#and very slowly the self hatred and whatever it feels like that youre not allowed to like anything and that anything you like is bad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hana-no-seiiki · 1 year

Text

CHAINSAW & HAPPINESS

PILL 3 - GREAT GENESIS / GENESIS DEI

YANDERE! CSM! VARIOUS x STOIC! READER

“Check it out. These are my kids.”

“Oh yeah? Check out my kids.”

“That’s just Denji and Power . . .”

“Exactly.”

CAUTIONS: Spoilers for the Manga. Yandere Themes. Chainsawman Themes. Religious Themes. God uses he/him pronouns.

INGREDIENTS: You reminisce about the past and think about what lies ahead in your future. Denji gets his ass almost eaten by Batman- I mean a Bat Devil. Power.

FORMULATION: horridly unedited

[previous dose] [pillbox] [next dose]

You’ve hated humanity since the moment of your conception.

One might argue it was baked into your existence as a devil, simply etched into your heart the moment you popped out of hell, but you couldn’t agree with that notion at all.

It was just how persistent they were with survival and self-preservation that whatever your peers do to oppress them, torture their very souls, devour their physical being, they still manage to cling unto hope.

They were like cockroaches, ones with wings and the unending urge to fly towards your face like if they ever stopped they’d die.

Humans don’t hate cockroaches when they’re born, just like how you don’t hate humans when you were created. You merely saw them as pests you’d rather have gone. At least, that’s what you thought.

It was when you met Makima that you realized it wasn’t hatred you were feeling. It was envy.

You were envious of how they managed to find the grit to move forward. Of how they’re able to shake off tragedies and get stronger.

Unlike you, who had stayed stagnant for as long as you’ve remembered. Too scared to ever go out of line and potentially lose everything you already had.

As the God Devil, you were both one of the strongest and the weakest devils there existed.

Many feared your name, sure. But people found God equally, if not moreso, a comfort through trying times. God was their salvation, no matter how invisible, or inactive he was in their battles. Humanity continued to pray in his name, your name.

But slowly, but surely, faith began to disappear. And your powers began to grow.

You never believed in Makima’s goals. Nor do you believed in her feelings towards you to be genuine. You fully know that she’s using you for her desire; a family and most importantly the eradication of everything bad in this world. Her jealousy was probably based on the fact that she saw you more as a possession, a precious tool than a real partner.

You see, much like the Chainsaw Devil’s ability to erase concepts from this world, you also had a few unique abilities of your own. The ability to remember everything in the course of humanity’s life on Earth. Even the parts the “Hero of Hell” removed and bring it back to existence. Your head was akin to an infinite book, you nicknamed ‘The Bible’.

Where the Chainsaw Devil was the definition of chaos and destruction, you represented peace and life.

And you loathed that. Despised how different you were from other devils. Detested the thought that you were anything but an avatar of fear.

In any case, amalgams were one of the examples of things you’ve partly brought back to the world. It’s original name seemingly inaccessible even to your hands. Though it was mostly done as an excuse for you to use your powers whenever, you had a feeling Makima thought of Denji and Pochita when asking you to revive those mongrels. Or may be not. Makima was confusing and mysterious that way.

You didn’t pry much into her plans. Only ever preparing yourself for the shitstorms her actions cause and brave through it.

But now curiosity ate at you like leech. Why was she allowing Denji so close to you like that? Was it truly because she wants to play him like a fiddle?

Why did the thought of her hurting him hurt you so badly?

“You’re going to break it.”

Angel poked your nose. His touch, with how rare he gave out, almost broke your seemingly invincible composure.

“The weapon. Don’t. It’s such a hassle to make one.”

“My apologies.” You said, as you crushed the sword Angel made within your hands. Expression devoid from your features.

The latter sighed, you were as insufferable as ever.

“Could you stop being so polite and rigid? It’s gross.”

“You know I can’t use casual language in front of them. To the committee, you’re a demon and I’m . . . ” You were about to say ‘one of them’ but you couldn’t shake the sense of otherness you’d feel whenever you were with your colleagues. It wasn’t as if they viewed you as an outcast per se, just that they seemed so nervous all the time. Which led to you avoiding contact especially during battle. You weren’t oblivious to how humans viewed and often worshipped you, you just didn’t know the extent your powers affected them. Especially those who have known you for quite a while.

And so Makima helped by pairing you with beings who are usually unaffected by your aura. At least, on the surface.

“Still. I’d prefer if you went back to how you were before.”

You knew Angel before you even met Makima, as what the two of you represented were both closely related. Despite that, your relationship remained symbiotic at most. Angel’s weapons worked best when wielded by you, and you were capable of taking away his memories and ‘sins’ thus making the number of voices in his head less burdensome. None of you made an effort to go beyond that.

Your Bible ability allowed you to remember everything even beyond your current incarnation.

But Angel knew that while you will remember him if you ever died, the emotions attached to said memories will surely disappear.

He’ll remain that, just a memory. He was content with that. In fact, that’s why Makima trusted him enough with you.

“Charismatic? Proud? A perfect example of what it is to be a devil?”

“An asshat.” Angel munched on the human blood sausage you prepared him. Well, the sausage Makima forced you to make as to fulfill your ‘wifely’ duties, that you gave to Angel since you disliked the taste of it. “But a predictable one.” His androgynous voice came out muffled as he basically scarfed down the piece of meat

“It’s fine to admit that you’re a masochist, Angel.”

“If I’m a masochist—“ He squeezed on the barbecue stick holding the sausage, about to give you the rebuttal of the century (or so he thinks) until your husband unfortunately arrived to the scene.

Oh right! Did I mention you and Angel were atop a massive pile of human and devil corpses? I didn’t? Huh, my bad. Kinda hard remembering to say that stuff when the stench is awfully, well, awful.

“I’m sorry to cut your reunion short, but your new team requires your supervision.” Makima’s signature calm and collected voice slices viciously between your conversation. You can sense the underlying malice from a mile away at this point.

“You want me to stalk your hero from the shadows again.”

Makima didn’t reply, but her usual eerie smile said a thousand words. She didn’t like you getting too close to humans. Sure, it was fine for them to cling unto hope that you’ll ever notice them, it was fun seeing the light disappearing from their eyes as they find out such a thing will never happen. But you indulging your supposed dogs with more than a glance killed her.

In other words, if she was like that with humans, she was the worst — absolutely abhorred — you making conversation with another one of your kind.

To her, humans will never be threats. Devils on the other hand . . .

Well, she supposes even they don’t stand a chance. But she preferred knowing that even without her powers, you were all hers.

She trusted Angel, sure, but she’ll never like seeing her wife with someone else.

“Well then, underling. I will see you soon.”

“I hope not.” Angel blew a strand of hair off his face. He’s had enough of your presence already. Too much and he’ll build up an appetite for it.

“So . . . Sea Cucumber Devil, huh?” You started. Your silent appearance startled Denji and caused him to almost fall off the rooftop, if it weren’t for you catching him by the wrist in time.

Yeah, you weren’t really good at starting conversations.

“[Y-[Y-[Y/N]—! I mean —“ Denji stared at the connected skin. It had only just been a day, and he was already back to acting like hormonal teen who’d never been touched around you.

“C’mere.” You pulled him towards your form. His face landed on your chest, turning awfully red. After making sure he wasn’t falling anymore, you propped his legs over your left arm and carried him bridal style.

You landed on the ground following a single jump. Your heels (courtesy of Makima’s thinly veiled threats) clicking loudly.

You looked at Denji and smiled.

Then dropped him on the massive purple disarray.

“G-god . . ?” The girl, with peach-blonde hair and horns known as ‘Power’ from the info debriefed to you, halted her maniacal laughter. Her mouth opened up in shock and a little bit of horror? Could she sense you were . . . no she couldn’t. Makima wouldn’t allow a newbie to know.

“Close enough.” You shrugged. You had to discuss this with your spouse later. Spotting a bench behind Power, you made your way past her. A cool chill crawled up her spine, who were you? You felt like that devil but at the same time you were nothing like them at all. Not to mention you weren’t as stuck up as she remembered. . .

Nah, they wouldn’t help humans. You were probably a phony of some sort.

“So, what happened?” You sat down, holding off the cringe on your face that threatened to show from unhygienic everything is. Maybe Aki’s ways were rubbing off on you.

They began blaming eachother, clearly not aware that you were there for the latter half of your journey and only gave them an opportunity to explain themselves rather than point fingers.

“You know I can’t stop Makima if she so chooses to punish you two, right?”

“Please don’t tell her!”

“Yeah, this won’t happen again. We promise!”

“I have a feeling it will.” You sighed.

“If I’m correct . . .” You stood up from the bench, and gave your behind a few pats to relieve it of dust and whatever filthy things people have put there. You looked to Power, narrowing your eyes at the way she flinched away, “Your reason for being cooperative with humans is because you want your cat back.”

“And you, aside from being paired with me, want a chance to touch someone’s breasts, am I wrong?” You turned to Denji.

“No, you aren—“

“You were not given permission to speak, dog.” You glared at him. Though your expressions softened the moment he almost whimpered at your harsh words.

Not knowing that was him preventing a moan of pleasure.

“Why don’t we make a contract per se, right now?Denji, you get to touch Power’s boobs as long as you’re able to procure her Meowy.” You grabbed his hands, hovered it over your chest for a couple of moments, and observed his face. He was absolutely drooling.

You retracted your hold and swiveled your head to Power’s direction, taking laid-back, slow steps.

“And, if you two come back in one piece and with no casualities. I’ll join your next mission and prevent this . . . “ You bent your torso to the side in order to look past the pair and unto the purple sludge and multitude of organs on the street. “Mishap from reaching Ms. Makima’s ears. Is it a deal?”

“Deal!” Power nodded repeatedly, fist clenched in excitement. A stark contrast to her almost aloof personality with Denji.

“Good.” You flicked your finger, and in just a moment, every part of the Sea Cucumber Devil’s corpse disappeared. “Try not to disappoint. Makima has big plans for the two of you.”

Denji and Power left, not before gawking at your unintentional show of prowess.

“They’re gone. You meeting with those prunes again?” Speak of the devil and she shall come. You rotated your body to see what’s behind you, unsurprisingly spotting Makima.

“You jealous?”

“I am. Very.”

“You were listening in on us?”

“I just want to know what my husband is up to. Can’t I miss you?”

“You can.” Makima stepped in front of you, leaning close to your face to take a kiss. However, you covered the lower half of her face before she could get too close.

The two of you hear a car arrive not long after, with an Aki Hayakawa inside of it, “Ms. Makima. Mx. [Y/N].”

He escorted you and Makima to her destination and then brought you to a cafe to order some drinks.

You looked around for any pests, and checked if background noise’s volume was loud enough to drown out your voices before you began, “You’re wondering why too, aren’t you?”

“You . . . are surprisingly sharp when it comes to some things [Y/N].”

“I’m not quite adept at recognizing sentiment or intention. That doesn’t mean I’m completely unaware.”

You ordered black coffee and a few desserts and continued, “Whatever she’s planning. I don’t know. But I do know it wouldn’t be great for anyone in the division.”

You stared at the sweet confectionery’s as the workers were stressing out beyond the display, “My powers only extend up to the past. The infinite future ahead is anyone’s guess.”

Aki sighed, even you weren’t aware of what Makima was thinking.

“How did you become. . . “

“Become an amalgam?”

“. . .I’m sorry for the disrespect.”

“I don’t remember.” You finally answered. Your words barely registered above a whisper. But Aki has and will always hear it better than any other sound.

He guessed your memory of your merging was probably given away in a contract and is a sensitive subject.

The two of you return to the car in silence, waiting for Makima’s return.

Once she was back in, and you’ve given her the coffee and food, Aki started up the vehicle and began heading back to HQ.

The silence between the three of you was killing him so he decided to take a shot in the dark and ask Makima of her intentions. Surprisingly, she took the bait, somewhat.

“All Devils were born with names. The scarier the name is, the more powerful it is.” She commenced her speech.

“Take coffee for example, it doesn’t really have a scary image. If there was a coffee devil out there it must be weak.” She drew her eyes to the shaky state of the beverage and made no effort to cover the cup. Then she looked outside the window, to the cars and city scenery, “A car on the other hand, it gives you the image of being run over. That might be a stronger one.”

“Denji can turn into the chainsaw devil. I just think it’s pretty interesting.” And he could potentially erase anything she deemed unnecessary, which was infinitely more than interesting.

“He’s interesting, but he’s of no use to us. Everyone in the division has a goal or faith. He has neither of those. He’s not cut out for this. Not to mention he thinks he can befriend devils.” Aki bit his lip. Denji was nothing in comparison to the rest of the Public Safety sector. He had no experience, no sense of duty, was a slob and pervert.

And yet the stars of the workplace put their trust on him on just a whim, a flight of fancy. “He’s just a kid.”

“We shouldn’t judge a caterpillar when it hasn’t finished chrysalis, or an egg that has yet to hatch.” Taking Aki’s focus on the road as an opportunity, Makima slid her hand atop yours,“The kid. One day he’ll be a man. And he’ll be your junior to use. Yours to throw at the devils that destroyed your life.”

“Give him enough time with devils.” Her visage faced yours, and she smiled.

It terrified you.

“He’ll learn to hate them. Like every human should.”

You looked away, choosing to fill your mind with something else by checking in on Denji. Your eyes widened at the state he found himself in with just a few hours outside your supervision, “Turn on the radio.”

Aki doesn’t even think before his hands reached out to follow your command.

“Bat Devil spotted fighting with a Chainsaw Devil down at . . . “

“Hayakawa. Prepare your team to dispatch the Bat Devil immediately.” Makima downed the coffee in her hand while you basically inhaled your food.

“Understood.”

A/N: First part of my surgery is finished! Might be a week or so for the next ;u; i am in pain

Chainsaw and Happiness Taglist: @saharei @kaedescrush @epsi9099 @aradia-melinoe @sleepwillow @rolo-at-midnight @acuriousmoon @moonnotsonaa @just-some-stars @justarandomweeblol @cyn9 @that-one-simp

(please make sure you’re taggable if you reply to be added)

I’m going home after my family celebrates Ramadan and Eid so slow updates until then I’m so sorry

CHAINSAW & HAPPINESS TAGLIST: @saharei @kaedescrush @epsi9099 @aradia-melinoe @sleepwillow @nordithus @rolo-at-midnight @acuriousmoon @moonnotsonaa @just-some-stars @cyn9 @justarandomweeblol @that-one-simp @somebodyrandom-613

CHAINSAW & HAPPINESS TAGLIST:

Extra Notes: I’ll delete this in case I find better moments to showcase it in the story but to explain [Y/N]’s Bible ability more in depth, you’re basically able to know everything if it has been explicitly stated (Denji’s boob touching desires) or if it can extracted from an event that happened in a being’s life(Power’s relationship with Meowy and subsequent loss of the feline). To counteract how OP this can be, you aren’t able to read minds and are pretty dense + can’t view the future + it has to be activated rather have it on as a passive. In short, you don’t know how obsessed the sector is of you since most of them know of this ability, are pretty careful about how they act in case you decide to probe their past, and you aren’t a creep (i hope). In other words, abilities’s extent is as far as a reader of history knows not the author.

