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pulpandgristle · 8 months

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V: A CITY ON A HILL

Pilot ID: Matthias Shawcross, third-generation bioframe veteran of the Mourning War

Status: Inactive (Honorable discharge)

Asset Class: Bioframe, bipedal combat model, low-gravity configuration (Deceased)

Site of Asset Decommission: Colony Veritas, Bay of New Antioch aquatic terraforming facility

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Citizen: Intissar bint Yushib

Homeworld: Yushib

Status: Active (Yushib, shore of the Sea of Lilies)

Current Assignment: Field technician, translator and diplomat (Septarchy occupation)

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Begin transmission.

Greetings from the Sea of Lilies. To my comrades in the Periphery, blessings and salutations. To the people of the Septarchy, listen closely.

I am Intissar bint Yushib—Intissar, the daughter of Yushib, the Jewel of Achernar, Shelter at River's End, my homeworld. You would slander Her as "Colony Veritas". I will do Her no such dishonor.

The Septarchy tribunals that discover this message will likely know who I am. I have worked alongside them for many years. If you are listening, Executors, you may consider this my resignation.

I speak today with pride and love. In the name of my mother and all her mothers before her, I hereby renounce my vows to the Septarchy, vows that were extracted from me unwillingly, through pain and coercion, and in their place I choose to bear the banner of Yushib, a free world of the Periphery.

There is an estuary, not far from here, whose shape mirrors the transit of Adila, Yushib's moon. The arc of the river follows naturally into the sea, a near-perfect parabola. My family and I have tended to that estuary for more than two hundred years. My ancestors sculpted its banks to honor Adila in her travels.

Today, I was supposed to demolish that estuary and bury a leviathan in the upturned silt. I will be doing no such thing. That animal will rest, in time, naturally, as all dead things do . . . but not until I am done. Not until there are words as inalienable as the estuary.

Not until you understand.

At this very moment, Yushib is changing. Being changed. Scarred. The Septarchy calls this mutilation "terraforming"; they intend to flood my homeworld's rivers, to call down rains and salts and metals and build a hive for their leviathans atop Her corpse. My family's work will be wiped away along with several million lives if they succeed in this task.

The estuary is a statement. It carries knowledge and intent. During the initial invasions, my people used it and many other landmarks to plot orbital trajectories and cement the paths of celestial bodies as an inalienable truth. Stone carvings could not be disrupted by electromagnetic bursts, and Septarchy pilots were too ignorant to read them.

Today I was the escort of Matthias Shawcross, a perplexing man who I found endlessly fascinating. He had a curious build, mantis-like, dead-eyed, stretched along the spine by years of microgravity exposure. He was one of the Septarchy's heroes. He conquered Yushib astride a weapon too terrible for living memory. He and I were to conduct a burial together.

I have obliged him the burial, at least.

Shawcross was in need of my people's help. His war machine is very sick, you see. It can hardly complete reentry without injury, a pitiable animal by the Septarchy's definitions. With the combined force of earthmoving equipment and targeted kinetic bombardment, we were to put it out of its misery.

I remember him so clearly, watching me from the edge of estuary. He encouraged me, called me words I will not repeat, and held his service weapon with such sickening confidence. Of course, if he had his way, I would have fallen into his leviathan's grave as soon as I had finished digging it.

He was merciful by Septarchy standards. Nowadays there is little need for pretense. Perhaps he was the sentimental type.

This burial would be a claiming of sorts. An annexation in miniature. Septarchy leviathans are unbothered by physical death, and when they become useless they simply cease to move. The mechanisms of urgency and war proceed unbidden, impotent, confined within their hulking shells. They are buried as testaments—and to poison the worlds of the Septarchy's enemies.

Shawcross intended to destroy the path of Yushib's moon with that final gesture. He would destroy the estuary my family has tended to since Earth still spoke to the Periphery, since before my ancestors engineered a dozen calendars to pray to the rhythms of a dozen setting suns, since before my great-grandfather returned to me in the last year of his life, having finished a sixty-year Hajj and come home with only a handful of sand, equal parts Arabian soil and post-nuclear glass.

Septarchy leviathans are poisonous by design. They bleed radiation and oil and solvents and anger, and bullets if they are provoked enough. Man undergoes the same transformation with extra steps, using proxies, animals of rock and plastic that he chooses to call tools. The Septarchy are simply cruel enough to bend thinking creatures to this purpose. The change is unremarkable otherwise.

The Periphery makes no such concessions. Even the inanimate can carry the will of the holy. My plow, my trowel, my mother's knives, these are animals of a type, born from Yushib and Her sisters, hewn out of Her metals and Her plant fibers and Her human attendants. They are engines of potential inspired by mankind's connections to the divine, limitless and undirected and beautiful.

They are not leviathans. They are not bombs. The power to wage war should only be humanity's burden, but the Septarchy have spread that terrible duty to others unfit for the task. They would make the rivers bloodthirsty if they possessed the means. Perhaps they do.

Shawcross called himself intelligent. The Septarchy claims to teach, but I have only kept the pieces that they fused to my people. I have learned a cumbersome dialect whose words fit sharp and unwieldly in my mouth. I have learned that the children of Yushib will not be remembered because we have not done anything worth remembering. I have learned that the Septarchy are bad liars.

I have learned so much about funerals.

When my grandmother passed, it was a special occasion. I think of it happily. Mother taught me the Ṣalāt al-Janāzah and I wore a beautiful gown to the proceedings. There were figs in bloom on the river's edge when we returned her to Yushib. That night, I had them roasted with honey and almonds over dinner. Mother was proud of me.

I will name my daughter after my grandmother when the time comes. Even when I was young, I could not resent her leaving us. That day remains one of the best days of my life, because I was there, and so was she, and now we are together on Yushib. She did not have to see the orbital strikes, to see my mother's body reject a prosthetic hand. To see the mosque burn and crumble under Adila's light.

Every sweet fruit is my grandmother now. It makes me smile.

Mourning is supposed to be clumsy, raw, upsetting but ultimately healing. Colony Veritas has torn that tapestry of feelings apart. There is no organic process now. Even the agony is extracted with ruthless efficiency. Desecrated ashes flung over cliffs. Men dumped from airships into mile-wide ditches. There is no river, no tree to cry underneath.

You have made me an accomplice. My prayers are reduced to tools, to hammers, the enhanced hands of an efficient laborer who works not for rest and family and worship but for the drudgery of more work. I was made into the final link in a chain of predictable, reproducible human disassembly. Yes, he is blessed. Now, he goes.

I remember it so clearly, hearing the hammer click back under Shawcross's thumb.

I pause. He barks another slur, the swine. His settler's words scrape surly and abrasive against the afternoon air. I have missed my midday prayer for this. I tell him so. He shoots me in the gut.

Yes, your pilot betrays me. Yes, he tackles me, threatens to defile me and my world, and yes, I slice open his throat with his own combat knife, clumsily unsheathed and pressed to my belly but reclaimed with a single twisting grasp. He stains my hijab with the hatred and blood and radiation that pours in maroon curtains through his opened self. Yes, he is blessed. Now, he goes.

Next.

The Septarchy would strip Yushib bare. It is just a stepping stone to them, not a Mother, not a Living World, not a jewel placed in the sky for humanity to cherish. In another time, we could have held that jewel together. Perhaps later, in a distant time, we can try again. But not yet. Not while this is the fourteenth burial I have made in three years, and another hundred are yet to come. Not while I have to practice letting go of the dirt so that I can finish burying mother.

I want so badly to mourn, but I have lost all that is inside me to mourn with. The Septarchy has taken even grief from me. I will never forgive that, and Yushib will not either.

My mother taught me well. She said that the universe is a patient judge, and that She is not kind to the guilty.

Your pilot's leviathan still breathes, diseased and weak. Frail. A man, I choose to believe. He wheezes in the dry air.

I stumble to my feet, legs trembling, and fall backwards over the edge of the leviathan's grave. We sound alike, him and I. Two castoffs of empire stuck in another ditch.

As I fall into his cavernous chest, a cockpit gutted for parts until it is raw bone and searching nerves, I think of my grandmother, and her rasping sandpaper laugh, and her shawls, and her holding my mother in all those photos, still so alive and bright and small, and the pastries that the two of them taught me to knead by hand on Eid al-Fitr.

He catches me. I collide with the embrace of another living thing, too weak for contempt, or perhaps too strong for it, even now. The kindness of the act destroys me.

He says I can be healed. I accept, and I weep at my fortune. I have finally learned something of value from the Septarchy.

We will stay together, I think. I intend to return home—my wounds are survivable and besides, mother needs me—but Yushib will decide when. Let the hours come. I trust Her more than anything. The Sea of Lilies can hold the leviathan.

I remember what the Septarchy taught me of the pilots. I have mimicked their rituals in my own time, and the leviathan can see that. I have nestled in him, here, in the estuary, beneath the water, where he can breathe for me and I can keep him company. He weeps too, in his own way. Shawcross wielded him without care. But I am not Shawcross.

The current is warm. The blood is washing out. Slowly.

He feels gentle. I am at peace in him, and he cradles me. Mother cradles me. Grandmother cradles me. Even your leviathans surrender to the land, Executors. My family has stolen this one.

We will not surrender. Not ever again.

The suns will rise tomorrow, my skin will knit closed, and I will live. The leviathan will sleep, patient, simple, and he will live. Yushib will turn for another year. She will always live. Beyond the Periphery, beyond the Septarchy, beyond war, beyond blood, the Jewel of Achernar will shine, a jasper marble in the infinite sea of creation, stronger than all of you. My Mother will live.

My people will live.

Forever.

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If you can, please donate to the PCRF to help Palestinians in Gaza, the West Bank and abroad. Every dollar counts.

#my writing #biopunk #flash fiction #mecha #scifi #science fiction #microfiction #gristlebits #queer artist #muslim characters #cw: body horror #cw: gore #sarcoclast

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galemalio · 1 year

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I think both Home and Wally Darling are the victims of whatever has happened to them.

These are just speculations, so feel free to take these with a grain of salt.

Let’s start with one of the secret images. The famous “So Below.”

“So Below” references to how a witch would end their spell: As above, so below. It’s a means of binding what you intend to make real.

(deleted the image for partcoffin)

I’ve already explained this in one of my reblogs, but I will repeat it here.

My first speculation is, whatever happened to Wally and Home, someone had done a spell.

Something or Someone is Trapped as Home

The eye of Home in “So Below” is twitching or looking around. Fidgety. This is just my interpretation, but it seems panicked. Unstable, confused, or scared.

It reminds me of someone who wakes up disoriented and bewildered because they don’t know where they are.

In the audio recording of Wally singing “Beautiful Dreamer,” Home responds to him with the sound of banging walls. It makes me think that something or someone is trapped behind its walls.

Wally is Trapped inside Home

In “beautiful dreamer” and the phone recordings of Wally, there is always that sound in the background, like you’re listening inside a shell. Maybe it’s not important, but it does confirm that Wally is inside an enclosed area, which is Home.

There is also something the website has mentioned about Wally:

“Love is clear in the messages of Wally Darling...his eagerness to understand the world around him ”

It speaks true of Wally trying to understand Home and communicate with them.

In the “So Below” image, Wally can be seen kneeling before Home’s eye window and reaching out. In the audio where he sang “Beautiful Dreamer,” he sang for Home and even asked them if they liked it.

The song is calming, and I think Wally is trying to comfort Home because he knows Home is distressed.

What messed me up more is that the song is about someone asleep -in a state of consciousness where they are unaware. Someone who is Home.

Theory Time of What Happened: Someone tried to transfer themself as Wally and someone else’s soul as Home.

It sounds crazy, but hear me out.

Let’s call the person who tried to transfer themself as Wally as Person A.

Then let’s call the person who tried to transfer someone else’s soul into Home as Person B.

Here’s my theory: Person B died or was dying or was leaving Person A’s life in some manner.

Person A cannot let go.

Person A strongly connects with the Welcome Home show and identifies themself and Person B as Wally and Home.

So Person A tried to use a spell where they and Person B could live forever... together.

But two things went wrong. First, Person B never agreed to the soul transfer (similar to what happened to Caroline becoming Glados in Portal 2). Second, Person A failed to fully become Wally.

It either wiped his memories, or Wally became self-aware.

And we know that Wally is self-aware: no_apuppet_.png on page 5 of the Guestbook.

And the strangest thing is that he has no memory with the other characters even if he knows them: nomemory_.png on page 6.

Whoever was Person A, they see Person B as home that they could not bear for them to leave. To the point that they literally made them as a house.

I think the theme of life, death and rebirth is also strong in the show, which is what spirals symbolize in many cultures. (from left to right, page 1-2-5)

But then again, it’s probably hypnosis. The smallest one has filename “helloneighbor.png,” the second one is “soyouwillknowiamlookingatyouneighbor_iamtalkingtoyou.png” and the last one is scribbled over a guest log expressing sadness that the show ended abruptly.

Bonus: If Wally’s “eagerness to understand the world around him” comes into play...

How does Wally make sense of his situation?

1. He’s knows isolated with Home: “icantreachthem_imsorry_.png” on page 6 (despite other filenames saying that he would tell others what the guests have written about them)

2. And he’s well-aware that he’s alone. Wherever he is, he gets upset when someone implies they are trapped in the same situation: whyareyoufibbing_youarenothere_idontseeyou_pleasedonotlietome_.png on page 6

3. He doesn’t like that his show has ended and covers it with crayon spirals: page 5 of guestbook (doodle is covering the words, “This site has reawakened so many childhood memories! Thank you for starting this restoration project. It’s a true shame what happened to the show.”

4. Even when he tries to talk to Home, he cannot fully understand them because Home only talks by sounds a house can make. Back in the audio of “Beautiful Dreamer,” Wally asked Home if they liked his song. The response was banging on the walls. Wally then said, “That’s good... I think.”

So what can we get from these?

Wally is trapped inside Home, isolated from his puppet friends and anyone else who knows about the show. He tries to reach out to Home but cannot fully understand them, or Home is too unstable to talk to them.

So what do trapped, isolated people do in their situation?

Wally is Trying to Reach Out... or Get Out

Because he’s isolated, he’s trying to reach out. The Welcome Home world and our world are still connected by the existence of the artifacts left of the Welcome Home show.

Another theory again he was able to extend his will to the people that opened the envelopes and thus started the restoration project. Not enough to control, but enough to influence.

If we base it on the spell theory, what is will but intent that can be used as magic?

And Wally’s desire to connect is apparent. He interacts with the undercurrent of the website, and the filenames can get a little intense whenever he responds:

thenanswerme_.png of page 5

Scratchharder_.png from page 6

Whatever outcome Wally wants, he’s biding his time: Itsnottimeyet_imlooking_.png of page 6

Checking the filename for the clock doodle, what is he looking for?

The answer? I think it’s you: youwill_.png of page 5

Conclusion:

For whatever reason, Wally wants you in the Welcome Home world. But you already know that.

#welcome home #welcome home arg #wally darling #welcome home spoilers

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deerbornintuitive · 2 years

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Halloween Pick A Pile!

Hello, and welcome to your free pick a pile reading for Samhain/Halloween 🎃 Apologies as I meant to share this earlier! Today, we’re using the following spread…

Card 1) What trick should you be wary of?

Card 2) What treats are coming your way?

Card 3) How can you honor this night?

In this reading, you’re provided with messages for your personal spiritual journey. The messages received from Spirit are channeled for you based on whichever pile’s energy resonates with you most. Take the time to clear your mind and relax before choosing your pile. Because this is a collective reading, please take what resonates, and leave the rest. If you’d like a personalized seasonal themed reading, book yours here!

I have intuitively chosen a different deck to answer each question…

For the first card, I will pull from the Wild Unknown Archetypes

For the second card, I will pull the Light Seer’s Tarot

And for the third card, I will pull from the Dreamscapes Oracle

Now it's time to choose one from the piles below:

Take a moment to sit with it, and listen to the one with calls to you or nudges at your gut instinct...

Scroll down to find yours!

Pile reveals below...

Are you ready?

Pile A

Card 1: The Medallion reversed

What trick should you be wary of?

There are old habits and old ways which keep you anchored to some past pain. This energy involves your family or your close circle. Set aside time for reflection, so you can become more mindful of and pinpoint the things you have inherited which burden or block you.

Card 2: Death/Rebirth

What treats are coming your way?

The energy of this season is aligning beautifully for releasing the old. You’re being aligned with an opportunity to let these old parts of you die, so that you're able to travel lighter, and can grow in new ways. Let go of these old ideas, memories, and/or habits which no longer serve you. Create the space in your heart and mind, so that you're able to fulfill your highest potential!

It’s worth noting that the Death card corresponds with Scorpio Season. You are entangled in the change and transformation of this season! You will reach the other side feeling refreshed and ready for what's to come.

Card 3: Sun Bear

How can you honor this night?

At its surface, this card invites you to get on in the sun! Spend time in nature. If you can’t get real sunshine, store-bought is fine; use a Seasonal Affective Disorder lamp (best results happen in the morning hours) or begin taking Vitamin D supplements daily (consult your Doc for your ideal dosage). To make it witchier, bathe in the moonlight!

Digging deeper, Sun Bear calls upon you to give attention to the state of your Solar Plexus chakra, located in your abdominal area. This energy center is responsible for your willpower, confidence, and mental energies. Listen to your intuition while tuning into this chakra, and let it help guide you. What sensations, emotions, colors, and thoughts arise while you're focused on your Solar Plexus?

The Sun Bear is known as a great healer across many cultures. Giving this attention to your Solar Plexus chakra will be a healing experience for you overall, bringing you into a better state of harmony and balance.

Make time for solar plexus healing. See below for ideas….

• Breathe deeply

• Break out of your comfort zone and routine

• Stop victimizing yourself, if you tend to do so

• Set goals

• Let go of unhealthy attachments

• Find humor in your situation and learn to laugh at yourself

• Heal with crystals such as citrine, amber, tiger’s eye, or yellow calcite

• Repeat affirmations such as, “I am strong,” “I can,” “I am persistent,” “I am worthy of success,” “I will,” “I can face every challenge.”

PILE B

Card 1: The flame sideways/reversed

What trick should you be wary of?

