Steady breathes pervaded the tense air, and after what felt to be an entirety in harsh, prolonged silence, you heard the shuffles of his feet when cautiously approaching you from behind.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His tone was serious, yet his voice soft. Like he was cornering a scared and injured animal, he seemed mindful of his volume for your own concern. Another quality to consider: he was too kind than for what you rightfully earned.

There was so much to say, yet so little at the same time. You were at a loss for words on how to explain something so broad and conceptually troubling to see through. How does one explain how little they matter? How meaningless they are in the grand scheme of things to someone that only tries to see the best of them.

Someone that would refuse a truth for the sake of your troubled mentality.

“Well- you know…”

He stood directly behind you now, his radiating warmth encompassing your entire being, leaving you to shudder from the sharp contrast in the freezing underground. Hands hovering your rigid shoulders, he contemplated touching you but decided against it. He dropped his arms to his side with a sigh.

“No, I don’t. What possible reasoning could you have for me not to love you?”

His pleading whisper was left unanswered, your body frozen to the guilt that consumed you from worrying him over your own problematic assumptions. As if he could read you, he began a different approach to break through to you.

“Why do you love me?”

His unexpected question immediately caused you to go in defense. Spinning around, you glared up at him with resistant eyes, the response to trade your unsure gaze with ones that screamed in flipped concern for his own good.

“Don’t do that.”

Sam’s own eyes remained just as hard, the unnatural line from his neutral expression pulling further to create an evident frown. He was just as serious as you.

“I’m serious here. What reasoning do you have to love me? A screw up, that does nothing but hurt others no matter how much I try in opposition to protect.”

Admittedly shaking your head, you unconsciously reached to grab the front of his chest plate, the enchanted armor glowing beneath your bare hands as you forcefully pushed him in disagreement.

You knew what he was referencing to, and how hard the events became for him. No matter if Tommy would never forgive him, he had yet to forgive himself in any reasonable sense.

“You know that’s not true. Mistakes are mistakes that can’t always be avoided or your fault.”

Tilting his head, Sam’s nose scrunched aggressively to your argument with a scowl.

“Can’t it?”

While your face dropped from his jarring snap, he only sighed before bowing his head away, rubbing the back of his head with a tired exhale and dropped shoulders. It was his turn to struggle with his own words as you stared intensely for his explanation.

His voice were soft again, and wavered slightly in the near beginning.

“I’m not perfect, far from it actually. No matter how many times you try and reassure me of the fact, I’ll never truly believe anything there is good to say about me. I only see the worst of myself,” he murmured. Although a majority of his speech could have easily been missed from his airy quiet, your ears were strained and focused solely on him.

As you tried to step closer to comfort him in some way or another, he finished his final thought then, causing you to freeze once more.

“And when that negatively becomes too much, I look to you as my light.”

Sam sheepishly faced you, his bashful grin completely deviating from the conversation at hand. An unexpected heat rushed to your face, causing you fall apart by the mere power behind his words.

He gave an airy chuckle, closing his eyes with a gentle smile and opening to reveal such fragility in all he had to tell, eyes watering from the sight of you.

“You give me more hope than I think I could ever deserve. From your shining smile to the smallest forms of affection, you give me a love irreplaceable by others and unconceivable to consider.”

Biting your lip, your eyes also began to tear from the overly tender conceptions. He knew better than to let your thoughts run wild and interrupt him, so he continued before you could open your mouth in protest.

“I love you, for everything you’ve sacrificed and lost. You are my strength that pulls me through, inspires me to continue even on the hardest of days. You teach me to forgive myself and work through my hardships for a greater objective at play.”

Steadily nearing your emotional state, Sam carefully pulled your hands into his own and caressed your knuckles with his callous thumbs. He squeezed them tightly once, before reaching a singular hand against your cheek, catching the fallen tears that escaped your adoring eyes.

“Even if you unintentionally did, you became that objective to pull me through it all.”

A sob escaped you, and Sam was quick to pull you into his chest. He kissed the top of your head earnestly while resuming to whisper his declaration against your hair.

“I love you and all that you do. Everything that I said now, everything that I know how to express, it does nothing to how much you truly impact by merely existing as yourself.”

“Sam-” you had tried to interject, stop him from tearing you to complete bits as an over sentimental puddle, but he chose to speak over you instead.

“I don’t love you simply because you’ve given so much to me, that you’ve went through notions with my sake as priority. I don’t care for any of that in all honesty. I love you, because you do all that you do as yourself.”

Shudder breathes caused you to shake beneath his firm hold, his only response to pull you inhumanely closer if possible.

“It doesn’t matter why or what pushes you to do what you do, it’s the fact that you exist as yourself, that that beautiful heart of yours goes beyond any and all expectations anyone can conceive of you and never fails to the most of any situation to come.”

“You amaze me, y/n,” he hummed. Pulling you back, he raised a single finger below your chin to lift your face to his. He leaned a near breathes away, with an indescribable admiration that caused more tears to spill.

“Why do I love you?” he re-asked.

His own tears coursed down his dirt stained skin, and you habitually moved to cup both of his cheeks.

“Because you’re able to love me, and not even know the adverse effects you cause to those around you.”

Bringing your forehead to his, he kissed your scrunched nose as he released a small whimper, for he had nothing left to express through words.

“If ever you question yourself again, ask yourself how are you able to love someone like me, and know that that same confounding thought shakes my very core and beats my love-stricken heart for you.”

Bonus:

Pathetic giggles bounced around the gem filled enclosure, the high of work finally wearing you both down into a helpless mess of two exhausted, yet stubborn lovers.

You leaned heavily into Sam’s hold, his own stance faltering from the unexpected weight you gave in as he groaned from the fast movement.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m about ready for some rest, wouldn’t you say?”

Giving out incomprehensible whines smothered into the crook of his arm, you raised a lazy hand to give a subtle thumbs up. Sam laughed loudly, and took your silent gesture as an answer.

“You ready to climb back to the surface then?”

Mellow wails spoke for themselves, and he shook his head in joking disbelief to how drained you easily became.

With you still in his arms, he maneuvered around you to grab both of your pickaxes and gathered resources, them too heavy to physically carry for his next course of action. He pulled out his Enderchest and swiftly packed everything away.

Once everything else was settled, he worked on the actual situation in hand; literally, it being you basically asleep on your feet against his balanced arms.

“Here,” he spoke. Lifting from your waist, he placed you on top of an overgrown gem stone and steadied your footing before quickly turning. He gripped your thighs, and even in your tired state, you instinctively jumped onto his back.

He sighed when adjusting you, before making the trek back up the stair incline.

“To think I choose to love you.”

You yawned loudly, and to his surprise, comprehended his words enough to respond.

“Mmmm, that sounds like a ‘you’ problem.” Head propped between his neck, he glanced down at you with a smirk.

“Maybe, but a problem I welcome nonetheless.”

#dream smp x you #dream smp x reader #awesamdude x reader #awesamdude x you #awesamdude x gn!reader #awesamdude imagine #awesamdude x reader fluff #mcyt x reader fluff #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #dsmp x reader

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sparkledfirecracker · 3 years

Text

Wrong Encounter

Synth’s 5K Follower Challenge / How it started – How’s it going?

@syntheticavenger , Congrats on reaching 5K and thank you for hosting this magnificent celebratory challenge.

Title: Wrong Encounter

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader

Challenge: Any character but arguing over being charged for something you didn’t order at a restaurant and the owner comes to assist.

Warning: 18+ only, dark content, explicit language, explicit sexual content, vaginal play/teasing?, sex/human trafficking?, sexwork, forced prostitution, forced sexwork, smut, unprotected sex, NonCon

A/N: I can’t say this enough; Synth thank you for inspiring me to write again! I could have gone any direction yet this came out and fought me along the way, so I whipped out the old skool pen and paper. Maybe a little too save on the warnings, but at least they’re there. Don’t think it is dark enough, so enjoy this masterpiece of crappiness, because editing is not making it any better with this beer I’m consuming. Also as a non-native tongue here, so ALL mistakes are my own. Only lightly proofread, so don’t come for me.

ENJOY!

Pictures for moodboard inspo found on pinterest, so all the credit goes to the respectful owners. The quote inspired the final part to this.

How it started

The red ambiance of the room mixed well with the black shining floor and hanging chandeliers, it was slick and well set up. Looking around the room had you wondering what the parties must be like at night. A colleague had recommended this new place – an exquisite night – as they had described it. Yours ending miserably having a disagreement with your waiter.

The waiter had a way of pissing you off tonight and irritation was clearly bubbling “I’ve only had the steak with sides and a fucking bottle of rose, not the entire fish tank and three bottles of your most expensive champagne” your white knuckles balling around his collar as you practically screamed in his face.

“There was another table that said you would pay for them.” It sounded like a plea of trying to settle the rage that was coursing through your body.

“OUTRAGEOUS -- you don’t fact check with your customers?” You seethed “Listen up you little shit. I want to speak to your manager” throwing him out of your grasp, making him stumble backwards bumping into someone.

“He’s already here and you have his undivided attention” your waiter stands in front of the large man awkwardly “Get back to work Jensen, I’ll deal with this fiery kitten” he nods and practically runs off.

Annoyance rising at his degrading comment. “Perfect, an insult to go with the wrongly charges to my bill”

“Ma’am please calm down, I’m sure there’s a way to resolve this mishap” his stance intimidates you

Your eyes wandered to his silver nametag “Why should I calm down, mister Drysdale? Or should I say, entitled prick?” there was pride in your comeback, no-one should ever call you a fiery little kitten.

“Ma’am, Ransom, please and watch your mouth, because we have places for woman like you.” It almost sounds like a threat and you’re willing to fight him on it.

He’s a dark enigma, you can feel it radiate from his body. You’re too caught in taking in his enchanting features and wonder what kind of sorcery this man is using on you to make you feel so small.

“Why don’t we settle this in my office” A charming smile thrown your way, but you’re too caught up in observing the blue-eyed man in front of you “Ma’am?”

“Sorry, yeah, the idiot waiting on me charged more to my bill than I even consumed.” You explained without him asking for any of it.

“Unfortunate, but it happens, please follow me to my office so we can resolve this. Can I offer you a coffee or something else for the inconvenience?”

“No – No, your waiter overcharged me. No need to sit down somewhere private for this idiotic mishap” words falling firmly from your tongue “Just fix my bill so I can be on my way and never come back.”

“Please, let us sort this out, if you just come with me to my office -- we can talk this over” His calming persistence had you hooked and you took a deep breath in.

“Fine.”

“Great, thank you – Jensen, we’ll be in my office, don’t fuck up more than you already have” You roll your eyes at the barked order, he felt superior to his employees.

You had followed him into his office, the golden name plate beaming on the door. The dark aesthetic of his office fitted well with the ambiance he’d created in his restaurant and nightclub, it felt luxurious and exclusive, sprinkled with a bit of mystery.

Ransom stood by his bar cart filled with expensive liquors while your eyes lingered on the well-stocked bookshelves. Ransom Drysdale didn’t look like much of a reader to you.

“My grandfathers, well most of it anyway, he’s a writer and owns Blood Like Wine Publishing” Ransom explained looking at your admiring gaze. You look back at him noticing his motioning gesture to the chairs “Please sit, can I offer you a drink?”

“No thank you” shaking your head at his offer, he poured his poison of choice, even though you had refused he handed you a glass. It would be rude to decline again, you accepted the tumbler letting your fingers trace the outlines of the crystal glass in your hand.

“I won’t keep you for long. What happened?”

“Tonight I celebrated my promotion and a colleague recommended this place. To find out that – Jensen, I believe his name is – added the entire fish menu and three bottles of your exclusive champagne to my bill. Only to justify it with -- the other customers told me that you would pay for them – kinda bullshit” anger returning you gulped down the strong spirit.

“I apologize for the experience. How about we forget this night? I want you to come back somewhere next week. Let us wine and dine you, give you the experience you deserved to have had tonight.” He took a sip from his own glass looking at you with darkened yet hopeful eyes.

It had been a tempting offer, was it going to be worth your time or would you be left disappointed again? “You know what, fine. I’ll be here next week, same time, same day.”

How’s it going?

One week later

Everything in you had screamed not to continue the night in Ransom’s office. Yet here you we, having had that hard liquor burning down your throat. He’d explained how you owed him now and that his interest in your aggression -- a week prior -- had sparked his desire. There was no going back, there was no way out.

Ransom’s looking forward to what is to come. For now, he’s cherishing this moment, he loves the switch being pulled, when the terror fills your eyes and start to physically fight him. They always did and he knows you will too, within the soundproof walls screaming when there is still fight left.

Your mind still trying to comprehend his plans for you. You weren’t sure what to say, instead you settled on staring back at him. Your optic view taking in his well-build frame. You licked your lips unknowingly when he flexed his pecks under the crisp white button down. Your body betraying you by your crossed legs clenching together.

“Like what you see, precious?” your wandering gaze shot up to meet his eyes, your cheeks blushed as you got caught in the act “-I am certainly liking what I’m seeing”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mister Drysdale” you roll your eyes, leaning forward to set the empty tumbler on his desk. He’d taken a step sideways having his crotch right in your face. “Is this really how you want to settle this?”

“Ransom, I insist -- and funny you should ask.” He looks amused by your question “This is exactly how we’re going to finish this extravaganza I offered you”

He was on you before you could even make a comeback. His strong arms had lifted you from the chair, kissing you roughly. A strong – almost painful – hold on your neck, other on your hip pushing you into him feeling his stiff shaft probing against your lower belly.

You felt the shame rising as you let out a moan. His free hand hiking up your skirt, ripping your panties with his calloused hands. The sound snapped you back to reality of what was happening. You tried to push him off, but struggled in his strong grasp. Grabbing his wrist digging your nails in into his flesh.

“You evil spawn.” He roared crushing the grip on your neck, making you squirm “I was going to make this a pleasant thing, but now I’ll take what’s mine.”

“Rail me daddy.” You taunted, you knew you shouldn’t, but there was nothing left to loose.

“That mouth on you little minx. Not one to deny requests though, so the pleasure will be all mine -- Until.That.Cunt.Is.All.Fucked.Out.” with each word spoken he had rubbed himself on you, the heat in your pussy rising unwillingly.

“I just didn’t know you were running a brothel.”

“This is not a brothel, there are no prostitutes at this address. Just woman with disrespecting mouths like yours solicited for exclusive places like mine” Ransom muses “Because you’re staying right here – with me” He forces your neck to bend uncomfortably forcing you to look into his darkened orbs.

Trying to fight him, but failed under his strength. Your body surrendering to his brutal force pressing you into the mahogany wood. The chime of his belt and zip being undone echoing through the room.

“Don’t please.” You begged trying to get out of this horrible nightmare. A wrong encounter because of being wrongly charged for items you didn’t consume.

“Let’s play a little game first; if those panties aren’t drenched - I’ll let you go” Keening at the cool air hitting your clit when Ransom’s hands opened your wet lips. “But – if that sweet little honey pot of yours is soaked for me, I’ll fuck you open with just my cock and you’ll stay right here -- forever.”

“No.” you protested.

His whispered confession only proved his twisted game. “I think you and I both know what it will be.” His fingers played with your clit and prodded your entrance. A soft wail escaped at his given attention. “I think you’ll be a nice addition to my selection of ladies.” Ransom couldn’t help but smirk at your powerless expression. His confession only added to the unwavering pain of realization that you were stuck in this newfound imprisonment.

Thumbs pressing into your ass, his other fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He slams into your fluttering cunt, the air leaving your body from his unforgiving pace. You scream loudly at the unwanted pleasure.

You’re fully trapped underneath Ransom’s body, impaling you from behind continuously. “Scream for me!” It’s an order you won’t obey and you squeak when he balls your hair in his fist “Fierce little minxes like yourself are made for places like mine” Ransom growls into your ear. “Let me hear those gorgeous sounds, precious. Scream while you still can before it vanishes. No-one can hear you, scream for ME.”

Ransom’s arm finds its way around your neck jerking you into his toned chest, your hips being bruised from the impact of the wood. Your hands grip his arm trying to loosen the chokehold, fighting for air into your lungs only to have it escape with every rut inwards. His free hand rubbing circles on your pulsating bead, his pleasured grunts making your stomach churn.