(Also you just aren’t allowed to peer into Makima’s history. We don’t poke sleeping bears, especially if they have the power to control you.)

Chainsaw and Happiness Taglist: @saharei @kaedescrush @epsi9099 @aradia-melinoe @sleepwillow @nordithus @rolo-at-midnight @acuriousmoon @moonnotsonaa @just-some-stars @cyn9 @justarandomweeblol @that-one-simp @somebodyrandom-613 @cupidlot

White names couldn’t be tagged + added a few who just commented if that’s fine?

Thanks for reading!

867 notes · View notes

spicesweet · 4 days

Note

Helloo, im looking for advice and your blog seems like a safe place but feel free to ignore if that's too much/out of your depth

So I never got diagnosed with an ed but I did ballet in my formative tears (4yo til 11) and as such I started 'caring' about my weight/stature very early (recently found journal entries from when I was 6 and I was measuring my waist every night). When I had my first smartphone I obv downloaded every 'health' app I could find (lifesum, movesum, whatever, I probably had it at one point), but after hs I got into a bad depressive episode but one of the upside is that I decided to eat what felt good and not just focus on random cals. Recently I decided to get back in shape and well, let's say that it started innocently but I ended with myfitnesspal back on my phone. And like. I'm trying again but just, how do you do it? Bc even when I wasn't counting cals I still categorised every meal into good or bad, I always planned what I was going to eat and like, is there a way to not center my life around food?

Sorry for the rant but I'm just so frustrated and sad with myself

Sending you love 💞

first of all, thank you so much for trusting me with this. this is in fact a safe space, and I'm glad it shows ♡

your message actually tugged at my heartstrings, because I relate to this so much! in one way or another, since I was a kid, I've orbited around food more than any other topic. even now, when I'm doing better than ever, I'm healthy and strong and honestly the closest I've ever been to my ideal, dream body, food is still something I'll spend a lot of time thinking about. disordered eating behaviors are hard to move on from exactly because food is central to our lives! it's the most basic need any animal has, regardless of what "food" means to that animal, and we're no different.

for me, I was tired. I spent my entire life loathing myself, feeling disgust and hatred that consumed me and at the same time paralyzed me, caused me to be unable to change. but life kept happening, and eventually I was in a completely new circumstance that allowed me to very slowly change my relationship with food. I have no shame in admitting that I don't know if it would've happened if I didn't have my man with me, because he made me want to do better, be better and healthier so I could stand proud next to him. I didn't want him to date a sick girl who would only have limitations to present him. but I do believe it would've happened eventually, just slower, maybe.

but to answer your actual question, how I do it, I think it's sort of like battling an addiction. you can't really ever take your foot off the pedal, relax and just think that if you get a little better, it'll be forever and you'll never have to worry about it coming back. I think having an eating disorder in your teens is so much harder because everything is impulsive, immediate, instant, including our expectations. now that I'm past that, I can understand that being extreme and hardcore doesn't last, but smaller actions add up. my commitment to myself and my health is a forever deal, and at the same time, I'm only concerned about today. I think my disordered eating behaviors are an addiction for me, because as much as I know how harmful they are, I also do find comfort in them. they do serve me, in lots of way, like addictive substances do. so I don't ever let my guard down around them, and I each day I wake up focused on keeping them away for the day. I don't bother with tomorrows and yesterdays, only today, only the next time.

and don't get me wrong: I still plan my meals ahead, I still get guilty often, I still regret eating this and that often. it's not a perfect system, and I think accepting and understanding that is also a part of the reason why I've been healthier. I'm not looking for a perfect lifestyle or a perfect relationship with food, but rather a sustainable one, and there's no room for obsession, self-loathing, impulsiveness and nonchalantry when it comes to sustainability. there's a lot of planning, watching out, discipline and understanding instead.

I think that if you identify disordered eating behaviors in your story, I think it's okay to understand that it is and will probably always be a big piece of your life, and even more okay that you'll have to treat this topic with special attention. I can't tell you how this special attention will go because that's literally a self-discovery problem, but it's about finding out what purpose the behaviors are serving and then finding a way to replace them with sustainable, flexible and accessible ones. you just need to investigate what these mean to you. to me, it means mainly a lot of reading about health and a lot of cooking and learning about nutrition and a lot of hours on top of a treadmill. eventually, if you're patient with yourself, embracing low moments but not giving up, not rushing your process, not expecting immediate results, I know you'll eventually find your healthy. ⁠♡

#loveletters #advice

2 notes · View notes

nightowlwriting · 3 years

Text

summary: fjord takes care of the mighty nein. you take care of fjord. (part 4/13 of the kindness series, a thematically connected series of c2/exu imagines)

word count: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of self-hatred, bullying, lack of self-confidence

note: idk why this one took me so long and, honestly, it was almost super nsfw lmfao

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Fjord is a man who appears to know exactly what he needs and when he needs it. You’re not so sure. You tend to hang back when the group talks to people, or finds jobs for coin, just to watch. That’s what you like to do - get information, tuck it away, use it later.

It just happens that sometimes you end up watching Fjord. There’s no reason, not really. He’s the leader by default, no matter how much Nott will say that it’s Caleb. He does most of the talk, smiling all coy and leaning against things to charm the party’s way through whatever Gods forsaken situation you end up in. It mostly works, with some exceptions. There are things you begin to notice in the nights after Fjord has failed to charm someone with a well-placed wink, or a sir or a ma’am. He makes the fire just a little bit larger, stacking logs and kindling and using his flint so that Caleb doesn’t have to use his magic. He cooks heartier food, sometimes even disappearing and coming back with a skewered animal from the forest to add to the pot of simmering soup. He takes the first watch and doesn’t wake anyone until halfway through the second watch so that everyone can sleep longer, even if it makes him crabby the morning after.

You come to a conclusion. Fjord takes care of people when he feels like he’s not enough. He overcompensates in his acts of kindness when something he does fails - but why? To make you all stay? To make sure you know his worth in the group? To make up for whatever he sees as a downfall? Honestly, you’re worried it’s a little bit of all three. You’re not really sure about how the mind works - that would be more for Molly, or Caleb honestly - but growing up in an orphanage with children who pick and prod at your every physical characteristic cannot be good for a person. Especially with Fjord insisting that he doesn’t have a last name, despite the times that he introduces himself and you see it die on his lips before he can say it. There’s something there, but you won’t pry. People deserve their secrets. They deserve to keep something for themselves.

If he wants to keep his last name, that’s fine with you. If he wants to keep the self-loathing inside of him until he explodes, well, that’s not fine with you. That’s why when you realize that he decompresses by making himself useful, as if the group might dismiss him just because a few people were immune to his charms, you decide to do something. No amount of reassurance from anyone will convince him otherwise and the rest of the group tends to shrug away from his slightly overbearing kindness when something goes south. Caleb, Beau, and Molly are just uncomfortable with it while Jester is usually too engrossed in journaling, Tusk Love, or talking to the Traveler. Nott is somewhere between Caleb and Yasha (uncomfortable and straight-up not around to be doted on.) And… Well, that leaves you.

It’s not that you mind Fjord’s constant doting after he perceives something to have gone wrong, but it’s hard to let him in. Your life before the Mighty Nein wasn’t exactly peaches and cream, either, but you know that he needs this. He needs to feel like he’s doing something for someone or he’ll break. You only notice that, though, after a particularly rough, rainy day of trying to get information out of people for a job. Fjord had forgotten something important which threw off the communication and sent everyone you were working with into an angry tizzy. By the time you make it back to the tavern, everyone is soaked to the bone and cranky, even you - and you tried your best to avoid getting out in the rain. What you really want to do is go back to your room and change out of your wet clothes and then go to fucking bed, but you hold back. The group disperses one by one until it’s just you and Fjord left at the bar, and before you can make your leave you see his hands shaking. His hands, which are large and calloused and strong, are shaking like a leaf in the wind. There’s no other outward sign that he’s feeling stressed or upset, and that surprises you. It also worries you. This is not how Fjord acts when something goes wrong. He doesn’t sit at the bar and brood over an ale - he mother-hens his friends until they’re sick to death of hearing his deep, drawling voice.

The combination of these things is probably what makes you pause halfway out of your seat, eyes narrow and trained on him. He makes eye contact for a brief second before looking back down to his drink. You know that approaching and asking him if he’s okay will get you nowhere but you can’t leave him alone at the bar, not when you know he’s stewing on every mistake, every misstep, whether they really happened or he’s just overanalyzing his movements. He’s your… He’s more than a friend to you, despite the fact that he doesn’t know that and you don’t show it outwardly. Fjord means too much to you to be able to let him sit and spiral into a funnel of self-doubt. You know that it will be weird to put your pride to the side and ask for help, but you also know that you don’t really need help.

But asking Fjord for help means that he’ll feel better and you think that’s a very good reason to shelf your pride for a night.

He barely looks up at you when you approach, still dripping all over the tavern’s floors and hesitant to speak. He doesn’t speak, either, just takes another long pull from his ale to bide his time until you leave. (Probably.) You take the leap first and say his name. “Fjord.” He doesn’t look at you. “I know we’ve all had a bad day,”

“You can say that again,” He snorts.

“We have,” You stress, one hand finding the hilt of the dagger on your waist for some sort of comfort. You’re wildly uncomfortable and can feel the urge to run, get away, flee building up in your gut. If you’re not careful, it’ll spill out your mouth and you’ll be forced out of the tavern for the night in humiliation and self-preservation. “It has been one hell of a day today. I do not want to be alone.” Your sentence cuts off briskly and Fjord looks up in surprise. Your face mirrors his - untamed surprise. You had really opened your mouth to ask if he wanted to find a table and listen to your vent but what came out was I do not want to be alone. You blink and think what the fuck? Before Fjord is shaking off his surprise and standing.

“I suppose I can give Molly the room for the night.” He extends an arm towards you but doesn’t look at you. He’s doing a much better job of hiding how strange you’re acting than you are but still, you’re not going to let this opportunity pass. You wrap your own arm around Fjord’s and he begins to lead you toward the stairs. “Anything specific bothering you?”

“Nothing really,” You hum as you respond, hoping that by allowing him past your walls that it will help him, “Today is just a bad day.” Fjord halfheartedly agrees and your nerves shoot through the roof when he leaves you at your door, explaining that he’s going to warn Molly that he won’t be in the room tonight. You nod at him and slip into your own room, leaving the door cracked so that he won’t feel awkward about entering. Your laundry is everywhere and you grit your teeth, doing your best to hold back a scream. God damnit, you’re about to have the man that you have a crush on in your room and today is the day you threw your laundry all over?

It doesn’t even matter that he’s traveled with you in carts where there is no possible way to not overlap on laundry slash unmentionables. You still dash about, shoving your laundry into a pile in the corner and covering it with your weapons and shield just before Fjord raps his knuckles against the door frame, calling your name. You shiver and invite him in, wringing your hands as you stand in front of the unlit fireplace. “Are you okay?” He’s so earnest and it makes you feel… A little bad. You don’t want to say no to having Fjord be with you overnight because his presence is so calming, but it’s also… He’s not in your room because…

Ugh. “Fjord,” You say before you can stop yourself, “Okay, so, you can’t be mad but I noticed when things go wrong you’re really, really hard on yourself and you shouldn’t be. And I also noticed that when you’re hard on yourself you dive into taking care of other people because, I don’t know, maybe it feels like you’re doing something good? I’m not sure, but I really meant to ask if you wanted to talk but then that came out instead but I can’t let you stay in here if you don’t know why I asked.” He stands there, taking in what you’ve said, and then shakes his head. Your room is dark - too dark for you to see whether or not the small smile on his face is actually there or if you’re imagining it. When he chuckles, you’re more apt to believe that Fjord is actually smiling even after the day he’s had. “Um,” You finally cut the silence, “Please say something.”

“You mean to tell me,” He drawls, stepping slowly closer and removing his chest plate. It’s like his mood has gone a full 180 from where it was when he left you outside of your room, “That you looked so awkward and like a li’l kicked puppy because you wanted to help me feel better?” He sets his chest plate on the table, coming into your sight as your vision begins to adjust. You don’t get a good look at what’s happening on his face because you look away very quickly, setting your jaw.

“Well, when you put it that way,” You grumble and cross your arms, “You just like to help people - it makes you feel better.”

Fjord comes to a stop in front of you and sighs, but doesn’t say anything. Your hands begin to shake and honestly, you regret your stupid fucking decision to try and help Fjord out. You wouldn’t be here, standing in front of him and purely humiliated, if you didn’t look at him and notice so much. He finally responds, one of his hands coming up to touch at your bicep and then trails up until he’s cupping your shoulder. “I do like to help people,” He’s speaking more from his chest than his mouth, and you can almost feel the rumble through the grip he has on your shoulder. It’s not tight but it’s there, heavy and comforting. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I notice a lot,” You supply, tugging your chin away when Fjord tries to use the other hand to make you look at him. It’s only after he says your name in a soft voice that you look. You’re surprised to see that he looks soft… Soft and fond. “Please,” You whisper, uncrossing your arms to grab both of his wrists. You’re not even sure what you’re asking for but the way that you whispered please is the closest to begging that you’ve ever gotten.

“Please?” Fjord says, sounding incredibly confused but soft at the same time. You shake your head, trying again to look away from him. He ducks down, catching your eyes again, “It’s just me, remember? This is why you asked me here, isn’t it? To help you feel better?”

To your horror, you feel yourself mist up. “I invited you here so you could feel better, Fjord. I don’t want you to be so hard on yourself, and the only time I’ve seen you calm down after a bad day is when you’re taking care of one of us. I thought… Even if I don’t really need to be taken care of, that would help you. I just want… I want you to feel better.” He steps closer toward you, caging you into the rough stone of the fireplace but doesn’t speak. You’re almost worried that Fjord is going to cold clock you, but then he does something that you expected even less.

He surges forward and kisses you. Every part of him nearly engulfs you - the hand on your shoulder moves to the back of your neck, anchoring you to him, while he groans deep in the back of his throat. Your hands scramble for some purchase to express your surprise, landing on his hearty shoulders, clenching in the fabric of his shirt. You sigh into Fjord’s groan, and press as close as possible to his body heat. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been craving this: closeness with another person, pressing tight against their body… You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that when you thought of that, of intimacy, that you pictured Fjord. You just didn’t think he pictured you.