Watch out for anything that takes too much of your power, leaving you in darkness; or for anything which ignites excessive heat and frustration, making your fire too hot and bright. Pay attention to what makes you feel powerless and/or angry— this is going to be your signal for change right now. You're learning to use your inner flame for the right cause, and can still find that your focus is misled from time to time.

This card could be pointing a shadow aspect that needs attention or an issue which needs your energy. Use the flame to light up the dark. Alternatively, or additionally, the card invites you to go for what you're passionate about, without holding back.

Card 2: 10 of Swords

What treats are coming your way?

At its surface, Spirit is inviting you to get out and watch the sunrise for the 31st, or at some point this week. There’s a beautiful sight waiting for you, which speaks to your Soul and soothes you at a deep level.

Digging deeper into this card, it appears that for some of you, you are being gifted an ending. The card depicts the sun rising after a dark night of the Soul. This ending can be painful, but is usually something you’ve expected. It had likely been troubling you for some time, though the resolution can still shake you up.

Finally it’s over, and there is beauty. You’re being given the chance to rediscover your hope and resiliency. Allow your wounds to teach you your greatest strengths. Let these wounds show you how capable you are of healing and seeing beauty once again.

There’s a bright, colorful new dawn waiting. Give your Soul the deep healing it’s been craving by giving into the ending. The worst is behind you. The truth all comes to light in time; any illusions on the matter will be lifted.

Card 3: Harpy Eagle

How can you honor this night?

Harpy Eagle relates to the messages your Spirit Guides are presently trying to send to you. These messages come to you through your dreams and visions. This energy is exceptionally strong right now. Do your best to open up to receiving. Set the intention, meditate, speak to the Spirits, perform a ritual, journal, whatever you'd like to do that works for you or calls to you! Then, harness the present energies around you and ask for whatever guidance or assistance you need.

Be patient, and trust what information Spirit is sending you-- this connection will be strong. Their message can come as a sudden epiphany, an inspiration, a sudden knowing, or a vision.

It's possible that your Guides are attempting to help you out with something that's off-balance or in need of changing in your life. While you reflect on this, pay attention for gut nudges and signs to point you in the right direction.

PILE C

Card 1: The Ring reversed

What trick should you be wary of?

Take note of the negative cycle in your life which has been repeating. This serves to hold you back. What situations or feelings keep making their way back around to you? In what area do you feel like you’re going in a loop? Is there anything you feel like you’re forcing right now?

Surrender to the flow and allow your awareness to open up. Within this repeated cycle is the answer to a question and/or a solution to your problem. Locating the repeated cycle enables you to break free.

Card 2: The Chariot

What treats are coming your way?

At it’s surface, this card points to traveling and getting away from town. You could be traveling for this holiday, or in the least getting out and experiencing the world, out of your typical routine.

Digging deeper into this card's meaning, it indicates motivation and determination to see your goal and vision through. You’ll notice that your mental energies are clear. It will be easier in the coming days for you to focus on reaching wherever or whatever your destination may be. Harness this energy toward your projects, and tackle any chores or obstacles you've been putting off this week. What you set out to do, you will be successful at!

The Chariot also has strong Solar Plexus chakra energies— helping you to feel confident, strong, and able to handle whatever life throws your way.

Card 3: Rabbit and Fox

How can you honor this night?

On this evening, leave an offering for your ancestors. Offerings are a way to cultivate your relationship with your Spirits. Set up an altar— a nice space on a table of shelf— with their photos, items of theirs, things with sentimental value, pieces of nature, crystals, candles (really whatever you’d like).

Keep it simple with whatever you can give, without spending money or going through any extremes. This could be a bowl of water you’ve blessed, a cup of coffee, dried herbs, flowers, shells, or rocks you’ve collected. Traditionally, people will offer fruit, wine, or flowers. Leave your offerings with the knowing that your Ancestors are nearby, sharing their light and love with you.

This card represents the story of the rabbit in the moon, a very old tale, which has been told across multiple cultures. There are different version, but the story goes that one day, a Goddess decided to disguise herself as a dirty beggar to test the animal’s spirit and generosity. The Monkey gathered for her fruit from the trees; the Fox brought her meat. The Rabbit only knew how to gather grass. He felt it wasn’t enough for the human, so instead offered her his fur, so that the human could be kept warm in the days to come. The Goddess then revealed herself to the Rabbit, and to honor his offering and sacrifice, instead spared his life, and drew the Rabbit on the Moon for all to see.

Moral of the story: Spirits and Ancestors understand the intent behind your offering; you do not have to go to extremes.

The Rabbit in the Moon; Source philosophyofscience

I hope you enjoyed your reading!

Thank you so much for taking part in this reading! Please feel welcome to leave your questions and feedback below. Personalized seasonal readings can be found here. Other Aura and Tarot readings can be found here. Blessed Samhain!

Courtney Deerborn

#pickapile #tarot pick a pile #pick a pile #tarotreading #tarot reading #tarot reader #tarot community #witches of tumblr #free tarot readings #samhain #halloween #trick or treat #halloween tarot #samhain tarot

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andvys · 5 months

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Yeah, if you need more angsty songs… Saturn by Sleeping At Last (I like many songs by Sleeping at Last, but this…) and Yau Are a Memory by Message to Bears. Also chap 28 has Visions of Gideon vibes

oh my god i used to listen to these songs on repeat! they’re so sad 😭

#andy’s asks

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spiderlinginaonesie · 6 years

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Kill me

He barely knows what happened, the whole fight was a blur.What Peter did know was he should have lost that fight, but he didn’t, that’swhen it dawned on him and he shot up with a start. “MJ!” He shouted,frantically looking around for the girl. She had done something, got in the way,fought back, he couldn’t remember but it was something probably dumb anddangerous. “MJ are you okay?!” There is no response, but he does find her andhis heart clenches. She’s laying still on the ground. “No- No … god,Michelle? MJ? Please” He rambled quickly racing her side, she’s not breathing,and he can’t hear her heart beating. “Fuck, no, no, no, MJ Please” Peter’s mindhas gone blank as tears start to build, he can’t remember all the medicalthings she taught him, or the things he was taught in school. He can’t think,all he is thinking is he needs Ned here or Flash, he needs MJ to be okay.

Once his brain kicked back into gear he tried CPR, but itonly lasted for a second before fear got the best of him and he resorted topleading. It wasn’t long before Flash and Ned arrived, but it felt like ages.At some point during the process Peter torn off his mask to try and not drownin his own tear. He just heard everything once the arrived, not daring to lookaway from MJ. Car doors slamming, a curse, a gasp and quick footsteps rushingover towards him. “She-she’s not breathing.” His voice shook. “Have you calledan ambulance” Peter shook his head, feeling incredibly dumb. How hadn’t hethought of that even in his panic? “Ned” “On it” He wasn’t really paying attention,not to anything other then how she was starting to look paler. He heard it allthough, the panic in his and Ned’s voice, contrasting with Flash’s almost calm façade.Ned had pulled out a phone and was calling for help but the words just seem togo in one ear for Peter and out the other, nothing really registering at alluntil a hand is on his shoulder. “You should go Pete” Peter tears his gaze awayfor the first time, turning to Flash with a look of shock. “What! Why?” He canthink of a lot of reasons himself, this was his fault after all why did hedeserve to stick by her side. “You know the media, the minute they see Spideywith someone injured they’ll pounce hard.” He casts a glance back to MJ. “Itwas my fault though” He whispered. “Not the time. Self-deprivation can comelate, once she’s awake. Just go for now- and don’t do anything dumb” Flash pattedPeter’s shoulder. The tired hero managed to his feet, giving Flash a nod. “Promiseto text me as soon as she is awake” Flash nodded in response. “Cross my heart”He tried to ignore Ned’s panicked voice as he talked to the 911 operator,instead giving one more look at MJ, putting his mask on and swinging home.

He should have known, the moment that it was a call insteadof just a text message he should have known. Peter answer it anyway, theyodeling ringtone ending as he does. “Ned” He starts quiet and as the silencegoes on for longer it’s just more fear and panic building. “Ned- “He about totry when the other voice finally speaks up. “She’s gone” Ned sounds like he’sholding back tears as well. Peter doesn’t think, drops the phone on the bed andjust holding his head. “No- no, no, no,no, let this be a dream. Let this be the worst nightmare ever please” Thereis a long moment of silence on Peter’s end, but he can still hear Ned on thephone. “Pete? … God, Peter pleasedon’t do anything dumb. Just- Just talk to me man” “It’s my fault” He finallycroaked out. “No, it’s not. How in the world would it be your fault?” “Because-… Because if I hadn’t met her, hadn’t dragged her into all this, she neverwould have been there- Never would have got hurt” “Really? Now you’re trying tosay we shouldn’t even have met you? Come on man, none of us regret this,meeting you, being your friends…. I bet even MJ didn’t regret it. Spidey squadforever” He’s not sure how long he has been crying now but the tears keepcoming. Peter feels slightly sick at the mention of Spidey squad, why did he everlet that happen? how was he that stupid to put his friends in danger like that?He couldn’t bring back MJ, but he could end this before it was too late. Ned’sconcern continues to echo over the speaker. “Talk to me man … please Pete”Peter has brought up the group chat, swallowing hard when he sees MJ pop up. “Ned-… Do me a big favor” “Of course, anything” He swipes back to the phonecall, finger hovering over the red button. “Just- forget you met me okay?” Hecan hear the immediate protest “NO, you know I can’t please- “but it’s silencedwith one button pressed.

Peter quickly blocked Flash and Ned’s phone number evenwhile they tried to call him back. In the end he found himself with a half-composedmessage to Michelle’s phone, full of rambles and apologies. The tears havefinally run dry but that doesn’t mean everything doesn’t still hurt. He read somethingabout how writing a letter can help solve unresolved grief, he doesn’t reallybelieve it but it’s a desperation to hope she can even see the text somehow drives him to finish. “Im sorry Im so sorry mj this shouldnt happen I should be the one deadnot you. The worst thing is theyre right you are probably yelling at me forblaming myself right? Im sorry I didnt save you Im sorry Im alive and not youIm sorry Im so weak. I love you that’ll never change. I love you so much. Iwish I could say that one last time to you. You deserve so much better then whatyou got, then anything I gave you”

#maybe friends #Local bully #guy in the chair #you are a memory by message to bears i was listening to that on repeat #another one that was a bit better in my head to be honest #i've thought about it all day for a couple of days not #but i could never get it quite right writing it #still i hope you like it <3 i'm pretty happy #also there is meant to be no punctuation in the text message part #veryxobservant #you have a new message

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sandbees · 3 years

Note

📱 for the first years. I had a thought that as the voicemails keep coming they realize that Yuu sounds older in each one and realizing that time flows differently for them.

_=_

“Hello? Ace? Heyyy! It’s Yuu, did you miss me?!”

“Haha…yeah. This is probably the first voicemail I’ve sent since I’ve gotten back. It’s been…at least a week. I wanted to try it again.”

“I guess you have bragging rights being the first person I contacted, haha!”

“…But seriously, it has been awhile. I’ve been so distracted with life that I almost forgotten to call one of you guys. Granted, it’s a Thursday afternoon, so I didn’t expect you to call back or answer.”

“So…call back as soon as possible, ok?!”

_=_

Ace grinned, looking at the voicemail. Finally, a message from Yuu! After all these years.

But as he listened, he frowned. The voicemail was probably a year ago, so why did it send now? (Maybe dimension travel rules or something?). Still, the voicemail gave him hope. Yuu probably got his voicemail, then.

He sets his phone down, and leaves the room. He should tell Deuce (and brag to him about it. Ha! Yuu contacted him first!)

_=_

“Deuce? Hi, it’s been a long time. Just letting you know I miss you…”

“Uhm…after high school, I never got a message. I think that’s the time where I finally stopped trying to contact you guys.”

“I’m- I’m actually in college now! Yeah, working on finding a career…maybe being a therapist? I’m sort of good at that…”

“Listen, I just- I’m overwhelmed with sadness that I haven’t heard anything on your end. Maybe it’s on my end too, those messages might have not been sent to you guys. So if that’s the case - I hope your all doing well.”

_=_

Deuce stared at his phone, not even reacting as the voicemail ended. His gaze set on the name set, feeling the memories start to resurface.

Did time fly so much faster in Yuu’s world? If so, how long ago was it since they sent this?

…could they be dead?

“Yo, Deuce, I got some news!”, Deuce looked up to see Ace smirking at the door.

Ace frowned as he saw his friend’s expression.

“What’s got you all sad?”

“Ace…”, Deuce sighed, “We need to talk.”

_=_

“Jack? Are you…”

“…No, you would’ve picked up. This is a voicemail, isn’t it? Listen, I’m having a mid-life crisis right now. I- your the first person I thought of since you’re so grounded.”

“I miss you guys. I really want to talk to you; to get all of my troubles right now off my chest. Like not like from a phone, but face to face.”

“It sucks. A lot. I hate this.”

“…I dunno if this is a good idea anyways. I know you’d never respond but I thought…you’re one of the people I can trust, Jack. So thanks.”

_=_

Jack’s heart drops as the voicemail ends. A terrible guilty feeling wells up. He shouldn’t be feeling this; there were so many reasons why.

…but those reasons felt like excuses to him. He should’ve been there for Yuu. They were friends. He wanted to hug them and tell them that everything was ok and no one forgot them and-

He hoped Yuu still lived happy, even after that. He couldn’t bear the thought of anything else.

_=_

“Epel? Oh, Epel…”

“I have a niece now. Remember when I was talking about my family? Yeah, my sibling had a child. I- I might be planning to adopt a kid too but…”

“I wish you guys were here with me. I remember when we talked about the future if I never left. Is it bad that I wish now that I never left? Crowley did go through all the trouble to send me home but…but now I wish he never did find it.”

“I wish I grew up with you guys with me. It sound selfish for me to say this. But I just- I just- We wanted to experience things together, right? We made a summer bucket list and everything.”

“I don’t even remember half of the things we came up with. It might have been pretty stupid, when I think of it. Even so, I tried to complete the things I do remember. Though the only one I remember that I can’t do is visit your guy’s families and travel throughout Twisted Wonderland. I wish I could’ve done that before I left…”

_=_

Epel choked back on his tears, refusing to cry in such a public place. He had gotten the voicemail during his free period. Excusing himself to Vil and Rook, he had left and went to listen to it.

Man aching feeling rushed over him as he leaned against a tree. He clutched his phone like a lifeline as the words repeated in his mind.

Yuu had- Yuu- they were-

“Epel?”

Epel looked up, seeing Vil and Rook. He tried to wipe the tears threatening to fall, but he guessed that they already saw. Rook had went over and pat his head. Usually he would swat away the hunter, but at the moment he didn’t have the energy to.

“Oh, Monsieur Cherry Apple, what happened?”, Rook asked worriedly.

“…It’s Yuu. I got a voicemail from them.”

Rook’s eyes widened as Vil held a breath. Epel shook his head.

“It’s bad news…they…”

_=_

“Sebek? Hello, I- *cough**cough*”

“Sorry, I sound very different, don’t I? I’m actually 84, isn’t that cool? …I’m in a hospital bed, so maybe not…”

“But after all these years, I still…I still have my spunk, right?”

“…”

“I’m not scared, even if I should be. But I’m not; I’ve lived a happy and peaceful life. Even if it wasn’t with you guys.”

“That’s my only regret, not being able to see you guys. Maybe I will, through some magic bullshit. I hope so.”

“But- But I guess the most important thing is to try and send out a last message to everyone. God, I’ve heard the doctors and nurses talking about how physically weak I’m getting. I might not even make it to the next year.”

“I know myself; so I bet I’ll live longer. I have to live longer, if I ever want to see you guys again.”

_=_

Sebek dropped his phone, his hand shaking as he bent down to pick it back up.

As a half-fae, Sebek knew he would probably outlive his friends. But he expected that he wouldn’t see the day they died until a very long time. Now that wasn’t the case; as Yuu had already grown old. Now, he didn’t know if it was their last message, but if it was…

“Sebek?”, Lilia entered the room, “I heard something fall into your room. You’re not the clumsy type, are you alri- Sebek?”

Lilia paused as he saw Sebek shaking violently, phone clutched tightly. He frowned as Sebek tried to straighten himself.

“Lilia…I…”

“…do you want to talk about it?”

“…It’s about Yuu…and our long lives…”

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagine #twisted wonderland headcannons #voicemails #request #ace trappola #deuce spade #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #jack howl #ask #angst

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merakiui · 3 years

Note

(im sorry if this is too dark)

but i always wondered how the immortal characters (venti, zhongli, xiao if thats okay) would be with an s/o whose suicidal or has attempted suicide.

Venti, Zhongli, and Xiao with a Suicidal S/O

cw: mentions of suicide and depression

🍎 Venti 🍎

He doesn’t like it at all. He’s stopped you from committing suicide before and it tore his heart to pieces when he witnessed the broken look on your face, tears freely falling like a waterfall.

Venti doesn’t like seeing you in pain. Sure, he’s seen thousands of pained expressions over the course of his existence, but yours is by far the worst. He can’t stand seeing you fall into such an inescapable depression.

He does his very best to keep you happy, always offering to sing and play for you when you’re having a tough time.

Venti has a lot of time on his hands and so he dedicates it to cheering you up when you’re feeling down. He makes you promise him to never attempt suicide again.

If he lost you to your depression, he’d be absolutely devastated. He wouldn’t be able to go on if you weren’t in the world to grace him with your lovely smile and amazing personality.

After your attempt, he’ll be a lot more clingy than before. He’ll follow you around everywhere, promising to never let you out of his sight. He even stops his excessive drinking to make sure he pays attention to you.

An underlying fear of his is losing you as a result of his own mistakes. If he were to get drunk and you wandered off to end yourself... Venti just hates thinking about it.

In order to keep your mind off of depression and suicide, he’ll encourage you to go outside and get some fresh air with him. The two of you can take long walks around Mondstadt or you can come with him to the tavern.

Anything you want, he’ll get it for you. Whatever makes you happy! Venti will be at your beck and call to help you, and if you’d prefer to lounge around inside he’s okay with that too!

Every morning when the two of you wake up, cuddled up together under the duvet, he’ll shower you in affection, assuring you that the day will be great. Even if it seems cloudy and sad, he’ll be your eternal sunshine during those occasional rainy days.