Pleasure taken from your - desperate, powerless and giving - body in his arms. He ravishes your body, like you’re his personal favourite fucktoy. Your legs start to tremble and your orgasm builds rapidly under the abuse, little whimpers escaping you. Tears streaming down your cheeks at the realisation of being solicited for a brothel.

Only seconds later your body surrendered to the fire within you, screaming out to Ransom while your body shook heavily in his hold. His arms let you go, your quivering body dropping on the desk, panting from the intense build orgasm. The lost air stings with every inhale, you’re too tired to fight him.

Ransom sat down in his leather chair and picked up the phone. You tried to look away from him, but he is fast to grab your hair and keep the intense stare. Ransom’s pride beams, he’s a heartless beast. He’s always gotten what he wanted and you’re just a new addition to his elite gentlemen’s club.

“Barber? Yes! She’s definitely the one. How I know? She’s fucked out on my desk, tight little cunt on her. Perfect for the job, draw up the contract will you” A snarled order followed by a darkened smile and filthy wink thrown your way. “Her mouth looks exquisite; I’ll make sure to reserve it for your cock. So she can suck it as a thank you!”

#synths5kfollowerchallenge #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale × reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale smut #chris evans smut #lilo writing

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nalu4emily · 3 years

Text

Time To Heal

Summary: 'It was a marathon, not a sprint and with each day he spent with her, pretending to act like his normal self, the more he hoped she'd begin to loosen—only time would tell.' What can Natsu do to heal her aching heart? Especially when she's reluctant to tell him what happened.

NALU friendship/ hurt/ comfort.

Please be aware of the trigger warning. Do not read unless 18+. Contains sensitive content.

She was crying again; that much was certain. The sound of sniffles and wet droplets cascading down her cheeks, splattering across the desk she so often sat at, echoed deep into his ears. Her whimpers pulled at him the most. She tried so hard to keep them locked away, to defy her true feelings, but they managed to seep through every time.

It hurt him, to know that she was suffering so painfully, so inconsolably, and there was simply nothing he could do to stop it. He'd waited for her; to speak; to tell him what'd really happened that night, and relieve herself of the burden that weighed so heavily on her shoulders.

It haunted her every waking moment; he knew that. Even at night, she'd rouse so suddenly, coated in sweat, shivering, and desperate for his warm touch. It seemed to be the only thing that could soothe her frantic heart, especially when the tears started. Her behaviour wasn't all that different during the day either and Natsu had nearly given up hope that she'd ever tell him, making the guilt he felt for not being there all the more consuming.

The state he'd found her in the next morning, bloodied, clothes torn and completely broken, tormented his thoughts daily, and the way he'd reacted to it, even more so. Through the despair and anger at finding her so badly hurt, he'd raged through the streets of Magnolia, hunting down the bastard he could smell all over her apartment.

It wasn't hard to dissect what'd happened to her, the slayer just wasn't sure how far it'd gone. He'd learnt quickly not to ask questions though or risk losing her trust entirely. It was a marathon, not a sprint and with each day he spent with her, pretending to act like his normal self, the more he hoped she'd begin to loosen—only time would tell.

Having procrastinated long enough, the young mage jumped up to her window, and let himself in like always. Plastering the biggest smile he could muster onto his face, he greeted the girl hunched over her desk, right where he knew she'd be and tried to remain positive in such a ghastly situation.

"O-Oh, uh… Hi, Natsu! I didn't see you there." Her eyes locked onto his for barely a moment before turning away, wiping her cheeks to rid them of their wetness with her used, snot-laden tissue. She turned around to face him, her gaze never quite meeting his as a small, weak smile graced her lips, "Where's Happy?"

"Probably eating a fish somewhere… Or at the guild giving it to Carla, you know what he's like." He shrugged, his expression remained light and cheery, while his narrowed pupils latched onto her every movement, much like a predator stalking its prey, "I thought I'd come over and see if ya felt up to going on a mission soon. I snagged some pretty good ones for you to take a look at, if you're interested?"

"Sure… that sounds like fun. W-Why don't I make us some lunch? Then we can pick out a good one together." Lucy hopped up from her chair all too eagerly, desperate to remove herself from his watchful gaze.

She was avoiding him; but that was hardly new. He knew the reason why—the unshed tears in her eyes evidence of that, not that he cared what she looked like. She did it for a matter of pride, wanting him to see only the Lucy he knew so well, and not the damaged one she’d become. He, as much as anyone, wanted to see that smile light up her face once more, the brilliant one that shined as bright as the stars she wielded; what he wouldn’t give to see that again…

Gathering the request papers in his hand, he followed her into the kitchen and leaned himself up against the doorway, smiling as he watched her get to work, “Hey Luce, this one looks kinda good. I think we should definitely consider it.” But she didn’t answer, nor even look at him. If it weren’t for their close proximity, he would have assumed she hadn’t heard him. “Lucy, did you hear me?”

She remained silent, instead her body began to tremble, her face wet with tears once again and her hands drawn to cover them on instinct.

“Luce, I didn’t hear you.” He cautiously walked over to her shaking form, carefully reaching out to place his hand on her shoulder, while the other drew her body in and held her tight, “Lucy...”

"I...I-I can't do this any more…" The blonde spoke quietly, removing her hands from her face and placing them onto his chest.

"What do you mean?" He asked, his voice gentle as if speaking to a spooked animal.

"This." She gestured to the two of them, "Pretend, Natsu. I-I'm tired of pretending like everything's fine, when it's so obviously not." She felt his hand clasp at her cheek, wiping the tear droplets away with his thumb. His familiar warmth soothed her aching heart as she leaned into it, finding comfort there that only he could provide. "I-I'm sorry. You must be so sick of seeing me cry all the time!"

The tears flowed freely now, pulling at his heart strings as well as his own unshed tears, but he would never so selfishly let them show. He cradled her closely, wanting nothing more than for her to feel safe in that moment, like he would protect her from everything, should she so wish. It was the first time Lucy had addressed the very unfortunate situation they found themselves in, and he wasn’t about to ruin it all now by letting his own emotions take over.

She tucked herself into the crook of his neck and breathed in his familiar scent, calming her nerves as she relaxed into him. This is the way they'd always worked, one picking the other up in their time of need and carrying both of their weights should they need to, and Natsu was approaching this no differently.

Once she'd calmed down enough, he picked her up and carried her to her bed, perching them both down on it so that they could get comfortable. She was ready to finally tell him, he could see it in her eyes, and as apprehensive as he was about hearing it, all he needed to do was listen.

"I think you need to tell someone, Lucy. Whether that's me, or someone else, it's not good to keep it all bottled up." He explained, as she pulled away slightly, but not enough to fully let go of him.

"I-I know… It's just hard to relive something you spend every waking moment trying to forget." She sniffled once more, wiping her nose this time on her sleeve. "Can we at least lay back first?" Her voice was so timid and insecure, nothing like the Lucy he knew.

"Sure thing!" He laid himself back against the pillows, kicking his sandals off and placed one arm behind his head while the other was outstretched for her to lean upon. "Come lay here, Luce."

Doing what he said, she cuddled up to his side, laying her hand and cheek against his shoulder and felt his arm encircle her waist, "I… don't really know where to begin… It all seems such a blur, yet I remember every single bit of it."

He kept quiet, caressing his thumb against her hip as a way of encouraging her instead.

She began slowly, starting from where she'd left the guild hall that night, "It was kinda strange I guess… not having you there to walk me home like normal, it never feels right without you around…" She chuckled half-heartedly, before clearing her throat. "I remember walking along the canal when this bad feeling came over me… But, I just put it down to being alone in the dark and kept going.”

She shifted closer to him, subtly indicating that what she was about to say, made her uncomfortable at the very least.

"When I reached the apartment building, I noticed the window was slightly open, even though I knew I’d shut it. I must’ve just thought that you’d come home early from your mission, or something." She fidgeted again, this time her legs began to tangle with his, giving away her anxiety and fear. “It was only once I walked into the room, did my blood run cold. It was dark and empty, and you were no where to be seen. It felt… wrong.”

"You mean they were already in the house?" Natsu asked, feeling himself tense as he looked across the small room, imagining her words play out before him.

"Mm, and by the time I'd reached for my keys, it was too late." She shivered once again, the memories making it hard to concentrate. "H-He came out from behind, shoving me against the wall and pinning my arms above my head." A fresh set of tears began to cascade down her delicate cheeks, her breathing heavier than before and her fingers gripping at his jacket tightly. "I…I remember struggling a lot, trying to kick him away, but it was no use, he was just too strong. I felt so overpowered and small and weak, and all he did was laugh."

Natsu clenched his jaw, realising now that this was about to get a whole lot darker and he could barely keep himself from raging all over again, but he kept himself controlled this time, for Lucy's sake—that was the last thing she needed.

"That's when it started…" She gulped down a large breath, steadying herself as she divulged further, "His hands; his mouth; his… teeth. I-I can still feel them… on me, crawling across my skin."

Natsu's eyes widened, turning to the blonde who refused to look him, and gasped, "He touched you!? Where?" He asked, a little too forcefully in his own shock.

Unable to say with words, she nodded and used her finger to point at the areas on Natsu's body, starting from the top, "Here," she pointed to his mouth and chin. "Then here," she then grazed over his ear and jaw line, and the next one his neck. Her finger ventured down to Natsu's chest and stomach, where she pointed once more, "And then… there," she managed to wrangle out, pointing down towards his upper thigh.

"You mean… that bastard touched you down-"

"He didn't quite get that far. When I stopped struggling, I think he must've lost concentration, because I managed to pull one of my hands free and grab at his crotch."

She felt Natsu tense at that, having anyone grab hold and squeeze them tight was not a pleasant thought, "I hope you squeezed until your hand hurt, Lucy."

"Well, that was the plan… but he slapped me across the face before I could get any real grip and I landed face down on the floor." Jolting upwards, she ran a shaky hand through her hair, removing the blonde tresses away from her clammy forehead. "Sor- Sorry Natsu, the next bit, is where he… It's the bit, I-I struggle with most…"

Feeling alarmed by her reaction, he sat up too. Fearing the worst, he could only hope she wasn't about to tell him what he'd suspected all along, "It's alright, take your time." He reached his hand out to her, thankful she'd taken it and not pushed him away, "What did he do, Lucy?"

Trying to calm the overwhelming anxiety building within her, she swallowed down the longest breath of air, filling her lungs with much needed oxygen, "I remember smacking my head on the floor… A-And then, I felt his weight on top of me…"

Natsu's breath caught in his throat, snapping his head to the part on the floor Lucy had pointed to and could only imagine how frightened she must have been, "Then what, Luce?" He noticed her hesitancy, wishing he didn't have to ask.

"I-I remember his hand on the back of my head, holding me down, while his other hand lifted up my skirt. He was laughing at me, even as he slid down my underwear." She huddled herself back into a ball by the window, wiping continuously at her red and irritated eyes, "It was then that I realised that my struggle was in vain, that no matter what I did, he was going to… then he…" The tears turned to wails as she tried to continue, "And I've… I've never felt more disgusted! I felt helpless and so pathetic, so desperate for someone to come and save me that I stupidly called out your name, even though I knew you wouldn't hear me… That hope was still there."

Natsu had barely moved, so ashamed of himself for not being there in her time of need that he didn't know what to do with this new information. He felt angry beyond words that some bastard out there was walking free after doing such a horrific thing to his Lucy. But among the anger, there were other feelings; guilt; sadness; frustration; regret; all of them fighting for dominance in his tumultuous mind.

"Lucy…" Was all he could manage, unable to find the right words to tell her how truly sorry he was for not coming to her aid, sickened by the fact that while he wasn’t there, she’d suffered so greatly.

"I was so scared, Natsu!" She started, turning to look at his own sombre expression, "But I knew that if anyone were to come, it'd be you." Lucy's lips lifted in the corners, her smile full of sadness and sorrow, "When he finished, I couldn’t move, and all I remember feeling was coldness of the hard floor, wishing you'd come through that window and warm me up again…"

But that's not what happened, and he felt like the worst best friend in the world because of it. She'd needed a loving hand to lead her away from the pain, to comfort her and protect her from the monster that lurked in the dark, but he’d arrived too late.

He felt his heart sink and his stomach drop, his guilt and regret taking precedence, "I… I, I'm so sorry, Lucy… I never meant to… I didn't think-"

"Like I said, I don't blame you for not being there… It wouldn’t be fair of me to do that. How were you to know?” As much as it hurt her, she knew that had he been there, it would’ve been a totally different story, “I just… I need…”

She couldn’t say it with words, but he knew exactly what she was trying to tell him. She needed him, and that’s exactly what he was going to give her. Without saying a word, he reached forward and pulled the desperate girl back into his chest, enveloping her in that warmth she yearned for more than anything else, and held her as if his life depended on it. He wasn't letting go, not ever, and with every minute that passed with her in his arms, was another second towards healing her shattered heart.

“I’m always gonna be here, Lucy. I promise you.” He whispered into her hair, kissing the top of her head as if she was the most precious thing in the world. “You mean too much to me.”

She snuggled closer, wanting to be as near to him as she could and tightened her grip, “Thank you, Natsu.” With his warmth seeping deep into her cold body, warming her very soul, she relaxed against him, and felt her eyes slowly close, “Thank you...”

I know this was a sad one for nalu day, but I wanted to convey more the bond between them rather than the actual incident. I hope you liked it anyway! :)

#nalu #fairy tail nalu #nalu fanfiction #nalu fanfic #fairy tail #fairy tail natsu #fairy tail lucy #fairy tail fanfiction

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everafterkeiji · 4 years

Text

Song: Cheater by The Vamps

Summary: Kuroo's skills in reading a game has been expanded when he meets your boyfriend.

Pairings: Tetsuro Kuroo x fem! reader

Word count: 3.3k

Content, tags: mentions of cheating, a few cuss words, childhood friends to lovers!

A/N: this was such an impulsive moment🧍 Kuroo has been consuming my brain so here ya go fellow simps

“Am I obligated to?”

“It was his request, Tetsu.”

Kuroo groans while you stare at him wondering what’s so wrong about meeting with your boyfriend. He sees your clueless reaction but he sets it aside knowing you wanted this to happen in the first place. Although you didn’t push him, your boyfriend insisted. It was a sweet gesture because he took the time to understand that Tetsuro to you is just a friend and nothing else. Disregarding his jealousy of the intimidating volleyball player, he initiated the hang out.

Meanwhile, the proud captain was loathing the hours before he could even step into your boyfriend's house.

If you could pick one of the words to describe Kuroo, obviously one of them is self-aware.

Which is the antonym of what you have under your own dictionary.

Kuroo always puts his best during a match and he wasn’t looked upon for no reason. Of course, he’s observant out of the court too. So, when that boyfriend of yours came in to the picture—he wasn’t exactly keen on befriending him. All he can do is accept whatever that decision was because he did catch multiple glances where you were smiling and maybe seeing that put him at ease making him less worried with your relationship.

But his intuition is stronger than the actual belief that your boyfriend is all too good.

Besides, as a best friend, it was technically his job to be suspicious of the boy.

“I’ll go over there after practice.” You smile at his words before linking your arm with his as you both walk to your class.

“Hey, by Saturday can we play again?” You asked him while he looks down on you with a chuckle, loving that you had to ask even when you didn’t need to do.

“Why’d you ask anyway? Of course.”

It was admirable that your path of being with each other actually started with volleyball. At the age of 9 after a ball fled into your yard from the Kozume residence, Kuroo had knocked politely on the wall asking if he could get the ball back. Seeing that the wall felt like a building to you, you took the ball out of curiosity before going over to the place next door and handing him the ball.

Wherein Kuroo had to pause when he saw you.

Ever since then, you played volleyball with the two. You three joined Nekoma’s volleyball teams, even practicing together. You were thankful to have them not only they were tremendous at play but also, they were your most trusted friends and their judgement is always important. So, when you got into a relationship—it was a mix of everything.

Kenma was subtly supportive. He knew you were capable of picking what you deserve and if that boy doesn’t cause any trouble, then the setter is all for it. Kuroo, on the other hand, was hesitant.