Fjord surges forward again, and you feel the soft scrape of tusks against you when he opens his mouth to breathe, keeping his nose pressed tightly to yours. “I didn’t think,” He says, accent thinner than you’ve heard previously, “I never dreamed that you would feel…”

“Oh, I feel,” You tell him, slowly moving your hands until you can intertwine your fingers behind his neck, “I feel so much, Fjord.”

“You never said…” He sneaks another kiss between his words, dropping his hands to squeeze at your waist, “You never even let on that you see me this way.”

“I do a lot of looking and not a lot of showing,” You remind him - it was something he had said to you when you first joined his group. I always catch you lookin’, but you never show. It’s terribly funny because he’d said it while the Mighty Nein were all naked, sudsy, and sharing a bathhouse at Molly’s insistence. The group had a field day with that and still does. The memory is apparently still fresh in Fjord’s head because a blush creeps high over his cheeks and he looks away, flustered. “You’re strong and pretty and beautiful and you take care of us so well. Even when you’ve had a bad day. I look up to you so much, but at the same time I want, perhaps selfishly, to take care of you in ways that you might not take care of the group.” He almost looks surprised at what you’ve said, but then it melts into a look of soft adoration. Fjord kisses you again and then drags his lips lightly over the arch of your cheek before he rests his head on your shoulder where he inhales deeply, his breath tickling your throat. You can feel his hands contracting against your waist, like he wants to touch and feel but is settling for keeping them where they are and feeling the soft give of your flesh. You know your heart is spinning at what feels like a million miles per hour, and you know that he can probably hear it, too. You can’t find anything in you that cares, though, because you’re so close to Fjord. He smells like saltwater, you realize. Not in a way that it seems like he’s been coughing it up again, or in the ocean, but just sort of… Naturally. Like he’s always smelled that way. Like you’ve always known he smelled that way. Like you were always meant to know and to find comfort in it. You pull yourself closer, relishing in the way that you hold each other, and Fjord sighs. You can feel the way that he relaxes underneath your hold and you relax, too.

This… This is the way that it’s supposed to be. This is how you can do for Fjord what he’s done for your team - except different. Except more.

#critical role imagine #c2 imagine #cr imagine #fjord stone imagine #fjord imagine #fjord stone x reader #fjord x reader #fjord stone / reader #fjord / reader #campaign 2 imagine #critfic

82 notes · View notes

popopretty · 3 years

Text

Storm Bringer Spoilers (9)

I finally finished the translation of the last part in the epilogue where it is explained why Verlaine was still alive and how he became after that. Verlaine and Rimbaud’s relationship is just so sad :(

Please feel free to re-translate. Just be aware that I don’t speak English or Japanese as my native language so I may make a few mistakes here and there. Also, some meanings might be lost in indirect translation.

...

Going back in time.

The Demonic Beast Guivre appeared in the wood. Adam blew himself up. Chuuya opened the “gate” and defeated Guivre.

Four minutes and thirty seconds after that.

The place was the site of the collapsed highway overpass. Crushed foundation materials, concrete, wires, steel frames, cylindrical forms and such were scattered and piled up like dead bodies.

On the top of that place, Verlaine was in the progress of vanishing.

He couldn’t bend the tips of his fingers. His breathing was shallow. His vision was so dark and hazy that he couldn’t even see the stars. Verlaine is nothing more than a sealed string of codes. When the singularity lifeform that acted as his main body disappeared, his heart was slowly stopping due to the life-sustaining energy being depleted.

Verlaine’s thoughts were just as shallow and slow as his breath. Even on the verge of being engulfed into the hollow of death, his heart didn’t flinch one bit, nor did it seek for anything.

So this is death, Verlaine thought in his disrupted consciousness. It is not such a big deal as I thought. No groaning in pain, no crying of regrets, no distraught with fear either. It is flat and thoroughly empty. In the first place, my life is not a life that has anything to regret at this point. It is a life that should not have been born from the beginning. I didn’t live in a way as to regret anything either.

It’s just that, I caused troubles to so many people. The French government, my assassination targets, Port Mafia, brother. In the end, I didn’t get anything, even with all of that. That only is like a stain my life’s trail, that I regret a little.

Well, whatever. As you can see, I will die soon so forgive me.

His fingers grew colder and eventually he didn’t even feel the cold anymore.

His heartbeat weakened. And after a brief spasm...

It stopped.

His heart.

A few tens of seconds passed.

Verlaine realized that he was still breathing. At the edge of his field of vision, he saw something red. He turned his eyes to that.

A crimson red cube was passing through his chest and surrounding his heart. That thing was making his heart move.

What the hell is this? Verlaine was confused. It was not because he did not know what the crimson cube was. He was confused because that was something he knew so well.

Why is it here?

“This is the first time I saw you in such a terrible state.”

How nostalgic was that voice.

Verlaine couldn’t believe his own ears. And when the person entered his sight, he started doubting his eyes too.

“No, no...”, Verlaine spoke in a whispering voice. “This can’t be happening. You can’t possibly appear here.”

“Exactly”, the person nodded. “However, showing up in the most unlikely places, at the most unlikely times, isn’t that what a spy is?”

That was Arthur Rimbaud.

A fuzzy outer jacket. A thick scarf around his neck. A pair of earmuffs made from rabbit hair on his head. Long, black hair and somewhat gloomy eyes.

He was the person who saved Verlaine from the lab, and his partner. And the person Verlaine betrayed.

The subspace created by the crimson cube was the sign of Rimbaud’s skill. All substances inside it can be manipulated at Rimbaud’s will.

“Paul, what have you learnt in the world of spies?” Rimbaud sounded surprised as he asked.

“That if you don’t throw away your feelings, you won’t be able to complete the missions, it taught me that much. But what are missions? And what are feelings? Is that to vent out all of my hatred towards human? Or is that to get a little brother? I rushed into this without knowing clearly which one was the mission, and this is the result. If I hadn’t told brother the way to stop Guivre, I would have been able to kill off all those hateful humans.”

“Ahh... I see, you are Rimbaud’s hallucination.” Verlaine said as if he was ridiculing himself. “You are the illusion that I see on the verge of death, the death reaper my guilts are showing me. Otherwise, there is no way Rimbaud who died one year ago would appear here.”

“I’m not a hallucination, neither a reaper. I am a ghost.” Rimbaud shook his head. “I have been waiting for you, in this country.”

Verlaine stared at the other silently, as if he was trying to understand what that existence over there actually was.

“No way, there can be no ghosts.” Verlaine finally shook his head. “Not because it’s unscientific. If you were a ghost and not an illusion, you would not be saving me like this. You would definitely curse me to death.”

“Why?”

“I betrayed you, and tried to kill you.” His cold voice echoed through the night.

Rimbaud didn’t say anything, he looked back at the collapsed Verlaine with calm eyes.

“What’s with those eyes? Be mad at me more, resent me more, punch me, kick me, strangle me, Rimbaud!”, Verlaine screamed, still lying on the ground. “I shot you from the back. That’s why that explosion happened. You were caught up in it and lost your memories, then died in this foreign country not even knowing who you were. If you are a ghost, then there is only one reason that you became one. That’s your grudge towards me, isn’t that right, Rimbaud!”

“It’s the opposite.”, Rimbaud shook his head. “I waited for you because... I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize? For what?” Verlaine frowned, not getting what he just heard.

“I wanted to help you. And I thought that I was helping.” Rimbaud leaned forward, holding his hand over Verlaine’s chest. “But what I actually gave you, was nothing more than the one-sided sympathy of a man who pretended that he understood. I can’t allow myself to just apologize. I have always been thinking about what I could give. And I finally got the answer on the verge of death. This is it.”

Under Rimbaud’s palm, the space cube grew bigger.

The thing that was at Verlaine’s chest earlier started to expand as if it wanted to shallow his whole body. Then it became huge enough to shallow both Verlaine and Rimbaud inside. That was the subspace created by Rimbaud’s skill. Inside it, Rimbaud is capable of doing anything. Except for bringing the dead back to life.

That exception seemed to be happening.

Verlaine noticed his own fingers twitching. They bent. It wasn’t an illusion. His eyes were also moving. His muddy vision gradually became clear.

“This is...”

Verlaine moved his arm. He twisted and raised his upper body up. He looked at his palm, at the back of his hand, squeezed it, then released it again. He felt his fingers being warmed up by the blood flowing in.

He tried to ask what was happening so he looked at Rimbaud who was there.

Rimbaud was not there.

He collapsed.

By Verlaine’s side.

“What is this?”, Verlaine asked in shock. “I see, you... you used your skill on yourself?”

“A method that I could use only once in life.” Rimbaud said with a faint smile on his face. “But it worked well.”

That was Arthur Rimbaud’s skill.

Transforming dead humans into a skilled lifeform, and using them freely inside the crimson subspace. The person who is turned will have the memories and physical capabilities of their past lives, they can even use skills. It is a skill worthy of a spy that is considered the most elite in Europe, the heresy of the heresies.

Rimbaud used that skill on himself.

“It’s nothing to worry about. I am already dead.” Rimbaud said weakly. “What is left here is just information. But even if it is like that, I feel good. Because I could leave this to you.”

Rimbaud’s body started to glow in red. The way it glowed was familiar to Verlaine.

A redshift. (*TN: A term referring to an increase in the wavelength, and corresponding decrease in the frequency and photon energy. In astronomy, it happened when an object is moving away from us. Good luck Googling.)

“Wait!” Verlaine who realized what was going on, reached out to the collapsed Rimbaud.

“Wait, Rimbaud. Don’t disappear!”

“Because you didn’t like my birthday present.” Rimbaud laughed apologetically.

“Just take this as a birthday present instead. Happy Birthday. I am happy you were born into this life.”

After that, the subspace contracted sharply, sucked into Verlaine’s heart and disappeared.

All that remained was the debris, and Verlaine, and the cool breeze of the night.

Verlaine walked two, three steps with the stunned look on his face. He looked around then sat down on the debris.

“Ha...hahaha.” He looked down and let out a dry laugh.

“Hey Rimbaud, you waited one year for me just to do this? For something like this?”

Verlaine knew, what Rimbaud had done.

To save him, Rimbaud had turned himself into a self-contradictory typed singularity.

Rimbaud, who had turned himself into a skill, used that skill again on his own self who was born as a result of that. Then he continued to apply that skill on his new self that was born. And by repeating this progress, he created a self-contradictory typed singularity. Then he gave that singularity to Verlaine, in place of the Demonic Beast Guivre.

Verlaine tried to stand up but he didn’t have enough strength and dropped his knees on the debris. He was weak. Perhaps, the singularity that Rimbaud created did not have an infinity output like the unlimited energy that the usual self-contradictory typed singularity emits. He could no longer use his inexhaustible gravitational skill like he did before.

But Verlaine didn’t find it particularly regrettable.

Because he was regretting the thing that he just lost that very moment more.

“Why, Rimbaud?” Verlaine looked up to the sky. “Why did you smile at the end? I betrayed you, and you died because of that, you know?”

He knew the answer. He just didn’t want to understand.

Rimbaud, the man who freed him from Faunus and gave him the freedom to live.

Rimbaud, the man who trained him and raised him into a spy, the person who got through all the dangerous missions with him.

Rimbaud, the man who shyly handed him his birthday present.

“Why did you smile?” Verlaine spoke with a trembling voice. “If you turn yourself into a skill, you are no longer human. You will be nothing more than a piece of surface information with a human’s memories and personalities. You knew that for sure. Still why did you wait for me? Why did you have to go that far for someone like me, when you didn’t even know if I would come or not?”

Verlaine finally came to his senses.

The reason why he let Chuuya know how to defeat the Demonic Beast Guivre at that time.

He hated humans. He thought that it would be okay if everyone died. Yet, he gave out the hint to destroy Guivre. That was because he didn’t think that everyone should die, equally.

There was only one exception.

One person worthy of affirming human beings.

“Sorry, Rimbaud.” Verlaine whispered behind his clenched teeth. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t live up to your friendship. I’m sorry I didn’t thank you when I received the birthday present. I am finally grieving the fact that you are not here anymore now...”

Verlaine said so with his trembling voice, as he sat still and looked up to the sky with his eyes closed.

He remained there for a long, long time, looking at the night sky.

...

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

...

Time pours on everything equally.

Verlaine didn’t die. After surviving with the life he got from Rimbaud, he was confined in Port Mafia’s underground shelter. That was what Verlaine wished for. There was already no place for Verlaine in the outside world. He had lost most of his gravitational skill and the only place he could escape the long and big hands of Europe was the hideout deep underground.

Also, he had no interests in the outside world. There wasn’t anyone he wanted to kill, nor anyone he wanted to meet. Apart from Rimbaud.

And Rimbaud was no longer there.

At first, he just sat in the basement and spent all his time reading and writing poems. When he became bored with that, he started doing what Rimbaud used to do. Training the younger generation.

He hammered his assassination skills and knowledge into the Mafia’s elites in an underground training space. Gin, Izumi Kyouka, and many more.

Those mafias under his discipline all became top-class assassins in a short period of time.

Verlaine didn’t reveal his feelings to anyone. He never told his apprentices nor the Boss the reason why he kept desiring that crippling life underground.

When he was not training his apprentices, he just sat on his wicker chair, waiting for something. He never told anyone what he was waiting for. If he was asked persistently, he would just say “for the storm”. No-one knew what that storm was supposed to mean.

Six years later, Verlaine now has become an indispensable central figure in the Mafia, and risen to the position of one of Mafia’s five executives.

He is still sitting on his wicker chair, waiting for his storm even today.

...

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #storm bringer #spoilers #arthur rimbaud #paul verlaine #bsd spoilers

315 notes · View notes

heyheyloki · 3 years

Text

The Thought Of You

Summary: Not remembering the night before, the reader distances himself from Loki.

Loki x M!Reader

It was always one thing. Perhaps it was Tony and Steve arguing, or maybe Thor bothering Loki, and maybe it was you making fun of the spider boy. Whatever it was, it was exciting for others to watch. However, between all the fighting, Loki and you never did. It was odd to everyone else since they had this deep hatred for the God of Mischief. To you, you didn’t care, you enjoyed Loki’s presence and always knew if you needed a break from the others, you’d go to him. He was always there, even if the two of you started out on a bumpy road since he was hesitant of you when you first came around.

Loki thought you’d be like everyone else, so it wasn’t totally personal. Though, after your many attempts to get to know him, his wall eventually fell around you and then, the bonding started. Everyone around the two of you thought it was weird, after all, Loki was the man who wanted to take over Earth and sent an army onto New York City. Even with that fact, it never seemed to bother you.