So for his sake, please keep living!

🔶 Zhongli 🔶

Zhongli becomes quite concerned after he prevented your first suicide attempt.

Since then, he’s gotten extra protective of you in an endearing way. He’ll linger around you when you’re doing something, refusing to look away in case you happen to hurt yourself again.

He seems a little awkward at first as he struggles to find a way to broach the topic without bringing up unpleasant memories for you.

Zhongli will sit down with you, wanting to know exactly what brought you to such a low point. He hopes it wasn’t his fault and if it was he’s willing to do whatever he can to correct it.

You’ll assure him that it could never be his fault. When he hears about your depression and how it’s started getting difficult to deal with, he promises he’ll do what he can to help you out of that dark hole.

He can’t bear the thought of losing you to something as heartbreaking as suicide. He would feel so lost without you.

Zhongli helps you through these rough patches as best as he can. He’ll soothe you with his presence and talk to you about random things to take your mind off of the depressing stuff.

No matter what happens, you can always confide in him. Even if it seems like no one will listen, he’ll always be there. He’s got all the time in the world to hear you out and he’ll always be ready to console you.

Zhongli makes sure you won’t attempt suicide again in the future by removing all sorts of harmful objects from your grasp. He may not be able to get rid of all of them, but he wants you to know that life is worth living—even if it becomes difficult and tedious.

Zhongli will always love you and he can’t imagine going on without you by his side, so he’ll do everything he can to prevent you from slipping into a suicidal mindset.

☁️ Xiao ☁️

Surprisingly enough, when he catches you trying to jump from the highest point of Wangshu Inn, he feels so many emotions at once. It’s strange. His heart tightens and he feels suffocated, absolutely crushed under the weight of this dreadful sight.

He jumps into action at once, seizing your wrist just as you’re about to jump. Xiao practically wrestles with you once you’re on solid ground, wrapping his arms around you to keep you locked in place.

There’s so much he wants to say, but words escape him in that moment and he ends up holding you in his arms, just silently hoping you’ll get the message.

He’s not usually this emotional, but when he saw you teetering on the edge he felt so incredibly panicked and worried. If he had been a second too late, you would’ve fallen.

Ever since he saved you, he refuses to let you do anything by yourself. It’s a little patronizing, considering Xiao practically looms over you like an overprotective parent.

You’ll have to continuously promise you won’t try to kill yourself like that again. And until he believes you won’t, you’ll have to keep repeating it.

You’re Xiao’s entire world; he loves you so much. So to ever think about losing you to suicide—it’s the most painful thing.

Xiao will do everything he can to protect you. If you want to go into town to shop with a few friends, he’ll come with you, albeit at a covert distance. And if you want to wander near mountains or high areas, he will practically crush your hand as he directs you to an area that’s the safest.

For a while, he doesn’t like seeing you anywhere near heights. You’ll be under his watchful eye whether you like it or not. And even though it’s suffocating you know he's just looking out for you.

Xiao may be more action than word, but he does suggest taking up new hobbies to clear your mind. He’s heard similar advice from Zhongli and he offers all sorts of fun alternatives: painting, stargazing, and even writing.

Whatever it is, he wants you to stay alive and continue living despite the hardships you’ll face. He’ll be right there to help you through it, so it’s okay if you depend on him every now and then.

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yourtamaki · 3 years

Text

the broken melody of us

matsukawa x f!reader

word count: 4k

request: mattsun hurt/comfort + neglect?

warnings: hurt/comfort, neglect, body worship, praise kink, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming

it was a song and dance at this point. a well rehearsed play with a blinding spotlight on the exhausted actors onstage. both of you go through the motions, no life behind the words you’ve spoken so many times they held no meaning anymore. you don’t know why you keep up the charade. you never expect a different result yet still you pick up the phone everyday and call your boyfriend.

“you think you’ll be home in time for dinner?”

sometimes you get a different, automated message. “maybe. might have to stay late,” or “can’t, i’ve gotta finish something up,” or your least favourite. a simple, clipped, “no.”

“don’t stay out too late.” you should cut this part from the script, he never listens.

“i’ll try.”

“i love you.” this line is always to be spoken quietly, followed by holding your breath while you wait for his response. it’s the only reason you make these calls. this is your only chance to hear him say it and pretend he means it as much as he once did.

“love you too.” the line goes dead, the lights dim and he’s gone. you’re alone on an empty stage staring out at a bored audience. bored of the foolish protagonist who keeps them locked in the theatre, playing the same ending over and over and expecting something to give, to change. they watch on, silent and judging while you barter away what little dignity you have left.

let them watch.

the rejection doesn’t sting as badly as it used to. you’ve learned to bear it, swallow down the hurt that sits like a stone in your gut and go about your day, filling it with any meaningless errand that would stop your mind from wandering back to him.

mattsun was subtle, you could give him that much. the way he slowly pulled away from your arms until you could hardly remember how he felt beneath your palms. the realization that you don’t really know your boyfriend anymore was slow to hit you but it knocked the air out of your lungs when it did. it crashed down on you when you woke in the middle of the night and turned to stare at his back gently rising and falling with every breath. his hair is longer then you remember and you don’t know why the thought has a lump forming in your throat. you focus instead on the broad expanse of his back. he’s tense, even in sleep, shoulders rigid and you’re sure if you could see his face, his brows would be furrowed. subtle changes that are enough for you to realize you’ve been shut out of his life.

you used to know him. when you were university kids who thought the future would never catch up to them and spent countless days in each other’s company. it wasn’t so much you knew him, it felt like you were him. and he was you. less attached to the hip and more intertwined with one another. you two were of one mind, to the point where you knew what the other needed before they’d even say it.

your mattsun who was always just a text away.

your mattsun who would indulge your late night drives, who would look at you with a permanent crooked smile on his face and love in his eyes.

“you think we’ll always be like this?” you said one night, straddling him in panties and a baggy hoodie in the backseat and lazily kissing beneath the stars. and because he was yours and understood every little anxious thought that crossed your mind, he didn’t question why you were asking, didn’t make you explain what you meant, didn’t try to make a half assed joke about it.

his hands trailed up your sides as he contemplated his answer, sending shivers up your spine. “probably not. things always change. we’ll change with them.”

“what if things get worse?”

“they might. but what if they get better? just cause it’s different doesn’t mean it's scary, angel.”

“i know. but i hate thinking about it cause things are so good right now. i want it to last forever.”

“we got time. let’s make the most of it, yeah?” he gripped your hips, slowly grinding you against his growing bulge and pulling you back into a kiss, sighing as your lips slotted together. you took control of the pace and grinned against him when a groan spilled into your mouth.

“is that your way of saying we should hurry up and fuck?”

“it’s working, isn’t it?” before you could pull your sweater up over your head, he cupped your face and brought your forehead to his, sincerity shining through his dark eyes. “i’ll always love you. that’ll never change. got it?”

“got it.” you managed to push the words out despite the lump that formed in your throat. he kept his eyes locked on yours as he slid your panties to the side and sank inside you, the familiar stretch a welcome one.

it was nothing special, one night of many spent panting into each other’s mouths with an unspoken promise still hanging from your lips. but it was a memory you circled back to often, so often you could hear the echo of his vow ring through your head.

your fears came to pass not long after that. life caught up and tore him from you, leaving you a shattered mess in the aftermath. you tried to fit jagged pieces of yourself back together in an attempt to remake the person you used to be but what stared back at you only left you keenly aware of the empty space he used to reside.

these days, you like going to the roof of your apartment and letting the wind blow through those countless gaps in your soul. you feel whole for a short while as it whistles through you, the air filled with the broken melody of you, of the relationship that slips past your grasp more everyday. it’s shrill and ear piercing and leaves goosebumps littered on your skin.

you can’t stop listening to it.

it’s where you were now, staring out as the sun dipped below the horizon and listening to the haunting sound that’s been your only company in recent memory. later, you’ll go home and crawl into bed desperate for any warmth and no time to miss the heat of a body next to yours. your phone lights up bright in contrast to the darkening sky and it takes you a few moments of staring blankly at the screen for it to sink in that mattsun is trying to call you.

this isn’t part of the script.

you don’t know your lines.

and yet you find yourself answering anyway, hitting the green button before the call drops and you raise your phone to your ear silently.

“are you okay?” his voice comes out rushed and strung together almost before your phone is pressed to your ear.

“why’re you asking?”

“remember that time you failed that essay? i think it was third year and you hid in your room all day and wouldn’t answer the phone?” you did remember. how you couldn’t bear to face the world that day with the crushing weight of failure hanging over you and how shocked you were to see mattsun standing at the front door. “did i ever tell you why i checked up on you?”

“no.”

“the whole day i felt, in my gut, like i needed to see you. i can’t describe it, it was like a stab that just dug deeper until i went to your place. would you believe me if i said i have that feeling right now?”

“i- i would.” you say quietly, wondering if he could even hear you over the roar of the wind.

“are you okay?” he repeats. there’s a weight behind his words that has tears springing to your eyes.

“no, issei ‘m not.”

“i’m almost home, i’m parking right now. i’ll be up in a few minutes, okay? wait for me, angel.”

you were always waiting for him, weren’t you? what's a couple more minutes? you hang up and try in vain push down the wave of anxiousness that hits you. it’s just mattsun, you try to remind yourself. even if it’s been awhile since you’ve really felt like a part of his life, he’s still the person you fell in love with. right?

even if the issei from the past would never have made you feel so alone. the issei that was free from the hardships of real life, of 9-5s and bills due and rent to pay. you miss that issei, mourn for him on empty rooftops everyday. maybe he’s still alive somewhere within this new issei but it’s not like you would know.

you head off the roof, shivering slightly as you make your way home. the days were only getting colder, you should’ve known not to stay out for so long. you were trying to get your shaky hands to cooperate and unlock the door when you hear the elevator dings open and your name being called out.

“you weren’t home?” he asks, gently prying your keys from your grasp and opening the door for you both. as soon as he locks it behind you, his hands are covering yours once more. “baby you’re freezing.”

words. where were your words? you couldn’t call up any as he brought your joined hands to his mouth, blowing hot air on them and rubbing them between his to warm them up. this is the closest you’ve been to him in who knows how long and you couldn’t summon up a single sentence. it’s not your fault. his attention has always stunned you into silence.

he thought you were painfully shy the first time you met and though that was half true, you mostly found yourself silently panicking about the handsome man that suddenly sat beside you. the professor had paired the class off to discuss the readings for that lecture and your interest had only come to life when you saw the dark haired man make his way to you.

“i’m gonna be honest.” he said as he plopped down beside you and showed you the blank document open on his laptop. “i have no idea what we’re supposed to be doing right now. do you?”

it was his eyes, you decided much later, hugging your pillow and staring at the text you just received from a new number. you came alive under his gaze like you could finally catch your breath, everything dull until his eyes landed on you. you don’t believe in love at first sight, this was something different. it was the dust of collapsing stars finding each other once more. it was strings of fate being braided together. it was more profound, more important than love and it all happened in a moment.

you nodded in response to his earlier question though it was clear neither of you were paying any attention to what was going on in class, too caught up in the small bubble that surrounded you and drowned out the rest of the world.

“matsukawa. i’m- my name’s matsukawa.” you must’ve given your name in return judging by the smile he gave you in return. “so what’re we doing, partner?”

this time, you forced a proper response, intensely aware of how you held yourself in a way you’ve never been before. “yeah, she just wants us to talk about today’s reading.”

matsukawa watched you pull up your notes, resting his head in his hand while you began explaining the general concepts. you paused when you noticed he was still looking at you and not at the notes you had angled towards him.

“am i explaining it okay?”

“we’re a month into the semester, how have i not noticed you before?”

“guess you don’t notice something you’re not looking for.”

just then the professor grabbed everyone’s attention, the student’s quietly migrating back to their seats but matsukawa stayed where he was. instead, you could just hear him speak under his breath, more to himself then to you but you still managed to pick it up, your face going hot as it echoed in your head. “trust me, i’m looking now.”

the memory leaves you more vulnerable than you expected, soft in his arms as the numbness finally fades and the shaking stops.

“where were you?” he says.

“the roof.” his brows furrow, lips pulled down in a frown. it’s strange feeling yourself falling back into reading him so easily, not needing him to ask to know he wanted you to explain why. “i like going up there. this place is too quiet with just me in it.”

the longer you watch him, the more you pick up from his body language. the confusion then understanding that flits across his face, the underlying care you’re so familiar with as he smooths his thumb over the back of your hand. but more than anything you start to see his guilt. his muscles are rigid with it, it swims in his eyes that never quite seem to meet yours.

“i’ve fucked up, haven't i?” he finally says when he realizes you won’t be the one to breach the subject.

“issei…”

“no, i have. things have been so endless, i feel like i’m half awake and i’ve hurt you because of it.”

you squeeze his hands, trying to reassure him. “just talk to me. please.”

“i hate it. work is nonstop, everyday is the same shit over and over. it’s just a wave that keeps knocking me down and i can barely get my footing before it pushes me down again. and every day i think about quitting just to get ready the next morning.

“if i was alone, if… if i didn’t have you i would’ve quit so long ago but i want to give you the life you deserve and i can’t do that if i’m broke. and it all might be for nothing cause i might’ve lost you already.”

the confession ends with mattsun clearing his throat, blinking fast and concentrating solely on your laced hands. you can’t seem to catch your breath, struggling under the weight he had carried silently until now as he finally shares the burden with you.

“you haven’t lost me, issei. look at me.” you wait until his eyes meet yours before dropping your voice to a whisper. “you haven’t lost me.”

“i don’t deserve you.”

“it’s not about deserving, i chose you. i chose to love you, i chose to stay when things got bad. yeah, you hurt me.” it’s impossible to miss the full body flinch at your words, “and i’m not ready to forgive you just yet. but that doesn’t mean i’m giving up on us. i don’t want you working yourself to death for me. i don’t care where we live or how much money you spend on me. i don’t need all of that, i just need you. got it?”

“got it.” you see his adam’s apple bob as he swallows down whatever feeling overcomes him, “i’m sorry.”

“i know.”

“tell me what you need, please. i need- i need to make this right.”

you answer by leaning forward and mattsun meets you halfway. the kiss is soft in contrast to the way you bundle the front of his shirt in your fists, afraid the moment might end before it’s even begun but mattsun takes his time cherishing you. there’s regret and gratitude and love that dances across your tongue and the taste has pressure building behind your eyes.

it isn’t enough. you need him closer, need him to line the cracks of your soul with his touch. you pull just far back enough to break the kiss and mumble against his lips, “more, ‘sei please. i’m so cold.”

“anything you want, pretty baby. let me make you feel good, yeah?”

his lips crash back down on yours with renewed eagerness. there’s a desperation that wasn’t there a moment ago fuelling you both and urging you to stumble blind into the bedroom, barely letting your mouths detach as you fumble and undress each other.

it’s not until you’re naked before him that your head clears a bit and shyness comes creeping in. he cups your face as though he could sense you curling into yourself and simply says, “beautiful.”

the utter conviction in his voice is enough to dispel any insecurities before they have a chance to latch on and you turn your head to kiss the center of his palm, silently telling him you were all right. together you land in a tangled heap in bed, his half hard cock resting on your thigh. mattsun kisses his way down your neck, licking and sucking at every sensitive spot he had mapped out over the years.

“issei…” you say, impatience tinging your voice as you feel your core throb with need.

“i’ll get you there, angel, you know i will. let me take my time, i missed you.”

true to his word, he began kissing every inch of skin he could reach. your tits, your stomach, your thighs all the way down to your ankles, he made sure to shower with affection. it’s nearly overwhelming. you knew you were starved for his attention but it feels like something breaks loose inside you the longer his mouth trails over your body, whispering declarations into your skin that left you tingling in his wake. by the time his fingers dip between your legs, your thighs are sticky with arousal, clit thrumming and begging to be touched.

“look at my pretty baby’s pussy. all wet just for me?”

“mhmm ‘s all for you, issei.”

he hums, swirling his middle finger around your entrance and pressing the thick digit inside with ease. it’s only a few pumps later he adds another, stretching out your gummy walls. his other hand drifts over your mound, his thumb finally giving your clit some attention as his fingers graze over a spot inside you that has your hips rising off the bed.

“stay still. you want to be my good girl, right?” the quiet authority that radiates from mattsun has you clenching around him, doing your best to do as he asks and keep your legs spread for him. “there you go. you’re taking me so well, baby. you’re close, aren’t you? i can feel it”

mattsun loves showing off how well he knew your body, how it never took long for you to crumble beneath him. a few more idle circles with the pad of his thumb and your orgasm washes over you, rising gently and leaving you relaxed in its wake.

that state didn’t last long as he replaces his thumb with his mouth, sucking at your clit that twitches against his tongue, still sensitive from your high. “issei! w-wait please give me a sec-”

his glare is enough to cut through your babbling, his fingers never slowing in their strokes against that sweet spot. you let out a low moan as he adds yet another finger, the stretch just shy of uncomfortable but it’s quick to fade into pleasure once again. the flame in your gut is far more intense this time and you can’t stop the whimpers he pulls from you. you thread your fingers through his dark curls, tugging on them and pulling him deeper into your folds.

“that’s it, princess. cum on my tongue and i’ll stuff you full, i promise. you can do it, c’mon baby.”

the encouragement has the coil in your gut tightening once more and the lewd sounds of mattsun lapping up every drop that escapes you is enough to snap it. when the blood stops ringing in your ears, you realize he’s shifted your positions. he’s sat cross-legged on the bed with you pulled into his lap, legs locked around his waist. his cock is pinned between your stomachs, smearing precum on your skin and your mouth waters as you catch sight of the blushing tip.

he whispers your name to grab your attention, naked devotion plain on his face when you gaze up at him. “i love you.”

this. this was your breaking point. the words you longed to hear every time you picked up the phone for those dreaded calls. your vision blurs with tears that well up and spill down your cheeks before you could blink them away. “you do?”

“i do, baby, with everything i’ve got. i-“ he falters for a moments, visibly steeling himself for what he wanted to say. “i want to spend the rest of my life with you. there’s not a future i can picture that doesn’t include you. you’re it for me.”

“i want that too ‘sei.” you hiccup, more tears trickle out faster than you can wipe them clear.

you feel his whole body relax, hands rubbing at your sides to soothe you. “don’t cry, angel. wait till i’m inside you at least.”