If only he wasn’t in love with you—then maybe he could’ve given the poor boy some sign of approval.

After years of falling, his chances were already taken the moment you said your feelings were growing for a certain boy from your class. Though you were classmates with Kuroo, he eyed every boy that could be the suspect. At first, he was just curious because he hasn’t seen you interact with them before but then the second time was more on the worried side when he wondered what could’ve been missing from him that he had to find in another guy for answers.

Kenma had to assure him at some point. The blonde noticed Kuroo’s feelings ever since he saw the older boy teach you volleyball without him. He could evidently see the blush on his friends face whenever you’d land a compliment to Tetsuro. It even surprised Kenma when he knew Kuroo was still attached to his feelings after years of knowing you. He at least needed to say something before it takes a toll on him.

“You’re actually going, it’s funny.” The setter mocks though the blocker knew what he meant. How can he agree this easily anyway? He knew it’d make you happy but making room for someone after a practice instead of resting isn’t really a good circumstance.

“I know, I know. I’d be home in the next five minutes.” Kuroo jokes but when the practice finally ends, he kept his attention to his phone when he received the message for his location. He sighs tiredly while Kenma stifles a laugh.

“Don’t go then.”

“As if that wasn’t my plan beforehand.” Kenma rolls his eyes but bids goodbye to Kuroo knowing they’re not able to walk home together.

God, he was irritated.

It was rather a small thing to be pissed off about. Who knows? It could end well with the two of them but that stupid intuition is what’s dragging his feet. How could he ignore it anyway? Murmurs were like rumors that spread like wildfire when gossip has never been this good so when he heard a tiny conversation of a certain girl meeting with your boyfriend—he doesn’t know what held him back from throwing a punch to him right then and there but perhaps it was because you can’t judge too quickly. Rumors were rumors. If he believed it right away then it meant he was feeding off of the possibility that you’d be single again but he doesn’t think like that. His main reason was that he couldn’t bear to see you cry over a guy who simply didn’t deserve an ounce of sympathy—especially from you.

And right at the front of his door, a pair of a cheerleader's shoes were there.

You being a volleyball player and the shoes didn’t exactly connect.

“I’ll see you next time then?”

“Saturday?”

“I can’t. My— Y/N is making me play with her and that captain Kuroo.”

“You said you broke up with her!”

“Look- I will just wait will ya?”

And he’s heard enough.

Go inside, Tetsuro.

Defend Y/N.

Beat him.

But I can’t act on my own.

Gritting his teeth with a tight grip on the sling of his bag, he makes a forced decision.

Kuroo doesn’t even hesitate to walk away now. His pace is way heavier and faster compared to his slow ones before. He wished he carried a volleyball so he could directly throw it to his conniving face. He would’ve hit it like Oikawa during a power serve and scream incoherent profanities as he lands a punch or two. Without Kenma, the possibilities were endless when he couldn’t be held back.

The moment he enters his room, he immediately reaches for his phone and calls for Kenma since the rage was getting out of hand and he can’t focus on anything else apart from beating the heck out of your cheater of a boyfriend- well soon to be ex considering that he could never let you stay with him for another second. He walks around his room wondering which one was the best options to let you know as the setter has yet to answer his call.

“Fuck.” He mutters at the exact same time that Kenma finally picks up.

“What-”

“He’s cheating on Y/N.”

“Well shit.”

Kenma pauses his game once the words ring in his ears. He too feels the anger bubble inside him but soon it was replaced by worry when he realizes how unfortunate it was for Kuroo to be the one to witness it and actually be the person to face you with such a heavy topic.

“How are you gonna tell her?” He asks but Kuroo bites his lip at the question he’s been wanting to avoid. It was inescapable though. You were closer to him—too close that you two relied on each other to no end and would be each other's comfort at needed times. It was difficult for the both of you.

“He’s planning to break up with her on Saturday and she- fuck I don’t know what to do.” The troubled boy admits while Kenma sighs not finding a win in both situations or any of the options he and Kuroo thought of.

“Y/N will believe you. You just have to give her time when she denies it at first, I guess.” Kenma suggests while Kuroo runs a hand to his hair.

“God, I fucking hate him.”

“Who is it?”

“A fucking cheerleader— how low.” Tetsuro couldn’t sit straight. Every inch of his body was telling him to find your boyfriend and show him what a waste of energy he was. It had been three months since you introduced him and how does he gain that much of a confidence to cheat at such an early stage of your relationship? Was three months a normal pace to be bored? Too bored that he chose a cheerleader to make up for that ‘blandness'. God, if Kuroo was in that relationship—cheating could never be an option. How could he? He loved you too much that having a chance wasted like that is too big to risk or experience.

“Talk to him tomorrow.” Kenma says while Kuroo held his breath when he realizes how the tension would reek between him and your boyfriend.

“Yeah but-“

The notification sound on his phone echoed through the room and when he slides up to see whose it from, he sighs when it was from you.

Least annoying: how’d it go???

“Y/N messaged me.” He updates the blonde as his fingers hovered the keyboard wondering what lie was the most believable even if he felt guilty to do so but after deleting multiple answers, he just couldn’t t do it.

“We just have to talk to her tomorrow. I feel like she needs us more now—fucking prick of a boyfriend.” Kenma comments with spite in his voice. It wasn’t the first time where he cared too much that he too wanted to join Kuroo in a fit of rage to beat your boyfriend but Kenma is cautious of your emotions and thinks that when he does join in on the fight, it’d only bring you more stress.

But he can’t lie and say throwing a punch to the lying boy wasn’t going to bring him satisfaction.

“Okay. I have to go and think this through.” He bids goodbye to Kenma before hanging up and lying down on his bed with his mind racing nonstop—forgetting to text you in the midst of panic and rage. You didn’t mind the lack of reply, you knew he wasn’t really interested in going in the first place and he must’ve been exhausted from practice as well so you took a nap early.

Meanwhile, your best friend faced a sleepless night.

Kuroo and Kenma were caught off guard when first period ended and you were yet to arrive.

Does she know?

The break came in and there still wasn’t a sign from you but as they ate, a certain hand falls on Kuroo’s shoulder making the anger between him and Kenma ignite once they see your boyfriend.

“Hey, you didn’t stop by yesterday.” Your boyfriend informs him while Yaku and the rest of the team wonder what’s got their captain looking like he radiated flames around him. Kuroo then removes the hand from his shoulder while Kenma nudges the tense boy from losing control out in the cafeteria.

“I was tired,” he pauses to find words that wouldn’t just expose him right then and there, “I couldn’t make it.”

Your boyfriend nods, a sign that he was thankful that Kuroo didn’t come to destroy the time he shared with the cheerleader.

“Well, we got Saturday to catch up. I’ll see you then!” He leaves with a sigh of relief while Kuroo stands up from his table, unable to contain it anymore but two hands held him back. He turns to see Yaku and Kenma holding his arm as he hesitates to follow what they want him to do. He then takes a deep breath and sits down while the two sighed that Kuroo managed to stop.

“I don’t know what’s happening but you can’t just do it here.” Yaku says making Kuroo remain silent. Kenma agrees but he too felt the urge to follow his furious friend.

“Sorry.” Kuroo whispers and Yaku nods not pushing the topic any further but he’s got a clue on what could’ve happened. Seeing their captain in this state certainly was more than a duel between him and your boyfriend. Of course, they knew about his feelings for you so connecting a few dots, Yaku realizes how bad it was.

Classes went on and still no sign of you making the worry rise more between the two. By the time practice came on, the two expresses their frustration through volleyball and the rest of their teammates wonder why their play that night felt like they were in a serious match.

But they were playing a difficult role of being honest with you.

When Saturday rolled in, Kuroo was already at the place you told him to meet. Beforehand, he warns Kenma not to come knowing it’s more on his responsibility and the blonde obeyed him because he too wasn’t ready to face a confrontation like that but Kenma is more than ready to comfort you once the terrible news was given to you.

“Hey!” You greeted him with a smile while he stands up from his sit and hugs you immediately catching you by surprise. With a laugh, you hugged him back wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulls you closer hesitant to let your smile fall.

Then he notices how you were unaccompanied making him pull away seeing the opportunity to tell you while he wasn’t there but he still wasn’t ready.

“Y/N-”

“Hey babe, didn’t know you were already here but let’s play some volleyball!” He shouts with a façade of excitement. You smile at Kuroo before staying by his side instead of teaming up with your own boyfriend.

“One versus two huh?” Your boyfriend taunts while you serve the ball as he receives, initiating the start of the game. Every spike or receive had Kuroo send knives to his way with his sharp and accusing eyes. The lonesome of a player envied the way Kuroo caught the ball effortlessly and because you chose to be with the opposing team making the rally last longer due to Kuroo’s rage and your boyfriends' jealousy.

Once you managed to spike a ball strong enough to make your boyfriend fall from the failed attempt of receiving it, you cheered.

But with the course of happiness, you pulled Kuroo in from the collar of his shirt before taking your lips in his while your boyfriend remains frozen as the boy who was stupidly in love only made the rightful choice which was to kiss back and cherish the way he’s waited for this to happen. Getting a little too lost in the kiss, he cups your cheek bringing you closer and tucking your hair behind your ear with his free hand snaking around your waist, gripping it lightly to make sure it was actually happening.

You pull away softly, flushed cheeks and a smile on your face.

“What the hell Y/N!” Your boyfriend shouts but then he couldn’t exactly move because of how Tetsuro would react once he actually takes a step forward. Kuroo had his arms crossed in front of his chest staring at the boy up and down while desperately trying to act like his knees weren’t just about to give out after what happened.

“What’s wrong? If you need some kisses babe, why don’t you call that cheerleader of yours?”

Kuroo’s jaw drops to the floor—almost in sync with your boyfriend's similar reaction. The sweat rolls down his forehead, obviously intimidated by the two of you catching him in the act while Tetsuro protectively wraps his arm around you once again and as he watches for your features to fall, he was stunned.

You were smiling.

You leaned on Kuroo’s side while he registers how you knew with questions multiplying with every second.

“I want you to leave me the fuck alone and if you even try to deny it—I'll let Tetsu do the talking for me.” He smirks while your boy- ex boyfriend- scoffs making the two of you raise an eyebrow at his reaction.

You removed your position from Kuroo, taking a few steps to be in front of the cheater with a smile as you land a deserving and powerful punch to his cheek, making him stumble at the impact while the other boy was left speechless but nonetheless his heart races with the scene replaying in his mind. You shake your hand as Kuroo crouches down to meet your boyfriend with a smirk mocking the pain he was in.

“Have fun with her— she's a bore anyway.” You look at Tetsuro who let out a laugh as he pats the head of the fallen loser.

“No problem then. I’ll enjoy her as much as I can.” He then walks away, which turned down your expectations of Kuroo landing a punch as well. As the frustrated boy slowly stands up, Tetsuro pulls you against him with a finger to your chin raising it to meet your lip with his as your eyes remained on him while the boy had his eyes do the taunting who were fixated on your ex.

“After all, she’s always been mine.”

With the end of his sentence, he shifts his attention back to you before taking your lips again as the two of you smile. Your ex then walks away with a scowl as he throws his phone in frustration that he lost to Kuroo.

“Mind telling me how you knew, kitten?” He asks when he pulled away with his voice low, taking your heart by a storm.

“I got sick yesterday and when I came to school to get all the work I missed— I overheard you and Kenma talking about it.” He frowns when he realizes how bitter that must’ve been but he continues to ask, though you really couldn’t concentrate when his hand was caressing your waist.

“So, you knew all along?”

“I knew about it a few weeks ago when I read the messages on his phone. When he asked you to hang out, I figured you’d find out about it too.” Kuroo sighs of disappointment before speaking.

“I’m sorry you had to meet an asshole like that,” He says while you shook your head before he continues, “Why him though?” which made you blush.

“I couldn’t get over a certain boy and simply thought it would work but you obviously saw the outcome.” With your previous statement, he lets a smirk fall on his lips now that you couldn’t even look at him straight.

“And that certain boy is?” He edged on, his heart pushing him to confirm if it was actually him— that all the years he spent loving you might actually have you reciprocating those feelings.

“It’s you.” You confessed while your heart sets on fire that you finally admitted it. It was an awful attempt to cover your feelings in the first place. In all honesty, it was your fault. If you could’ve just admitted it right away then you’d end up with him instead of the asshole of a man you wasted time on but then again—the kiss was worth it to ever change your decisions.

“No no I wanna hear the full name.” He teases more making you roll your eyes. He then plants a kiss on the crown of your head with a satisfied smile as he internally cheers to not embarrass himself with the overwhelming glee. You also mirror the same state that he was in. Hearing Kuroo at the gym say how much he loves you was enough of an evidence that you should’ve picked him in the first place.

“Well then, should I make my previous statement official now?” You blushed but muttered a yes making Kuroo smile and take your hand, landing a peck on it as he intertwines them with his.

“All yours, Tetsu.”

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#kuroo x y/n #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #hq kuroo #kuroo testuro #tetsuro kuroo #haikyuu kenma #kenma kozume

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firstfullmoon · 4 years

Note

what are some quotes that are so visceral they feel like a gut punch to you?

“A man's heart is a wretched, wretched thing. It isn't like a mother's womb. It won't bleed. It won't stretch to make room for you.”

— Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Suns

“At the trial of God, we will ask: why did you allow all this? And the answer will be an echo: why did you allow all this?”

— Ilya Kaminsky, “A City Like a Guillotine Shivers on Its Way to the Neck”

“I want someone to tell me what to wear in the morning. I want someone to tell me what to wear every morning. I want someone to tell me what to eat, what to like, what to hate, what to rage about, what to listen to, what band to like, what to buy tickets for, what to joke about, what not to joke about. I want someone to tell me what to believe in, who to vote for, and who to love, and how to tell them. I just think I want someone to tell me how to live my life, Father, because so far I think I’ve been getting it wrong.”

— Phoebe Waller-Bridge, from Fleabag

“Les femmes de notre famille, nous sommes engluées dans la colère J’ai été en colère contre ma mère Tout comme tu es en colère contre moi Et tout comme ma mère fut en colère contre sa mère Il faut casser le fil.”

(The women in our family are all stuck in anger I have been angry at my mother As you are angry with me And as my mother was angry at her mother The thread must be broken.)

— Wajdi Mouawad, Incendies

“I know what I want: an ugly, clean woman with large breasts, who tells me: what’s all this about making things up? I won’t have any dramas, come here immediately!—And she gives me a warm bath, dresses me in a white linen nightdress, braids my hair and puts me to bed, very cross, saying: well what do you want? you run wild, eating at odd times, you could get sick, stop making up tragedies, you think you’re such a big deal, drink this mug of hot broth. She lifts my head up with her hand, covers me with a big sheet, brushes a few strands of hair off my forehead, already white and fresh, and tells me before I fall asleep warmly: you’ll see how in no time your face is going to fill out, forget those harebrained ideas and be a good girl. Someone who takes me in like a humble dog, who opens the door for me, brushes me, feeds me, loves me severely like a dog, that’s all I want, like a dog, a child.”

“I can feel myself holding a child, thought Joana. Sleep, my child, sleep, I tell you. The child is warm and I am sad. But it is the sadness of happiness, this appeasement and sufficiency that leave the face placid, faraway. And when my child touches me he doesn’t rob me of my thoughts as others do. But later, when I give him milk with these fragile, beautiful breasts, my child will grow from my force and crush me with his life. He will distance himself from me and I will be the useless old mother. I won’t feel cheated. But defeated merely and I will say: I don’t know a thing, I am able to give birth to a child and I don’t know a thing. God will receive my humility and will say: I was able to give birth to the universe and I don’t know a thing.”

— Clarice Lispector, Near to the Wild Heart

“I know that my phrases are crude, I write them with too much love, and that love makes up for their faults, but too much love is bad for the work.”

“I’m restless and harsh and despairing. Although I do have love inside me. I just don’t know how to use love. Sometimes it tears at my flesh.”

“But when winter comes I give and give and give. The excess of me starts to hurt and when I’m excessive I have to give of myself.”

— Clarice Lispector, Água Viva

“And that was what I felt when reading your book: that solitude.” “Imagine the solitude of the person who wrote it.”