Tony Stark always thought something would happen between the two of you, and Thor was more than supportive is it came to be. Steve had some issues since he was close to you as well and just wanted the best for you, and, well, he just didn’t think that ‘best’ was Loki. Nat and Clint seemed indifferent, but were happy with anything you decided. Banner, on the other hand, flipped from Tony and Steve’s perspective at times.

You always told them that Loki and you were just friends, but Loki never seemed to comment on it. In the back of your mind, you knew the god had looks but you cherished the relationship between you and him now. You didn’t need to progress it further since you were quite comfortable where it was. Though, perhaps that was about to change.

After a late night of drinking and dancing courtesy of Tony Stark, you were out for the count. By the time your hung over eyes had opened, you noticed it was almost noon. A groggy groan escaped your chest as you sat up from your rather large bed, again, courtesy of Tony Stark. Your body didn’t even take up half of it, and speaking of your body, when you gazed down at it you noticed your fluffy, grey night robe.

You didn’t exactly remember putting it on, but you didn’t care much. At least, you didn’t care then. When your ears started to work once more, you couldn’t help but notice the sound of your shower running. It was connected to your room and when you gazed towards the door that was shut, the light underneath was shining through.

“What did I drink last night?” You mumbled to yourself as you collapsed back into the bed, your body bouncing a bit.

As your mind tried to figure out what had happened the night before, you heard the shower faucet squeeze close and the water stop it’s pattering. You didn’t bother to look, not that you weren’t curious who you probably slept with last night, but you just didn’t care. It wasn’t common for you to have one-night stands but it wasn’t something you didn’t participate in from time to time.

You could hear the person turn the doorknob before it creaked open, their bare feet stepping across your hardwood tile getting louder as they stepped closer.

“Are you up yet, [Name]?” The stranger asked. Though, that voice wasn’t a stranger to your mind.

Your eyes fluttered open to get a look at a man half naked in your room, the towel around his waist poorly done as if he’d never done it before. The long, black hair he had was wet and textured with like curls. His body had little muscle but his thin figure made up for it, the muscle he did have off subtle lines about his body that was beyond a godly sight.

“Uh, Loki?” You mumbled out, his eyes looking at you as if waiting for you to continue moving your lips.

Though, when you didn’t, he answered with a confused, “Uh, that is my name.”

“Right, right.” You uttered, his words snapping you out of your mind. Without even a second thought, you hopped out of your bed. You quickly tied up your night robe since you didn’t seem to be wearing anything underneath except for a pair of boxers. “I’m, uh, gonna go talk to Tony.”

“Stark?” Loki questioned. “Why?”

“Oh, yanno, Avenger stuff.” You chuckled out as you slowly began to inch for the exit.

“I can occupy you, if you wish.”

“No!” You screamed. Your voice startling both you and him. You cleared your throat to quickly say, “I think he wants to do a few tests on me. You know how those are, very private. I’ll see you later, ya? Okay, bye!”

Your hand reached around for the door handle and slipped yourself into the hallway before slamming the door shut behind you. Your back soon going against it as you took in deep breaths. It could have been anyone else, anyone in the damn place and you would have been fine. But, Loki? Why did it have to be him that your drunken self choose?

“I’m so gonna get shit for this,” You uttered as you began to travel down the hallway towards the main area of the building.

“Morning, [Name].” Nat said as she and Clint sat on the couch watching movies.

You nodded in her direction before shuffling into the kitchen. You needed something cold, or hot. No in between for this one. As you were pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you heard footsteps make way towards you.

“What’s up with you?” You heard. Your eyes gazing over at Nat who stared at you with crossed arms.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she started out saying. Her body slowly making way towards yours. “Normally, every morning, you say good morning back. You never give a simple nod. So, what’s wrong with you?”

Your eyes blinked rapidly for a moment before letting out a sigh. You knew there was no way for you to get out of this one, but than again you didn’t want her to spill anything to Steve, Banner, or Clint. So, you gave a half lie.

“Just not to happy with who I found in my bed this morning.” You laughed off. “Nothing to worry about.”

Nat stared, her eyes moving up and down before giving a simple, “Okay. Just make sure whoever the mystery man is is out before Tony comes back.”

“He’s not here?”

“Nope. He went out for a bit, but he’ll be back soon.” Nat explained.

You nodded before grabbing your coffee and heading out. You weren’t sure where to go. You wanted to go back in your room, but you didn’t know if Loki was still there. You wanted to go sit in the living room, but you didn’t want questions from the others. So, you choose the next best thing. Wonder about the halls. It wasn’t as bad as you thought, in fact, it was quite therapeutic when gazing out at the birds that flew about. You seriously thought you’d get a break, well, that was until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

You turned around, the soft smile on your lips dropping, your body grew hot at the God of Mischief that stared back.

“Are you alright?” Loki questioned. “You seem.. off.”

“Wha, um, what?” You asked, your throat going dry as your mind thought about what could have transpired the night before. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Loki tilted his head as he eyed you up and down. You noticed every single, tiny detail about him to the point were you noticed the small flicker of his eyes, the tiny redness of the tips of ears. Not to mention the explosive feeling when his hand came to rest on your lower back way too casually.

You quickly grabbed his wrist, your grip tight but not tight enough for Loki to notice a difference. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” He questioned. For he first time since you’ve met him, he sounded completely innocent. “Would you like me to take you back your quarters? You look rather flushed, are you sick?”

“N-No, I’m not sick.” You stuttered out as you pushed his hand off of your body. The lingering effects causing your mind to turn foggy, it was the first time in a while that you felt such an effect from a simple touch of another. “I’ll go to my room by myself.”

“I don’t mind the trouble, really, allow me to occupy you.” Loki stated. His body ready to move right along side yours.

“No, seriously.” You stated as your hand came straight flush against his chest. The moment it hit, your words ceased to exist. It felt odd, to fell his heartbeat. You never thought in your lifetime would you be able to feel it, much less this clearly. Though, something was off with it cause you swore for a single second that you felt it skip a beat.

“I, um,” you hummed out as you placed your hand back at your side. “I’ll go by myself.”

When you turned away from the God of Mischief, it was like your entire body became cold. The feeling of him slowly slipping away from your presence was almost the worst feeling you’ve ever experienced before. It was like moving away towards the perfect, most handsome looking sun you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

When your back fell into the bed, it was like everything you were feeling hit you at once. All the things you kept towards the back of your mind came to the front, center stage. All these questions entered your mind.

What did you say to Loki while drunk?

You know he isn’t effected by Midgardian liquor, so, he was completely sober. If so, did he take advantage of your drunk state?

Sure, he was Loki and tried to take over Earth at one point. But you wouldn’t call him evil, at worse you’d give him the ‘bad boy’ label.

Did you really sleep with him?

“Shit,” you grumbled to yourself as you began to bite down on your bottom lip. You knew you had some kind of feelings for Loki, and yes you shut them down as quick as they came for obvious reasons, but you didn’t want everything to come undone just from some liquor. If anything, you at least wanted to tell him at the right time when you were sober.

Turning on your side, you pressing your knees into your chest. It really was nagging, this unknown feeling. You knew the only way you were going to get answers was from Loki himself. However, the thought of that was too much. It was like you were ripping off a bandage that you had just placed on. You were frightened that when it came undone, the painful ripping would completely tear away at what relationship was already there.

“Sir,” Jarvis called out. This wasn’t uncommon since Tony had made sure to install Jarvis in every aspect of this place. “Dinner is ready. Everyone is waiting on you.”

“Okay, thank you.” You hummed out as you gathered yourself before heading out once more. Was it too much for you to be left alone today?

When you made your appearance at the large set table, everyone finally began to eat. Steve made it top priority that everyone must be present before eating, for some reason unknown to Tony and you.

You were seated next to Tony and Thor, Loki sat across from you with Natasha and Steve on either side of him. The food that was presented to you was a simple meal. Take-out. You knew everyone had kitchen duty at least once a week, so you began to believe it was Tony’s week thanks to this being the third time take out was for dinner. Though, you were impressed how he managed to make simple take out so impressively set out like it was from a five-star restaurant.

“How was everyone’s morning?” Steve asked politely. This was routine.

“Fine, just woke up with a massive hangover.” Tony said with a funny-looking smirk that made most of the people sitting around him laugh in amusement.

“Same.” Natasha said. “Remind me never to drink at your parties.”

“Eh, it was still fun. Even if I don’t remember most of it.” You commented. Your eyes going off on their own for a moment before connecting with Loki. Except, his eyes were already on you. With no expression on his face and this certain look in his eyes while staring, it made you zip your mouth quickly. Your eyes darting back down towards your food.

Loki raised a brow quizzically before his attention was brought back to Natasha when she asked you, “Did you manage to get the mystery man out of your bed?”

“What?” You flinched, your hand even lost hold of the fork. The noise it created as it rang the glass plate caught more attention than Natasha’s comment.

“You okay, [Name]?” Steve asked with a curious look.

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” You questioned back. If they didn’t know you, they’d drop it. However, they did know you.

“Is it someone we know?” Tony asked with a sly smirk. The look he gave made something turn uncomfortably in your stomach. “Or, maybe the same guy from last time?”

“No,” You lied. “He was a stranger.”

“That is quite exciting.” Thor chuckled as he tried to learn more about the human customs of ‘one night stands’. Something he, for some reason, doesn’t know.

“It really isn’t, but thanks.” You reassured.

“I would disagree.” Tony commented. “I think they’re rather.. thrilling.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to eat once more. Your eyes desperate for another peak at the man across from you. In the back of your mind, you told yourself no. It wasn’t worth it. Just ignore him. Though, your body denied itself to listen to your brain and gave into the desire. In that moment, everything froze. For some unknown reason, it was like everyone else in the room disappeared. The only ones left where Loki and yourself. That look in his eyes, the way his hand held up his head. Everything told you this was a dangerous game you were playing.

“[Name]?” Thor asked, his voice pulling you out of the void and back to reality. “Are you going to eat that?”

“What?” You mumbled before gazing down at the food that you haven’t eaten yet. You shook your head before pushing the plate towards the God of Thunder.

“You sure? You didn’t eat much.” Steve asked, his eyes growing to big puppy eyes filled with concern.

“Yeah, I’m not that hungry anyway.” You waved off. Your body soon standing up from your chair as you dismissed yourself from the others.

You didn’t bother to wait around for good nights or goodbyes from the others. Your feet aimlessly moved around until you rounded the corner. The quick footsteps that grew closer to you the furthest thing from your mind. So, when you felt your body get pressed into the wall, you couldn’t help but let out a loud gasp. Your mouth quickly getting covered by a rough, large hand.

Your eyes quickly began to analyze everything in front of you. Your mind processing the face and body that belonged to Loki, the hand that pressed against your mouth his. He eyed you down for what felt like a decade, that was until he broke it to gaze down the hall for any incoming Avengers. When he didn’t see anyone, he slowly released his hand from your face but still kept you pinned to the wall.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his question rough and demanding of answers.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Dont play dumb with me.” He hissed out. “You’ve been avoiding me all day, what is wrong with you?”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Loki huffed, his patience wearing thin. “Then why did you run away this morning? Or when I saw you earlier, and how do you explain not even capable of holding eye contact with me at supper?”

“That was nothing.” You mumbled out, your head turning to the left and down so you didn’t have to look at him. Though, you suppose that was pointless.

His hand was quick to grab onto your chin to make you face him once more. “Don’t look away from me.”

You could feel your body temperature rise, the feeling brutal to the point were you had to bend your leg a bit and tap your fingers just to calm yourself a bit. Everything in your mind ran so quickly that you began to believe you would have a malfunction up there. Though, instead of a malfunction you ended up just blurting out, “Did we sleep together?”

You watched as nothing but pure confusion twisted in Loki’s face. You weren’t positive yet if that was good or bad, but something deep within your stomach told you not to make any false moves. Not to assume anything until you hear his words.

“Would that really be so bad?” He asked, his voice low.

“I don’t mean it like that.” You corrected. “I’m just asking cause I don’t remember anything from last night and when I wake up you were in my shower.”

Loki sighed, his body taking a step back to allow yours to breathe. “No, we didn’t.”

You wanted to desperately to let out a sign of relief. However, you were smart enough to read the look on his face and know this wasn’t the right time for that.

“Then, why were you there?” You asked.

Loki sighed, his eyes making contact with yours before beginning to explain. “I took you back to your room since you were probably more drunk than Stark. I didn’t mean to upset you if I have, I just thought it would be best to keep an eye on you until you fell asleep. I suppose at some point I did as well.”

“So, you took care of me.” You stated as you took an unconscious step closer.

“I suppose so, yes.” He said. “Was that wrong of me to do?”

“No, no.” You ushered out quickly. “That was fine. I’m glad you it was you.”

“You are?” He asked, his eyes staring into yours.

You nodded. Another step closer taken. Both pair of eyes danced with the other as each of you stared at the other. It was this moment of silence that you appreciated the most, cherished the most. It was an intoxicating feeling to sit in silence with Loki, to allow no sound of voice to flow between the both of you. The way your heart beat so intensity, the thoughts that crawled out that always made a shiver go up your spine, well, it was nothing but pure ecstasy.

“Come to my room.” You blurted out, the afterthought not even in question. You meant what you said, and Loki could see that as well by his silence nod and questionless lips.

As the two of your traveled, Loki following behind you in silence, your heart began to pound faster. The wonder of what would come to pass filling in your veins and by the time you came upon your room, you didn’t waste time to lock your door just in case.

“I want you to know something.” You said as you sat down next to Loki on the edge of your bed.

“What is it?” He questioned, his eyes never leaving yours for a second. After all, that would be too long for him.

“I wasn’t in regret or anything, I just wanted to know the truth.” You stated clearly. “If I ever did that with you, I rather remember the time clearly.”

You noticed the adam’s apple in Loki’s throat bob quickly after your words. The way his eyes now going frantic about your body without shame made your hand grip onto your pants. It was a new feeling, but one you enjoyed. Having him look at you felt nothing like anyone else in the past had done, when it was him and only him, you felt like he was looking at the stars.

“Allow me to be frank?” He asked, his question answered with a simple nod.

When Loki leaned in, he stabilized himself by moving one of his hands on top of yours, his fingers snaking in between the spaces in your hand. You felt him grip a bit harder, in a relaxing way before speaking his mind.

“I find myself thinking of you even at the most.. inopportune moments of the day. I feel as if a link exists between your heart and mine and should that link be broken either by distance or by time, my heart would cease to be and I would die.” Loki freely spoke. His voice soft, and low as he spoke so that only you would hear this side of him even if no other soul was nearby to hear. “And you.. you’d soon forget about me.”

You leaned your head, a plethora of emotions washing over you at once. Though, you needed to address this one thing as if life and death hanged in the balance. Your body scooted closer to the God, your hand that connected with his now placed on your lap before saying, “Loki. I’d never forget about you.”