“shut up.” your laugh comes out watery but it feels good to smile. “how do you go from sweet to nasty so fast?”

“just wanted to see you smile.” you try and fail to suppress another grin that only widens when mattsun peppers your cheeks with loud kisses. “so pretty and all mine.”

“all yours.” you repeat, grinding your soaked folds along the underside of his cock. “and you’re mine, right?”

“that’s right, princess. go on, take what’s yours.”

sinking down on mattsun feels like coming home, the empty ache finally gone as he fills you and you both moan when he bottoms out. there’s no way for you to bounce in this position but you find that you don’t mind. you feel closer to him like this, what little space there is between you vibrating with how vulnerable you both were.

it’s relaxing, slowly rolling your hips against each other, not building towards anything and indulging in the other’s touch. your hands roam across his broad back, sucking dark marks into his neck while he grabs at your ass, kneading and groping so possessively you clench around him.

“fuck.” he groans next to your ear. “keeping squeezing me with that princess cunt, you feel so fucking good. just like that, good girl.”

“issei…” you whimper, pressure gradually building in your gut as your grinding gets sloppy and legs grow weak.

“what is it, baby? use your words.”

“want more, ‘sei i want your cum.”

“yeah? want me to fill up this greedy pussy and keep you warm with my cum?” he leans forward, keeping you cradled in his arms as your back hits the mattress, your legs still crossed around his waist keeping him as close to you as possible.

you nod, half delirious with need and mattsun begins thrusting in earnest. his cock is so thick he nudges against every sensitive spot along your walls, his tip battering just below your cervix and hitting so deep you swear you can feel it in your throat. his hands pry yours open from where you had been gripping the sheets and laces his fingers with yours. a swell of love rises in you and has you gasping for air as he fucks you into the mattress. you can’t even hear your own moans over the squelch as you grow wetter and wetter and the smack of his heavy balls against your ass.

your orgasm takes both of you by surprise, ripping through you so violently you’re left a shaking mess. mattsun’s hips stutter, bucking wildly into you as he nears his own high and you stare in awe as he reaches it. it’s a sight you’ll never get enough of, how beautiful he looks as he spills endlessly inside you, mindlessly grinding it deeper with his softening cock.

“you okay, angel?” he asks, pulling you in for a sweet, lingering kiss.

“mhmm. can we stay like this?” you weren’t ready to put any space between you, not so soon after reconnecting.

“‘course we can.” he settles over you, knowing exactly what you need. his weight a reassurance that grounds you in a way words never could. it’s a conversation in its own right, one that could only pass between two people who knew each other as well as you knew each other. in the quiet afterglow he tells you that he’s here with you. that you were going to work on being okay again. that he wouldn’t let you feel that lonely ever again. and you believe him with every fibre of your being.

dedicated to: @honeykeigo @ohno-otome @keigobaby @saintdabi @toshidou @sawam0chi

#matsukawa x reader #matsukawa smut #matsukawa angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu angst #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa issei smut #matsukawa issei angst #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu!! smut

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queencousland101 · 3 years

Text

Scarborough Fair

Pairing: Hunter x fem!Reader

Summary: Fem!Reader takes a nightly stroll and reminisces of better days, while a certain Sergeant lets his curiosity get the better of him.

No warnings, just a fun piece I wanted to explore. The song I chose for this piece is Simon & Garfunkel’s rendition of Scarborough Fair. I admit that I haven’t the slightest idea of how to add a Spotify link so you can listen as you read. I do apologize for that. Enjoy!

A want to give a HUGE shoutout to @blacklothwolf for the edits. Thank you!!! <3<3<3

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Kamino can be a lonely place at night.

Actually, Kamino is just a lonely place, period.

Sure, there are nightly patrols that make their hourly rounds, but they aren’t exactly the friendliest bunch. They prefer to stay away from the nat-borns that were placed on Kamino, even though you were placed there as a temporary assistant to the Kaminoans. They did not seem to hold their so-called “creators” in high esteem, and any person associated with them was immediately regarded with suspicion.

You can’t really blame them.

You walk toward the labs, datapads in hand and practically brimming with frustration. I didn’t sign up to be some errand girl, you think to yourself. Yet here you are … the glorified intern sent from one lab to another, transferring data and relaying messages. So much for shadowing Nala Se as a med student.

The pathways between labs in Tipoca City seemed to go on forever. White wall after white wall. Nothing but a clean, sterile, uniformed environment that’s always the same. The Kaminoans cherished this sameness. The clone troopers were identical and remained a shining example of their intellect and skill. Their other cloned creations shared similar successes, but none as largely known as the troopers. The Kaminoans took great care to manipulate genetic coding, which is what gathered your interests in the first place. When the offer arose to learn from the master geneticists, you couldn’t refuse. What a fool you were.

You look around you and once again take in the sight. The corridor is long and empty, although brightly lit, making your head hurt. This place never seems to change. It’s orderly and predictable, just the way the Kaminoans want.

It’s dull you think to yourself, and gently allow your mind to wander. Home was never this dull.

You pause and sigh deeply. Home.

A wave of nostalgia crashes over you at the mention of your home planet. For a brief moment, you close your eyes and see figures dancing around a bonfire. The cheerful chatter of children and adults alike surround the joyous scene. The rhythmic beating of drums leaves your bones rattling and your heart pounding in your chest. The scent of smoke mixes with the warm fragrance of flowers and food, which makes for an oddly nostalgic smell that surely couldn’t be recreated even if the scene was repeated perfectly.

You retrace the steps of the dance, gently swaying in step with the beat that’s ingrained into your mind. Kamino seems like a faraway memory, or nightmare. You cannot decide. You take a step and twirl gracefully, only for a datapad in your hand to clammer to the floor, snapping you back to the present. “Damn thing,” you mutter as you grab it and continue to your destination, the steps of the dance now long gone. Kamino comes rushing back into the present, and memories of your warm past drift further away.

I’m not ready, you think and shiver. Instinctively you wrap your arms around your torso and grimace as the datapads poke you painfully. I’m not ready to return to this cold place.

The halls echo with each step, the sound bouncing off the walls and traveling down the corridor. What nice acoustics. Suddenly, you stop and look up. These empty walls bear no décor, no personality or distinction. But… perhaps you can bring them to life.

There was an old folktale that you loved to sing with your mother during quiet evenings. An old love song, one more of longing than returned affections. You long for a sense of familiarity, just as the original author longed for their lost love. The song escapes your lips before you’re even aware:

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme

Remember me to one who lives there

She once was a true love of mine

The halls that once held an eerie silence among the gentle hum of machines now echo with your song. Your voice carries the tune effortlessly, rising and falling with the melody that you’ve come to know so well. The next verse spills out effortlessly:

Tell her to make me a cambric shirt

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme

Without no seams nor needle work

Then she'll be a true love of mine

You sing the melody, as it would play out on an instrument. Your steps slow to a saunter, and you step in rhythm with the music. Your eyes drift closed as you embrace a sense of peace, the datapads now comfortably hugged close to your chest as you forget their presence entirely. With a surge of confidence, you plunge into the next verse:

Tell her to find me an acre of land

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Between the salt water and the sea strands

Then she'll be a true love of mine

While lost in your trance, you pass an opening adjacent to the corridor that connects to another hall. There stands a lone trooper, unbeknownst to you. He watches and listens intently, careful not to wake you from the spell. The final verse comes through strong and clear:

Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme

Remember me to one who lives there

She once was a true love of mine

The sounds continue to bounce through the halls as you are awakened from your trance. A pleasant smile parts your lips, but the feeling of eyes halts your steps. You stop and quickly turn towards the new corridor, where a man stands, watching.

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

Hunter stirs in his bed. Once again, he cannot sleep and that likely won’t change tonight. He pulls the pillow over his ears and grunts in frustration. Wrecker’s snores were relentless, and Hunter’s heightened senses were at Wrecker’s mercy. Too bad Tech couldn’t make him noise-canceling ear covers. Perhaps he should ask him. Surely that could be done, right?

Hunter throws his feet over the side of the bed and rubs at his temple. The headaches are coming back, but he’s not sure if it’s from the snores, lack of sleep, or smell. Hunter huffs to himself, it’s probably all of them. How Crosshair can sleep when he’s so close to Wrecker is a mystery Hunter will likely never solve. He glances at Tech’s bunk, where his brother is passed out with a datapad in one hand, and some unknown contraption in the other. Hunter smiles. Tech never seems to run out of projects.

Hunter walks towards the door, being careful not to wake the others. He checks on his brothers once more then leaves the room.

He walks the halls, unsure if he should head to the gym or refresher. As he’s trying to decide, Hunter hears something … odd. Something that isn’t normal for the halls of Kamino.

It’s not unpleasant. If anything, it’s lovely. Like a breath of fresh air through the stale, desolate halls.

Hunter lets his feet guide him to the noise. His heightened hearing picks up every note of the sound, yet it does not cause him pain like most other noises. It’s soft. It caresses his senses.

It enchants him. He follows, spellbound.

He is led through the halls until he spots the source of this beautiful sound; a young woman sings carelessly while holding a stack of datapads.

Her voice reverberates through the halls. She’s wrapped in this trance as she sings, completely unaware of her private audience. Hunter leans against the wall and crosses his arms. She appears to be happy, even if for a brief moment. He chuckles quietly as she finishes her song, something about a …. person, plants, a place? He doesn’t quite understand but listens attentively regardless.

He did not consider her reaction to his presence until she stops suddenly, turning to look him dead in the eyes.

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

The man stands in the corridor, just as surprised as you are it seems. You both startle for a moment and cannot find the proper words. Your surprise is quickly replaced with curiosity. He looks like a clone, yet … he doesn’t. Yes, he has the facial features, physical stature, dark skin, and curly hair, but he does not resemble the identical men you’ve come to recognize.

It seems … like there’s … more to him. You can’t place your finger on it, but something is different.

The black tattoo on his face highlights his prominent cheekbones and jawline, and his messy hair is pulled out of his face with a red headband. Yet, despite the hair, headband, and tattoo, you find that you're mostly drawn to his eyes. They look almost … grey? Do clones have grey eyes? Your mind swirls and you continue to stare at the strange man. He’s handsome.

You blush, suddenly aware that you’re not only staring, but that you’ve also been caught. No one outside your family has heard you sing, and well… you were a tad embarrassed to say the least. You quickly turn to leave, hugging the datapads to your chest. “Umm ... s…sorry,” you quietly mutter but a strong hand on your shoulder stops you.

“No wait!” He pauses, unsure what to say. “Was that you? Earlier in the hallway?” His eyes brighten at the question, and you start to feel lightheaded.

Your cheeks turn as red as his headband with his hand still gently on your shoulder. You can barely process the question. “Uhh yeah,” your reply comes out barely more than a whisper.

His lips perk up into a lopsided smile, apparently he heard your quiet confession. “You sound really nice.” He moves his hand from your shoulder to rub the back of his neck. “Um, I’m Hunter. I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m certain I would have remembered you.”

You raise an eyebrow, letting your curiosity outweigh your shyness. “Oh? And why is that, Hunter?”

He flushes as you say his name and stumbles with his response “I... uh…I would remember a voice like that … like, like yours I mean.” You smile as he continues, “you sound nice, and … well people here normally don’t sing in hallways. Not like you. I’d actually want to hear you sing.”

You give a light-hearted laugh at the praise, and Hunter relaxes beside you. The sound of your laughter is soothing to him, almost as much as your song. “Thank you, Hunter. I should probably head on to the labs now. I’ve been gone too long.”

“Would you like some company?” He offers and extends a hand to take a datapad. A glimmer of hope now shines in his grey eyes.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You grin, “I'd like that very much.” He brushes your hand with his and takes a couple datapads as you fall into a step far slower than your normal stride. You walk together through the halls, your steps resonating together.

Suddenly, Kamino doesn’t feel so lonely.

#star wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #tcw #sergeant hunter #hunter the bad batch #hunter tbb #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #tbb #star wars the clone wars #hunter fluff #queencousland fics #my fic #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

earned it [04]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. DARK CONTENT, graphic violence, mentions of blood, explicit murder, sexual violence, angst, tw dubcon, mentions of mass murder, death threats, cheating, implications of suicide, typical mafia business + very unedited (please PLEASE read at your own discretion! if you do not wish to proceed to read because of the aforementioned warnings but want to know what happened anyway, please drop into my asks and i’ll retell it in a much less graphic version!)

chapter song. never forget you (zara larsson, mnek)

series masterlist

Death.

The stench of it reeked everywhere. Blood pooled at the ends of your dress, the warm liquid dripping from your fingers. You couldn’t see what was in front of you, not when your vision had been obscured black, painted red with everyone’s lifeless eyes staring back emptily at you and carrying an ominous message behind words that never had the chance to be spoken.

Satoru was gone.

You ran through flights of stairs as you bunched your dress up, dried blood present on your cheek. The gray cemented walls of this unknown building began to close down on you, suffocating you, trapping you – and then there he was. Your lover, your world, your everything – he stood on top of a pile of bodies, his face as grim as the deaths he’s caused, but that wasn’t what stood out from the scene. It was the fact you couldn’t recognize him anymore; the man before you was nothing else but the devil incarnate himself. Then, just as you ran his way, fingers outstretched to grasp at his shirt, Satoru disappeared.

He was gone.

A scream ripped out your throat as you scrambled for the sheets, pulling them up in a haste to shield yourself. The images were now gone, but that fear kept drumming into you, gloops of blood making its way through your room’s white exterior.

It’s not real, it’s not real – Satoru’s arms snaked over to your side, his eyes droopy from being woken up. You would’ve apologized, knowing he never really got proper sleep, but you were already wrapping your arms around yourself, gaze repeatedly darting back to the walls – to check for bodies, for blood, for death, for him.

“Hey,” Satoru drew you close to him until your head fell on his chest. Out of instinct, you flattened your ear above where his heartbeat rested. Thump thump – he was real, he was safe, alive – he wouldn’t do that. Satoru wasn’t that kind of person. You clung to him like a koala and mumbled incoherently at the skin of his neck, clutching his shirt so tight it wrinkled horribly. Satoru merely littered kisses all over the crown of your head to soothe you, although he was not free to this fear you felt; he was just as nervous for an unknown reason. “Angel, what’s wrong?”

“You-you were leaving—”

“Shh, angel, I’m not, I’m here,” he wrapped you closer to his body, the sheets still warm and smelling like him as if to add reassurance to his words. “You’re alright. I’m here, angel, it’s okay.”

“I was going to die,” you quivered. It had only been a fleeting moment when you saw it, but you were there too. Dressed in white, arms covered in lace and a crown adorning your head; it seemed as if you were meant to be on top of the bodies, and Satoru sat upon it like a throne. It transitioned from being the witness to being the victim in a minute and your chest squeezed so hard you choked out, “I was dying, baby.”

“You’re not going to die. No one’s going to hurt you, you understand?” Satoru cupped your cheeks to force you to look him in the eye. “I’m going to keep you safe no matter what. Not leaving your side, angel, that’s a promise.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I would never do that,” he nodded before he raised your pinky. Satoru looped both your fingers and kissed the conjoined form, not once leaving your gaze the whole time. “I promise,” he whispered, foreheads touching and breaths mingling. Like one soul intertwined, you once mused, feeling yourself get lost in the depth of azure pools he harboured. “There’s nowhere to go without you anyway; you’re the greatest gift in my life. I’d do anything for you.”

“Don’t leave me. Please.”

“I won’t, angel. I never will.”

And you believed that. Like the fool you were, you really believed that.

The bank loomed over you, its mere presence impending and bringing about a wave of discomfort to you. Awkwardly, you stepped inside, hiding your face in your hair to conceal the nausea threatening to urge you to throw up. You couldn’t help but survey the entire area out of instant wariness, holding tighter to your phone.

Seeing as there was no line, you sat on the nearest open window. “Hi, uhm…I recently got transferred this money from…an old friend, you could say,” you informed with furrowed brows, fishing your phone out of your pocket as you logged into your account. The whole time, your hands turned sweaty and the phone nearly slipped from your grasp out of anxiety. The woman assisting you flashed you a sympathetic smile, patient and kind enough to listen to your small voice through the glass. “I lost contact with them so I can’t return it. I was wondering if maybe you could help me rewind the transaction?”

“Oh, we can definitely do that Ma’am, may I see?” Nodding, you handed her your phone. In an instant, the polite smile fell from her lips, altering into a nervous one the next. “Oh…” she blinked back at the digits, clearly overwhelmed from the amount of zeroes. Dropping her voice, she leaned closer to you, “Do you…do you know the account owner personally?”

“Yes,” you admitted, “Well, I used to.”

“And they wired you all this?”

“About two weeks ago, yeah.”

The employee sat there for a full minute, possibly contemplating how to go about this. It didn’t set well with you – that mysterious, almost suspicious smile she had – that you debated whether just asking for your phone back. “Excuse me for a moment. I think I should take this to the higher-ups,” she announced while scanning the bank with narrowed eyes, leaving before you could have a say in it.

The next minutes that passed had never felt more gruelling.

You sat there with a frantic heart, your jeans damp from the countless times you’ve wiped your hand on it. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. People came in for their own agendas, the hushed ‘inside voice’ as faint as ever, then they left. Repeat. End of conversation.

It was just another normal, boring day for everyone else – but not for you.

“Miss?” a voice pulled you away from your thoughts. A half-bald man was now standing before you, the previous employee you’d been talking to right behind him, her head ducked down. Manager, his tag read, which made sense. He gestured for you to come inside the back parts of the bank, and you gripped your purse tighter as you followed them.

The inside wasn’t that special or different from the outside. There were lesser chairs but bigger, brighter white walls. His office was located right in the middle where the female employee closed the glass doors behind you, silent and timid as she prepared you tea. Meanwhile, you sat there with your hands wrung in your lap, stomach already falling from the grim expression he wore. “About the funds, I’m afraid we can’t do anything about this transaction. While it had been transferred you, neither us nor the bank has the authorization to do anything about this. Whoever sent it to you is the only one that can either take it back or liquidize it,” he pushed his glasses back to his face, an apologetic sigh leaving his lips. “I’m afraid we can’t help you with this, Miss, we’re really sorry—”

“No!” you slammed your palms on the desk, “No, I don’t want the money, wire it back to him!”