— Clarice Lispector, from an interview

“suppose the body did this to us, made us afraid of love—”

— Louise Glück, “Crater Lake”

“When I put my hands on your body, on your flesh, I feel the history of that body. Not just the beginning of its forming in that distant lake, but all the way beyond its ending. I feel the warmth and texture and simultaneously I see the flesh unwrap from the layers of fat and disappear. I see the fat disappear from the muscle. I see the muscle disappearing from around the organs and detaching itself from the bones. I see the organs gradually fade into transparency, leaving a gleaming skeleton, gleaming like ivory that slowly resolves until it becomes dust. I am consumed in the sense of your weight, the way your flesh occupies momentary space, the fullness of it beneath my palms. I am amazed at how perfectly your body fits to the curves of my hands. If I could attach our blood vessels so we could become each other I would. If I could attach our blood vessels in order to anchor you to the earth, to this present time, I would. If I could open up your body and slip inside your skin and look out your eyes and forever have my lips fused with yours, I would. It makes me weep to feel the history of your flesh beneath my hands in a time of so much loss. It makes me weep to feel the movement of your flesh beneath my palms as you twist and turn over to one side to create a series of gestures, to reach up around my neck, to draw me nearer. All these memories will be lost in time like tears in the rain.”

— David Wojnarowicz, from The Half-Life

“A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort.”

— Gillian Flynn, Sharp Objects

“and cain said, There’s an idea I can’t get out of my head, What’s that, said abraham, There must have been innocent people in sodom and in the other cities that were burned, If so, the lord would have kept the promise he made to make to save their lives, What about the children, said cain, surely the children were innocent, Oh my god, murmured abraham and his voice was like a groan, Yes, your god perhaps, but not theirs.”

— José Saramago, Cain

“I’d like to jet-ski / straight out of this life because right now I am / way attached to real things like for instance / people how they are all so tender how they / love to just go walk around and someof them are / wearing pink now and it hurts me and they / bathe their dogs”

— Heather Christle, “This Is Not The Body I Asked For”

“The idea of deserving love. And then watching love being given to people who did nothing to deserve it.”

— Anaïs Nin, from her journal

“And he cries and cries, cries for everything he has been, for everything he might have been, for every old hurt, for every old happiness, cries for the shame and joy of finally getting to be a child, with all of a child’s whims and wants and insecurities, for the privilege of behaving badly and being forgiven, for the luxury of tendernesses, of fondnesses, of being served a meal and being made to eat it, for the ability, at last, at last, of believing a parent’s reassurances, of believing that to someone he is special despite all his mistakes and hatefulness, because of all his mistakes and hatefulness.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“The veals are the children of cows, are calves. They are locked in boxes the size of themselves. A body-box, like a coffin, but alive, like a home. The children, the veal, they stand very still because tenderness depends of how little the world touches you. To stay tender, the weight of your life cannot lean on your bones.”

“Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined.”

— Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

“I know we’ve just met but I feel like maybe / you’d feed me and tuck me into your big bed / and only touch me as you covered me with the comforter.”

— Kim Addonizio, “Party”

“The body has no thoughts. The body soaks up love like a paper towel

and is still dry.”

— Kim Addonizio, “Body And Soul”

“I don’t know how God can bear / seeing everything at once: the falling bodies, the monuments and burnings, / the lovers pacing the floors of how many locked hearts.”

— Kim Addonizio, “The Numbers”

“I keep wishing for you, keep shutting up my eyes and looking toward the sky, asking with all my might for you, and yet you do not come. I thought of you, until the world grew rounder than it sometimes is, and I broke several dishes.”

— Emily Dickinson, from a letter to Minnie Holland

“The unknowness of my needs frightens me. I do not know how huge they are, or how high they are, I only know that they are not being met.”

— Jeanette Winterson, Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit

“I used to be a hopeless romantic. I am still a hopeless romantic. I used to believe that love was the highest value. I still believe that love is the highest value. I don’t expect to be happy. I don’t imagine that I will find love, whatever that means, or that if I do find it, it will make me happy. I don’t think of love as the answer or the solution. I think of love as a force of nature - as strong as the sun, as necessary, as impersonal, as gigantic, as impossible, as scorching as it is warming, as drought-making as it is life-giving. And when it burns out, the planet dies.”

“As for myself, I am splintered by great waves. I am coloured glass from a church window long since shattered. I find pieces of myself everywhere, and I cut myself handling them.”

— Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping

“I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED GENOCIDE TO STOP I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED AFFIRMATIVE ACTION AND REACTION I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED MUSIC OUT THE WINDOWS I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED NOBODY THIRST AND NOBODY NOBODY COLD I SAID I LOVED YOU AND I WANTED I WANTED JUSTICE UNDER MY NOSE”

— June Jordan, “Intifada Incantation: Poem 38 for b.b.L.”

“Maybe when I wake up in the middle of the night I should go downstairs dump the refrigerator contents on the floor and stand there in the middle of the spilled milk and the wasted butter spread beneath my dirty feet writing poems writing poems maybe I just need to love myself myself and anyway I’m working on it”

— June Jordan, “Free Flight”

“It’s not that I gave away my keys. / The problem is nobody wants to steal me or my / house.”

— June Jordan, “Onesided Dialog”

“What reconciles me to my own death more than anything else is the image of a place: a place where your bones and mine are buried, thrown, uncovered, together. They are strewn there pell-mell. One of your ribs leans against my skull. A metacarpal of my left hand lies inside your pelvis. (Against my broken ribs your breast like a flower.) The hundred bones of our feet are scattered like gravel. It is strange that this image of our proximity, concerning as it does mere phosphate of calcium, should bestow a sense of peace. Yet it does. With you I can imagine a place where to be phosphate of calcium is enough.”

— John Berger, And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief As Photos

“I wept and wept. I had come to believe that if I really wanted something badly enough, the very act of my wanting it was an assurance that I would not get it.”

— Audre Lorde, from “Zami: A New Spelling of my Name”

“You kiss the back of my legs and I want to cry. / Only the sun has come this close, only the sun.”

— Shauna Barbosa, “GPS”

“It has to be perfect. It has to be irreproachable in every way. (...) To make up for it. To make up for the fact that it’s me.”

— Suzanne Rivecca

“I hope it’s love. I’m trying really hard to make it love. I said no more severity. I said it severely and slept through all my appointments. I clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary. I’d rather quit. I’d rather be sad.”

— Richard Siken, Self-Portrait Against Red Wallpaper

“We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven, which brings us back to the hero's shoulders and the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it.”

— Richard Siken, “Snow And Dirty Rain”

“Love, for you, / is larger than the usual romantic love. It's like a religion. It's / terrifying. No one / will ever want to sleep with you.”

— Richard Siken, “Litany In Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out”

“The hardest thing still remains. It remains the hardest, to bear all the tenderness and only to gaze on.”

— Ilse Achinger, “Mirrorstory”

“i killed a plant once because i gave it too much water. lord, i worry that love is violence.”

— José Olivarez, “Getting Ready to Say I Love You to My Dad, It Rains”

“Mother says there are locked rooms inside all women; kitchen of lust, bedroom of grief, bathroom of apathy. Sometimes the men - they come with keys, and sometimes, the men - they come with hammers.”

— Warsan Shire, “The House”

“I’ll take care of you. / It’s rotten work. / Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

— Euripides, Orestes, tr. Anne Carson

“We have this deep sadness between us and it spells so habitual I can’t tell it from love.”

— Anne Carson, The Beauty of the Husband

“There is no question I am someone starving. There is no question I am making this journey to find out what that appetite is.”

— Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays

“I wish I could peel all my sadness in one long strip off my skin & toss it in a bucket. No one would have to carry it. It would just sit there & be punished. It would just sit there & think about everything it’s done.”

— Chen Chen, “Elegy For My Sadness”

“There is too much or not enough room in my stomach for everything we will do to each other.“

— Adriana Cloud, “Bento Body”

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siriushxney · 3 years

Text

⊱┊ easily !

pairing — sapnap x gn!reader

wordcount — 2k

warnings — angsty, arguing (happy ending)

song — easily | bruno major

note ! — this is my second time reposting, because tumblr hates my guts and decides to make things repeat/disappear so :|

nothing was easy about love. then again, if love didn’t have it’s bumps and bruises — could it truly be considered love? the act of loving someone is something that is both a blessing and a curse wrapped into one. you see their best, and you see their worst — you deal with, and take all the blows that they take.

and in with love — arguments flare.

some over stupid things, like who would do the dishes, if the other did the laundry, what you were having for diner — but some were harsher. words that neither meant, thrown at the other without care or thought behind them, and actions that despite being little, spoke thousands.

when love begins to bring stress from the arguments, it brings along doubt, anger, and fear. the nagging feeling at the back of your mind that is constantly telling you that you don’t mean anything to them, that you can be easily replaced, that quitting is a valid choice — distance makes an appearance between the two of you.

but when one pulled away, the other reached and pulled them back. it was what love was.

—

sapnap and you had always been an honest couple. sharing everything and anything, never scared to speak your mind, and not afraid of confrontation. but with the both of you being strong willed and blunt, things could get tangled and rough in a matter of seconds — and as of lately, things were rough more than they were enjoyable. fights happened daily, food was consumed in silence, and you had gone to sleep in the guest bedroom. the distance that was now between the two of you was easily notable — even his viewers had noticed something in him had shifted.

with your laptop sat one your lap, you typed away — the assignment that was due in merely a week adding to the already present stress. everything had seemed to be going wrong lately — the topic you were given to research happened to be one of the topics that you had not been quite able to grasp, you had somehow lost your favourite pair of shoes, and everything with sapnap.

you love him, that wasn't something you questioned — but the thoughts of if it was worth it with the direction that the two of you were heading in, plagued your mind. did you want to put yourself through the pain that would come eventually? or did you want to protect yourself from it to the best of your ability?

the words you typed appeared on the screen quickly, but just as fast as they appeared, you were quick to erase them. everything you had typed didn’t quite come out the way you wanted them to — but no matter how much you deleted and retyped them, nothing else came to mind. it almost reminded you of sapnap and your relationship.

after every fight, an apology would be said, but nothing would change. within the next twenty-four hours or less, another one - just like the previous - would take place. you were backspacing, and then rewriting the same thing, over, and over again.

with a frustrated sigh, you closed the laptop and pushed it aside to where your books laid. your hand came up to harshly rub at your sore and tired eyes, wishing that a calm and restful sleep would overcome you. but that was simply a figment of hope that your brain came up with. you had too much to do, to be resting.

the thump of your feet hitting the ground, the loud cracks and pops from stiff joints, and a small grunt filled the room. after sitting in one position for hours, you'd expect your body to be stiff.

“stupid professor, and his stupid assignments,” you huffed as you exited your room, turning your head quitioningly towards sapnap’s recording room, waiting and listening for any sign of him streaming. with no sudden shouts, curses, or screams, you assumed he wasn't — that meant either two things, one, he was in your shared room, or he was downstairs. you hoped it was the previous.

tiptoeing down the stairs, you attempted not to make a noise in the case that he was on the main floor, not wanting to face him after your most recent fight. but the universe seemed to be working against you, as you saw his frame laying on the couch with a movie playing quietly on the tv.

despite being as quiet as you possibly could have been, he had noticed your entrance — his head tilted in your direction before turning his attention back to the movie with a now present frown.

he’s such a child.

then again you were no better.

this game of he said, they said was annoying to you — but in this situation, you felt as if you were correct, just like how he felt like he was correct. neither of you would admit that the other was just as right as you were, both desperate to take a win over the other.

grabbing your keys from the counter top, you started for the front door — your shoes easily being slipped on before you grabbed for the door handle.

“where are you going?” no movie could be heard playing anymore, making it easy to hear sapnap’s voice — something that had been spoken with an emotion that you refused to believe was there — worry.

“I’m just going to the convenience store.”

a small thump, followed by quick footsteps towards your directions caused an unwanted smile to appear on your face. but as quick as it appeared, it was wiped off. sapnap came around the corner, grabbing his shoes and not bothering to put them on — simply holding them in his hands as he gave you a shooing movement.

“c’mon. I’ll come with,” sapnap pushed passed you, through the front door, and towards your car in a haste.

“... okay then.” you closed the door behind you as you stepped out, making sure to lock it before heading to the drivers side — sapnap already sat comfortably inside with his knees and head facing his window.

he was still going to be stubborn, huh?

—

the drive was silent — not that you expected anything else. the music wasn’t even playing loudly — merely soft background noise to keep the both of you from going more insane then you already were. the drive itself should’ve been only six minutes top, had turned into ten — every light being red rather than the preferable green.

your car lurched forward as you angrily slammed your foot on the brake at yet another red light — sapnap and you being abruptly launched forward before coming back and hitting the seat.

“jesus, calm down would you?”

“don’t even start with me,” you didn’t have to look at him to see the way his eyes furrowed and frown deepened.

“what the hell is your problem lately-”

“what the hell is my problem?! you — you're my problem lately, sapnap!” you whipped your head over to him, watching the immediate look of hurt cross his face before it contorted into one anger.

“you know I’m trying here — I thought that us going out somewhere we usually go to would help us, but apparently I was wrong!” sapnap through his hands up in rage. “you make everything so difficult! why can’t you for once in your life, just stop arguing with everything I say and do?!”

the red light still shone brightly — no sign of it changing. and with no cars other than your own on the road at this time of night, there was nothing other than the deep breathing, and the quiet music playing from your radio. neither of you said a word — both of you still trying to wrap your head around not only the others, but your own words.

words that you never meant to, or should’ve said.

you turned your head away from him, trying to hide the way your eyes gleamed with fresh tears — but when they tried to make their way down your face, you brought your palms up to your eyes and pushed. the pressure of your palms helped keep not only the tears, but your anger in.

“Y/N i’m-”

“please can we just not?”

the apology was on the tip of his tongue.

“what are we doing?”

sapnap could feel his mouth run dry, and his chest tighten.

“what?”

“I mean… what are we doing?” your words came out strained and low, the effects of yelling and being yelled at hitting you full force. “this- us — what are we doing here?”

he didn’t know how to respond — the answer for your question had never crossed his mind. to him, despite the arguing and yelling, him and you would never end — it was the two of you till the end. but with you questioning everything right in front of him, he couldn’t help but panic.

“I’m- we’re-” he tried to put words together, but nothing made sense. he wrote and rewrote a script in his head, pleading for something to make sense, or at least help him bring you out of the hole of doubt and questioning you’ve dug yourself into.

nothing comes easily — not skill, not life, not love. you had to work for everything you have, and you will fall, and get scraped, and fail — but things could always be improved, as long as you fought for it.

“we’re doing something that is right — we’re right,” his words were not enough to make you look at him, but he saw your head lift slightly. “we’re not easy — we’re messy, and mean, and for some reason, stupidly stubborn… but that doesn’t mean that we aren't right — arent perfect in our own way,” your head turned more towards him. “we’re not easy, and to be honest, we never will be. that’s just us. and right now, we're in a rocky part — but just because it won’t come easily, doesn't mean that the road we’re on won’t even out once again. you need to trust me, just like I need to trust you.”

a green light shone down onto the two of you, telling you to go — but just like before, no cars were around. it was just him and you.

“I love you Y/N — and don’t you ever forget or doubt that. I’m an asshole sometimes, but I’d never lie to you about that.”

you wished that the seatbelt that held you stills against your seat could vanish so you could tackle him with a hug — but your place on the road, and the now approaching car from behind stopped you from doing so. pushing lightly on the gas, you went through the green light, and pulled into the convenience store that you had been on your way to.

sapnap watched as you pulled yourself from the car quickly, the sense of ache and worry taking over his body as he pulled himself out of the car after you. “look, I’m sorry-” a body crashed into his own, nerely knocking him to the ground — harsh, shaking shoulders and wetness was felt against his chest.

“I’m so sorry — for everything,” you didn’t try to hide your sobs — with the heat of everything going on, you knew it was better to let everything out then to bottle it up. “and I love you so much, you don't even know — everything sucks without you by my side.”

he couldn't stop the tears that filled his own eyes — finally able to hold you again despite the circumstances and what it took to get here. burying his face into the side of your neck, he let his tears fall — the both of you standing, swaying slightly as you let everything go.

you don’t know how long you stayed in the position, but you didn’t care to keep track — your only focus being the boy pressed against you, holding you tightly to his chest, as he whispered soft words of love and apologies.

it wouldn’t come easily, but the least you could do was try.