The God let out a dry chuckle. “I acknowledge that. I just suppose that’s my fear speaking.”

“If we’re being so open, I’d like to say something as well.” You said, his eyes looking at you with such patience that you’ve never found before. “You make me feel.. you make me feel vulnerable. Every time your eyes meet mine I can feel you looking at my very soul, and I don’t like it. Do you know?”

“Do I know.. what?”

You smiled softly, your hand squeezing Loki’s as you ask, “Do you know what it’s like around you? It’s like.. It’s like I can’t breathe when you’re around and everything stops. When everything stops, I can only focus on you.”

You’ve never really seen Loki smile, but he had granted you the privilege of seeing a few times. However, you instantly knew this kind of smile, the soft and sweet kind he directed towards you was your favorite yet. Sure, the causally smirk or smile was nice, but this one was for you and you alone.

And you loved it.

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki fluff #loki x reader #loki odison x reader #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson x male reader #loki x male reader #loki odinson x male reader #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x male reader #male reader #x male reader

303 notes · View notes

taki118 · 4 years

Text

Go Watch the Venture Brothers

So just heard the complete and utter Bullshit news that Adult Swim has cancelled one of (if not the best shows) they have the Venture Bros. This series is one of those shows that for WHATEVER reason never got to the level of fandom Rick and Morty has even though they’ve been at the genre parody game longer and in my opinion better.

The series is about Rusty Venture former boy adventurer and failing super scientist who in an attempt to keep his head above water in debt goes around with his two boys Hank and Dean, and bodyguard Brock on misadventues while various legal archnemisis go after him, such as the Monarch.

So if you never watched or never heard of this 7 season series let me give you a break down on why you should,

1) Art Style & Animation

Venture bros is one of those rare Adult aimed animated series that that really truly tries to utilize their medium to the best of their abilities. Season 1 had like such a small budget and corners had to be cut so it can be a little hard to watch at times.

But with each passing season they get a little better, a little more fluid, go just a little harder and it truly feels rewarding to watch. Like seeing an artist you follow online improve over the years. Like they COULD have stayed with the choppy and stiff animation from season 1 it fit right in with its fellow adult animated shows but it didn’t. They strove for quality to have something that matched the story they were telling.

2) The Writing

Venture Bros has some of the tightest and consistently great writing of ANY serialized show I’ve seen, adult, animated or other wise. Wanna know why? Cause it’s all done by TWO people (save for like one ep each season where one other person is allowed to touch their baby). Yeah TWO people and they work their asses off every season to interject, humor, refrences, parody, plot and character development in equal measure.

3) Character Development

Um yes in case you were wondering that’s right an adult animated show has CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT that holds as the series goes on. Not to give spoilers but characters will go through changes in alignment, relationships will develop and change, some characters will go through negative arcs where they are straight up unbareable for a season before coming out the other side even better than they were before. There is no end of epsiode or even end of season reset. Characters, settings, and dynamics all change over the course of the show and it feels just so god damn good.

4) Story Development

Just like the characters the story of the Venture Bros grows and changes each season. Things that are set up even as early as season one are paid off as the series goes on. Like not to be that bitch but you know how RIck and Morty teases an overarching plot ALL THE TIME but like will often just spit in the face of fans hoping for more than like one episode a season addressing it? Yeahhhhhhh that doesnt happen here, fans are consistently rewarded for putting the time in to rewatch and really think about what happened in the series. Characters that are seen in the background or are just referenced by other characters will be brought in to be recurring characters, things that start off as a small detail or gag will be given larger relevance and each time they do this you get that “OH I remember that from last season! So thats what it was!” The writers WANT you to rewatch, they WANT you to analyze and they WANT you to theorize, and they give you a show that gives back the time you put in.

5) Parody & Reference

This series does a great thing with parody. They make real characters who are just as enjoyable as the characters they parody, they make story lines that both poke fun at the absurdity of the media but shows the writers love for it. So often parody and references are just used to mock the thing but with Venture Bros you feel the love and care so when you know the thing being parodied you can laugh but feel good about laughing cause they are never laughing at a thing maybe you cared for in your youth but rather laughing with it.

And it’s never just one thing. When they parody a thing its often layered with other things to make it even more unique. Scooby-Doo is overlayed with famous criminals, Laura Croft is mixed Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, GI Joe is given the look of the Village People and so on. They never go for the easy joke or reference. Hell theres an episode that starts with them reciting the lyrics to David Bowies Space Oddity for really no reason other than they could. They weave these things in naturally with their setting and characters so nothing feels out of place. Like if you dont catch a reference or parody you dont feel like “I think this isa reference to something?” like a LOT of things do not just adult animated shows. You arent taken out of the moment cause it all feels so natural.

6) The Characters

God damn these characters, I could go on for hours about these characters. From main to one off these are some of the most likeable characters you can find. I mean it when I say I can’t think of a single character I wish they had cut cause they are all so well created. Even the ones I hate i have fun hating cause they were made to be that way. I’ll be good though I’ll only talk about my absolute top faves.

- The Monarchs

You ever sit and wish villain couples could have functional healthy relationships? Well look no further than Malcom Fitzcarraldo aka The Monarch and Dr. Shelia Girlfriend (yes that is her last name). The Monarch is a high strung impulsive saturday morning cartoon villain whos tendency to over react is only matched by his unspecified hatred of Dr. Venture. And Dr. G is his nonsense partner in crime who will cut a bitch if they don’t play by their admittedly weird rules. Both characters are great on their own but are better together. Though that doesnt mean they always get along. Like a real couple they have their ups and downs they fight, break up, make-up and grow stronger in their relationship with each season.

- Shore Leave

Ok ok so I want you to imagine James Bond, mixed with GI Joe simmering in a cocktail of the most flamboyant gay men you have ever seen and you have one of my favorite gay characters/characters in general. Shore Leave is a member of OSI (the shows SHEILD/GI Joe parody organization) he’s loud, brash, flippant, sassy and highly competent at his job loving every second of getting to beat bad guys down within an inch of their life. I love seeing him play off the stoic Brock and the two have this great brotherly dynamic that’s never called into question. He also gets to have a very cute romance with Al the Alchemist (who is also great). I could talk about this man all day.

- Dr. Rusty Venture

They did such a good job with this man. He’s a self serving, sexist, perverted, whinny, self important asshole and yet you feel pity and genuine sympathy for him and want him to succeed. You can see how Dr. V was given a raw deal by his father who seemed to care more about his adventures than his sons well being and how this molded him into the bitter man he is today, but on the flip side you can see where he chose to use that as a crutch for his worst behaviors and impulses. Seeing him slowly grow and change and be an actual good father to his boys while all the while still be a giant dick is actually really great.

- Dr. Byron Orpheus

Ahhhhh Dr. Orpheus part Dr. Strange Parody part busybody stay at home dad, he’s just such a delight. Dr. Orpheus is a divorcee, with an unfulfilling job of maintaining order to the cosmos (which isnt as hard as one might think), and uses his magical ablities in ways most of us would (ie menial tasks and home chores). Overly dramatic and affectionate Dr. O is a delight whenever he appears, but he’s at his best around his daughter and old friends The Order of the Triad.

Again I can go on but all these characters ranging from main to recurring are crafted with the utmost care for you to want to see them succeed or fail, to see them again even if you know it’ll never happen, and want them to cross paths with other characters.

The Venture Bros is one of those series that I will ALWAYS recommend even to the pickiest of humor tastes. But if you don’t believe its as good as I said or don’t think the concept is to your tastes I’ll recommend a few eps that I think best show off the base idea of the series without giving much away. In terms of plot and spoilers, though somethings wont make a lot of sense.

- S1 ep10 "Tag Sale – You're It!" - Dr. V is having a yard sale so of course all manner of costumed weirdos show up. - S2 ep5 "Twenty Years to Midnight" - basically a fetch quest around the world to save the planet with daddy issues - S3 ep2 "The Doctor Is Sin" - Again daddy issues but with one of the best recurring characters and a great showcase of the series deeper emotional plots - S4 ep6 "Self-Medication" - Really embraces the parody as Rusty goes to a former boy adventurer support group. Anyway the show is 7 seasons with 80 episodes, please go watch it. I will never forgive @adultswim for cancelling what was to be their final season. And in closing GO TEAM VENTURE!

#venture bros #the venture bros #venture brothers #adultswim #adult animated shows #animated shows #animation #go watch this show #go watch #adult animation

1K notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

Would lowkey kill to see Kauri attempting to write poetry in his relationship with Jake era (omg Jake helping him/being the one to write it down) I always forget that he was a writer and loves poetry and I love him 10 times more every time I remember

CW: Some references to past trauma, forced illiteracy, some brief internalized victim-blaming/slut-shaming, Kauri’s low self-esteem

Takes place after Worth the Risk and Kauri’s first glimpse of his own past

“This is fucking stupid. I can’t fucking do this.” Kauri picks up the notebook, hard-backed blue with little golden stars twinkling on the cover, and throws it full-strength across the room until it smacks into the wall and drops to the ground, open to his own scrawling, struggling handwriting.

Chris, wrapped in a big fuzzy blue blanket and curled up in an armchair playing a game on his phone or texting Laken or maybe both, flinches and looks up. “Kauri?”

Kauri looks away from the earnest concern in those huge green eyes and kicks ineffectually at the coffee table, hissing when he doesn’t actually miss and his toes connect with the hard wooden leg. “Fuck. Fucking-... bullshit, I’m an idiot trying to do this, just-... god damn it. I should know better.”

There’s a silence, and then Chris asks, softly, “Know better than, than... than to what? What were you, um, you doing?”

Kauri’s jaw is set and for a second he considers lying. He’s a good liar, after all, and Chris is always so ready to believe him, he wouldn’t even question it. Safer to lie, hide the ideas inside his head, talk instead about something soft and surface-level.

Safer to be stupid, always.

But he’s trying not to do that anymore.

He’s trying.

“Writing,” He says, finally. “I was... trying to-... write something.” The words are ground out of him nearly against his will. He glares at the notebook lying open on the floor, the scrawling handwriting of the fucked up slut still thinking he can be anything else. Looping and childish, too big almost to fit within the lines.

“Oh.” Chris pauses, and then brightens, setting his phone aside and straightening up. “You, you sad you think that you used to, to, to, to write, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Kauri’s head hurts, a sharp punishing ache. How dare he think in metaphor and simile, how dare he try to build the villanelle, how dare he remember vaguely arguing with someone in a coffeeshop over old poetic forms being superior to poems that don’t even try to fit within a rhythm, and he just-

This is so-

He’s so stupid, thinking he could just pick it up again like it hasn’t been a decade or close, like he’s still whatever stupid shit lived in his body before he-

signed up for this-

followed a fucking hot guy outside in the dark and got thrown into a van and made into Kauri.

“Well, my... my professor for, for, for, for Playwriting says... says writing is a muscle. You, you have to exercise. And you can’t do the, um, the, the, the-the heavy weights until you start with, with small ones.”

Kauri snorts, derisive, but it’s not because Chris is wrong - of course he’s not wrong. Part of Kauri knows it, too, that he used to write all the time, around the pounding inside his skull he knows that he used to scribble lines on napkins and paper towels and the margins of his study books, bringing together the poem itself only later, usually alone or with a boyfriend on the other side of the room. He used to be able to do this.

He used to do this all the time.

“I wish Owen had wanted someone who could write a fucking poem,” Kauri says, voice breaking on the tears that threaten. “Maybe then I’d still be able to.” He pushes himself to his feet and stomps over to scoop up the notebook almost violently. “Why are you taking Playwriting, anyway? I thought you wanted to do set design.”

“I, I do.” Chris shrugs, eyes on Kauri, watching him walk back towards the doorway that leads to a hall and then to the kitchen. “But I thought-... I, I, I figured-... maybe if I learn how to, to write a play, it would help... visualize. For, for, for set-building. You, um. You know?”

Kauri exhales, slowly, and then nods. “Yeah. I get it. That’s a good plan - I mean, not that I would know, I’m a college fucking dropout, right?” He laughs, bitterness in every word, in every sound.

“No,” Chris replies, simply. “You, you were... abducted. We were, um. We, we, we were stolen. Your words were, um, were stolen, too. That’s what Dr. Berger-”

“Fuck Dr. Berger,” Kauri snaps, and leaves the room before Chris can make any more sense and possibly break apart Kauri’s determined self-loathing while he still wants to soak in it.

Hating himself for what he can’t do - or what he’s been told he can’t do - is so much easier than trying to do it anyway.

Everything was easier than trying to get better.

So why is he still trying?

Notebook clenched in white-knuckled hands, Kauri climbs the stairs like a man moving to the gallows, one by one, his thoughts a swirling morass of self-hatred, and then he moves into the bedroom he shares with Jake here and stares at the rumpled covers on the bed.

He sleeps here every single night, wakes up to the same face pressed red on one side from the pillow, hears the same deep voice rumbling good morning, feels the same arm slide over his waist, the same scratchy stubble rubbing his jaw when he’s kissed.

I have generally found, in my work, the fucking therapist’s voice echoes inside him, that when you begin to do the work to rebuild, you will find yourself dedicated over time to reconstructing not just a room, Kauri, but the entire city that was once leveled. Does that make sense?

He’d told her it didn’t.

Kauri spent years dodging therapy whenever Nat didn’t talk him into it, and he hates going. He hates having to spill all the darkness inside him to someone who never stops being so goddamn calm.

But the first time she’d said, have you ever heard about the effect that solitary confinement has on the human mind? He had told her he didn’t know, but he’d started crying, too, and hadn’t been able to explain why.

Part of you knows, Dr. Berger had said gently. Part of you always knew.

He had never really wanted to know the person who had inhabited this skin, or try to be him again. But standing here looking at the evidence of the life he is slowly building - his clothes in a crumpled heap on the floor by the bed, his toothbrush in the little cup in the bathroom, a picture of he and Jake in a frame by the bed now, the very small silver ring he wears sometimes even though they’re not and they probably won’t but it kind of feels good to wear it sometimes...

He wonders if Liam Harker wanted a life like this one.

---

“It’s really dumb,” Kauri mutters, pulling the pillow over his face, burning red with embarrassment. “I didn’t even really mean for you to see it-”

“It’s not dumb,” Jake says, gently. Kauri feels the dip in the mattress as he sits down, feels the warmth of his hand resting on Kauri’s thigh through the blanket. “I’m sorry I read it. I didn’t know what I was looking at. If it was supposed to be a secret-”

“No. I didn’t. I forgot I left it out on the dresser. It’s not your fault. It’s so fucking stupid. I don’t know why I even-”

“Kauri.” Jake’s voice sharpens, a little. “Stop. Stop calling yourself stupid. You’re not, and you never were, and you don’t have to repeat what that asshole told you about yourself anymore, remember?”