“Miss, we already told you, it’s out of control—”

You shook your head. This wasn’t real – Satoru had to be joking! He couldn’t just give you this and disappear into thin air! In fact, you never even cared for the money; you were just hoping that maybe you’d find a way back to him if nothing but digits was the only thing left to prove he even existed. Desperation clawed its way through your throat as you fell on your knees, helpless tears streaming down your face. “Please, you have to do something, I don’t want the money, I just want him back, please! I just need to talk to him once more and he’s your client, right? Let me talk to him, I know you have contact with him, Sir, please, I’m begging you—”

“Security!” the manager hollered. The sounds of doors slamming open made you stand up straight, eyes wide at the incoming pairs of guards ready to escort you out. “It’s best you schedule a personal appointment with the account owner, Miss. We also suggest you remain on the down-low instead of causing a ruckus like this. You don’t know who’s going to be grabbing at every opportunity to take what was given to you.”

“Everything’s been taken away from me!” you argued back, walking around the desk to clasp the manager’s hand. He pulled away for a moment before you squeezed his hands, the tearing of your heart too painful to bear. You just wanted to see him. “Come on, please, I don’t care about the money, I just—”

They didn’t let you finish. Just like Satoru, just like everybody else, they discarded you to the side, treated you like you were a nobody who didn’t deserve a second chance.

“Escort her out, please.”

And just like that, your fate had been decided. No...perhaps it had been determined the moment he left, and now you walked blearily along the narrowed gaps between buildings, unable to find your way back home.

Where was home anyway? Your penthouse with Satoru? Your cramped dorm back at the university? Your empty flat that had once been a happy home with your parents before they too, left you behind with nothing but a family portrait as a memory? It was pathetic. You meant nothing. Obviously, no one valued you enough, not even Satoru who’d just given you enough to let you live comfortably for the rest of your life. But no matter how much he provided, it wasn’t what you wanted. It wouldn’t bring back the one thing you wanted most, and you fell on the rough pavement, too tired to care about the stinging of your palms.

You clutched at your heart in a debilitated attempt to soothe way your chest squeezed uncomfortably. You were literally in the middle of the nowhere, trapped between the walls that hid you in the darkness and muffled your cries.

He’d left – he really left.

He didn’t keep his promise, and your nightmare had now become reality. You had to bite down your shirt to keep the agony to yourself, nails dug so deep into your jeans it left a mark above your skin. Hours passed, maybe minutes – who knew?

The sun had gone down and the streets grew busier than before, the honking and lively bustling of the night city like background noise to you.

Your key back to the penthouse weighed heavily at your back pocket. There was still the option of just going back home, but what good would that do? Everywhere you went, you were reminded of him. There was no escaping the beautiful memories he left you with, there was no exit from his miserable dream you were forced to wake up into.

Nothing mattered anymore. You felt so lost, the motivation to find your way back depleted just like your energy. You only had your bodily instincts to thank for when your stomach grumbled, demanding to be fed and nurtured even in such a hopeless situation. It made you want to laugh – that even as your heart and soul gave up on you – your body was doing its best to keep you alive and get through the day. You heaved yourself away from the wall and wiped the dirt away from your palms, the rhythm of your feet one heavy clump next to the other.

There was a nice Chinese restaurant at the end of the street that glowed brightly, invitingly. If you could just have dinner, maybe you’d feel better.

But you never got three steps across.

A cold blade had been pressed to your neck, sinister laughter echoing from the darkness of the night. “Scream and you die, sweetheart,” a gruff voice crooned in your ear, followed by a more high-pitched, maniacal chuckles. There was two of them. Fear lit your nerves up and you scrambled to run, but this man was too strong. He didn’t even have to try too much into increasing pressure to your neck, slicing the first layers of your skin that was enough to prick both blood and tears from you. “Ah, ah, ah! Resisting won’t get you anywhere. We just want to talk, okay? No foul play needed.”

You shut your eyes in submission, too afraid to even swallow the bile rising in case the movement would push the knife further. You could only let out a weak, “What do you want from me?”

“Oh, what else?” said his accomplice, showing up in front of you with a creepy smile. He tipped his head side to the side, revealing the silver replacements of his teeth that glinted under the streetlights. “You got his hidden slush fund, didn’t you?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t need to lie, we saw you leave that bank. Plus, everyone’s been talking about it!” cheered the guy behind you, pushing you forwards with his blade finally withdrawn. You stumbled on your feet as they pointed to the nearest ATM. For a moment, you contemplated making a run for it. The ATM was only a few kilometres away from the Chinese restaurant and you could be safe if you run fast enough, but you were too obvious, the deceit written all over your face. The first guy then pressed a gun against your head, a silent reminder that you were the weaker one here. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned, “Now you’ll withdraw it little by little, okay? We just want a piece of it, a fraction of it is enough to last us a lifetime.”

Exhaling deeply, you raised your hands in surrender. “I can’t withdraw it.”

“The fuck did you say?”

“I said I can’t withdraw it! I don’t have access—”

“Bullshit, bitch, you’ve got so much of it, just give to us before we kill you,” he cocked his gun, his friend following suit and retrieving a pistol from his belt. Your lips quivered at the sight of two guns aimed at your way, but you remained firm in your spot, shaking your head at them. The man’s eyes darkened, displeased by your response. He narrowed his eyes at you before nodding to his friend.

“Fuck this man, she’s a selfish cunt. Take her phone and her belongings.”

“No, please, don’t—”

It was too late. They had pushed you on the ground, your bum throbbing from the fall. The second guy rummaged your pockets before pulling out your wallet, jaw dropping from the contents. “Fuck,” he exclaimed, flashing a Polaroid you had kept the whole time. “This you and Six Eyes?”

Your heart fell.

It was a photo of you and Satoru on your first anniversary where he’d whisked you off to a sky tower, arrogantly declaring that he’d make you experience the best date ever.

He wasn’t lying – his arrangement of fireworks and a romantic date in the sky really had been the best – and he’d snapped a picture of you then, sneakily landing a kiss on your cheek while you gasped at the display of fireworks before you.

Just seeing it felt like torture all over again, and the thief snickered at your tear stained face. “Oh, I see. You’re his whore, aren’t you? Everyone called it bullshit when word got around Six Eyes had a little angel hidden somewhere around here. I gotta say though, you are a pretty thing. Makes sense you got him pussy whipped.”

“Whoever Six eyes fucks – especially someone he liked enough to pay this much – that is fine meat, man,” the other muttered more to himself. His eyes then lit up with a thought, the smirk tugging at his lips screaming trouble. “It’d be a shame to not have a taste.”

You paled. Scrambling as much as you could with sore legs, you pushed their arms away from you. “Let go of me!” you cried out, kicking harder when they’ve discarded their guns and focused on carrying you instead. Everything muted that night except for the pounding of your heart as you struggled to get away from them, arms flailing the moment one of them yanked your shirt down to expose your bra. “Don’t fucking touch me, let go!”

It must be luck that your punch landed on his nose, a sickening crack resonating in the street. All of you remained still, with you flattening your back on the wall, arms protectively sheltering your chest and the pair staring at the other guy’s broken nose.

He winced at seeing blood on his fingers, “Oh, you’re just asking for it bitch,” he snarled, snapping his fingers to get his friend’s attention and pointing at you. “Grab her leg.”

Both of them made quick work. It all happened so fast you couldn’t tell which was who anymore. Your shirt had been ripped off; the straps of your bra tugged down to free a nipple while your arms had been knocked into the building behind you. One of them kept you immobile, their grips too strong and their bodies twice your size that you were easily overpowered. You never cried so hard in your life – not even when you realized Satoru had left – and your throat ached from how much you wept.

“Stop, no, let go of me!”

“Shut her the fuck up, bruh,” the man unzipping your jeans scowled, his fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear. You sobbed and screamed, fought hard as much as you could, but you were too weak. Too vulnerable. Too pathetic.

Maybe it was just better to let go.

Maybe it was just better to stop.

Your shoulders fell as they shimmied your jeans down your hips, each and every inch of your body no longer yours. Was this how you would die? Was this how you would finish? If so, you would’ve appreciated at least one last dinner.

You were about to close your eyes the moment you heard the sounds of a man’s belt unbuckling, too lost in your own horror that you failed to hear the screeching of tires, and neither did they. And then, like a light at the end of the tunnel, like an angel dropping from the heavens – gunshots rang through the air. Blood splattered to your cheek. Heavy bodies crunched against the ground.

He’d come back.

Except it wasn’t Satoru leaning in front of a car when you opened your eyes. The man stood a few inches shorter, blond shaggy hair falling just above his eyebrows, the ends dyed black. His body was tilted to the side, half of his weight shifted on a cane upon closer look, but you were mostly captivated in his eyes. He showed no malice intent; hell, he didn’t even spare a glance at the corpses with holes between their eyes, silently blowing the smoke away from his barrel like this was a common thing for him.

He had his eyes on you, uncaring of the fact you were half-naked before him since his attention remained on your face.

“So it’s true,” he mused, “I didn’t believe at first when they said Six Eyes really gave the notes to his girl. A commoner, no less,” he limped towards you, feline-eyes slanted to inspect you. “But nothing about you is common, is there? To get the demon to soften up…you really must be something else,” his gloved hands ran a finger down to your jaw, and you shut your eyes tight, leaning away from his touch. The man clicked his tongue at your reactions but withdrew his hand anyway, stepping a few feet away from you to give you space. “Don’t be so scared. You and I are not that different. We’re both just poor victims of facing the consequences of his actions,” he tapped his cane at your shoes, his face devoid of expression. “Stand up. You won’t get anywhere by crying. You need to learn how to fight.”

You swung the door open, ready to finally get the shoes you’ve been gushing to Naoya about for days. But you were met with nothing but a tuft of white hair, blood smattered on his cheeks, and lips crashing down onto yours. Satoru pinned you against the wall in the same manner he held you on that day he left, his kisses harsh and longing while you moaned into his mouth, legs turning into jelly.

“Angel,” he rasped into your mouth, grinding his boner to the thin material of your night gown. “I told you you’re fucking mine.”

Satoru forced his tongue past your lips and kept you close to him, his intoxicating scent tempting you to give in and enjoy it already. For a split second, you faltered, kissing him back with the love you once harboured for him, but then you blanked.

This was Satoru.

You were married to Naoya.

He’d began to leave kisses at your jawline when you pulled back, landing a sharp elbow right at his head. Satoru fell on the floor and you panted above him as you tried to make yourself decent. Fuck, that hurt like a bitch. You had to roll your shoulders back to get rid of the tension as you made the mental note to train in combat harder, pinching the bridge of your noise before you summoned the servants.

Satoru was knocked out for a solid hour. You found it funny that the infamous omnipotent Six Eyes was now sprawled all over your couch, soft snores emitting from his lips. He’d been pretty unresponsive to you so ice far, not even a budge as you iced the bruise you’d left on his face.

You sighed. His shirt was stained with blood, the pads of his knuckles matted with wounds and bruises. You couldn’t help yourself from brushing his hair away from his eyes, humming a little until his eyes cracked open. Satoru stared at the ceiling before his eyes landed on you hovering before him, your touch gentle in paradox to the heat of your gaze. “What are you doing here, Satoru?” you sighed, gesturing to the mess he had on his shirt. “Where have you been?”

“In a fight.”

“No shit,” you rolled your eyes, “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”

“I-I don’t know. I just…I lost it for a moment and—”

“Do I want to know why?”

“It’s stupid,” he mumbled to himself and faced the couch. Even after seven years, he was still very much the petty kid at heart. You could confidently bet he was pouting right now, and you crossed your leg over the other, hiding a small smile behind your palm. “I overheard one of my men making a sleazy comment that Naoya’s wife looked like a bitch who would jump at every alpha male,” Satoru grumbled, prying for your reaction by looking across his shoulder. “I don’t know what came over me after that.”

“Did you kill them?”

“Almost,” he scrunched his nose, “Then I pictured your face. Maybe you wouldn’t want me to do that.”

“So you care about what I want now?”

Satoru shut his eyes. Of course you’d never stop bringing that up – both to your demises – since you were both a sadist who didn’t mind receiving pain every now and then. Five years of marriage with Naoya taught you to be resilient to all types of pain, the experiences and horrors you’ve lived through practically making you immune to them now. Satoru, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be on the same boat as you. He sat up, his hips flushed next to your thighs, burying his hands on his head. “Angel, about everything... are we not going to talk about what happened before?”

“Is there anything to talk about?” you deadpanned, surprising the guy who widened his eyes at you. Surely, he must be expecting a different form of hatred coming from you, but you were indifferent – numb, empty. “The past is in the past, Satoru. You know better than anyone else it’s easier to just walk away.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“For what?” you faked a smile, placing your chin on your hands while blinking up at him under innocent eyes. Naoya once told you that your attitude of being unbothered bothered a lot more people, and it was a technique you’ve loved ever since. Seeing Satoru crumble before you...nothing felt more satisfying. “For barging in here or for kissing me? Maybe both?”

“For everything,” he answered brokenly, “For all the pain I’ve put you through.”

“Do you think apologies are going to suddenly eradicate that?”

“…No.”

“Then I don’t need it,” you taunted, patting his thigh as you stood up, tying the knots of your robe safer this time. You couldn’t be bothered to wear underwear beneath them; if Satoru tried laying his hands on you again, you wouldn’t hesitate to cut his fingers off, and the plain sight of a dagger now strapped in your thigh was enough of a reminder for him. He made sure to keep his distance.

“Come with me. I’ll show you what we’ve been working on,” Satoru’s footsteps were silent as you led him past the secret doors hidden behind Naoya’s study, the room leading into an even bigger part of the house that stored most of your possessions. Satoru let out an awed gasp behind you once the lights and slight whirs of the machine buzzed through the room, chemicals bubbling from one side and little pills being packaged on the other. Your face lit up in a smile from the sheer pride of your hard work, arms extended to the side to present everything. “This is mostly where we manufacture Xenet. All of this – it’s mine. My personal little laboratory, or as Naoya calls it, my playroom,” you grinned, “I feel at peace here.”

“Making drugs?”

“Being safe,” you corrected with a roll of your eyes, “Acting like I’m normal. That gives me peace.”

Satoru was hot on your heels all the way to the main laboratory, where you’d pestered him into wearing safety gloves before entering. You donned a white coat from the blast of AC that enraged goosebumps, leading him in front of a huge clear wall that formulated Xenet’s pure creation. Stacks of purple powder lined up on layers all kept inside a cooling room, and you stepped to the side, muttering to yourself while checking today’s inventory like it was totally normal to manufacture illegal drugs inside your home.

You would’ve looked domestic if Satoru wasn’t feeling the slightest bit dizzy from the drug-coated atmosphere; one that you’d gotten resistant from.

“What brought you here?” Satoru voiced out, shaking his head to himself. He looked terribly devastated, cheeks sunken and dark circles lining his eyes. “I never thought...”

“That I’d be like you?” you finished for him. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you smiled at Satoru and pushed past him to list down your observations for today. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not like Naoya; I’m not a mass murderer.”

“But you’re supporting him.”

“He keeps me safe as long as I’m useful to him,” you paused in your tracks, the spite evident in your tongue. “If you hadn’t left me, I wouldn’t have to be like this. There are thousands of people after me because you named me after that account. Other than Naoya, there’s really no other reason I’m still alive and breathing,” Satoru was speechless from your confession, which was good, since you didn’t want him chatting too much in the first place. You ignored him as you continued typing notes on your monitor, acting unaffected, but the way you punched through the keys told a different story. “This is the least I could do for him. In exchange of protection, I’ll be sharing my intelligence and give him what he wants.”

“Doesn’t it sicken you that we’re like this? That we do all this – for money, power, control – without the slightest bit of conscience?” Satoru scoffed, “You’ve been married for him a long time. I know you’re not a stranger to the fact we even enjoy this.”

You stopped your task, turning to Satoru with flared nostrils. “You know, Satoru, painting yourself as a demon to look like a victim won’t make me sympathize,” you spat out, absolutely losing it. “I don’t care what you’ve been doing before you met me. I don’t care that you killed or hurt people. I’m not the slightest bit of the angel you claim me to be because if I was as pure as that, don’t you think I would’ve stopped loving you?”

Everything crumbled to dust.

Years of convincing yourself you didn’t care anymore, years of healing yourself, years of working hard to forget him – and all crumbled to dust.

“What are you—”

“I knew!” you cut him off, “I knew everything. I’m not dumb, Satoru. No matter how much you tried to hide it back then, I saw the blood stains. I could smell the alcohol. I know drugs when I see it,” Satoru took a step back in surprise, but you kept going. Now that you’ve started it, you might as well finish it, and your eyes pricked with tears before you could stop it. “But I never cared. I was selfish – blinded by love. Back then, I told myself I didn’t care who you were because I loved you unconditionally,” You were breathing hard from finally releasing that damn fucking weight off your shoulders, your resolve breaking as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand while Satoru remained frozen. “Every night, I cried myself to sleep. I always asked myself why did it have to be you? Why did you have to be that way? Why did you have to be a monster? It broke me to no end, Satoru, but every time I tried to think of you as awful, you would hold me so close that it felt like everything was a lie,” your voice faltered, “I loved you in spite of everything you’ve done. I’m just selfish like that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you cried, “Many times...I turned a blind eye to it. I didn’t want to force something out of you because I knew you weren’t ready, but I was always waiting, Satoru,” gesturing to the both of you, Satoru watched your frantic movements. “Did you think I didn’t mean it when I said I would love you no matter what – no matter who you might be? I meant every word of it. You didn’t have to leave me because I would’ve still left everything behind if you asked me to go with you. I don’t care anymore, I never did. I just wanted to be with you.”

“Angel...” he trailed off, debating whether to hold you or just stay put. Satoru chose the latter and ran his hands over his hair, breathing hard as he, too, wavered. “I was scared. Each time I see your face, I-I can’t help but think about losing you. It haunts me every fucking night that what if I’m not strong enough? What if I couldn’t protect you?” his voice broke, “You were the only good thing in my life. I couldn’t handle losing you just because you got too close.”