#::a love like this #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #dream smp imagine #dream smp x reader #::sapnap #sapnap imagine #sapnap x reader

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thisisarcanereverie · 3 years

Text

Twilight Skies and Tea (Loki x Reader)

ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

Loki often felt like an outcast no matter where he went. In Asgard he was typically reserved and more mischievous compared to the rest of Asgard. Didn’t help that after years of thinking it was because he was his mother’s son, he finds out that wasn’t even the case. He had been taken from Jotunheim as a political pawn, as a relic until Odin had some use for him. Even on the Jotunheim he was out of place, his being raised in Asgard had left him with different habits and ways of thinking from his Jotun brothers and sisters.

Midgard... well Midgard was obvious.

Loki wouldn’t admit this but he barely remembered him invading, bits and pieces but the rest was a blur. Like he wasn’t in control, and that terrified him. He had underestimated the power of the mind stone and fell victim to it’s madness.

Despite him barely remembering, he carried the weight of the lives he had taken whether it be directly or indirectly. He knew Midgard would never forget what he did to New York.

As punishment for his crimes he was sent to Midgard by his brother and mother. Odin had wanted to let Loki rot in a cell, however Thor and their mother insisted that Loki should try to correct his wrongs by working with the Avengers in protecting the world.

Tony and the rest were hesitant about it at first, however Fury had forced their hand and in the end Tony was the first to agree that the more man power the better. Although it seemed the tin man had seen better days when he agreed.

They didn’t make it easier at first. Their hatred and judgement was nothing compared to that of Asgard but still, it hurt. However as months turned into years they had let up and eventually considered him a friend. Even Clint had come to consider Loki a friend eventually.

Even though his relationship with Thor had improved as well as his relationships with the rest of the Avengers, He still felt very out of place. He began to accept the fact that maybe he’ll always feel like that when you came into the picture.

You were the latest person to be added to the Avengers team. Loki immediately sensed great power coming from you alone, sure Wanda’s was overwhelming, but yours seemed to match his and that was nothing to scoff at.

Loki felt a connection with you that he had never felt before. Something akin to companionship but stronger.

Apparently you had felt it too because you naturally drifted to Loki. You were calm and tranquil most of the time. Both of you enjoying each other company in the library reading Mary Shelley and Charles Dickens respectfully, and it seemed as though you two were naturally nocturnal because you often shared freshly brewed pot of tea with the god at unseemly times of night to discuss recent reads and a few playful remarks here and there on the roof and watch as the sky turned.

It almost seemed like you two were on the same wavelength.

“You know that I don’t believe you were in control of the New York attack.” You blurt out randomly. You two were on the roof again, this time watching the twilight skies. That sentence took him aback for a second.

“Why?”

“I took a look at some of the footage that you were caught on and now that I’m looking at you I can see a clear difference.” You take a sip of the warm tea in your hands before continuing. “It seemed like the scepter was draining the life out of you, and your eyes were borderline bloodshot and glowing blue. I think the mind stone had taken over you and controlled you.”

Loki couldn’t help shaking slightly, he had never told anyone, not even Thor of not remembering what he had done. He had doubted anyone would believe him.

You seem to have noticed and placed a warm hand on top of his cold one.

After that you and him had made it a habit to drink tea and watch the twilight sky on the roof everyday. It was the closest thing to therapy you two ever had.

“I feel very out of place here sometimes,” You had just gotten back from a mission with the rest of the team, and immediately you came to the roof where Loki had found you waiting for him. He sat beside you and gave you an understanding nod.

“I feel like that too here.”

“Here’s the strange thing,” you said leaning your head to rest on his shoulder, “I don’t feel that out of place right now though. When it’s just us on the roof drinking tea.”

“Are you sure you’re not a mind reader?” he had asked playfully, you had laughed silently.

“I’m sure if I was I would have gone completely mad years ago.”

“What wrong with a bit of madness.”

“Absolutely nothing.”

You smiled at each other before turning your gaze back to the sky. You sat there until the stars and the moon had taken their place in the sky before you spoke again.

“I’ve done horrible things Lok,” you admitted silently. By now the tea was cold and discarded and now you two just laid on the roof watching the stars and admitting things in the comfort of darkness.

“I know,”

“Not completely,” you said. There was a weight in your words that Loki quickly recognized.

“I volunteered for HYDRA experiments, not out of wanting to change the world like Wanda or was forced like Bucky.” You paused taking a deep and shaky breath in and out, “I volunteered for revenge.”

You then told him what you didn’t tell the others. Your family was the most important thing to you, the sun had risen and set on them. However people did unforgivable things to them, things you weren’t ready to say and perhaps never will. You had lost the thing you held dear and you made a list. A list of the people who had ever hurt them and went to HYDRA. Told them you were a willing volunteer and that they need only pay you in bringing in the people on your list. One person for each success.

You discovered your control over fear that way, by using it repeatedly on those who harmed your family.

How the weight of what you had done still weighed on you.

Then Shield found you, gave you immunity for what you did before, so long as you put those powers towards good and joined the Avengers.

Loki understood loving your family, he wouldn’t admit it aloud but Thor was his brother and Frigga is mother. In all terms of the words, it didn’t matter if he hadn’t been theirs by blood, he considered them as such.

He would lose his mind if something were to happen to them that appalled even him.

Revenge was something he knew even better, he had felt it consume him as he picked up the scepter in it’s overwhelming rage and anguish.

He had intertwined your hands as you laid together.

“Rame.”

“what?”

“It’s an old word in your language,” he explains, “It’s an adjective for something that is both joyful and chaotic at the same time.” he felt your shaky laugh beside him. Loki turned to see one tear streaming from your eye and your laughing face. He couldn’t help thinking about how beautiful you had looked in that moment.

“I think that describes us perfectly.”

“I believe so darling.”

He was a goner since that day you came to the tower.

It just took him this long to figure that out.

---

After that you had somehow transitioned from that of tea and confessions in the safety of the twilight skies to that of library dates and stolen kisses where no one could see you.

Loki also started to use a lot of old but beautiful words when conversing with you.

The first night you spent together as lovers he described as Elysian. He had spent the rest of that night whispering that word to you.

However it wasn’t always idyllic between you two.

the God of Mischief and the woman who can literally manipulate the fear of others were bound to argue at some point.

Usually it was something as simple as the opinions of authors or of tea flavors and even then it was more along the lines of bickering that ended with a sweet kiss.

However, there were times where it was bickering.

You had come back from a mission with a bullet graze on your arm and bruised ribs. You weren’t paying attention when a bullet grazed your right arm and an HYDRA agent snuck up on you and kicked you at your side.

All things considered the injuries weren’t the worst thing you’ve experienced physically and Loki knew you could take care of yourself.

Didn’t stop him from immediately rushing to the Med Bay when he heard that you had to stop there for stitches and bandages.

“(Y/n),” he called your name as soon as he entered the Med Bay.

‘I’m in here” you responded. Almost as soon as you had finished responding he pulled back the curtain to reveal where the doctor was finishing bandaging your arm and prescribing medication for the pain.

She had nodded to you after getting the gist that the god wanted to talk to you alone.

“What the hell happened.” You could see the anger practically coming off his body, if it was any other circumstances you would’ve found it hot. However, you knew now wasn’t the time or the place.

“I got shot at-”

“No really I couldn’t tell.” He sassed, he often got like that when he was properly angry, You were the one who got shot at and you had yet to take the pain meds that the Doc prescribed so you weren’t in the mood to deal with it.

“I’m not in the mood Loki,”

“Not in the mood?!” he exclaimed, “You were shot at and taken down. If Steven hadn’t been there, there would’ve been a bullet in your head!”

“However he was and therefore I’m only merely grazed by the arm.”

“This isn’t something you can just brush away (Y/n)” He was seething. The mere thought of losing you was enough to almost bring him to his knees, and it was times like these where he knew that there will come a time where he will have to say goodbye to you. You were originally from Midgard, you were born mortal and therefore he will outlive you. When that day comes he has no idea how he would handle it.

“Lok,” You softly spoke, you knew he wasn’t angry at you. He was angry because the reality of the situation was hitting him again. How mortal you were. You gently raised your hand to cup his cheek and gently brush your thumb over the tears that leaked out. Loki had fallen to his knees in front of you.

There had to be a way, there had to be some way that he would never have to say goodbye to you.

---

Thor had dragged Loki to Guy’s Night. Usually Loki would be vehemently against this, instead preferring to spend the evenings with you in your shared room. However Loki didn’t put up much of a fight this time. Instead Thor had to do minimal dragging of his little brother.

Loki had only gone because he needed to talk to his brother about something in privacy. Something he couldn’t risk you or the others overhearing.

Thor had brought Loki and the other male Avengers to bar hop. Going to one bar after another, something that Darcy had taught Thor of when he first came to Midgard and Thor seemed to enjoy it.

As the group of men walked Loki quickly cast a glamour to make it seem as though Thor and Loki were talking of something small and light.

Thor quickly caught on after having learned now when his brother cast magic and turned to look at his brother. Ever since you had come back wounded from a mission he could sense something was off about his brother and it worried him deeply. Loki was never surrounded by fair maidens like Thor was back on Asgard, but there were a few who sought the comfort of Loki rather than Thor. His little brother was never interested in them however, you were the only exception.

“Brother,” Loki started, the guys still laughing ahead of them in a group, “what I say to you next must stay between us and only us for the time being. Lady Jane or Sif or any of the others must not know. Understood.” His tone was serious, no room for any of his regular mischief to sneak in.

“Brother I would never betray your trust.”

“I am in love with (Y/n).”

“Yes, this isn’t new news to me.” Thor said, although Loki never really said the word ‘love’ often he knew that in those rare moments either one of two things were to happen next. Either Loki will be sharing some heart wrenching and shocking news or Loki was about to stab someone. There was no in between.

“Brother I plan on doing the Bonding Ceremony with her.” The Bonding Ceremony was more serious than that of marriage. Forming a bond ensured that whether it be your life or his, your souls would be bonded together. When one of you dies the other does too.

Not many had heard of the Bonding since now it was typically frowned upon. Loki and Thor only knew it since Frigga was the one to teach them such things in case they ever found someone they couldn’t bear to lose.

Loki had.

Thor felt his footsteps stop. This would be the closest thing Loki could do to either grant (Y/n) immortality or to make himself mortal. This was the ultimate gamble.

“Are you sure brother?”

“I’ve never been more certain about anything in my entire life.” Loki firmly confirmed, “There will be no other love for me brother, she is it.”

Thor felt his heart swell in pride when he looked at his little brother. Loki’s eyes which were usually sharp and calculating were soft and full of a love that Thor only had a mere taste of. Thor didn’t doubt for a second that if something were to happen to Lady (Y/n), whatever force took her from him would surely pay the price.

Thor clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder, bringing him back to reality.

“Well then when do you plan on asking her?”

“Soon brother,” Loki said, “all good things come to those who wait.”

---

Your powers were useless against the titan in front of you. With all your might you had tried to use your powers on him to no avail. While you were panting on the ground, weak and exhausted, the purple dickhead barely broke a sweat fighting off your attacks.

His associates were easy enough to deal with, not nearly as immune to your powers as their leader. Most were crumpled in a ball sobbing or took their own life. Thanos almost seemed impressed with you, how you managed to take down a fair amount of his followers single handedly.

If only you weren’t so emotional. He would have taken you as another daughter.

You weren’t even meant to be there, Loki had tried to prevent you from coming with him and Thor on the search for their father. However, you weren’t much of a listener.

After Ragnorok, Loki realized he waited too long to give you the beautiful emerald ring he had always carried with him since that Boy’s Night almost a year ago. He had been so afraid of rejection that he hadn’t considered how much time was passing and how fleeting life was.

You both cried in each other's arms after you accepted.

Then this douchebag had to come and ruin everything.

“Wait!” Loki yelled as Thanos took one step closer to your exhausted figure. He took out the Tesseract that he had taken before Asgard was destroyed.

“If you spare her life and the rest of the people on this ship I will give you what you came here for.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at your fiance. His hair hid the majority of his face from your view, if it wasn’t in the way you would have seen the look of acceptance in his eyes.

It wasn’t until you were too late did you notice the knife in his other hand.

You wanted to scream at him, ‘you dumbass why would you try to pull a knife on this monster!’. You could only scream and try to physically fight the titan to let Loki out of his grasp and Thor was struggling against his restraints.

When you heard the sickening crack of Loki’s neck as his soul left him. You felt the last piece of your compassion and love die with him.

His body crumpled to the ground, unmoving and dead. Just dead.

When you lost your family you had been filled with the flames of white hot anger.

This time it was as though ice filled every part of your body, you were cold. There were no flames, just the icy feeling of loss. You could only stare at his body, nothing seemed to move. Not one muscle, no one took a breath.

Then it came.

The scream that was ripped out of you was inhuman and reverberated throughout the entire ship.

All the restraint you put on the darkness inside you broke as you crawled to his body. You crumpled over his body, holding on to whatever warmth he still had for dear life.

Meanwhile Thanos’s eyes had widened, the dark cloud that was leaking out of you had taken the entire ship. He barely could manage to see anything in it. The cloud seemed to capture any light and immediately darken it.

Then the feeling he knew all too well came to almost overtake him.

It was loss, pure unadulterated loss, and anger, and sadness.

Suddenly he found himself on Titan again, more specifically the day it all was destroyed. How no Titan citizen was safe from the wreckage. Not even his family. All of his darkest memories played before him and nearly drove him mad.

Thanos has never met a person quite like you. Not one so powerful.

He wondered why you hadn’t shown this strength before?

He wondered just how much you were holding back.

Without a second thought he put the space stone in the gauntlet and gathered his remaining followers and left.

He needed away from you before your darkness engulfed him completely.

---

You were still cold as you, Thor, Rocket, and Groot made your way to Nidavellir. You sat next to the blonde God of Thunder, who was in no better shape than you were in.

Apparently when the Guardians found you, Thor had been holding onto you, he was probably the only reason why you didn’t freeze to death in space next to Loki’s corpse.

Absentmindedly you fiddled with the emerald ring resting on your finger, it amazed you how it wasn’t lost in the middle of that havoc. You looked at it for a second, briefly it was a symbol of you and Loki’s love and commitment. Now it was just another cruel reminder of all you’ve ever loved and lost.

You barely remember Thanos attacking, you just remember crawling over to Loki’s body and holding onto him as tightly as you could. Trying to bring him back to life.

You felt Thor envelop you hand with his own and tightly hold onto it. You knew what that meant without needing to communicate with words.

Revenge.

Thor will avenge his brother and you will get revenge for your lover.

It was a promise.

---

“BRING US THANOS!” You and Thor screeched. You were in the smack in the middle of the battle in Wakanda. Already you saw faces you haven’t seen in years.

Steve now had a beard which was weird, but cool.

Your hands outreached and darkness sprung from them. The darkness enveloped at least the first 30 beasts in front of you, choking them the same way Thanos had choked Loki.

You and Thor had trained during your spare time on each of your powers.

Thor had truly become a force to be reckoned with, especially with his new axe.

You had further developed the powers you had once been terrified of. Learning to embrace the darkness and the fear of others, letting it fuel your powers further.

Even Hela would be terrified of you.

You followed Thor’s lead, you never being too far behind him taking out enemies left and right. You only strayed when you saw Wanda being cornered, after helping her you quickly located Thor and followed him. Not bothering to stay and chat.

The air seemed to chill as you felt Thanos’s energy.

Thanos just came to the party.

You and Thor made an immediate beeline to him.

Thanos was just about to snap his fingers when Thor threw his axe in his chest.

Thor drove the axe further into the purple dicks chest as you let loose almost every ounce of darkness in you to invade Thanos’s senses. disabling him from feeling everything but fear, anguish, torment, everything you had ever felt. All of your loss and darkest thoughts. How you imagined torturing him. Replaying pushing Gamora off the cliff again and again, watching in third person, never changing course. All the people he had ever loved, a pile of dead bodies all over the cliff.