Kauri swallows, hard, a lump in his throat he can’t quite breathe around. “When does it stop being his voice,” He asks, muffled, “and start being my own?”

“When you let it,” Jake says, rubbing his leg soothingly. “Just like my dad’s voice. You’re not stupid. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my life. I’m sorry I read it, but that’s because it wasn’t mine to read, not because it was dumb, or bad. It wasn’t.”

Kauri hesitates, then pulls the pillow to the side, looking at the sincere affection in Jake’s face, his slight smile. “Yeah? You’re not just-”

“Saying that? No, I’m not. I mean, I’m not, like, a poetry person-”

“It’s not even a real villanelle, anyway.”

“I have no idea what that means. I just... I thought it was pretty good, actually. When I realized-... I put it down when I realized you were writing about-... you know. Yourself.”

“Liam,” Kauri says, hoarse, barely able to pronounce the name. “I wrote-”

“Yeah.” Jake takes his hand, pulls it to his lips, presses a kiss to Kauri’s knuckles. “I know. It’s really good, Kaur. You should keep writing. I promise I won’t look at any stray papers I find anymore, yeah?”

Kauri takes a breath. He feels almost dizzy, in a way that is both terrible and wonderful. The way you open yourself to the people you love is a horrible, amazing risk. The way you spill the darkest parts of yourself, not things you’ve done wrong but the things you are afraid of allowing back into the light, in case it washes them all away again.

But the light he lives in now isn’t cold, and it isn’t taking him away from himself. The light he lives in now is sunlight.

“What?” Jake’s eyebrows raise slightly. “What’s that face for?”

“Jake. What if-... what if I ask you to? Read them?”

Jake’s lips press together, and he nods, smiling slightly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Kauri’s hand. He’s always warm, Jake, even on the coldest days. He’s always warm. “I’d be-... be fucking honored, or something that sounds less bullshit than that, but I mean it. I’d be... I love you, Kauri. Seeing inside your head is what I want to do for-... for forever.”

“Maybe I’ll ask then,” Kauri says, and pulls Jake’s hand and then Jake himself, the taller, larger man settling on top of him, holding himself up on his elbows, careful not to rest all his weight. “I love you, too, you know.”

“Yeah.” Jake kisses the tip of his nose. “It’s pretty fucking great.”

Kauri’s eyes glimmer, but he closes them so Jake can’t see, and kisses his forehead. “It’s nice to think that I’m lucky and mean it.”

“I think you should read your poem to Dr. Berger,” Jake says, and when Kauri groans, he pulls back. “I mean it. She should know.”

Kauri wants to argue, but he looks into Jake’s eyes, and sighs, and says he’ll think about it.

---

AN APOLOGY

I am built from the hollow air left after your heart stopped beating

Your hands still gripped tight to the life they were ending

I know you thought of home but I don’t know where your home is

The sound of my voice is a green valley that only sends back screaming

Covered in smoke and dust that I told myself smelled like cologne

Pathways that remember your laughter silent in the years that followed

Have I done enough to build a life you would have enjoyed living?

I am built from the hollow air left over when your heart stopped beating

The heat of their hands as inevitable as a river tore down every foundation

Their cruelty buried you so deeply that only I remain

I don’t deserve the love that should have been yours to receive

The sound of my voice is a valley echoing back your screaming

I owe you an apology for walking around inside you

Crumbling ruins with my touch and calling it preservation

I’m sorry for every blade of grass growing through our bones

Am I nothing but hollow air from when your heart stopped beating?

Wildflowers grow inside me from soil windswept over ash

Is that life worth everything not quite dead so deep below?

Is Kauri Grant good enough to make up for Liam Harker’s loss?

In the valley of my body, does anyone but me still hear you screaming?

I owe you an apology and have to hope the life I live provides it

I wish I could ask for forgiveness from the shape of you

We’re both ghosts, in the end, mosaic pieces shattered in shadows

I’m sorry that I’m all that’s left.

I built myself from hollow air in the shape of a heart still beating

The sound of my voice will always carry the echo of yours screaming

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @orchidscript @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @moose-teeth @whumptywhumpdump @wildfaewhump

206 notes · View notes

bowlegsandbiceps · 3 years

Text

Suptober Day 4: Secret

Secret Agent Man

Mature / Secret Agent!Cas/Domestic Dean / Destiel / 2,726 words

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

Castiel’s heart hammered in his chest as he rolled to a stop on a nondescript residential street and killed the headlights. The entire mission was FUBAR, was from the start in all honesty but he never dreamed it would end up like this. He rubbed a hand over his mouth hard, glancing up at the small sliver of moon in the sky, and ran the call through his head again.

“Speak”

“C-C-Cas?” He remembered how every muscle had seized at the sound of Dean’s voice, tremulous and staticky on the other end of the line. He’d looked down at his phone, confirming that, no, he hadn’t accidentally brought his personal phone on a job. Dean was on the opposite end of a burner with only one contact and that could only mean one thing.

“Hello, darling.”

“Crowley.” Castiel had done his level best to keep his voice even and calm, no hint of the rage and turmoil roiling in his gut.

“Let’s not dally. You have something of mine. I have something of yours.”

“You’re suggesting a trade.”

“An even trade.” Crowley had emphasized. “I get the weapon, the money, a plane on the tarmac and a twenty-four-hour head start.”

“Is that all?” Castiel had been sarcastic, a knee-jerk response from years of having nothing to lose, and regretted it instantly.

“Buddy boy that’s generous considering what I could do to your young lad here. He’s a pretty one, Angel. Has a lot of fight in him too.” Castiel heard Crowley sniff and he hoped that Dean had broken his fucking nose. “One hour, Angel. Or the body you’ll be collecting will be his.”

Castiel lowered his head, hands still gripping the steering wheel tight as moments with Dean flashed through his mind. The night they met, him working security at an event Dean was catering and Dean permitting him to stop whatever threats emerged as long as Castiel stayed out of his way and didn’t touch his knives. Dean’s husky baritone as he sang “Secret Agent Man” at him from several yards away when they ran into each other at a festival a few days later, Dean tipsy enough to force Castiel to take his number and Castiel smitten enough to accept it, against his better judgment. The night Dean cooked for him and Castiel thanked him by carrying him off into the bedroom like they were in some romance novel, Dean’s ankles locked at Castiel’s lower back as he kissed the life out of him.

Castiel shook his head, cursed under his breath. He knew better than to form personal connections, but Dean with his mega-watt smile and terrible jokes had wormed his way past all Castiel’s defenses one home-cooked meal at a time until Castiel got sloppy. Now Dean would pay the price for Castiel’s foolishness, a burden Castiel didn’t think he’d be able to bear if he were to fail tonight.

So he forced himself to harden, feeling his insides solidify to stone and when he climbed out of the car he wasn’t Castiel, certainly wasn’t the man Dean called Cas in the tender moments they shared wrapped up in Dean’s sheets. He was the Angel of Death and he would neutralize this threat.

Silent as the grave, Castiel made his way up the street, staying in the shadows. When he reached Dean’s driveway he saw the Impala through the open garage door and slipped in next to it. The door was unlocked, a habit Dean had to break goddammit and Castiel slipped inside. He paused in the dark laundry room, startled for a moment to see Dean standing at the stove in his underwear, humming a Metallica song as he sautéed something in a pan. Dean seemed to catch movement out of the corner of his eye and when he turned to look Castiel could see the wound at his temple, blood tacky down the side of his face.

Castiel immediately lifted his finger to his lips but Dean just blinked at him and looked back down into the pan.

“Is that you, Angel?” Crowley’s voice crooned from somewhere past the doorway and Dean’s shoulders tensed, his spatula pausing. “Don’t burn the veggies, Dean. You don’t want to have to start over again.” Dean immediately lifted the pan and shook it, tossing the chopped peppers, onions and bits of ham with practiced ease.

Castiel strode forward, not bothering to silence his steps this time and he couldn’t stop himself from touching Dean’s shoulder as he passed though he didn’t look at him. Crowley was sitting at the small kitchen table, dressed sharply in a black suit with a blood-red tie. His nose was crooked and there was blood in his mustache and beard, something that caused Castiel’s lips to quirk in satisfaction though the gun casually pointed at Dean’s back soured his stomach. The table was set for three and Castiel glanced over his shoulder to see that Dean was now transferring the veggies onto a paper towel then began to crack eggs in a shallow bowl.

“You’re just in time for breakfast!” Crowley crooned, gesturing with the gun for Castiel to sit.

Castiel did so silently, taking the seat across from Crowley and directly behind Dean. Crowley adjusted his aim accordingly.

“So, rough night?” Crowley teased and Castiel merely stared back.

He could feel Dean moving behind him, his bare feet tapping against the linoleum as he turned to shuffle over to them. Dean, pan in hand and spatula poised stood over Crowley, face blank as he slid the completed omelet onto Crowley’s plate and made to turn to go back to the stove. Crowley’s hand shot out, gripping Dean’s wrist and Dean froze as Castiel snatched up a fork, stretching over the table, and pressed it to Crowley’s jugular. The gun in Crowley’s other hand went snuggly against Dean’s lower back, just above the band of his boxers.

“Easy, Angel. Easy now. I’m sure you wouldn’t want your lover here to lose all feeling below the waist.” Castiel’s eyes flicked to Dean’s face and found his eyes closed, face shuttered in forced calm. Castiel slowly lowered the fork and edged back into his seat. “That’s it. Now, Dean, be a dear and bring me the salt.”

“Taste it first,” Dean said over his shoulder and Castiel glared up at him. Dean shrugged his shoulders giving him a come on expression and Castiel was going to absolutely lose it if Dean’s irrational hatred of people seasoning their food before they tasted it was what actually got him killed.

Crowley laughed lowly, giving a tilt of his head as he used his fork to dig into the omelet. Steam billowed out, the scent of cheese and vegetables strong as Crowley forked a piece into his mouth. He rested his hands against the table’s edge as he chewed and gave another tilt of his head.

“You’re right. It’s perfect. Thank you, Dean.” Dean made to walk back to the stove but Crowley’s grip tightened, the gun pressing harder into his lower back. “Manners, lad.”

“You’re welcome,” Dean gritted out and Crowley finally released him, Castiel watching him pass and had to settle himself at the sight of the red mark left by the gun barrel at the base of Dean’s spine.

Crowley grinned at Castiel. “Nice little set up you got here. Stupid. But nice.”

“I don’t have the weapon.”

Crowley lifted a finger. “Ah but you have the location of the weapon. And what protections have gone into keeping nasty men like me from getting to it.”

“I was on the extraction team. You know very well that extraction and security don’t have anything to do with each other once the handoff is made.”

Crowley gave him a tart smile. “I also know very well that they trust you to handle both. Again…” Crowley’s eyes lifted over his shoulder but Castiel kept his gaze on Crowley, feeling Dean move around him to slide an omelet onto his plate. “Stupid.” The whisper of Dean’s fingers on his shoulder made every muscle in his body tense and Dean immediately pulled away.

“I don’t have the location of the weapon. I only have the drop-off location.”

Crowley pressed his lips together, displeased. “You also have the activation codes.”

Castiel hesitated, listening to the sizzle of eggs in the pan. “I have the self-destruct codes.”

Crowley grinned cheerfully, digging into his omelet. “Good enough for me.” Crowley’s eyes moved to Dean again and Castiel fought the urge to snap his fingers to regain Crowley’s attention. He didn’t have to. Crowley looked at him again, then gestured at his plate. “Eat!”

Castiel dutifully picked up his fork and speared into the omelet, shoving a bite into his mouth that took all the skin off the roof of his mouth. He chewed anyway. Dean was making his way back over, sliding his own omelet onto the final plate before turning to place the pan back on the stove. He hesitated there for a moment.

“Sit down, Dean we don’t want your breakfast getting cold.”

“It’s a little early for me.” Dean’s voice was controlled and even as he spoke to the stove.

Crowley rolled his eyes and cocked his gun. Dean’s shoulders tensed. “Get your pretty little ass over here and eat your breakfast, Dean Winchester. Or I’ll put a bullet in your boyfriend’s kneecap.”

Dean turned abruptly, hurrying to sit in the chair between the two men. He grabbed his fork and immediately sawed off a bite and shoved it in his mouth, chewing diligently. Crowley watched him as he opened his mouth to allow steam to exit, continuing to chew laboriously until he swallowed. Crowley grinned.

“He really is darling, Castiel.” Crowley’s eyes were roving over his face as Dean kept his eyes on his plate, cutting off another piece to shove into his mouth. “Didn’t give anything away and I put him through the wringer a bit there.” Crowley used the gun to indicate the hit to Dean’s head.

“Looks to me like he put you through it,” Castiel commented as he speared another piece of omelet contemplating it. “Must be humiliating to have your nose broken by a civilian.” Castiel ate it.

“Not nearly as humiliating as stripping him down so I could really appreciate him before he started cooking.”

Castiel stilled. Dean normally slept in his underwear. Castiel had figured that Crowley had gotten him out of bed at this late hour but then he remembered Dean had an event tonight. Castiel glanced at Dean, sucking in a deep breath, and over the smell of breakfast, he caught a whiff of Dean’s body wash, noted his hair was a little darker than normal, just the slightest bit damp. Dean’s eyes were closed, his jaw set as he held his fork in his fist and Castiel saw red.

Swift as a viper Castiel’s hand shot out, the fork sinking into the tendons of Crowley’s wrist, the same one holding the gun, as Castiel’s other hand went over the barrel, stopping the slide when Crowley attempted to pull the trigger. Dean had flung himself backward, chair skidding against the linoleum until he crashed back into the cabinets. One quick jab to the face, groaning through the pain of a fork stabbing into his chest just over his heart, Castiel managed to twist the gun in Crowley’s hand, his fingers limp from the damaged tendons, and without another thought, Castiel put a bullet in his brain and three more in the center of his chest.

Castiel was breathing hard, adrenaline scalding through his veins as he stared at the lifeless body sprawled back in the chair, brain matter and bits of skull spraying the wall behind him. His heart began to slow. The threat had been neutralized.

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Castiel’s head whipped to the side, finding Dean still sitting, wide eyes filling with tears as his hands gripped the side of his chair frozen. Castiel hit his knees immediately, moving to tuck the gun into his belt behind his back before he cupped Dean’s face gingerly. Dean was shaking all over, teeth chattering and Castiel immediately shrugged out of his trench, a motion that sent pain shooting across his chest. He cursed, looking down and finding the fork still stuck in the meat of his pectoral muscle. He ripped it out, angrily tossing it aside before looking back at Dean just in time to see a single tear slip over his lashes and down his cheek.