You shoved him hard. “That’s no fucking excuse! You told me – y-you told me that I made you feel strong, that I gave you hope, that I made you feel like nothing could stand in your way – so don’t stand there and fucking tell me you were scared!”

Satoru kept taking a step back from the force of your hits, and he took them all with a brave face, but it seemed that he too had reached his limit as you leered, “Don’t be a fucking coward!”

“It’s because I loved you!” Satoru gripped your wrists and tugged you to him, effectively taking the ability to speak away from you. “My whole life, I got everything I wanted and things were easy for me! I don’t know what it’s like to lose something because I had control of everything except you! I didn’t want you stuck and burdened with my sins all for the sake of something as greed!” he bellowed, his forehead connected with yours and the warmth of his body more than welcoming. “I am a greedy man, angel, I would take everything I want with no hesitation but I couldn’t do it with you. It was easier to let you go,” he mumbled, “Than to regret making you unhappy by revealing my true self. Because the way you looked at me – you loved me so much I don’t think I’m worthy of it,” Satoru trudged closer to you, almost rubbing his skin over your soft ones just to say, “I don’t deserve you.”

You pulled away from him.

You’d tore open every chance of reconciliation. And if you were to be honest? You didn’t regret it.

“You’re right,” you snickered sarcastically, “You really don’t deserve me. Here I thought maybe Naoya would be the weaker of the two of you, but he’s more of a man than you are, Satoru. Naoya never gave an excuse for anything – it didn’t matter whether he was capable of something or not – he always tried to the best of his ability. He’s not the type to give up before he’s even tried it,” You knew you were just pushing his buttons, this was much clear from how Satoru was holding himself back, but you couldn’t stop. You were unstoppable, harsh as you challenged your once lost lover who had now wound up before you once more.

“If you truly loved me and felt you didn’t deserve me, then don’t you think you should’ve tried harder?”

You wanted him to regret it. You wanted him to feel your pain a thousand times more. You wanted him to realize what he’d done wrong. But most of all, you wanted him to try harder, to redeem himself, to be worthy of a second chance.

But just like how he’d broken your heart before, Satoru did it again.

Because even after every fucking thing, the only thing he was capable of saying was: “I’m sorry, Angel.”

You’d grown too tired of apologies. But because it was him, because you loved him, then you’d fucking hear it all over again. Just try, you wanted to beg, try for me, Satoru.

“Your plans will continue to fail, Satoru,” you agonized, “You never protected me. The moment you left, my life turned to hell and I almost died way too many times for me to count. This time is no different. We’re all just pawns in the Zen’in’s game, so if you really want both of us to live, you should do your part,” Sighing, you turned away from him, just about ready to call it a night. You were too tired. “Give back the money to Naoya, and he’ll keep me safe until the end of it all. You can just go back to where you came from.”

“Naoya won’t stand a chance against Toji. It’s not his money anyway, he should give it back to his cousin—”

“And neither is it yours!”

“Don’t be fucking stupid, you see the flaw of his plans too!” Satoru gestured to your lab, to everything that you proudly claimed an effort of your hard work. “Even if I gave back everything to Naoya, it won’t stop Toji from anything! He might not kill you anymore, but he’ll definitely kill your husband and take over the mafia, or his kid, then where will you go?”

“Follow him into death like the good wife I am.”

Satoru was stunned by the lack of hesitance in your answer. “You’re serious about this,” he echoed, blinking back to process the gravity of your devotion to your husband. “Even if Toji somehow dies, it doesn’t change the fact Naoya will still proceed with plans to manipulate Japan to his will. He’s going to drug everyone until he’s at the top of the food chain. Your husband doesn’t want to be a businessman; he wants to be a god. Plus, he doesn’t care about you, he’s only using you!”

“Like I said,” you smiled weakly, “He keeps me safe as long as I’m useful to him. Once he gets everything he wants, it’s game over.”

“No...” Satoru gritted his teeth, “No, I won’t let it happen. You’re not going anywhere; you’re not going to die!”

“So then protect me!” you shouted at his face, “Do what it is you never got to do before and protect me! I’m disposable, don’t you see? No matter what I do, no matter where I go, no matter how loyal I am to him, I am nothing! Each step I take forwards is just a step closer to my prolonged death!” you spewed word for word with so much venom Satoru felt like he was choking, but it was nothing in comparison as you fell on the floor, weeping with your fists pressed against your eyes. “If you hadn’t left me...I wouldn’t have to live fearing for my life every second. So protect me, Satoru. If you really want me to forgive you, at least save me this once.”

“I will, angel,” he promised – and how many more promises had he made, only to break them? You couldn’t be blamed for not believing him, for finding wariness in his words, for flinching a little bit as he crouched before you, cupping your cheek the same way he did before. “I promise you that. I’m never leaving, never gonna leave your side ever again.”

“You better not,” you chuckled darkly, eventually giving in from his touch.

Yes, he’d left you...yes, he’d hurt you – but until now it felt like home, even if it also conflicted with the fact this was wrong.

“My only wish is that when I die, I want to die without hating you,” you muttered with your lips hovering his, your breaths tangling and his hands finding its way to your hair. “So don’t make me hate you anymore, Satoru. Grant me peace before I leave.”

“You’re not going to die,” he closed his eyes and took the first leap of faith by grazing his lips with yours, a faint glimmer of the sweetness he once had the pleasure of savouring with each waking moment of his life. But he was stupid back then – he’d be even more stupid to not learn his lesson this time around.

“I won’t let that happen, you understand?” Satoru breathed out, “You will be safe. You will live.”

He had said it so confidently, so surely, that for a moment, you believed it. You believed maybe you’d really win this round and come out unscathed, to live, to survive – even if the chances were slim to none to begin with. For now, you didn’t want to be a mafia leader’s wife, nor did you want to be another’s broken lover. You just wanted to be someone who didn’t want to die, to find comfort in the empty promises from the same man who kept breaking and breaking them, and maybe for now, that was enough.

Without another thought, not even the image of Naoya’s smile, you let it go.

You pulled Satoru close to you and kissed him hard and deep, swallowing his surprised moan with that exact same greediness, that desperation to live. You knew the moment Naoya came back or Toji found you, everything would be game over. So for now, this was enough.

A/N. SOOOOO? THOUGHTS? THEORIESSSSS? DO WE HAVE A TEAM NAOYA HERE OR IS IT JUST ME HAHAHAHAHA

taglist OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @greysoulthings @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo @evesmores @ambiguous-something @lilith412426 @kakashiharusohma @aizawap | bolded users cannot be tagged ://

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lost-between-letters · 2 years

Text

Listen To My Voice

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader (she/her)

Word Count: 595

Warnings: major character death, blood, injury, angst

Summary: "You two stay safe and get home in one piece"

A/N: I was feeling a little violent today oops

The first thing Sam did when he got back to the bunker and the safety of his room, was to take out his phone and take a seat on his bed. Y/N had left him a voicemail; the thought of listening to it was the only thing that had kept him through the day.

"Hey Baby! I know you said you'd be busy this evening because of the vampires in town so I just wanted to check in real quick with you and ask if it's okay if I just spend the night at the bunker? Your bed's more comfortable than mom's couch and I will tear my head off if I have to listen to any more complaints about my job choices. Or better: hers. Though then I guess I won't be able to sleep in your bed because then I'm in prison. Damn. Anyway, sorry for gnawing your ear off. You two stay safe and get home in one piece. Love you!"

The slight annoyance was evident in her voice as she talked about her overbearing parents and Sam couldn't help the smile that made its way on his lips. Y/N always loved to talk with her entire body and he could almost see her pacing the length of her parents' living room, phone pressed to her ear while she was leaving him a message.

Without making the conscious decision to do so, Sam had pressed the 'repeat' button and the recording repeated itself. Now, he made out the smile in her question, the sheepish expression she always got when she felt like she was asking for too much. Of course, she never did. His girl was surprisingly shy at times and then not at all in the next moment. Sam had been the proud witness when Y/N had rendered not only Cas and Bobby but Dean as well speechless with her comebacks at a man that had been trying to intimidate her into silence. Sam was still smiling at the memory.

The recording played again and Sam was listening to it with the same focus when he had checked it the first time.

The first tear fell directly on the display. It stayed there for a moment, wobbled and then slid down the lit up surface, obscuring the letters. Not that Sam would have been able to read them anyway, his vision too clouded by more unshed tears.

The voicemail was three months old. Three months since she had been gone. Three months since Sam had come back from a successful smoke out of the vampires' nest a town over. Three months and six hours since Y/N's mother had called him frantically from the phone she had found with a cracked screen on her porch.

Three months and half an hour since Dean had found her, bloody and broken in an alley. Unblinking eyes staring up at him, not focusing, never focusing on anything again. The same eyes that had been filled with so much warmth and affection merely twenty four hours earlier.

Dean had to carry him out of that alley. Physically carry him. Sam couldn't bear to move, couldn't bear to leave her there but his brother refused to let him just lie down next to her and wait for her eyes to open again.

The fourth time the voicemail was playing, Sam couldn't take it anymore. He shut off his phone and threw it across the room. It hit the stone wall and the screen shattered.

Sam didn't care.

Y/N was dead and Sam wasn't. Not physically at least.

General Taglist: @immrbrightsideeee , @fandomfoodiedancer , @lovesfandoms , @nyotamalfoy

Sam Taglist: @tiggytaylor , @danzalladaggers

If you want to be tagged as well, click here or drop an ask/DM

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #sam x you #supernatural #spn #angst #tw blood #tw injury #tw death

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aggressive-positivity-network · 3 years

Note

i love your debate style so much cause people will say the dumbest shit and complete misrepresent trans rights and you'll just be like "oh of course not! here's a well reasoned counter :) also would you like to hear about this lighthearted but irrelevant thing" your url is completely correct and you are braver than any cop

And it works!

That’s the great thing about it!

If you treat every argument like a formal debate, TERFs shrink from it like a vampire from the sun. They aren’t used to people being so willing to calmly write a rebuttal and treat them like you’re both in a real debate. Without emotion and insults, whatever argument they are using falls apart - and the more detail you make them go into, the more they squirm.

Ask for sources. Ask for articles. Ask for clarification.

Take everything literally.

Show them that you aren’t angry, because why would you be? This is just a friendly debate, right? We’re just doing this over the benefit of knowledge.

I’ve gotten asks and comments that people either don’t respond to when I give them this treatment, or they get mad and block me, telling me that I’m too stupid to have this argument anyway. Okay! Take something from the prize box on your way out!

It’s been two days and I’m already scraping the bottom of the barrel of hate anons. No new ones are coming up, and if they do, it’s what usually amounts to a pitiful mew for attention. I’m imagining a toddler stomping their feet and whining, on the verge of throwing a fit.

“Why aren’t you maaaaaad? Pay attention to meeeeee! Why aren’t you doing anythiiiiiiiiiing? WAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

I think I’m really taking a chunk out of them, and I couldn’t be happier. If you want, try using the same tactics! Here’s the steps, just in case you want to practice before you have your own tantruming child in your inbox:

How To Tick Off A TERF

1. Get the ask! Or the comment, post, or reblog. Take a good, hard look at it. Make sure you understand everything that the TERF is trying to say. This also keeps you from going in guns blazing when there’s really no need to respond at all. I’ve lost plenty of debates because I didn’t read everything clearly.

2. Take a deep breath. Maybe more than one, if you need. The best way to tick a TERF off is to not be pissed yourself. No matter how stupid they are being, remember that this is like a school debate, and they’ve pitted you against what amounts to a twelve year old child. Take a walk. Think about your response while making lunch. Sleep on it. Let your brain marinate in it. Don’t answer until you are completely calm. Remember not to take this personally, even if you know someone who is trans or you are trans. Anger is not how you win this battle, I promise.

3. Kill with kindness. When you start writing your response, put yourself in the mindset of a kind, child-like entity that’s just excited about learning together with someone. It sounds super weird, but that’s how I do it. Pretend that the argument you received has merit and weight, but don’t trick yourself into thinking that it has any bearing on anything. Don’t use insulting or emotional language. It may feel good to let off steam, but it doesn’t prove your point in the long run.

4. State your case. Write your rebuttal in a clear, well-worded way. Stay away from long metaphors or examples - they’ll just get more confused and angry. If you can, include articles, statistics, and sources for all your information, if you can find them. Keep going back to the TERFs argument to make sure you don’t miss anything. Try to predict any obvious arguments they may make and prepare for them. Read it once more before sending.

5. Let you phone boil. What I mean by this is to leave your phone somewhere for a while while your post/message circulates. This not only rests your brain, but it keeps you from anxiously waiting for the TERF to respond. Turn your notifications off. Relax. You did good.

6. Repeat. This person may send you several messages, and may reblog several times. Make sure to follow the steps each time you make your next rebuttal.

7. Use positive language and reinforcement. Like I said, the best way deescalate is to be as formal, put-together, and kind as possible. Treat them like a very misguided child - because that’s truly what they are sometimes. And this also brings up the possibility to younger TERF members that maybe the trans community isn’t so bad (like they had been taught to believe), and that maybe they shouldn’t be afraid of us. We aren’t dangerous. We just want to support the people who don’t get a whole lot of support. Bring up a happy memory. Include a picture of something cute. Make a cute little scenario (my favorite is the prize box). This will either lower their anger or heighten it to a rage, where their true intentions come to light and they lose the debate.

8. Have fun! Really, have fun. Misinformation is bad, but you can’t convince someone who won’t listen. Just treat it as a game, because that’s all it is to you. Unlike the TERF community, you have better things to do than argue with people on the internet. Put your own spins on it! Support people who choose to change! Ignore people who don’t! In other words, take the piss out of people who are full of it.

I hope this helps, my friend! This will probably get a lot more hate anons, so feel free to stick around for the show.

I’m anxiously waiting for the first KYS. Feel free to place bets on when that’s going to happen. I’m saying before the next ten asks. Any takers?

200 notes · View notes

heartcal · 3 years

Text

“who do you believe?”; l.h. (pt. ii)

oh my GOD it’s here, it took longer than expected but she’s finally here! after the eye strain i got a sty so that threw me in for a loop, but the good news is my eyes are better! and i’m fully vaccinated too! please get the vaccine if you are able to :^) enjoy!

a/n: (formatting again lol) there’s a part where there’s supposed to be texts (in italics) so it may be a bit weird to read (hopefully not) (sorry for these parantheses) please let me know if there’s anything off!

pairing: luke hemmings x reader

summary: having known luke for years, it was bound to happen eventually. the crush you developed happened before you could stop it, and you did your best to keep it a secret. you told no one, did your best not to show it, so what do you do when his girlfriend finds out?

warnings: swearing (as usual),

genre: angst, fluff, basically friends (to brief enemies but not really) to lovers?

wc: 5,201 (they’re getting longer, huh)

taglist: @1sosrvd1267 + @wowitsel (side note: i don’t have a current taglist, this is just for this fic!)

part one | my masterlist!

You skipped the after-party that night. You couldn’t bear standing in the same room as Luke and Rachel, so you booked a ride and left as soon as the car pulled up.

Had you stayed for the party, you would have crumbled under the looks of pity thrown at you by those who would have heard about what happened. The knowing looks that something bad had happened between two people everyone on the crew knew were best friends would have been uncomfortable.

The ride home is uncomfortably silent, but you were thankful the driver wasn’t the talkative type. The soft jazz playing on the radio wasn’t calming but it did distract you from the pain and embarrassment you felt from the argument.

Once the car had pulled up to your place, you bid a silent farewell to the driver and slid out.

You just wanted to get inside, take a shower, shut your phone for the night, and sleep until you physically can’t get any more sleep.

You’re not too surprised Luke stood up for his girlfriend. He does love her—he’s shown that with friends and with fans. But the way he glared at you, defended her without trying to find out what exactly went down…he had never looked at you like that.

You’ve seen that look before; it wasn’t something you were used to but it was the look he would give paparazzi when they would harass you, the guys, and his friends. The glare carried such strength that it would make people back off. And so when it was directed towards you, it struck you hard.

Having done what you wanted to do once you entered the house, you lay in bed with wet eyes staring at the ceiling. Your phone was face down on your nightstand, completely out of reach to the point one slight touch could knock it off.

Maybe you were the one at fault. Maybe you should’ve told the truth about your feelings to Rachel or Luke before this all happened. It could have prevented the fallout and you would be with the guys and the crew celebrating a successful show.

But what good would that have done? Had you told someone, anyone, that you liked Luke more than a best friend should, would that have caused the same problem but presented differently? Or would something come from it? Maybe nothing would have happened.

A sigh escapes your lips as you turn your back away from the nightstand, facing the empty half of the bed and before your mind drifts to more pitiful thoughts, you close your eyes.

You didn’t dream that night. It’s as if you blinked, with the night flying by faster than you had wanted and anticipated.

The sunlight beamed down on you from above your headboard. It was late morning and it was time to face the harsh reality of the day.

There is no doubt you have lost Luke as your best friend.

Wiping the sleep and crust from your eyes, you sit up and vacantly glance around the room. The box where you keep gifts from Luke is illuminated by the sunlight, and with the vacant stare you stand to walk towards it.

You hesitate to open it; it’ll bring back memories of good times and with the events of the previous night, you do not think you can handle the rush of emotions.

It’s then when you realize your phone was off, and though you don’t want to do anything social today and would rather stay home with your favorite snacks and shows, you know you have to let your friends know how you’re doing.

You stall by washing your face and brushing your teeth, albeit slower than usual. You know that once you turn your phone on, the onslaught of questions and missed calls are going to take possibly an hour to clear up.

Sure enough, as you turn your phone on, the missed messages come in, barely giving your notification tone a break and the missed calls and voicemails were coming in fast. You can feel the heat from the battery on your palm, and for the sake of the phone you switch the sound off and turn on Do Not Disturb to prevent any new calls from coming through.

The messages you saw were from the crew, asking where you went and if you were okay. Others were from the boys minus Luke, and looking through the missed calls, there was nothing from Luke.

You’re not surprised, but the pain was still simmering within and seeing no messages or missed calls from him was adding to it.

You responded to the crew’s messages first, since many of them sent one or two messages asking simple questions: “Are you okay,” “Where did you go,” and “Did you get home safe?”