“I told you,” Thor said as you allowed Thanos to see and hear your brother in law. “you’d die for that.”

Thanos mumbled, you were too focused on torturing him to see his hands start to move.

“You should have gone for the head.” You noticed all too late before his fingers snapped.

At first you felt nothing, until you slowly saw your fingertips begin to crumble into dust.

You welcomed death.

---

You thought you had died, however, you opened your eyes and saw a portal.

“Darkness,” You turned your head and saw a man with a red cape and a weird looking necklace around his neck.

“Only my enemies call me that.” You retort, your hands already beginning to move.

“I’m not your enemy,” he assured, “I’m Doctor Strange, you’ve been dead for 5 years and I came to you personally to ask for help.”

“Why?”

“Because without you Thanos will win again and the alternative timeline isn’t so cheerful and I would like to try to avoid that.”

“I meant why should I trust you.” You didn’t need much convincing, you would love to have a second chance at killing Thanos. You just needed to know you could trust this man.

“You should trust me because the Universe depends on it.” He arrogantly said before adding, “plus we both know the only other person who hates Thanos as much as you do is Wanda. In fact I’ll need both of you.”

---

Strange told you to follow T’Challa and he will lead you to where you and Wanda will defeat Thanos.

Sure enough there Thanos was, and Wanda landed right in beside you.

“Nice of you to drop in.”

“And let you have all the fun, never.” Wanda replied, her eyes glowed menacingly at Thanos.

“You took everything from me.” Wanda said.

“ And you will pay for what you did.” You followed.

“I don’t even know who you are.” Thanos said.

“You will.” You and her say at the same time.

Thanos had tried to no avail to stop your advances to him. Wanda’s red magic enveloped him as your darkness invaded his senses, showing him his future self that you had fought.

“Wanda!” you yelled, capturing the red heads attention briefly.

“Go for the head.”

Her smile was chilling as her magic changed from picking apart his armor to slowly ripping his head off his body.

Red magic gathered at his throat and ran through him as though he had been made of butter.

Thanos’s head rolled on the soot covered ground, his eyes lifeless but his scared expression forever etched onto his features.

---

After their leaders demise his armies ceased and it was fairly easy taking care of them after that.

After the battle you reunited with Thor, time had clearly not been kind to your brother in law. He was bigger now, and his hair was longer and he reeked of alcohol and B.O.

You spent the next few weeks taking care of him and catching up on what you’ve missed during the past five years, although you didn’t really want to.

While for you the past five years seemed to pass by like a good night’s sleep, for everyone it dragged on.

Thor had been living in his guilt and grief for five years while for you it was still fresh.

Part of you wished you hadn’t returned, the only joyful part of coming back was ending Thanos with your own hands.

You went to New Asgard with Thor, you didn’t really care about staying behind after the battle. Tony did the same thing, he went back home to his family with Peter.

You looked out to the sea of green grass before you, a blanket under you, a cup of fresh tea in one hand and another tea right beside you.

You instinctively made two teas, one for you and one for the ghost of your Loki. It was a hard habit to break. Twilight engulfed the sky as a Mary Shelley book laid face down on the blanket next to Loki’s tea.

You could almost feel him next to you, and if you closed your eyes you swear you could hear him move next to you.

“Hey Thor.” You greeted without looking. He often came to check on you around this time of day.

“Lady (Y/n),” He greeted as he sat next to you opposite where Loki’s tea was.

“I suppose you heard about my departure tomorrow.”

You had, You heard he named Val King of Asgard and was planning on leaving with the Guardians tomorrow to travel across space. You were sad to see him go but happy that he was finally moving on.

You nodded.

‘You could come with us.”

His offer was tempting, an adventure across space would’ve sounded like a dream come true to you.

“No matter where I go I’ll still think of him,” you said before turning your gaze to the blonde god. “For you it may have been years ago, but I still feel his absence as intensely as a knife in the heart. I don’t mean to disregard your mourning for your brother, but it’s still a fresh and bleeding wound.”

You twirled the emerald ring on your finger, a habit you did when you thought of him. It was the only physical thing you had left to remind yourself of him beside a few pictures you had taken.

There was a long pause before either of you spoke again.

“My brother was a complicated, mischievous man. Always scheming, he kept people at arm's length.” Thor said, “I don’t think he felt like a belonged anywhere, until he met you.”

Your heart broke.

“You brought out a man that I thought long dead in him. You gave me back my brother and our mother her son. Loki was going to Bond with you.”

You stared at him in confusion, Thanos’s attack had been so sudden that Loki didn’t fully explain what Bonding was.

“Our mother taught Loki and I most things. She once taught us about a wedding ritual that was ancient but typically frowned upon on Asgard. Your souls would become Bonded until one of you died.” Fresh tears rolled down your face as he continued. “It was the closest thing that Loki could do to either give you immortality or to make himself mortal. He couldn’t stand the thought of being without you, even for one day.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Loki loved you more than he had ever loved anything,” Thor put his hand respectfully on your shoulder, “He would never want you to suffer one day with or without him. You and I are too much alike sister in law,” Tears littered his mismatched eyes. “We both lost all that we had ever loved, our family being the hardest loss among them. I don’t think they would want us to sit and let life pass us. Instead they would want us to live it to the fullest with little regret for them.”

Thor made sense, if the roles had been reversed you wouldn’t have wanted Loki to continue to live. To live as though he was living for you as well.

For the first time since he died you cried. Sobbing uncontrollably into Thor’s shoulder.

You missed Loki, and you knew you would never love anyone the way you had loved him. You know there will be a lifetime’s worth of restless nights and grieving ahead of you. But Thor had a point, you needed to drink the rest of that tea, look away from the twilight skies, and put away the book.

You needed to live.

If not for you then for him and your family.

---

After that Thor helped you pack and soon you were off on your own adventure.

Making sure to live everyday, with little to no regrets, the emerald ring safely secured on a chain around your neck.

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ethanesimp · 3 years

Text

THE OAK TREE // TWO E.T.

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x GN! Reader

Summary: Everyone at the Oakes Academy is aware of the rivalry that exists between two of the school’s best students, Ethan Torchio and Y/N L/N. What nobody knows is what a brilliant team they are when they’re at risk of their reputations being damaged and a killer’s on the loose.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death and murder, mentions of blood, mentions of death and descriptions of it, mention of suicide (pls read with caution, ily <3).

Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

CHAPTER ONE

A/N: Again, I apologize for the delay, life has been a lil bit crazy this past week. I also wanted to apologize for any possible typos because I’m working on a project but decided to take a break to finish this for you guys! I promise I’ll proofread this as soon as I get some time. Also, in the part where they’re texting, I recommend you check the texts on the Google Drive for context. Otherwise you might get a bit lost.

DON’T FORGET TO CHECK OUT TE AVAILABLE MATERIAL IN THE GOOGLE DRIVE WHICH YOU CAN FIND ON THE SERIES MASTERLIST

Taglist (strike means it won’t let me tag you): @oro-e-diamanti @gretavanfleetlove @victoriadeangeliswifey @cheese-toastie-11 @selenophiliaxx @superchrystaldrug @petit-poussin @bidet-and-legolas @fallingforyou123 @ethaneskin @soft-boy-ethan @teenyweenynightghost @reputationdamiano @cantaraiilmionome @tabi-toast @queen-of-brokenhearts @geklutst-ei @juststalking @cruz-ata @ohtorchio @ethan-torchio-angelo @unitermoonshine @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @marriedwithmarktuan @its-afucking-mess @juststalking @goldenpeaxh

LAST CHAPTER’S WINNING DECISION: They believe it is all real and go search for the body the finger might belong to. (The impact of this decision will be reflected next chapter).

Let the games begin.

You had to read the last part once more, so consumed by the shock that barely any words had registered into your brain. Your hands were shaking as you held it closer to yourself. Maybe it was all part of the disbelief because you found yourself scanning the words over and over again until you had the first paragraph memorized.

But then… then Ethan started laughing.

Short, breathy laughs escaped past his lips, immediately followed by sharp inhales, as if he were desperate to get more air to reach his lungs. You brushed it off and went right back to reading the last few phrases that were on the very back, even said them under your breath to try and make them become real because everything seemed like nothing but a dream, no, a nightmare.

Then it slowly dawned on you after you finished reading the letter. All worry subsided and you had no doubt in your mind you would’ve started laughing too if you weren’t seeing red. Consumed by the sudden rage, you turned to Ethan and didn’t hesitate to tackle him into the ground.

In any normal instance, you wouldn’t have been able to do it, but you’d caught him off-guard, which was confirmed by the surprised yelp he let out as his back collided with the muddy floor and dry leaves crunched underneath his weight. You moved to straddle him the second you felt him shift beneath you, as if he wanted to get up.

You looked at him for a split second. His face was illuminated by the soft glow of the red light. His distress was apparent. He was thrashing around to try and get you off him when you started hitting his chest over and over again. Your hits weren’t hard nor were they intended to cause any damage to him. In fact, he could have easily pushed you off him effortlessly if he wanted to, but Ethan didn’t even try. Instead, he let you continue hitting his chest.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? You’re… a… fucking… psycho!” Each word was accompanied by another frustrated hit to his chest as tears slowly fell down your face and sobs rattled your body, “You were the only one who knew that. The only person in this goddamn school I ever—ever was stupid enough to tell it to. And you use it for one of your sick and twisted pranks? Fuck you. Fuck you!”

Your head fell and rested on his chest as you kept on crying. However, your words seemed to pull him back to reality. Only after a few seconds of you speaking, Ethan had already rolled the two of you around until he was on top of you.

You firmly held his stare as you tried to get him off you. For some strange reason, it sent shivers down your spine to see his eyes so full of fear. Ethan was always centered and glued firmly to the Earth. No matter the issue, he was always capable of keeping his cool, but now was far from being the case. His voice trembled as he tried to speak up, “Shut up Y/N! You’ve got no right to blame me for something that is clearly your doing. I have no fucking clue what your stupid letter said but mine said something that has me convinced it was you!”

His accusation was followed by him shoving his crumpled up letter into your face. You had to squint in order to see it better with only the aid of the red light. When you read the words placed at the very bottom, your eyes went wide and immediately looked for his in a desperate attempt to convince him it wasn’t you, but he had his head turned away. You firmly grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie so he’d look into your eyes, “I-I didn’t. Ethan I don’t like you one bit but I’d never. Not this.”

Ethan scoffed and shook his head. He got off you and turned around so his back was facing you, “You know what? I don’t give a shit what you did or didn’t do. I’m going to wash this disgusting stuff off me and report this in the morning.”

“What the hell? Are you crazy? Ethan, we're in the middle of a crime scene. We cannot leave it like this. I mean, look at you! You’re covered in blood because, let me refresh your mind, you fell into a fucking puddle of blood and found a finger!” You flailed your arms around furiously at his stupidity and started followed him the moment he started walking away, “What if this is real?”

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at you, “What is real? A threat that looks like it was written by a thirteen-year-old who just finished reading The Analyst? And the blood… it belongs to an animal for all I care,” He didn’t seem an ounce convinced by the way he took a second to come up with an excuse, and he couldn’t even look you in the eyes, “Besides, what do you want us to say, huh? Oh yeah, sorry. We’re out past curfew because of reasons we can’t tell you and we casually found a disembodied finger lying in a pool of blood. Ah! And I almost forgot the most important detail. We’re being threatened with things that are not only good enough to get us expelled but also get us thrown in jail. But everything is fantastic.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine, do whatever the hell you please.”

Ethan nodded nonchalantly and walked away from you. A long and deep sigh escaped your lips at his stubbornness. You wanted to scream out in frustration at how stupid he was being, but decided it was pointless to stay behind, just in case someone arrived and found you standing there, with your clothes filled with blood.

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

When you arrived back at the dorms, the first thing you did was take a hot shower as you tried to assimilate everything that had happened. Despite the water being so hot it almost burnt your skin, you still spent the whole time shivering and hugging your arms to your body.

You had washed the blood off the hoodie in one of the sinks and still threw it in the washing machine afterwards. You didn’t know what was going on and part of you was convinced you didn’t want to know. Either way, you weren’t going to risk being roped into a crime investigation as a suspect.

Afterwards, you collapsed into bed. Your whole body was aching and, if it weren’t for the fact that your phone had exploded with notifications after you connected it, you would’ve fallen asleep. You lazily felt around the small bedside table for your phone and picked it up. Most notifications were just memes Will kept sending to the group chat you had. However, you’d also received a message from Ethan.

Upon reading the first few words, you already felt the urge to throw the phone out the window. He was being annoying, not like that was a new thing at all. You responded to the text nonetheless and left the phone back on the bedside table. You turned around in your bed to try and find a spot that was comfortable and cuddled deeper into the sheets. Then, just when you were about to close your eyes, the phone vibrated again. You groaned and picked it up once more. After reading those texts, you were unable to sleep all night.

———

You spent the great majority of the night crying and shivering despite being covered by layers and layers of warm blankets. Those few hours before your alarm sounded extended into what seemed like an eternity and you didn’t want to leave the room, afraid you’d find something like what you’d just seen at the oak tree.

You only managed to sleep for about half an hour before your alarm went off at exactly six AM. Any other day, you would’ve snuggled back into bed for a little longer, but on that particular day, you’d jumped out of bed and hadn’t wasted a second before getting ready. You’d run out of the building to meet your friends at the dining hall, where you were currently at.

Damiano, Rory, Vic, and Will were already sitting at your usual table in front of the large window when you arrived. The curly-haired boy was practicing for a presentation while your three friends listened and made a few comments here and there on things they thought he should change.

“Good morning everyone,” You murmured, then took a seat in between Damiano and Will, who turned to look at you and frowned, “Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” You nodded and put on the best smile you could manage. Then you stole one of the berries from his plate even though you weren’t hungry at all.

You turned to look at Rory and Damiano, “Hey Ro, has the new phone you ordered arrived yet?” You questioned. After your conversation with Ethan the previous night, you needed to make sure it wasn’t them who had sent the text. Just the thought alone made you shudder in disgust and fear, but you just took a deep breath in and kept a soft smile on your face as your best friend shook their head.

“Funny that you ask that because yesterday I got an email from the store saying the delivery was going to take longer than expected because of the weather issues, so I gotta survive with this piece of crap for a few more days,” They sighed and placed the cracked phone on the table. You wanted to stop holding back the tears right then and there. Rory’s words were the confirmation that someone else had sent the text and you doubted it was Emilia. As much as you didn’t want to, with each passing second you started to believe the threat was true and that someone had died or was terribly hurt somewhere, and you needed to find them before it was too late to save them.

Then you remembered another one of Ethan’s texts and had to resist the urge to get up and go search for him because you needed to talk to him as soon as possible. Instead, you distracted yourself by listening to Will’s presentation practice.

You were close to nodding off at some point as he kept on speaking, “Back in earlier civilizations, it was believed that any type of illness was caused by demons and—Hey, Y/N!” You hummed softly as Will called your name. He poked you on the rib and you swatted his hand away, “Are you sure you’re alright? You look terrible.”

“Thank you,” You mumbled sarcastically, “I’m doing fine. I just stayed up working on a project and barely got a wink of sleep,” You let your head rest on Damiano’s shoulder and yawned.

“I wish I were that productive,” Victoria said as she played around with her food. Everyone had insisted on her eating at least a few bites even if she was still sick, “I never do shit.”

Thomas piped into the conversation, catching everyone by surprise as he took a seat next to Victoria, “To be fair, Y/N always complains about feeling half-dead from lack of sleep. I’ll never be crazy enough to sacrifice my sleep for a stupid assignment.”

“Yeah, and that’s why you’re one project away from failing Year 12,” Victoria laughed and Thomas rolled his eyes, “The other day I put him in charge of finishing this essay thing for philosophy and by the time I went back to check on him, he was already asleep. I honestly still wonder how we’re at this school. I would’ve thrown us out a long time ago.”

“Look who’s decided to join us today!” Damiano exclaimed with a large smile on his face as Emilia and Ethan took a seat right in front of you. It was an unusual occurrence for him to eat with you because, well, you were there and he couldn’t shut his mouth for half an hour while you ate, which usually ended in an argument that made the whole table annoyed.