Castiel gathered up the coat and threw it around Dean’s semi-naked form, pulling him off the chair and into his arms. Dean went willingly, his arms going around Castiel’s neck as he planted a knee on either side of Cas’ perching in his lap. Castiel ran one large hand up and down Dean’s back, shushing him as he trembled and cried quietly into Castiel’s neck, his other hand delving back into Dean’s hair. Castiel sucked in a deep breath that was all Dean, shampoo and body wash, and the unique scent of his skin. Castiel huffed it out in a sigh, hands going to Dean’s biceps to push him back so he could see his face.

“Dean.” Castiel held his face in his hands and Dean sniffled, shaking hands coming up to clutch at Castiel’s wrists. “Dean, I need you to be honest with me. Did he hurt you?”Dean shook his head, sniffling again. “Did he touch you at all?”

Dean shook his head again, swallowing hard. “N-no. He just watched me shower. The creep.” Dean let out a breath of a chuckle before he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and tears cascaded down his face. Castiel snatched him close and Dean held on for dear life. “C-Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“You killed a guy in my kitchen.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“You really weren’t kidding when you said your job was dangerous.” Castiel grumbled, holding him tighter and Dean pressed his face to Castiel’s neck. “Is it weird I wanna know how your omelet was?”

Castiel couldn’t help it, he laughed, pressing a kiss to Dean’s uninjured temple and Dean gave a watery laugh of his own.

“It could’ve used some salt.”

“Oh fuck you. Salt. Jesus.”

“Dean I’m-“

“Don’t.” Dean pulled back, reaching up to wipe at his face. “I’ve seen this part of this movie a thousand times. You’re gonna say you’re sorry because we can’t be together it’s too dangerous, blah blah.”

“Actually that’s not what I was going to say.”

Dean’s brow crinkled. “No?”

Castiel shook his head. “I was going to say I’m sorry you probably won’t get your deposit back.” Dean glanced over at the carnage behind the dead body sitting at his kitchen table. Castiel cocked his head to the side. “You’re taking this remarkably well.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m in shock.” Dean gave a sharp shake of his head as he tore his eyes away from the body and gave a shiver. “Do you need to like… call this in or… You’re hurt!” Dean’s hand immediately went to Castiel’s chest which was bleeding sluggishly.

“I’m fine. Nothing a bandage and a tetanus shot can’t fix.” Castiel ran a hand over Dean’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

“I hate that wallpaper, Cas, maybe the landlord will finally get rid of it.”

“No, I mean… when the shock wears off you’ll-“

“Still want to be with you,” Dean insisted arms tightening around Castiel’s shoulders. “Yeah that guy found me because of you but you also neutralized the threat.” Castiel felt a smile tug at his lips at Dean using his jargon.

“I let my emotions get the best of me.” Castiel touched Dean’s face gently. “It was a dumb move stabbing him. It’s sheer luck I didn’t get either of us killed.”

Dean turned his head, kissing the heel of Castiel’s hand. “You’re just a lucky guy, Cas.” Dean gave him a big smile, the one that never failed to render Castiel speechless. “You got me after all.”

Castiel huffed a laugh, his head dropping to Dean’s shoulder, and let his arms curl nearly double around him. Sirens could be heard in the distance, likely one of Dean’s neighbors called the cops at the sound of gunshots and Castiel relaxed into Dean’s hold as he began to hum “Secret Agent Man.”

#suptober21 #destiel #secret agent castiel #domestic dean #angst #mild gore #fanfic: supernatural #writing by me #non-consensual voyeurism

53 notes · View notes

thechangeling · 3 years

Text

Tell me a story

Ty doesn't believe in fate.

A shout out to @ilikebooks8 for convincing me to make a fanfic about autistic!Eleanor Blackthorn. Autism is genetic so it makes sense for Ty to have autistic ancestors. If you are autistic I guarentee you have someone in your family who is also autistic they just haven't been diagnosed yet. For me, I've got my dad.

Cw: mentions of ableism, abuse and the death of a minor character. Very anti Andrew Blackthorn.

"Tell me a story," Tiberius' asked, in that mature, matter- of-fact way he spoke. Ty was only eight but already he sounded like a boy twice his age in terms of his vocabulary and the way he spoke.

Although he still had the voice of a child which was rather amusing. Eleanor turned to face her son with a groan as she felt searing pain shoot through her bones. She had been laying down all day due to feeling extremely unwell. The noises and lights of the outside world were especially brutal, but she had gotten used to it overtime. She had learned to cope. To smile and nod and make eye contact. To control her movements and still her hands and laugh at their jokes.

Eleanor played the part of the proper shadowhunter and the dutiful wife, the attentive mother. It didn't matter that it had changed her. Had completely turned her into a different person, someone harsher and colder. Someone who was so quick to anger and venomous hatred.

Someone who only knew how to be in pain.

She always tried to not let that side of her show to her children. They didn't deserve it. But the past few weeks in particular had been brutal. Her body felt broken and it was becoming harder and harder to put up that facade.

She faced Ty with the best fake smile she could muster. "Which story would you like to hear?" He climbed up on the bed beside her and sat down in an odd twisted position where his legs were in a W position. He began tapping his hands on his knees as he appeared to contemplate his choices.

Eleanor could remember a time when she was younger when she used to do that. Before her parents had stopped her. She knew she should really tell Tiberius off to discourage him from doing these things in public. He was so blatent and open in a way that frightened and almost angered her. There was no telling what kind of reaction The Clave might have.

She didnt want him to end up with the dregs, or worse.

"I don't know," Ty said finally scrunching up his eyebrows. "I can't think of one right now. Could you make one up?" Eleanor smiled in spite of herself. She had always loved making up stories ever since she was a kid. She had always been a creative person, painting and drawing as often as she could. Shadowhunters didn't really appreciate a creative streak.

Eleanor nodded. "Ok sure, let's see." She took a breath, trying to ignore the agony spreading through her back and shoulders. "Once upon a time there was a prince who was trapped in a tower that was guarded by an evil ogar. The prince had been rumored to have special powers so he was forced by his parents to stay locked away in the tower forever to keep him safe. He wasnt allowed to make friends with any other children so he grew up alone. Teaching himself how to read and write and playing games to amuse himself."

Ty rolled his eyes. "Isn't that rather cliche? The whole prince trapped in a tower story? I've definitely heard that before."

Eleanor laughed. "Where did you hear the word cliche Tiberius?" Ty shrugged, not seeing the amusement in the situation.

"It was in a book. Can you keep going?" He whined impatiently. "I wanna hear the rest."

Eleanor sighed, shaking her head good naturedly. "Alright then. So the prince was trapped for a very long time. Then one day a mysterious adventurer came exploring nearby the tower."

"Can it be a detective?" Ty interrupted, bouncing up and down. He had been obsessed with Clue lately.

"Alright sure, it was a detective. He was searching the answers to a murder mystery. The murder of a young women." Ty instantly looked interested. Perhaps murder was not the best subject for a story being told to an eight year old, but Ty was a shadowhunter. They were trained to deal with blood and death.

"His was searching for information and came across the tower," she continued. So he decided to investigate. He snuck passed the ogar and into the tower, where he was ambushed by the prince!"

Ty gasped excitedly, wriggling in place. "What happened next? Did they fight?"

Eleanor opened her mouth to continue, but then the bedroom door flew open, startling them both.

It was Andrew. Instantly Ty shrunk himself down, hunching his shoulders. Eleanor knew that Ty didn't always get along with his father but she knew Andrew still loved him deep down. He glared at them both.

"Ty your mother is meant to be resting," he said pointedly.

Eleanor shook her head. "Oh no it's alright. He wasn't bothering me." Andrew didn't seem to hear her.

"Tiberius let's go," he said harshly. Ty hesitated for a moment, looking up at her.

"But I wanna hear the rest of the story!" He protested. "I wanna know what happens to the prince!" Eleanor sighed solemnly. She didn't want to disappoint Ty, but she was feeling pretty worn out.

"Another time baby," she assured him. "I promise."

But unfortunately she never got the chance. She never got the chance because little did they know, Eleanor Blackthorn had cancer. Something that silent brothers couldn't cure. Something that shadowhunters were powerless against.

"What are you thinking about ?" Kit murmered from his spot curled up against Ty's chest. His breath tickled Ty's chin.

Ty paused, not quite sure how to answer. They were lying on the roof of the LA institute again. It was their special spot. Kit had suggested a night of star gazing for a date since the weather was nice.

Things has been a little weird between them lately. Kit had been pretending that everything was fine and he was unfazed, but Ty could tell that something was bothering him. And he had a feeling he knew what it was.

At Magnus and Alec's anniversary party, Jace made a joke about how Kit and Ty would probably be the next ones to get married and Ty immediately went into a blind panic. He completely froze up at the mention of marriage. At the mention of him getting married. His body instantly went into a complete overload almost as if he was on the verge of a meltdown.

He didn't take the time to think about any of it. He just snapped and yelled that he wasn't getting married. That he wasn't ever getting married. Ty wasnt even sure where it came from. Kit was pretending like it wasnt a big deal but Ty knew he was hurting. He could tell.

Ty traced a pattern across Kit's arm. "Honestly it was nothing," he assured him. "I just-." Ty stared at Kit, studying his face. The curve of his lips, the adorable blush of his cheeks and the tiny beauty mark under his eye that Ty loved to fixate on. Everything ached, but it was a good kind of ache.

Ty loved him.

"I just want to stay like this forever," he murmered. "Here with you, where I feel safe and warm. And loved." Ty nuzzled his nose against Kit's. "I want to be with you forever."

Kit smiled distantly before breaking into a slight frown. "Then why don't you wanna marry me?" He asked sadly. And Ty could instantly hear the old ghosts of self loathing and insecurity still haunting Kit's thoughts.

Ty sighed. "It has nothing to do with you I promise. I just really don't want to get married and I'm not even fully certain of why exactly."

Kit stroked his cheek slowly. "Is it the idea of a big wedding? Because we don't have to do that you know. We can totally just skip it," he said assuredly.

Ty shook his head. "That's part of it but it isn't the only reason." He paused to contemplate what exactly it was that was making him feel this way, feel so afraid.

Strangely enough, Ty kept coming back to his mother. His mother who was always a little peculiar in private. Who always seemed sad and exhausted even before the silent brothers diagnosed her. Who was constantly going along with whatever her husband wanted for whatever reason. Because she assumed he knew what he was doing? Because she didn't want to make waves in a society so rigid and obsessed with conformity?

Ty had been considering it more and more lately.

He sat up, displacing Kit from where he was resting. "I think my mother was like me," Ty admitted in a shakey voice. "I think she was autistic and that's why she ended up in the situations she did."

"Ok?" Kit looked confused. "But that still doesn't explain-."

Ty interrupted him. "She was trying so hard to fit in and do the right thing and she would just let him control her. She kept compromising for him because she thought that's what she was supposed to do and also because despite it all I think she really loved him! And it made her so stupid!" Ty shouted.

"I just don't want to become trapped like that," he confessed.

Kit was silent for a moment, just staring at him with a puzzled expression. "Ok, but Ty you realize that I'm not your dad right? Like I would never try and control you or make you into something you're not. I'm not trying to own you, I'm trying to love you!" He argued. "Ty, marriage isnt supposed to trap you. It's about making our relationship into an Offical legal thing that everyone's forced to acknowledge and accept."

Kit took Ty's hand in his. "It's about making each other family."

Ty looked away. He couldn't meet Kit's eyes when he was staring at him looking so hopeful and desperate. It did strange things to Ty's insides. He squeezed his eyes shut, scrunching up his face along with his fists for a moment before letting go.

"I just don't want to let someone have power over me in that way," he explained. Kit sighed, then smiled softly before leaning forward to rest his forehead against Ty's. Ty let out a little moan as he let the tension release from his body with a sigh. Kit placed his hand over Ty's heart.

"But don't you get it Ty?" He asked softly. "You already have, whether you meant to or not. I'm in your system sweetheart, in your blood just like you're in mine." Ty felt him smile. "Like we were made for each other. Like we've spent our entire lives waiting for each other."

Ty pulled away from him. "No I don't believe that," he stated firmly. "I don't believe in fate or destiny or soulmates. I think it's an overt romanticization of life and the human condition which can have disastrous consequences. It leads people to believe that they are somehow incomplete without a romantic partner which is incredibly problematic." Ty realized he was probably going on a bit of a tangent as he was known to do. But he couldn't be bothered to care.

Kit pouted a little. "Yeah I get that. But I don't know. I like to romanticize things in life. After everything that I've been through, I guess it just makes things feel better you know?" Kit glanced at him hopefully."I don't care if you don't believe in any of those things. I do. And despite what you might believe, you aren't always right about everything," Kit said pointedly.

Ty scowled at him. Kit was undeterred. "And I get that you're coming at this from a scary trauma place. I understand that. I have those too. But you don't have to be afraid of me," he pleaded.

Ty couldn't resist reaching out and touching him, pushing a curly lock of hair behind his ear. "Can I maybe think about it?" Kit smiled and snuggled up against Ty's chest again. "Of course," he murmered. Ty leaned back and resumed his earlier position, staring up at the sky.

He nuzzled his face against Kit's hair. "I'm glad you're not mad at me anymore," said Ty.

Kit snorted, turning to face Ty. "I'm never mad at you love. It's pretty much impossible." Ty grinned and leaned forward to kiss him slowly, savoring the feeling of Kit's lips against his.

Kit broke off and kissed Ty's cheek, then his orbital bone. Ty giggled and closed his eyes which prompted Kit to place a kiss on each of his eyelids.

"I love every inch of you," Kit whispered. Ty couldn't speak. He was too overwhelmed. He just wrapped his arms around Kit even tighter and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

They lay in peaceful silence for several moments before Kit spoke.

"Tell me a story."

In case you missed it, the story Eleanor was telling Ty is the story of kitty in Lady Midnight basically. Also. Not me projecting my fear of marriage onto my comfort character! 😂

Tag list: (lmk if you wanna be added/removed) @playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @knifescythe @ti-bae-rius @dianasarrow @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies @zfoxdraws @julieandthefandoms @older-brother-kit @ilikebooks8 @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @heloisacosta23 @adoravel-fenomeno @eutonyinwhisper

#tsc #tda #the dark artifices #kit x ty #twp #cw mentions of ableism #cw mentions of abuse #cw minor character death #tiberius nero blackthorn #kit herondale #eleanor blackthorn

83 notes · View notes

sorry-i-ship-drarry · 3 years

Note

Hi, could you do one where the boys are still enemies but someone attacked harry when hes an auror and harry shows up at Dracos house and then draco helps him out and then something about the next day. I know its cliche but yeah

hey, remember love you requested this.. if you don't then now you do. My greatest apologies to fill this out this late, hope you understand @emzlolz

Cinnamon rolls was a date

Fluff | ENEMIES to LOVER trope |

" i don't understand your problem " harry snapped as he slammed his door behind him

" my problem ? you seriously think i have a problem, try working with someone as egoistic as you then maybe come to me and i'll tell you what my problem is " draco snapped back aggressively collecting his files from harry's table.