Then you responded to the boys’, Michael’s first since he had the least amount of messages.

hey, you didn’t have to leave. we could’ve talked some sense into him when he calmed down (11:37pm)

did u get home okay? we know you didn’t drive here yourself. (11:58pm)

please let us know you made it home. let us know you’re okay (12:10am)

hope you made it home and that you’re safe and okay. thank u for ur work today. please text me when you see these. goodnight (12:49am)

You typed your reply to him, letting him know that you were okay and got home safe.

Calum’s messages were similar, asking the same questions but some were repeated to emphasize his worry. In response, you answered his questions like Michael’s.

But even before you can open Ashton’s messages, seeing double digits next to your conversation with him, rapid knocks on your front door grab your attention.

With a groan you stand and grab your robe from the hook on the door, wrapping it tightly around your body as you open the door and groggily walk to the front door.

It was a stupid idea, as you weren’t ready to face anyone yet Ashton stands in front of you. He’s well-rested, a stark contrast to you as you were sure your eyes were still puffy and bloodshot, along with an occasional sniffle from your nose.

His eyes travel from your face, down to your feet, and back up to your eyes. He can immediately tell you had a terrible night.

“You weren’t answering anyone last night,” he begins, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes, “we were worried about you after you left.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “I just—I didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“You could’ve let one of us know that you were shutting off.”

You nodded with a frown, “I could have, yeah,” your eyes dart around behind him to avoid his worrisome eyes before asking him if he wanted to come in.

He doesn’t hesitate and steps in once you move aside, opening the door wider to give him enough room. He notes your bag in a heap on the floor a few inches away from the couch, and how your shoes were far apart, with one upside down, as if you flung them off.

“How are you holding up now?”

You shrug, still avoiding his eyes because you know if you make eye contact, you’ll break down and you won’t have control over the onslaught of emotions.

“Be honest,” his voice is soft, wanting to make you feel comfortable enough to open up.

You stare at the ground, biting the skin of your lower lip nervously. This is why you did not want to talk to anyone face-to-face. Talking to them over the phone, preferably through text, allowed you to lie to the other person (and if applicable, to yourself). But talking to someone in person, and to someone who can see through your lies, you were bound to break down and become vulnerable.

You inhale, taking careful steps to the couch and gently sitting down with a sigh. Ashton follows you, sitting next to you but giving you space to not overwhelm you.

“What happened last night—,” you lean back with your arms folded over your chest, “—was something that I feared. When I realized I liked Luke, I was so worried about him finding out and what the outcome would be. I knew from the beginning that things would never be the same if he found out, and I was afraid of the change that would come from it.”

Ashton listens intently, his eyes displaying sincerity as he listens to you list off your worries. What he saw last night bothered him to no end, and had he not exerted most of his energy during the show, he would not have slept at all and would have stayed up all night in a constant state of worry.

“So, now that Rachel knows, and no doubt Luke has caught on, I don’t know what to do. I responded to everyone’s texts before you arrived, and Luke sent nothing—not even a phone call.”

Ashton nods, swallowing before speaking, “Well, after you left, things went down that may be the reason why he hasn’t tried contacting you.”

Your head turns to face him, eyebrows furrowed as confusion embeds itself across the rest of your features.

Ashton readjusts himself, getting comfortable in his seat as he gathers the right words.

“Something happened after I left?” You ask as you shift in your seat to face him.

“Michael wanted to go after you, to at least offer you a ride back, but Calum went back to tell Luke that it was bullshit what happened. So, Michael went back to make sure they wouldn’t fight or anything. I also pointed out that he was a dick; choosing you over her when he’s known you the longest didn’t sit right with us. But he got defensive and kept wanting to leave but Rachel convinced him it was alright, so they stayed for the party. But the party was bad—the crew felt the tension and the vibes were down—,” he chuckles at the word choice, getting a small laugh out of you as well, “—it brought everyone out of the energetic and ecstatic mood we were in before the confrontation. We all kinda did our own thing during the party but we noticed things were tense between Luke and Rachel. And when the party ended, shit hit the fan.”

“What happened?”

Ashton sighs, “To make the long story short, they got into an argument when we were leaving the venue after Michael brought up your name. He said something like, ‘I hope they got home safe,’ and that you weren’t answering your phone at all. Calum and I pointed out, again, how rude Luke was to you and Luke kept defending himself. Rachel dropped an insult and something shifted. Basically, they’re done and the guys and I can finally fucking breathe.”

“Wait—,” you stand with bulging eyes, “—wait, are you saying they broke up?”

Ashton hums as he watches you mindlessly walk around your living room.

The guys have been waiting for their break-up. It’s not something they were open about, as to avoid any conflict with their best friend, but it was almost an unspoken agreement: Rachel was not liked.

As for you, it’s not like you were wishing for their break-up. You wanted Luke to be happy, and if he was happy in that relationship, then so be it. But you were not a fan of it. Yeah, you liked her in the beginning but when she started disregarding you as if you did something to offend her, you lost most of your respect for her. Now, with this news of their break-up, you don’t know what to do.

Are you happy? You don’t exactly feel happy about it, but there is some relief.

“So,” you sit back down on the couch slowly, “what am I supposed to do with this information?”

“Not sure,” Ashton shrugs, “but I recommend talking to Luke.”

You shake your head fervently, “No. I don’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“But you’re talking to me,” Ashton has a smirk, but you know there’s no malice behind his joke.

“You showed up unannounced, Ash,” you smile, “I was responding to everyone who sent messages and voicemails. I don’t feel like talking to anyone else in person.”

He holds his hands up in defense, “Fair enough, but don’t be a stranger.”

He gives you a quick hug, whispering something similar to ‘don’t shut Luke out’ before he pulls away and walks out.

Ashton’s words stuck with you for the next week. You felt comfortable enough a few days after the fact to contact the boys, eventually meeting up with Ashton and Calum for lunch and third-wheeling Michael and his fiancée. The only person out of your friend group and co-workers you have not contacted was Luke. He hasn’t contacted you either, but you do not think much about it as you’re still trying to figure things out. If he were to contact you, how do you talk about what happened?

You want to know why he was able to choose his then-girlfriend over you, but at the same time you don’t want to know the answer. You know that one day, and though it hurts, you will not be his number one. With the way he behaved that night, it felt like that dreadful moment came to earlier than expected, that he found his number one and you immediately became his second go-to person.

So it did surprise you when you were out with an old friend to receive a text from Luke.

Can we talk about what happened? (2:23pm)

You only stare blankly at the text, not even moving to type a response. You were in such a good mood, and not even this text would change it. Instead, you lock your phone and place it back in your pocket, noting to leave it alone until your day out comes to an end.

And when it does, you see that more texts from Luke had arrived, the final being sent an hour before the outing ended.

I know you’re mad, I understand that and I don’t blame you but please talk to me (2:31pm)

You’re reading these, please say something (2:33pm)

There are some things that I need to clear up with you, I want to apologize for what happened that night but I want to do it face to face. Please respond. (3:57pm)

Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting. Sorry if I’m bombarding you with these texts, I just don’t want to lose you over something that I realize now should not have happened. Respond when you want to, I’ll be here. (5:49pm)

You could only let out a small chuckle at the persistent requests to talk, and you don’t deny the small—minuscule, honestly—flutter in your stomach. You don’t waste any time responding.

Sorry, I was busy. We can meet somewhere to talk. (7:08pm)

He responds about five minutes later, agreeing to meet at a small café the two of you love tomorrow afternoon.

The rest of the night for you is spent thinking of ways to carry yourself, being completely confident, and accepting the fact that you love your best friend. Pep talks in the shower and mirror to calm any arising nerves, revising the topics you want to talk about in your head so you keep the confidence.

As for Luke, he was struggling to gather all his thoughts. In the beginning, he thoroughly enjoyed the fact that you and Rachel got along. He liked seeing his best friend and girlfriend become friends like that. He didn’t notice the shift, however, and he wishes he did before things got out of hand.

When he defended Rachel, without finding out the story from all sides, he thought he was doing what was right. To him, friendships and relationships have the same base, but romantic relationships with a partner have a different structure than friendships do, and he was starting to see cracks in his friendship before he saw it in his relationship.

When he confronted Rachel after she insulted you, he started to see someone he never saw. He remembered the times Rachel ignored you, sometimes playing it off as if she never heard you. He remembered how she would make plans with everyone and exclude you, but he always played it off as an accident (even if he knew it wasn’t). He remembered all these times he noticed a change in mood when the two of you were in the same room, and he couldn’t believe he turned a blind eye to all of it.

It hurt him to break-up with Rachel—he won’t deny that because he did love her. It’s not that he saw the rest of his life with her as they weren’t at that mark in the relationship.

But, when he did picture his future, he always saw you. He always thought it was just as a friend, someone who was just joined at the hip. Yet, he was quick to throw that away for someone he rarely saw when he pictured the future.

Which is why, the next day, as he sits at a booth near the window of the café, he carefully goes over what he wants to say. He doesn’t want to ruin the chance to fix things between the two of you. If it goes awry, not only does he lose you, but his friendships with the band and the team will take a hit since they all love you.

The bell above the door rings making his head turn to watch you walk in. Your eyes danced around the café before they fell on him.

He couldn’t help the smile the formed on his lips, a small breath of relief escaping as he watches you walk towards him. The smile doesn’t stay long though, because as you sit down with a stoic expression, the reality hits him.

“I got your usual,” he’s shy and timid, pushing the mug toward you as he eyes the liquid nearly spills the edge.

You mumble a ‘thanks,’ grabbing the mug and taking a small sip. It falls silent as the two of you wonder who should start first.

Luke makes the move first. He sighs, sitting up straight and wiping his palms on his pants.

He’s nervous. When the guys started touring, visiting new cities and countries, he would always be nervous and constantly wiped his hands on his thighs, sitting up straight and even straighter if he wasn’t slouching. It’s an old habit, but something you remember fondly as he had grown out of it. Or so you thought.

“I want to start with I’m sorry,” he begins, making eye contact but fails to hold it. His eyes instead drift to his drink, “I know what I did was wrong, and I put you in a spot that hurt you and disregarded you. At the moment, I thought I was doing the right thing because she was my girlfriend, but then—” he gulps, “when she insulted you, it struck a nerve and, not to sound cliché or anything, it felt like it opened my eyes. I saw someone I didn’t see when I first met them.”

You don’t respond, just nodding your head to let him know you’re listening.

He licks his lips before continuing, “When the guys brought up how you left on your own, I was feeling nervous and they started reminding me how much of a dick I was to you. I didn’t want to admit it myself, but now, I was such an ass. I’m just—I’m so sorry for what happened.”

“Luke,” you sigh, shifting in your seat, “I’m not saying I forgive you but I accept your apology. It hurt me so much that a friend, someone I’ve known for years was just so quick to turn their back and take someone else’s side. I know she was your girlfriend, but I wish you didn’t do what you did.”

“If I could go back and fix it, I would.”

You only nod again, trying to think about other things that need to be talked about. The one topic you hope to avoid is the possibility of him knowing your feelings—something you do not want to discuss, at least not yet.

“Did she say anything to you?”

The question leaves your mouth before you register it, and the widening of your eyes catches Luke off guard.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, grabbing your mug and taking a long sip.

“She didn’t tell me what started the problems between you two, if that’s what you mean,” Luke smiles a bit, watching you nervously play with the mug’s handle after the sip. It fades when your eyes move up to meet his, “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but it isn’t important anymore. She’s out of the picture, and I don’t want to lose you.”

The silence returns, but unlike the previous bout, it’s a calming silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, rather the air is easier to breathe and the tension isn’t unsettling.

“Where do we go from here?” Luke asks, nervously wringing his fingers.

“I don’t want to lose you as a friend, Luke,” you offer a smile, “but it’s going to take some time to ‘heal,’ if you will.”

Luke smiles again, this time a bigger grin. He nods, leaning back in his seat, “Let me know what I can do to make things better. I’ll do it if I get to keep you.”

Over the next few months, your friendship with Luke was rekindled. The guys were at ease now that Rachel was gone and you seemingly had taken her place, even though you were friends. The awkward glances they would give when Rachel was in the same room were now playful rolls of the eyes over a dumb joke or pranks. You didn’t miss out on any outings you wanted to go to, now that everyone invited would check in with each other the night before. Things went back to the way they were before Rachel.

There was a change in your friendship, however. It wasn’t something you noticed right away, but it was something you thought about at night just a few weeks ago. Luke paid more attention to you, not that he didn’t pay attention before, but this was a noticeable change where he still looks at you even after you finished talking, and would only look away from you when you caught him. He would always cover his mouth with his index and middle finger, but you saw a small smile behind them. You played it off as friendly teasing, but it tugs on your heartstrings.

Another noticeable change is the hugs. Duration-wise, they were relatively the same. However the touch lingered; if he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, an arm would stay around your shoulder, meanwhile if they were around your waist, his hand would stay on the small of your back. You played it off as a friend being protective, but yet again, it did nothing to stop your growing love.

Tonight was the first night of their tour. The boys were up to their usual pre-show antics, as well as the nervous habits; Michael fixing his hair and deciding whether to go with a beanie or a hat, or neither, Ashton was warming up with his pre-show playlist, Calum testing his bass, and Luke was relatively fine.

Sure, he was nervous because it isn’t a crowd of 500, close to 20,000, but he was calm compared to the last time he performed. He didn’t have any worries to talk about, his vocal warm-ups were smooth, and getting dressed up was a breeze. He shared chuckles with you as you both watched the others move around with tense expressions (all with no malice, of course).

“You sure you’re not on edge?” you nudge Luke with your arm as he leans forward on the couch your sitting on to fix his shoe.

“Nope,” he sits up, leaning back in his seat.

“Really?” you inquire again, doubt laced in your tone with a hint of teasing.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “if anything I’m excited about tonight.”

You hum, crossing your arms as you watch Ashton walk over.

“Ten minutes left,” he nods at Luke before walking to Michael to tell him the same thing.

You give Luke a look, wanting to get him to admit he is nervous, but all you get is a smirk and a shrug. He stands, patting your shoulder left before walking away to put in his in-ears.

You won’t deny you still don’t have feelings for him. Throughout the past few months, you were able to pinpoint the reasons why you fell for him. The small acts, the obscure things he would remember about you—especially the ones you don’t remember yourself—with the attention he would give you. It was staring you in the face, but you chose to deny all the signals to give yourself the satisfaction of thinking it was just a phase. But now you know why you love him.

Two minutes until showtime, Ashton finishes his speech and the crew is taking their places. The band stands at the opening, waiting for their cue to head out.

As you watched them hype themselves up, you noticed Luke looking around nervously. Of course.

“Nervous?”

His head whips toward you, and you can see it in his eyes.

“A little,” he mumbles, but you don’t hear it over the crowd’s excited screams.

“You got this,” you grab his shoulders to make him look you in the eyes, “like Ash said, you guys worked your asses off for this album. The fans loved it, your shows are all sold out, and you have thousands out there waiting to see you kill it.”

He’s silent, blue eyes staring into yours as they bounce from one eye to the other.

“I love you,” he blurts, loud enough just for you to hear.

You freeze, the grip on his shoulder loosens but remain.

He notices, “She did tell me something that night, and whether or not it’s true, I-I love you.”

“Sixty seconds!” a stage recites in the earpieces.

The boys turn to look at both of you, curious eyes turn into surprise as they watch your expression.

“I don’t know how long, I don’t know when, and I don’t know what it was, but I know for sure.”

Your eyes glance at Ashton briefly, not missing the knowing smile he gives you before you look back into Luke’s eyes.

“I…love you, too,” you respond, gripping his shoulders while your eyes drop down to his shiny shoes.

He doesn’t hear you over the cheers and screams, but reading your lips he knows the answer.

Luke smiles, grabbing the back of your head and kissing your forehead.

He leans down to your ear, “I expect to hear you say it when I come back.”

With flashing lights scattering across the stage, the boys run out to the stage, big smiles gracing their faces for multiple reasons with adrenaline pumping through their veins. From backstage, you watch the show you a smile, feeling high from the brief but fulfilling confession.

It’s two hours later when the show ends. Your heart is pounding as you watch the crew celebrate the successful first show.

Luke pulls you away from the crowd, into the hallway and away from the noise.

“So it was true, what Rachel said?” Luke begins, his hand still holding yours as a shy smile forms.

“What did she say?”

He exhales air through his nose in a laugh, “She said you were in love with me, and that you were trying to break us up.”

You scoff, shaking your head as you look at your intertwined fingers. He squeezes your hand to get your attention.

“I doubt that last part, but the first part I’m hoping is true in a sense.”

Your eyes meet his, adoration swimming in them bringing a smile to your face, “There may be a strong crush I have on you,” you tease, “and it may or may not have turned into love.”

He laughs, letting go of your hand to wrap you in a hug. His head dips down, his forehead on your shoulder as he breathes in your scent. He moves slightly, whispering in your ear, “Say it.”

Your head rested against his chest, hearing his heart beat rapidly and rhythmically.

“I love you,” you whisper.

You feel him smile against your shoulder before he pulls away, his arms resting on your hips as he smiles down at you.

“If you’d like,” he begins, his tone timid now, “that place you like in Seattle has a new dish. It’s our next stop…” he drifts off, hoping you’d catch on to him asking you out.

You do, laughing at how he remembered yet another thing you seem to have forgotten. It was a themed restaurant that had some of the best food you’ve ever eaten, and for days you wouldn’t stop talking about it. But you never went back to it, even during breaks, but somehow he seemed to remember.

“Yes, Luke.”

You know the shock will hit you later that night, that finally the person you’ve fallen for, who happens to be your best friend, admitted his feelings to you. But you’re happy, Luke’s happy, and with the boys’ and crew’s reaction to the two of you walking back to the area where they’re celebrating, the happiness is infectious.

On the road in the tour bus, Ashton passes you as you respond to emails.

“Thanks for not shutting him out,” he says, drinking a small bottle of water from the fridge.

“Did you know?”

He shrugs, avoiding your eyes as he finishes the bottle and tosses it in the recycling bag. “Maybe,” he walks towards the back where the beds are, “maybe not.”

You shake your head, “You did.”

“Didn’t want to spoil it,” he gives you a quick hug before retreating to bed.

Luke walks out of the bathroom shortly after, taking his spot next to you.