You frowned at his appearance. He was struggling to keep his dark eyes open and his hand wouldn’t stop shaking. It was very apparent that he hadn’t slept much either from the bags under his eyes and his slow steps. Ethan was almost like a zombie.

He shook his head the moment his eyes met yours and your shoulders slumped. It hadn’t been Emilia either. You got up from your seat abruptly and walked away from the table without an explanation. You desperately needed a breath of fresh air before you went insane. So with quick steps, you moved down the hall until you reached one of the open windows next to a couch. You let yourself fall onto the couch and tightly shut your eyes as you breathed the fresh air in.

“You seriously need to calm down. Otherwise everyone will start to notice just how suspicious you’re acting,” You sighed at the sound of Ethan’s irritating voice and up straight on the couch. You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hands and looked up at him with an annoyed expression.

“You cannot ask me to calm down after what we saw last night. When will it get into your thick skull that whatever this shit is, it’s real. Those threats were real and if we don’t do something we’re both going to end up in jail, or worse, people are going to die. We don’t know who this psycho is nor what they’re capable of doing. We need to do something now before it’s too late,” The words rushed out of your mouth desperately. The urgency in your tone and your voice quivering as you spoke made his face fall. It wasn’t often that he took you seriously, but by the look in his eyes, you could tell he was just as scared as you were and that was enough to make him shut up and listen to all you had to say.

“Shit Y/N, can you lower your voice? We have no clue at all who could ev—” Before he could even finish the whole sentence, the Head Professor cleared her throat. But your heads snapped in her direction and you gulped in fear at the thought of her overhearing the conversation.

Your heart fell to your stomach the moment she spoke, “Just the two I was looking for. I need you in my office right now.”

Your eyes went wide as you turned to look at Ethan, who already had his head turned in your direction. He nudged his head in the professor’s direction and you both followed her as she walked to her office but stayed a few steps behind.

“This is it, we’re going to jail,” You mumbled loud enough so only Ethan could hear. He hushed you and pulled you along when you stopped walking. People were looking at you as you passed by and that only made you feel worse. You loosened the tie around your neck and gulped.

“We are not going to jail unless you don’t pull it together. Now breathe and keep on walking. I’m not your fucking babysitter,” He whisper-yelled and quickened his pace. You sighed and did the same thing. It surely couldn’t be that bad, could it? You were probably just overreacting and the events of the night before had nothing to do with this impromptu meeting.

You kept those thoughts in mind as the professor opened the door to the small office and you took a seat on one of the two squeaky chairs. The room smelled clean in a comforting way and you let your shoulders relax as you played with your fingers nervously and looked around the place.

Her office had always been your favorite out of all the professors’. The place was always warm and during the mornings, you could hear coffee brewing in her old coffee machine in the corner of the room. There were books scattered everywhere and piled in a way that didn’t look messy but inviting. During your first weeks at the academy, when you still hadn’t made any friends, you’d go into her office and read while you sat curled up on the couch and enjoyed the warm and calm atmosphere of the place.

Things used to be so much easier back then and you had no clue how things could’ve changed so fast. Back then your relationship with Ethan was decent and you had no trouble with anyone or anything, now you were being threatened into being framed for murder and being sent to jail.

“You totally forgot about our meeting today, didn’t you?” She asked calmly as she poured coffee into one of her cups, filling the room with the delicious and strong scent. The professor pushed her long dark hair out of her face and straightened out her uniform before sitting down opposite to you, “You looked quite shocked. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important.”

Ethan sat there, speechless, just like you. But then realization hit you and you realized you were just being paranoid and stupid. She’d told you about this meeting weeks in advance. It was supposed to have something to do with your chance to get the sought-after 100% scholarship to study your career at The Oakes.

“Nothing important whatsoever,” You replied quickly and sat up straight as you placed both hands on your lap. Ethan copied your actions and tied up his long hair with the black elastic that had been on his wrist.

Your eyes followed the professor as she dumped a small spoonful of sugar and mixed it around with the dark liquid. You couldn’t help but notice her hand shaking as she poured the milk and even spilled a bit of it down the side of the cup.

She cursed under her breath and apologized as she got up to search for a napkin. With furrowed eyebrows, you shared a look with Ethan, who shrugged.

“I apologize. I’m afraid I’m quite distracted today, but let’s continue. Shall we?” She smiled sweetly and opened up one of the folders on her desk as she sat back down. She grabbed two papers from inside and placed one in front of each of you.

You picked it up and examined its content. It seemed to be some sort of permission slip, “So, as I’m sure you both know, our academy offers a program for all our brightest students that gives them the opportunity to continue their college studies with everything paid. You two are the people with the highest grades amongst the whole generation. The semester is—.”

Her words were interrupted by a few quick knocks on the door before a professor pushed it wide open. He couldn’t stop fidgeting with his hands and playing around with his tie as he spoke, “The council wants to have a meeting, professor.”

“I cannot do it right now, I’m—”

“They want to have it now.”

The professor turned to the two of you nervously and laughed awkwardly. She stood up from the chair after quickly pushing it back, “I’ll see you another day, okay? Meanwhile, please send a scan of that permission slip to your parents and have them sign it, as soon as possible.”

Once both professors were out of sight and had closed the door, leaving the two of you alone, Ethan spoke, “Something’s wrong.”

“No shit. Neither one could stop shaking. I say we go and try to listen to what the council members are saying,” You suggested and stood up, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you to sit back down.

“We need to go back to the oak tree first. Y/N, if this is all real and there’s something going on, we need to find that body before they do,” He said firmly. Both his tone and stare were serious and you could tell that there was no way in hell he’d take no for an answer. Instead of arguing, you agreed and walked out of the office right behind him, but then you paused as his words registered into your brain, “Why do we have to find it before them?”

He didn’t stop walking to respond, so with a groan you started to walk faster until you were right next to him, “You weren’t even attending the school when it happened,” Ethan began to talk under his breath, so quietly you could barely make out the words he was trying to say, “It was years ago so I cannot remember exactly how the story went. You can ask Thomas though, he has better memory than I do,”

“Either way, there was this boy who’d just gotten into college and during the secret society’s initiation, he was told to climb the highest tower at that campus but he slipped and fell like ten stories. Like I said, it was a secret society that neither the public nor the parents knew about. If the story of what had really happened got out it’d ruin the school and some of the most important students would’ve been sent to jail, so they twisted it to look like a suicide and got away with it. The only reason we know about it is because one of Will’s cousins, the duke, was involved in it all and Will told us all about it.”

“I refuse to believe that’s true. C’mon, it’s Will,” You laughed, “The same guy who convinced everyone in class that your family secretly ran part of the Italian mafia.”

Ethan only shrugged and stopped walking to knock on the door of the greenhouse. You’d left yours at your dorm that morning from how distracted you were, so you had to wait for Mr. Murphy to open up and let you through.

When he finally opened the door, his eyebrows shot up in surprise as he looked at the two of you in confusion, “What in God’s name has happened to get you two in the same place without fighting?” He mocked. You rolled your eyes and shook your head as a smile appeared on your face.

“I assure you, we can both be perfectly civil. Besides, it’s for a homework we need to do. And believe me it’s the last thing I want to be doing,” You lied and walked into the greenhouse with Ethan following behind, “Anyways, we’re gonna go to the lake to get some water and—”

“I’m afraid you cannot go out there,” He interrupted. You frowned at his words and tilted your head to the side.

“Why? Did something happen?”

“Nothing you should care about, kids. Just go to class, yeah? There’s someone coming and if you want to stay out of trouble you better leave before they arrive.”

YOU CAN VOTE ON THIS CHAPTER’S POLL RIGHT HERE. THIS POLL CLOSES AT 12:30 PM CDT ON TUESDAY.

#ethan torchio x reader #ethan torchio fanfiction #ethan torchio x you

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tehrevving · 3 years

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Stop and Stall What’s Safe

When a stray bullet ricochets, Dante doesn't know how to save you. With a last ditch effort, he remembers how the bruises on your skin used to heal after sex, and just prays that it works.

Dante x Reader (Reader is neutral but can get pregnant), Gunshot wounds, Angst, Masturbation.

I had a little bit to drink, and was in mood. So this is like, angst but with a crack premise.

I don't know what to say about this apart from that Reader gets shot, Dante doesn't know what to do and ejaculates on the wound to try and heal it. That's it, That's the premise. Enjoy lol.

Dante’s heart is still racing, even though it’s been hours. You’ve been asleep on his chest for a while now and even though you’re breathing and warm and alive, his head just won’t stop spinning. It had been his fault. He’d almost lost you because he was too fucking stupid to think about the consequences of his own actions. He was terrified, lost in his own thoughts with no idea how to go about not making the same mistake again.

He’d never liked involving you in his line of work, even though of course sometimes he didn’t have a choice. It’s not like he could always keep his lives separate. Dangerous creatures often decided to try and invade his home that he shared with you, though luckily they never seemed to attack while he was away. They would always wait for him to appear before they made their move, he was never sure why, but he was thankful for it.

In general though, in a fight, you knew what to do. You would hang back, away from the battle, arming yourself with one of the numerous weapons that were stored underneath his desk, or under your desk, or behind some of the artwork. So when a bunch of low tier fucking assholes decided to disturb the peace today, it had all gone according to plan. To start with anyway.

He’d been fighting them, dispatching the weak ones easily. They were never a match for him anyway, but especially not when he was showing off for his mate. It had been easy, he hadn’t been concerned, or worried at all, until a Chaos had sauntered its way into the office.

Dante knew that they were fast, far faster than you as a plain old human would be able to handle. So he’d focused his attention on it, trusting you to dispatch any of the small fry if they managed to get close. He’d tried the usual strategy, shoot to stun, and then tear it limb from limb once those sharp spikes were no longer a factor.

He’d never had to consider the enclosed space before though, while fighting something so fast, so high powered. He’d aimed properly, got it in his sights right in between the eyes. He’d waited until he’d thought the timing had been perfect, but even though he liked to think so, Dante wasn’t perfect.

He hadn’t been able to anticipate the way that the creature had moved, the way that it had shifted slightly and thrown his marksmanship off. That the piece of shit would shift slightly, throw off his aim, that the thing would start rolling, moving its spines so fast that no bullet would have a hope of reaching it. He never expected the angle at which his bullet would ricochet off it’s shining carapace at full speed. Dante never fucking anticpated that any devil hell bent on destroying him would be smart enough to deflect his weapons straight into your god damn body.

He’d watched it happen in slow motion, the bullet deflect and start to turn in your direction. He’d seen your eyes widen, but he’d not been fast enough to do anything. Dante had watched as you crumpled to the floor as his stray bullet hit you, he’d watched it part your flesh, and embed itself deep within your abdomen.

Fuck, he’d been overtaken by an all consuming rage, he’d never felt anything like it before. It was like he wasn’t himself anymore, like his subconscious was moving without permission from his physical body. The entire world around him slowed down as he lost control. He wouldn’t have been able to recall exactly what he had done if you’d asked him, but every single damn devil in the building had been destroyed by his hand within an instant.

The Chaos was the last to go down, the ultimate subject of his rage. He moved faster than it could react to, his claws ripping it to absolute shreds. It didn’t even get a chance to shriek before it hit the ground, dead, and his entire focus shifted to you.

Dante was by your side seconds after you’d taken his deflected bullet, surrounded by the shrieks of dying devils around him. He grabbed your body before you hit the ground, lying you down carefully onto your back. You had looked up at him, with shock and horror and fear in your eyes, before immediately pressing your hand to the blood pouring from your abdomen. He’d expected to see disgust, or hatred, because he was the one that did this to you, but instead, you’d just been terrified.

He hadn’t known what to do, he’d just panicked, his entire mind wiped blank. You’d started speaking, throwing him out of the haze that had threatened to overwhelm all of his senses. “Bandage,” you’d said to him, snapping him out of his stupor. “Dante. Pressure on the wound.”

So he had torn the shirt he was wearing to pieces, the fabric didn’t matter in the slightest. He’d ripped the material from his front, wrapping it around his hand. He didn’t know how much pressure to use, how much pressure humans needed, so when he pressed the fabric against your slick abdomen, it didn’t seem to do anymore.

“Harder,” you’d barked at him, and so he pressed down with the sort of pressure that might have bruised you on a normal day. He didn’t know what to do, he could feel your blood pouring out from the wound, even through the layer of fabric bound around his palm.

You were surprisingly calm, or maybe you were just in shock. He didn’t know how being in shock felt, or what this much pain might actually feel like. He could be cut in half and recover from it a trace of a scar of course, do he had no frame of reference. “Is it bad?” you had asked him, and he hadn’t known how to reply.

“Did it hit any organs? I can’t feel anything,” you’d asked him, and in the moment he had ignored the way that a small amount of blood had bubbled up from your throat to your lips while you’d spoken, but now that it’s all over, he can’t help but imagine the whole fucking thing in vivid detail.

He’d tried to think. He knows when his own organs are compromised, it’s a slightly different feeling, but as he’d looked down at you, he’d realised he doesn’t know how to map his own experiences to your body. You’re so much smaller than he is, and you have more organs in your abdomen than he does, don’t you? “I don’t know,” is what he finally manages to say, because he doesn’t know how else to respond.

“Call an ambulance,” is what you’d said next, but as he’d looked around the shop, and at the carnage his own enraged demon had caused, he knew there was no way anyone would be able to get to you.

“I can’t. Fuck. I can carry you. I can fly,” he’d said, panicked, desperate. He’d tried to move you, but you had screamed in pain, a sound that he’d never heard before, a sound that tore him in half all the way down to his soul. He’d immediately put you back down, but even then, your screaming hadn’t stopped.

His entire hand had been wet, your blood welling up around his crappy shirt. He was going to lose you, because he didn’t fucking know human first aid, because he hadn’t fucking thought about his actions and shot a firearm in an enclosed space, against something that could easily deflect bullets at insane speeds. “What do I do?” he’d asked you desperately, but you hadn’t replied. You’d been in shock, and Dante doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how pale your face was. He’d started crying and he hadn’t even noticed. He hadn’t known what to do.

“I don’t know how to stop the bleeding.” He’d been distraught. He knows the basics, but not how to save you. The pitiful fabric of his shirt had been dyed completely red, and he knows it’s not absorbing your blood anymore, there’s just too much of it.

He’d pulled his hand away, just to get a look at your wound. It had been bad. The blood wasn’t stopping, and he could see your insides, his bullets are much more powerful than a normal calibre, even a ricochet. He’d willed himself to think as he’d felt your breathing start to slow, and felt your life starting to drift away. Fuck. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

His brain for some reason, had decided to fixate on when you’re first gotten together. When he hadn’t been able to control himself, and he’d left bruises on your skin. He’d noticed the bruises, felt guilty about them, but then suddenly they’d started disappearing once the two of you had decided to become exclusive, and stopped using condoms, and started pulling out and spilling himself on your belly instead. He remembered the bruises returning though, once you’d confirmed that birth control would still work on his half devil spunk, and he stopped pulling out.

It had been stupid, and a fucking long shot. But he hadn’t known what else to do, and your lips had been turning blue right in front of his eyes. He hadn’t know how the fuck he’d planned to manage it, but as he’d pressed down on your abdomen with slick fingers, he’d started struggling to undo his fly with the other.

It had felt wrong, so fucking wrong, as he’d pulled out his cock. He hadn’t been hard, but there had been no other options. He’d started stroking himself, and of course nothing had happened, arousal had been the last damn thing that his panicked mind was expecting.

He couldn’t keep looking at you, watching the life drain from your face. He’d shut his eyes, imagined you teasing and encouraging him. He’d imagined the way you would bite your lip and look up at him through your lashes while egging him on.

It had started to work eventually, but he was so worried it wasn’t fast enough. His dick had started to rise and for the first time in his life, as a virile and overeager half devil, he’d wondered if he could ejaculate at half mast.

He’d pulled out all the fucking stops, because he hadn’t known what else to do. He’d pressed down on your wound with one hand, trying to block out the feeling of your heartbeat starting to slow while he stroked himself.

He’d twisted his hand on the tip of his dick, stroking loosely and then putting pressure on the base, before moving back up. Of course he knows how to get off, but it’s completely different under pressure.