“Go to bed,” you slightly shift your shoulder as he lays his head on it, “you need the rest.”

“No,” he mumbles, sleep lacing his tone, “feels like a dream. Don’t wanna wake up.”

You chuckle at his nonsense, finishing off the last email before shutting the laptop and placing it on the counter next to you. You adjust yourself on the couch to have Luke lay down with you. He readjusts himself so he doesn’t crush you, wrapping his arm around your waist and placing his head on your chest.

“I wish I had known before all the drama,” he mumbles again, eyes closed, “I want you in my life, always.”

He drifts off to sleep with that, a faint smile on his lips.

You know what made you fall in love with your best friend. You accept it now, and you’re at peace knowing the feeling is mutual.

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prompts-of-a-dreamer · 3 years

Text

His Lies

Erwin Smith x Fem!Reader

You’ve been married to Erwin for some joyful time, eager to have a child and broaden the family. However…

Tags: Spoilers for S1-S3, Angst, Hurt, Pregnancy, Lemon

Words: 1.2k

A/N: This is my first angst drabble!

Pants and heavy breathing filled the bedroom, growing quieter as the sounds of the bedposts hitting the wall and hip thrusting had come to a halt. Your knees gave out minutes ago, now only being supported by your husband’s firm hand lifting your hip.

You’d lost count on how many times you had climaxed, senses and memories growing fuzzy from hours of play. You collapsed onto the sheets as Erwin rubbed your back. He has also released inside you a couple of times, leaving you full of his seed, too full, even, as it was overflowing and dripping out your pussy.

As he pulled out, the gush of sperm spilled also, leaving him displeased and pushing them back in with his fingers. After he was satisfied, he lowered himself and kissed you on the nape lovingly.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

“Mm-hm,” you nodded weakly with your head on a pillow, muttering under your breath, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said as he got up and began to clean the mess.

The two of you had been trying for a child for some time, feeling that you both were ready for the responsibility. That wish, however, had not yet been granted upon, leaving you in tears one time because of it, but Erwin was insistent.

His blue eyes shone with thrill when you told him you were pregnant the next week. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in, enveloping you into a bear hug. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was happy, maybe even in tears.

“I knew this’d happen. You’d be such a great mommy, and I’ll never leave your side.”

“Erwin,” you chuckled. “Thanks, but you have a job.”

“I’ll still be there for you. I can’t wait for them to be born, and teach them everything I know,” he tightened his hug. “I love both of you.”

The months passed, not only with your baby bump growing, but with surprising advancements of the survey corps. News spread like wildfire of the Jaeger boy who plugged Wall Rose and later fought the Female Titan, leaving the interior in pieces and Erwin disappearing for weeks. Each time he got home he kissed you and made sure of your comfort, then talked about the revelations the survey corps had made and his theories. You always enjoyed listening to him, feeling as if his wit could pour down onto you. Each revelation was baffling, and at times brought more questions than answers. But the worst one was when your husband came home missing an arm. That was the first flag his job as a commander had put up, striking you with terror of the dangers he’s always gambled his life onto.

But of course, you had to be strong for him. That night, you wrapped a blanket around the two-three of you- and cuddled with him after so many nights of worry, wondering if your husband had survived the expedition. The news came late to you that he’d been tortured by the Military Police. It was heart crushing, but he looked at you and smiled, saying that he was one step closer towards the truth, after overthrowing the corrupt government.

“It’s okay,” he smiled. “If it meant our girl would be born with no mysteries left to crack, no more lies to uncover.”

You shook your head sternly. “Or boy.”

“It’s a suggestion.”

He held your hand and said, “We’ll be there for them, you know? We’ll see them laugh and cry. We’ll send them to their first day of school. And if it’d be a ‘her’... I’d walk her down the aisle, one day.”

After a couple weeks, you began to feel heavy and struggled doing daily things. Erwin was busy with plans and advancements of, well, his career, but he always made time for you, spending more time at home than usual, kissing your tummy and talking to the baby as if it could hear him, leaping in joy whenever you said there was a kick. You wondered if he was overwhelmed with everything happening.

Doctor checkups began and became more regular as you were close to labor. The lack of technology and science at the time meant the doctors could not predict the exact due date, but they can have a pretty accurate guess. They advised you to stay at the hospital for two weeks in case of contractions.

Erwin always made time to visit you at the hospital during nighttime, managing his time quite well between work and family. He gave his all to comfort you as the time grows nearer, worrying each passing day if the contractions would come.

But during your labor, it was a shame he was at work, too far to reach. You had to endure the pain, the burn, the stretch alone, with only doctors and nurses around you, repeating the same orders over and over again.

“Breathe, push, breathe, push.”

It was torture. Your back and lower abdomen ached, the stretch burned and pressured your pelvis. Controlling yourself not to scream and instead, take deep breaths was near impossible given the growing ache. As if the physical torment wasn’t enough, to top it off, you had no one to give you emotional comfort and support at the time, not even your husband. Perhaps it would’ve been less excruciating had he been there, giving you a hand to squeeze mercilessly.

The tears of the tiny baby helped you forget the pain after it was pushed out of your uterus. You cradled him in your arms after he was wrapped in a blanket. The prospect of being a mother, the dream you’ve always had in the back of your mind for years, was relieving, joyful, and sad at the same time. You held your baby close as if it was the most important thing to you, and it was, and it always will be.

“Do you want to name it now, ma’am?” one of the doctors asked you.

“No… not until my husband comes.”

“We’ve sent for his office, he should be here as soon as the message gets to him.”

The doctors left the room after everything was set, leaving you alone with your son. Tears of joy streamed down your face as you held him close, kissing the little face and hands gently as you waited for Erwin, unable to contain your joy, not knowing how you would phrase the words to break the news to him.

You recalled the last time you saw your husband. It was just yesterday, the night before your labor.

That one particular night¸ as always, Erwin had sat next to you by the hospital bed. He held your hand, listening to you talk about your day at the hospital, how bored you were, and how you wished the baby would come sooner so that you could get out and get on with your life.

“What do you think we should name it?” you asked him.

“You carried her for nine months, you should name her,” he replied.

“I carried him for nine months, the least you could do, my love, is save me the trouble of thinking about names.”

He chuckles, listing some names he’d thought of and the meaning and philosophy behind them. His voice was dreamy, and you were really grateful to be able to hear that voice almost every day since you were married. The night stirred, and you began to yawn.

“Are you staying here for the night?” you asked him.

He froze quite still for a second.

“…No.”

The answer was never shocking, but also never failed to disappoint you. It was engraved onto your brain that ‘no’ meant he had an expedition to go on to. It was hard, and almost crazy that this had to happen in an interval so near to your still unpredicted labor.

“We’re retaking Wall Maria tomorrow,” he said.

If only you'd known what that meant.

#erwin #erwin smith #erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #erwin angst #erwin smith angst #erwin x reader angst #erwin smith x reader angst #erwin drabble #aot #snk #attack on titan #angst

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milliedazzledust · 3 years

Text

War Rages On: part 3 (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Words: 2451

A/N: if you don’t want to cry, word of advice, don’t listen to anything remotely sad. I literally have 3 potential endings to this story, don’t know which one I’ll choose. Part 4 will have a lot more action and part 5 will probably be the last. Don’t forget to keep tissue close by while reading ;) - enjoy!

Previously: part 1 - part 2

When Bucky walked inside the building he had once lived in, he felt anxious. Not for himself, but for Y/N. During the two hours his ride in the air lasted, he envisioned a thousand possibilities this could play out. He needed her to make it out of there. Whatever he would have to endure, he’d agree to any kind of torture so long as she was safe. He knew he wouldn’t bear to add her name to his already long list of victims. Her only fault had been to fall in love with him. It couldn’t lead her to death, not like this, not because of him. He would never allow Hydra to break the only pieces left of him she had managed to glue back together.

He knew the place by heart, so finding the cells where they would usually keep all their prisoners was fairly easy. Focused on the task, he was taking slow, measured breaths, watching every step he was making, avoiding the guards and the security cameras. He was silent. A ghost. He stopped at an entrance and sneaked out behind a soldier standing by the door. With a swift motion, he broke his neck and used his badge to access the place. Every movement felt rehearsed, a routine he had done a million times. He was mimicking the Winter Soldier with a perfection that still surprised him. He had almost reached the end of an endless hallway of empty cells when he stopped in his track.

“Y/N” He whispered. There she was on the dirty floor, laying right in front of him. She wasn’t moving and from the distance, she looked pale. Too pale to be alive.

“Y/N!” He repeated louder, not caring if anybody could hear him.

She didn’t answer, didn’t even move an inch. He took a tentative step toward her, afraid of what he would see when he would open the door. He raised his metal arm and grabbed the lock, tearing it apart in a swift motion. The gesture was effortless, the power colossal. He didn’t even blinked, his eyes remaining always on her frail figure. He slowly bent down, trying to ignore the bruises visible through her half-torn shirt and the dried blood everywhere on the floor. He laid a fearful finger on her throat and waited a second. Finally, he released a shaky breath, relieved beyond measure when he felt her heartbeat. She was alive.

Gently cupping her face, he brushed a hand against her cheek. His heart broke when he saw the shadow of a smile forming on her lips.

“Bucky” She muttered in contentment.

“Yes, doll. I’m here”

She didn’t open her eyes but tears slowly coursed their way down her face. Her lips parted and she leaned against his hand, inhaling deeply.

“We have to go, Y/N”

“You feel so real,” She answered. “Why do you feel so real ?”

She sounded upset, but not because of him. She could make out every detail, his scent, his voice, his touch. She wondered what kind of cruel game her subconscious was playing as she let his presence submerge her entirely. He raised his eyebrows in confusion, not understanding that, for her, there was no way he could be there. She had spent the last couple of days picturing him in her mind to ease the pain, to escape the torture. He was the fragment of her imagination keeping her alive. Her last shred of strength.

“Am I dying ?” She murmured. “Is that why you’re here ?”

“Y/N, open your eyes” He demanded with force.

“No..”

“C’mon, doll”

“You’ll disappear. You always do” She sounded broken, on the verge of snapping, but kept them closed.

“I promise I won’t” His voice cracked with every word, overwhelmed by the pain and helplessness when she spoke.

She grabbed his wrist, holding it tightly as she slowly opened her eyes. Her whole body was shaking, afraid the soothing sensation of his skin on hers would be gone and she would only see an empty room once again. It took her a moment to realize he wouldn't disappear and she started sobbing. Her shaky hands cupped his face, wiping his own tears. He gently laid his forehead against hers and she didn’t waste any more time and hugged him. She clung to him, her only safe place, as the battle for the remaining shred of her sanity raged. She tried to catch her breath but it was useless. This was days of emotions bottled up to survive, days of dreaming she could return to him.

“We’re gonna be okay” He kept saying, holding her tightly.

“Bucky …” She choked in despair. This was the safest she had felt in days.

“I’m here, doll”

He swallowed and blinked a couple of times, trying to stay strong and not break down.

“We have to hurry, Y/N” He reminded her after a while.

His voice seemed to bring her back to reality and she suddenly sat up, ignoring the dizziness and the pain it instantly ignited in her body.

“No, no, no, you have to leave!” She started begging, furiously shaking her head and clenched his shirt in desperation. “You can’t be here! You can’t! Please … Please go ”

“Y/N…”

“You don’t understand, they … they want you, Bucky. They’re using me to get to you” She put some distance between them and pushed him away when he tried to get closer. “You have to go”

“Not without you”

“You’re not listening!” She replied, frustrated.

“I am! And I am telling you i’m not leaving without you!”

He stood up and helped her do the same. She couldn’t hold on her own, too weak and tired. She pressed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself and his metal arm circled her waist.

“I’m taking you home”

“I don’t think so” A voice with a thick accent replied behind him.

The former assassin cursed under his breath and was quick to react. He pushed Y/N behind him, hiding her wounded body from the intruder. Suddenly on high alert, he stared at the man he once knew, a man hired by Hydra with the sole purpose of creating new super soldiers. He was the brain behind the Winter Soldier program. The Sergeant subconsciously grabbed the woman by her hip, bringing her as close to him as possible.

“Dr.Faustus” He greeted him without sympathy.

“At last we are reunited, soldier”

Bucky clenched his jaw so tight his veins were now visible. In all the time he had spent away from Hydra, he never thought he would come face to face with the doctor ever again. All their encounters had been turned into a distant memory, another one of his nightmares. The Sergeant was unexpectedly conflicted, like two parts of him smashing against each other for the first time, two very different men colliding together without his consent. The broken one felt scared, powerless, becoming once again a victim, while the assassin was already on the lookout, trying to find his way out of there.

Y/N could feel it. Hidden behind him, she laid her forehead on his back, defeated. His muscles were tensed under the pressure of his emotions and his grip on her hip tightened. She couldn’t contain her terror and silently cried. How could she save him now that they had him back ? What could she do when her body was in no shape to fight ?

“I wouldn’t advise trying to escape” The man spoke.

“You know I don’t back down without a fight” Bucky replied, eyeing the three agents surrounding the doctor. They were outnumbered.

“You might want to reconsider this time” He smirked viciously.

He made a step toward the couple, moving like a snake reading to suffocate its prey by strengthening its hold around their neck.

“Before you think about taking them down,” Hydra’s doctor began, pointing at the agents next to him “You should know she won’t survive. You see, the girl serves no purpose anymore. She was a mean to an end and she played her part perfectly. She got you right where we wanted you to be, up against a wall”

Bucky gritted his teeth in silent fury.

“I’m assuming she means a great deal to you, soldat” He sniggered irritatingly. He seemed to enjoy the emotional torture. “Now the real question is, how far are you willing to take this to save her life?”

Bucky looked around him and just felt a rage he couldn’t explain, a will to survive he never had before. Y/N grabbed the hand on her hip, entwining their fingers, and he closed his eyes. For a short instant, he held onto that comforting sensation, the sense of home she could bring to him by the simplest touch. He remembered the day they met, the exact moment he had fallen in love with her and the day they had promised forever to each other. He had a collection of precious memories they had built, engraved in his heart, and each one of them had the power to lessen his pain and lighten the weight on his shoulders. They needed more time to create their magic, to turn the horror they had endured into sparkles of distant memories. More time to live the life she had given back to him. But even more so, he needed her to survive.

“If I surrender myself, what guarantee do I have you’ll let her go ?” He offered.

“No!” Y/N shouted, trying to move around Bucky. He didn’t have to use much effort to push her back.

The doctor laughed, pleased his plan was working flawlessly. He turned on his heels and nodded at one of the soldiers next to him. The man took a phone out of his pocket and handed it to the former assassin.

“What is this ?” Bucky questioned him, ignoring the pleading eyes of the woman begging him to not give in.

“A message” Dr.Faustus replied. “With coordinates to this place, addressed to your Captain”

“This isn’t enough”

“Press the button and send it yourself, then”

Bucky gave him a wary look but took the phone nonetheless.

“I have a condition” He raised his eyes to stare at the man.

“You are in no position to negotiate, soldat”

“If you want me to follow you willingly, you will listen”

He pursed his lips in annoyance.

“Very well”

Bucky glanced back at his girlfriend, barely holding on her legs but still ready to kill him herself for what he was about to do.

“Let me have a moment with her” He pleaded, his voice deep with emotions.

“If you plan to escape …”

“I won’t” He cut him with a promise he would keep.

He seemed to ponder his options for a moment before he gave a nod, accepting the request. Bucky dropped his head in defeat and pressed the button on the phone screen, sending the message to Steve and praying he would be there soon to get her out of there.

The doctor turned around, gesturing to the other agents. In less than a minute, the room was empty and they were alone for what would probably be their last moment together. Bucky made a step toward the woman, knowing whatever time they had it would never be enough, but before he could do anything she gathered all the strength she had left and slapped him across the face.

“I hate you!” She shouted, tears streaming down her face. “I hate you!”

He had expected her anger but her words still hurt him. He couldn’t begin to understand what she was feeling when his own heart was already being torn apart.

“I had to…”

“Why didn’t you fight ?” She choked. “Why … why did you gave up on us ?”

“I gave up on me!” He told her in a deep voice, quickly closing the distance between them and cupping her face with force. “I’m choosing you over me”

“There is no me without you, Bucky” She muttered

“They don’t know the Winter Soldier is no longer here” He told her, trying to reassure her. “Whatever they have plan for me, it’s not gonna work”

“You don’t know that”

He laid his forehead on hers and a tear on his own rolled down his cheek.

“I know I need you to stay alive. I’ve lived on borrowed time long enough, Y/N, maybe …”

“Don’t you dare!” She cried, pushing him away. She struggled to stay on her feet but she couldn’t seem to care. “I swear to god, Bucky, I will kill you myself if you dare giving up now!”

“Steve is gonna find you and bring you back” He continued.

She shook her head and her eyes grew hot, the tears welling so quickly it was impossible to blink them away.

“Please don’t break my heart” She whispered.

His lips started trembling and he choked on a small but audible sob. Losses after losses, he had shed his own shade of tears, had been broken beyond measure and brought to hell. This was something else. Pain had a sweet taste of horror and self-hatred when it was felt under the power of all his sanity.

“Let me hold you” He begged her.

Despite her anger, she didn’t waste any time and sank her face into his chest, letting him comfort both of them. He kept her close, looking down at her with gleaming eyes, wishing he never had to let go as he tightened his arms around her.

“I love you” He spoke right next to her ear. “Like I’ve never thought it was possible to love. You picked up every pieces of me you could find and glued them back together. You built the man I am today from scratch with your kindness, your resilience and your love. You gave me a second chance, and a second life by your side, and what a life it has been. You are my world, my soul, but most importantly, my home. You will always have me, doll.”

“Don’t say goodbye like that” She muttered, an aching wound opening deep in her chest as the tears kept falling.

“This isn’t goodbye, I’ll make damn sure of that. Wherever you are is where I am too. That’s the deal we made, right ? I’m with you till the end of the line”

“This is the end of our line” She forced up the words.

He raised her chin with a finger to look into her eyes and in that moment they kissed, together in each other's protective embrace.

“It will never be”

“Promise me you’ll give them hell”

“I promise I’ll fight with everything I have”

Tag list below the cut

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#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier imagines #the winter soldier imagine #falcon and the winter soldier #Winter Soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagines #fatws #tfatws

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