It had been a struggle, but the longer that he had kept his eyes closed and pretended, the easier that it had gotten. It had become easier to convince his penis that this wasn’t a life or death situation, that he was just casually jerking off and not using it as a last ditch attempt to save your life.

He’d gotten there eventually, though all of his progress had almost been ruined when he had to lift his sticky palm from your flesh. The wet sound had broken his heart. He hated the way that he could hear your laboured breathing start to bubble up from your lungs when he released the pressure.

He’d just hoped that this would fucking work.

Dante had taken his dick in hand, lined himself up, and with a terribly reluctant moan, shot his seed all over your wound. He’d tried his best to hold back tears as he watched the white settle over the red staining your skin, watching with bated breath, wishing for anything to happen.

He’d been able to see it right in front of his damn eyes, that his cum was slowly disappearing, sinking into your wound and reducing the amount of red. He’d watched as the bleeding had gradually stopped, and as your skin began to knit itself back together.

He’d waited with baited breath, watching as every trace of what had just happened disappeared from your skin, within moments there wasn’t even a scar on your abdomen. The only evidence remaining being your blood staining your skin, and his hands and the floor, and the tears streaming down his face.

He’d pulled you to his chest, begging for you to wake up, wiping his eyes on your hair. The office had been a disgrace, was still a disgrace. There was blood everywhere, sticky stains from where he’d ripped the damn devils apart, and of course your own life essence, staining the floorboards by his desk.

Eventually you had stirred though, eyes disorientated and unfocused. You had been in no state to do anything for yourself, but he didn’t care. He’d carried you against his chest, washed the blood off of your now healed skin, and off his own and then gotten you into bed.

You’d been exhausted and incoherent, immediately curling up against his chest and falling asleep, but his mind couldn’t stop racing. He’d been so fucking close to losing you and he hadn’t even known what to do to give you a fighting chance.

His last ditch effort had been disgusting, even though it had worked, and he’s horrified with himself. Repulsed by the fact that he’d even considered it, but horrified by the fact that he’d actually been able to get off to you dying. It makes him reconsider everything.

Dante knows that he won’t sleep at all tonight, but that’s okay. He had to watch over you, and make sure that you don’t stop breathing, that nothing else happens to you. He cries again, his face pressed to the pillow to try and muffle the sounds so that he doesn’t wake you. He vows that he’s going to be better, that he’s going to learn how to save your goddamn life next time, no matter what it takes, and that he’s not going to let anything like this happen again.

#dante x reader #dante #dmc #dmcv #rev writes #my writing

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

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Summary: Anakin Skywalker doesn’t fall when Sidious asks him too. But he still very nearly did. Or, how to live with the consequences of the right choice when it leaves you feeling hollow, still only a step away from the dark.

You are standing at an edge, behind you the cliff, in front of you the open plane set aflame. You can take a step back into free fall and save the woman you love; you can take a step forward and keep your feet on the ground.

Your name is Skywalker but you do not have a pair of wings.

You take a step forward; the woman you love more than the galaxy dies, and, for the briefest of moments, you turn around and throw yourself over the cliff in a running leap.

You don't fall, you are caught by roots older than yourself, vines pulling you up, and golden flowers grow where your burned skin touches the earth. You scream and rage and cry, can't find any peace at all, not even in the arms of your loved ones because she is dead, dead, dead, and you could have saved her, but you chose to abandon her instead.

Your heart roars like a dragon and you want to swallow the world whole. You were your mother's son, your Master's apprentice, and your wife's husband. All the parts of yourself that used to be a child of a desert already broke away and now the sweet meadows of Naboo are turning into barren fields.

Your wife is dead, the Jedi are not. Thousands of lights surround you, but you still feel as if you were stumbling in the dark.

You are still standing at the edge of a fall, but you are standing and not drowning. It should be enough, but it isn't.

The war ends without you (with you right in the middle of it.)

Three Masters are dead, the Council is down by a quarter and you are no help because you are still contemplating the what if, caught in a moment you can't change.

You do not attend your wife's funeral because you have two children to care for and the wind still rushes through your hair, urging you to look around. The flowers create a pathway to Naboo for you, but you don't dare to walk it, not even when gentle rain falls down your face when all your tears have already run out.

The war has ended, and you have never been more exhausted. Nobody told you that life could be this hollow and the only reason you get up in the morning are your children. Were you not grieving (but this can't be grief, you have grieved before and it was never as all-consuming as this), you would laugh at the fact that you and your wife were both right, but all you can think of when holding your children is that you don't even know their names. When your Master asks for them, you don't have a reply for him, only more tears, and so you spend another day.

You do not name your children, not really.

You are too shaken, too close to asking which name you would carry at the very bottom of the sea you could have fallen into. With more patience and kindness than you deserve, your Master helps you navigate the garden you have been gifted and shows you choices with the same gentle voice that he has always sung sweet lullabies for you.

Your Master returns with a notebook filled with struck out names and you pick light and moon and let him wrap you in his robes as if you were nine and not nine times 2 and a half chances of getting it right.

You don't dare to take your eyes off your son and your daughter and you don't know whether that isn't the same as looking into the abyss. You can barely keep yourself from lashing out at all that hold them and still you are praised when you do so with soft hymns and never-ending warmth.

Your Padawan returns, head held high and so full of sunlight that you can feel the flowers grow, wrap around your ankles and legs, stuff your throat so you won't cry in front of her. She laughs victoriously and grins like a predator at Maul because she was right. She is no longer your child, no longer innocent, but she does not know the depths to which you have fallen and you want to keep it this way.

Maul only tilts his head and laughs at you because he knows.

In his treason-gold-fire eyes, you see your reflection, how you are barely standing. You return your apprentice's hug and listen to her story, introduce her to your son and your daughter, and reassure her you are fine, fine, fine.

You don't walk to your Master's bed in the middle of the night and you do not sleep in your own. Instead, you sit at your children's crib, grief-regret-forget-me-not blue eyes staring at your hands. Too easily they could have become stained with red-blood-end-justifies-the-means and it scares you more than anything because flowers are fragile and only bloom for a moment, but you'd try to keep them year-round anyway.

The thoughts linger and bury themselves in your mind, fingers pressing into the earth and breaking as they are buried alive.

Your Master enters your room and doesn't even hesitate to pull you to your feet and to your bed. He helps you undress and you cling to him because you don't know how to fill the canyons where there used to be love. You can feel the fear, the anger, the suffering, and the hate threatening to wash it out like a tidal wave.

You want to apologize, but you only hide your face away in his chest and try to breathe as you did when the sand nearly swallowed you up. He runs his fingers through your hair, intertwines like ivy around a tree trunk, but you can only think of the poison and you do not want to ruin him as well.

You do not want to ruin them.

You fall asleep with your mind already made up and you dream of nothing. No nightmare haunts you anymore, but you might fear this emptiness even more, being a ghost in your own body.

In the morning, as early as the sun rises, you leave your children with the others. You kiss them sweet goodbye when their eyes are still closed and they do not know of your path.

You hear them cry out for you when you walk down the hallway. Their whimpers reach your ears, reach your mind and you cannot cut the bond you have with them because you love them, but you can't be there for them.

You sink to your knees anyway, pressing your hands against your ears, begging for the lightning to stop cracking in your ears, tempting you to make the wrong-right-maybe decision.

There near the temple wall you remain until your Master comes to pick you up, calling your terms of endearment your tattered heart does not deserve, foolishly as it beats. He guides you back to your children even when you beg him not to, try to make him understand that it was all for them.

He looks at you strangely, an expression full of loss and failure, and you don't know how to tell him that it was not his fault, never. He did all he could, and this is the culmination of all your choices.

Even when he talks about letting go and being let go of, you still can't follow his words because you do not understand the difference between justification and sacrifice.

All you know is that the war is over and yet your mind fights for survival.

Your name is Anakin Skywalker.

You are standing at the edge of a cliff and you can hear the darkness scream.

#anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #Luke Skywalker #leia organa #anidala #star wars #fanfic

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dirtycccat · 4 years

Text

things that remind you of them w the demon bros+ (un)dateables

highkey tw for some unhealthy behaviors and uhhhhh maybe sensitive stuff idk just keep that in mind

lucifer

an impromptu orchestra concert in an abandoned church. a forgotten off key piano found at the back of an antique shop. tradition worth more than luxury.

the crackling of fire. glittering glasses of wine. changing a vinyl with naked hands, brushing the dust off its hard body. a cold hand touching the back of your neck in passing. whispered words of affection in the ear of your sleeping beloved.

running on air. falling with your lungs full of fire. trying to rebel against fate, against the inevitable moment the ground will break your bones for trying to cheat the laws of nature and its gods.

the heavy weight of perfection bending you backwards. counting down the moments until it will finally break you. measuring your worth in work, in being good at, in being useful, in being needed.

sticking up with family, with rules, with loyalty despite your own desires. acting like you’re the first but always putting yourself second.

being afraid to dare to be selfish and to love. being scared of your own devouring passions. waiting for your beloved to take the first step and running the whole way to finally meet them.

mammon

the fluttering of wings in the silence of a white september afternoon. a sea of crows watching your every move from atop a nearby building. finding a black feather on the ground and keeping it in your pocket for good luck.

the friction between leather seats and leather jackets. heavy cologne mixed with the scent of sweat and leather. the purr of a motor. finding a half empty pack of cigarettes in the pocket of your old jacket.

winning second place so many times you’ve given up on first. still dreaming of clawing your way onto the top of the podium sometimes.

the heavy burden of capitalism of having your worth monetized. having to constantly show the word you’re worth something. selling your soul for value.

wanting everything you could never have before. overspending, oversharing, overwhelming. being too much but also never enough.

finally being someone’s number one. strong arms holding you while you cry. a reassuring presence, a constant in your life

leviathan

imposter syndrome. feeling like you’ll never fit in, like you’ll never be good enough.

replacing real life with dreams. looking at life from the outside. living inside your head.

playing games until 3 am on a school/work night. letting your passions consume you. still feeling guilty of not doing anything measured in money or public approval. calling all your hobbies guilty pleasures because you still care about what others think despite appearances.

finding comfort in the solace of the ocean. sitting at the bottom of the pool holding in your breath and your tears. crying in the shower. letting the water wash you clean and reborn.

letting someone in. being accepted for what you are and the little you can offer. vast depths hidden by shallow waters.

satan

rage. pure unfiltered rage. the desire to stand up to authority figures. clenched fists, heavy calming breaths, tightly closed eyes. tears of anger, of not being right, of never being good enough or smart enough.

subtle jabs. heavy sarcasm. veiled ironies. cruel eyes and bloody smiles.

putting your nose in a cat’s fur and smelling home. holding a small being full of love and feeling fulfilled. finally feeling like you want to protect and not just destroy.

having to put a book down after reading a certain line that perfectly described that unknown feeling you’ve had all your life. rereading the same line again and again and feeling the knot in your heart and stomach loosening. knowledge as power turned into knowledge as a way of truly becoming yourself turned into a shelter of understanding guarding you from the anger.

swearing in other languages under your breath. reciting poetry aloud by candlelight while drunk on wine and desire. heavy whispers full of hot meanings in the ear of your lover during dinner in languages spoken only by you two.

finally getting the happy ending you’ve always read about. finding your anchor. being a better you for your beloved. improving and helping each other with their shortcomings. balancing each other.

asmodeus

perfectly done make up that had you wake up 2 hours earlier than the others. using concealer to hide a pimple or any imperfection. pants too tight to walk in. the sound of heels in an empty hallway.

caressing your desire while taking a hot bath. focusing on carnal needs, on your senses, on what you feel, on the present. drunk kisses. flirting with strangers at moonlit bars. red lipstick stains on blushing necks.

drinking a glass too many despite the warning in your head. drinking to forget yourself. drinking to escape your fears, your inhibitions, your shortcomings. drinking to become the perfect you the others always expect to see you as. but also drinking to be selfish and feel good for yourself and yourself only.

the sad knowledge you’ll never be the best ever again. being compared to others and ending up comparing yourself to them. knowing your worst enemy is yourself, but trying to hide that fact with mean jokes and confident airs. feeling afraid of being known, but even more afraid of having no one knowing the real you.

beauty at a price. happiness sold for beauty. cruel beauty that devours its worshippers.

the reassuring hands of a stranger holding your hair as you let it all out, the alcohol and the guilt. crying with your head on the cool toilet porcelain after you came home from a party that you thought would help you escape.

help and love coming from where you least expect it. noticing the little things. noticing the person behind the character.

beelzebub

an unknown hunger gnawing at your insides. trying to fill the empty inside but always choosing the wrong meal.

feeling satisfied after a good meal on a good day, feeling bursting on a bad one. devouring until you can’t. still feeling empty, still needing to fill yourself up but knowing it is useless.

feeling breathless and weightless after a run. being high on adrenaline and feeling like you can do anything. the smell of a sweaty used gym and leather boxing gloves.

falling in love so slow and easy it feels like a meeting in the middle of an already drawn path.

belphegor

living just to pass the time. living for others. living but forgetting how to live. being told to do better, to be better, to just get up and do something.

sleeping in. falling asleep at 6 am after a night of insomnia. hearing the world wake outside when inside you’re just going to bed.

strong emotions with no release. feeling full without escape. dark humor. saying too much, revealing too much, being to much so you hide.

getting away with shit because you’re the smallest and feeling no guilt.

the feel of fresh bedsheets. being covered in a blanket just right. feeling warm and protected in the comfort of your room.

love that comes like a question and an answer. love that feels heavy despite it’s light.

diavolo

a commanding tone bringing silence to a room. respect earned justifying the respect you were born with.

luck of birth. being born with a silver spoon. being sheltered, being always different, being untouched by the world outside and its people.

being born with a burden. accepting your prescribed fate. believing in legends and asking yourself if you’re the hero or the villain of your own story. realizing that life is more complicated than fairytales.

abandoned castles. ivy walls and moss floor. a lit figure at the window of an empty mansion. the creaking of old staircases at night when you’re home alone. feeling like you’re from another time.

a strong hand squeezing your thigh under the table. the reassuring warmth of your lover’s presence in a time of need. being loved and not just desired. finally being touched where it matters.

barbatos

unwavering loyalty. living to serve. giving up on your individuality.

a shadow following you at night while you walk back home. sharp eyes locked onto yours from across the room.

passive aggressiveness. hiding behind a smile. an impenetrable facade of public politeness.

the ennui of knowing too much, of living the same day, of being hungry for a breakthrough. knowledge as a burden but also as a gift.

knowing everything about others but no one knowing anything about you. making small thoughtful gestures that remind others of your deep knowledge of their habits and wants.

finally being noticed and seen for yourself alone. getting the surprise you were craving. being taken care of.

simeon

living different lifetimes through your writing and through books.

the smile of a pretty stranger in the train that will forever visit your dreams.

a handwritten message in cursive on the fridge. a hastily written poem on the back of a receipt.

being the outsider. the watcher. being the director of the play of your life and not the actor.

tea that s just hot enough to warm your insides. falling asleep on an armchair with a book in your hand. sunkissed skin. the softness of summer. the fluttering of invisible wings.

ageless wisdom.

rewriting a cursed tale of history. going against tradition. trying to carve your happy ending. succeeding.

solomon

knowledge coming at the price of youth and life.

a thirst to know. devouring books. staying up until 5 am reading. eyes burning dry. feeling like you’re still not doing enough. head full of little nothings. feeling like you will never know anything however much you try read or learn.

notes in the margins of a book you took from the public library. wondering who is the person behind the words. fleeting attachments to the wrong people for the wrong reasons.

being the outcast. the kid at the back of your class reading a russian novel in the original language underneath the table during math class.

a house in the middle of the woods with smoke coming from its chimney. rituals in the dark. wet moss on your soles, the moon lighting up your eyes. the silence of night on a full moon.

whispering prayers and praises to the earth under your breath as you go. feeling drunk on fire. noticing the magic around you. kissing the earth. finally grasping the knowledge you sold your soul for. asking yourself if it was really worth it and having no answer.

love as an adventure. finally feeling and not thinking. giving up on reason and embracing your heart’s guidance.

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