" oh, i'm egoistic, pardon me. Have you ever even looked at your own self, you're the egoistic one who needs all the credit to himself, what would you even know about throwing your life out, you just sit there in your own little cubicle brewing potions. You don't even understand what actual danger is" harry sneered shoving draco's files towards him.

"Oh of course only the great harry potter seems to be one in danger, the hell you know about being in my little cubicle breathing in the toxic fumes that can maybe cut my life span into half but what does the world care about it right because you're doing the almighty work by being on the scene and saving lives and we're just bloody here stuck in the little cubicles where our things won't even fucking fit. You know what potter, you are just like those politicians who think that people like you who are actually at the scene does the actual work and think of us like peasants, who does nothing but brew fucking potions all day " draco yelled at harry and then stormed out before harry could've even understood draco. Although harry couldn't bring himself to care much about it because he knew draco just said it out of spite like he always had not because he genuinely hated harry, or at least that's what harry always thought of them, the stupid traditional rivalry.

They of course didn't meet each all day or the next day or even the day after that and much of their anger cooled down and harry had anonymously put a memo for raise for potioneers, he never knew why he did it but he did, perhaps he cared if even a little whether he liked to admit or not.

Draco had been at home, having a conversation with one of his fellow potioneers about the anonymous tip about their raise and appreciating and disgracing the anonymous person when draco's doorbell rang and he frowned at the absurdity of someone to ring him after 9 pm. He was more than ready to yell at whoever the person was until he had opened the door to reveal harry leaning over the door, clutching his torso as if he was in pain.

" sorry, i don't do trick and treats " draco rolled his eyes

" its not halloween you idiot, i'm- fuck-"

" are yo- wait you're bleeding " draco immediately helped him inside to the living room and over to the couch.

" why aren't you at St. Mungo's ?" draco asked as he helped harry off his coat and put them away

" i didn't want to go there " harry grimaced in pain, flinching when draco's hand accidentally hit over his chest.

" i don't get it, why not ?" draco asked taking off his auror boots and throwing them away. He proceeded to help harry off with the rest of his heavy clothings until he was left in blood stained shirt and just pants.

" i have very strong recollection of school days " draco mumbled. Harry leaned his head almost smiling but winced in pain as his muscles clenched.

" what did you get hit with- harry- hey stay awake " draco lightly slapped his cheeks to keep harry conscious

" pocket knife i guess " harry shut off his eyes this time but draco shook him a little so he remained awake.

" come on, let me get you to the washroom and we'll take a look at this " draco helped harry up over his shoulder and helped him into his washroom, settling him over the sink and fetching his potions and first aids.

" I'll take off your shirt, alright ?" Draco asked cautiously as he clutched the button on Harry's shirt.

" you'd like that, huh ?" Harry smirked with a pained look

" do you always have to the intolerant sodding idiot that you are " draco rolled his eyes as he unbuttoned Harry's shirt and dropped it over the ground.

Harry Only Chuckled a little, supporting his head against the mirror and his arms resting by his side, too tired to move.

Draco analysed Harry's torso carefully for a mark of being hit by a spell bruising his skin "something hit you ?" He asked

Harry looked down his chest to where draco's fingers were resting and he nodded "thrown on a wall "

Draco winced immediately at the words but picked up his wand and cast an episky and cleared it with a wet towel he had just fetched.

" why do you Always like to throw your life onto line ?" Draco asked genuinely as he started wiping off Harry's wounds that leaked with more blood as he cleansed.

" what else am I supposed to do, sit there with a popcorn and watch " harry rolled his eyes, wriggling a little backwards to sit more comfortably, closing his eyes in fatigue.

" well at Least not try to get hit this badly "draco rolled his eyes again, now applying antiseptic over the wound and padding it with cotton. Draco looked up momentarily to see harry watching him as he bandaged his wound with tapes and bandages and cutting the remaining bandage with scissors.

" stop staring at me, makes me nervous " draco blushed cutting the last of spare bandage just above his waist.

Harry immediately looked away blushing to himself, interesting himself with the ceiling with false wooden look.

Draco ran his hand through harry's chest again to see if he could feel anymore of broken ribs or any broken vertebrae along his back and when he looked up to Harry's face he found a deep cut by his cheek.

"I don't like being your Personal healer " draco mumbled as he carefully through Harry's chin made him look at draco.

" i- I know, I'm sorry " harry mumbled as he watched draco dip the clean towel in hot water and cleansing Harry's cut.

" that pocket knife really hurt you " draco muttered as he softly took some antiseptic ointment in his finger and applied it over the cut, harry flinching immediately.

" hurts ?" Draco asked

Harry nodded.

Draco nodded and this time tried more carefully and finally allowed the ointment to sink in deep.

" why did you come here? you could’ve gone to anyone, why me ?" Draco finally asked staring at harry sitting in front of him with his legs spaced so draco was fit in between them.

Harry only Stared for draco for a few moments before he shrugged off his shoulders " I didn't wanna go to st. Mungo's "

Draco seemed like he didn't believe Harry, why must he anyways but he decided not to ask anymore from harry and only helped him off the counter.

They walked through the hallways back into the living room and Draco fetched him a blanket.

" I should get going actually-"

" you really think you can disapparate right now..you really are that dumb then" draco mocked harry.

Harry rolled his eyes getting up " I disapparated here on my own "

Draco exhaled sharply, clutching his eyes shut for moment as if it'd release some frustration " you don't always have to be the tough guy alright. If you disapparate now all your bandages will loosen and you'd be splinched- just- stay here for the night or until you're good enough to go "

" I am good enough to go " harry bit back.

Draco leaned up closer to harry and pushed him gently over his couch " tuck your Little ego in your pocket for a while and just do as I say "

" what if I don't ?" Harry challenged.

Draco rolled his eyes heavily before he stood up and pointed at the door " then be my guest potter and leave. I Frankly don't care whatever you do but I'm just telling you the right thing to do so you don't say that I was an asshole about the whole thing when clearly you're the one who's being a baby "

“ i’m not being a baby “ harry huffed.

“ then stay. You can probably get your ego back out and go in about an hour until your broken rib is healed a little bit “ draco commanded, going into the kitchen and getting harry a glass of water.

“ wow, you can be caring “ harry rolled his eyes taking the glass of water from him.

“ well you’d know if you weren’t so blinded with your immature hatred “ draco replied crossing his arms in front of him.

“ whatever “ harry found himself replying in a losing argument. They stayed there for a few minutes in silence as harry gulped down the water slowly and then gave the glass back to draco.

Draco left harry alone for a few minutes after that, finding more comfortable clothes for him and pillows so he could rest easy.

“I better hope you’re not executing my murder plan “ harry grumbled from the living room. Draco had almost laughed but he didn’t just for the sake of not giving harry the satisfaction of actually being funny.

Draco walked into the living room with all that he assumed harry might need and kept in front of him.

“ those pants look incredibly tight and dirty, so just change into these, if they fit of course “ draco told

Harry looked at draco quizzically for a few seconds, looking in suspicion as to why he was actually being nice but when met with none he picked up the sweatshirt he had bought and tried putting it on, only failing to do so.

“ need help ?” draco sarcastically asked. Harry rolled his eyes replying with an exaggerated no until he winced in pain.

“ merlin you can’t let go of your ego for one bloody second, can you” draco taunted as he knelt down before and cautiously helped harry putting on the sweatshirt.

“ i think your arm is bruised too ” draco mumbled when he had been putting on his sweatshirt.

“ You know you think i’m egoistic, but i’m the least egoistic as i’ve been told” harry mumbled

“ well of course why would the people tell the great harry potter that he’s egoistic, come on i wouldn’t tell a guy he’s egoistic if i swooned over him “ draco replied shrugging casually, pulling down his sweatshirt over harry’s waist.

“ that’s not true “ harry narrowed his eyes at draco however couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually right.

“ whatever you believe " Draco titled his head to the side in a small Bob before he got up " you can change into those pants. I'll leave you some privacy "

It was an unusual turn to the night when draco had offered him dinner and movie to watch with him while harry remained sprawled on the couch with a hot water bag tucked behind him, draco helping him adjust it every once in a while. If someone had seen them together that way they would laugh if told that they were enemies because of the way they had suddenly grew closer in an eventful nights. They learnt things about other that they could've only imagined off like draco learnt that harry liked to compartmentalise his food on the plate and that he liked to keep his work dull boring socks in an alternate pattern with colourful socks he had but the rest of his wardrobe remained mess, and the first thing he does when he gets out of shower is actually wear socks because he doesn't like walking barefoot and it wasn't just draco who learnt all of it, harry too learnt that draco had an entire bar collection of glasses he never let anyone use because he's afraid that someone would break it and lose one part of his collection,and that he have colour organised dresser, and that he prefer wearing steel toed boots because Someone always steps over his toes, and that he likes to sleep on the right side of the bed without an apparent reason. It was crazy how much more they learnt about each other and didn't fight over a single thing.

Draco had almost stopped the movie to discuss one part with harry when he noticed that harry had fallen asleep. Draco shut off the TV, helped harry more comfortably on the couch and covered him with more blankets; whispering a soft goodbye and left to sleep in his room. That night he had for the first time slept with a small smile because of harry, even if it seemed very unbelievable.

The next morning draco had left for work before harry had woken up, leaving him a message to not go before he returns but draco was probably sure harry wouldn't wake up anyways because of the heavy painkillers he was on.

The whole day draco had been in a strangely nice mood that he had even complimented his assistant who took it by surprise because draco rarely every complimented and not just that but even offered a smile to the lady at the reception instead of just a sneer. It was all too strange to someone who knew draco but then again, who infact really knew him. When the time came to return home, he had left early and had walked into a cinnamon smelling apartment.

" I hope you didn't use all of my cinnamon" draco called as he walked into the kitchen watching harry taking out cinnamon rolls from the oven.

" I did " harry shrugged.

Draco rolled his eyes but didn't do it out of frustration this time, but a sweet stupidity.

" people were asking about you around office" draco said as he sat down on one of the stools and poured himself a glass of water.

" I- I figured. I just don't wanna go to the office yet. I'll send them a letter. Also I'll leave tonight, I feel pretty good " harry nodded

Draco nodded stiffly, a part of him not wanting to let go of harry, just yet " or you can stay here. I mean there's no one to look after you anyway and I- Don't mind "

" well, if we clearly remember, you mind it a lot last night " harry teased.

" well I- I just- know what, do whatever you want. I don't mind " draco shrugged raising his hands defensively.

Harry shook his head smiling at draco, passing on the cinnamon rolls he made to him.

Draco strongly realised that the harry he worked with and the harry he came home to were two entirely different people and somewhere he also realised that he may have never hated harry but just despised him for everything he got, a tiny bit of jealousy involved but seeing this guy who made cinnamon rolls for him, made his heart melt a little more than he thought it would.

" can you just say it out loud- it's annoying me " harry rolled his eyes.

Draco chuckled, sucking in this finger tips then finally saying " these are really, really good "

" thank you " harry bowed with a grin then sat down next to draco.

" you know you're not a bad guy Outside work " harry said after a while, staring at draco.

" ditto " draco mumbled.

" no I mean, this is easy. Like just talking with you when there's no small cubicle nor my dingy office or without my stupid auror robes or your white coat. It's-"

" comfortable? " draco asked with a smile. Harry nodded at him with an equivalent smile.

They stared at each other for a moment too long, their hearts beating traitorously too fast in their chest and their fingers brushing past each other and just staying there in a mere presence of touch with other. It was like storm had washed over them and rinsed them off their past and made them see each other in a way that they had never looked at, so different that they realised they could probably look at each other for a very very long time.

" I never hated you " draco muttered.

" then why did you pretend you do ?" Harry asked leaning a bit.

Draco swallowed, peering his eyes at Harry's lips " it's easier to hate you "

" why ?" Harry asked, his eyes falling on the way draco's lips were moving.

" because then I don't have to think about how you make my heart race " Draco muttered in soft Whispers so only harry could hear.

" it's easier to pretend " harry agreed.

They stared at the distance between each other for far too long until they had only been a few inches apart and then draco put a hand on Harry's chest.

" I- maybe we should go on a date first "

Harry swallowed nodding " we should "

Draco nodded, repeating after harry but they kissed nonetheless and neither of them pulled back, maybe they had a small date with cinnamon rolls after all.

This took me far too long to write. Busy person tingz. I highly suspect, this won't get notes, I didn't like this one either.

300 followers appreciation dialogue Prompt requests open

Angst prompt requests open

51 notes · View notes

class1akids · 3 years

Note

I disagree with the anon who Shoto is weak. I personally think he's way too op but he still hasn't seen or understood the full potential of his quirk and chances are that Horikoshi won't allow him to do so. He can be the number one hero if he wants but he is (and I might be going way too far with this but) in a way a parallel to Hawks and I think he'll become like Hawks, the I don't care just let me do whatever I want I don't want responsibility but I can handle it because I'm a fucking prodigy kind of hero. He doesn't really have ambition that can compare to the others, he not too determined and he's a go with the flow person. And that's one of his fatal flaws. His lack of ambition and charisma is the reason he will never be number one hero even if you offer it to him on a silver platter because he will decline that offer no matter what.

Todoroki suffers from a form of complex PTSD and that's something that often goes overlooked. I think being number one is a trigger for him, something that reminds him of one of the darkest times in his life. In my opinion Horikoshi really fucked up his character his backstory was good and could've actually been something holding him back but then Izuku just says, "your power, don't be enji, okay vibe check done, ptsd gone" and BOOM he's suddenly a different character. Horikoshi could've made his growth more gradual while making this moment a sort of turning point. A few inspirational words doesn't just get rid of a trigger (his fire side), it's usually a gradual change of slowly letting go (I speak from experience sadly) of the memories of abuse.

Todoroki's attitude towards his father changing was rushed and we didn't really get to see the full potential of this character who was going through so much. Instead Horikoshi decided to just make it all happen off-screen.

....I just realised that I went from talking about Shoto's quirk to his trauma like it was nothing-

I agree that Shouto doesn’t know how to reach for the No. 1. spot, but I don’t see that as a bad thing, because I don’t see the No. 1. ranking = strongest person.

The ranking board is one of the worst parts of hero society. It tells us that the value of lives can be measured like commodity. That someone who arrest 10 smallfry villains is as strong as someone who rescues an abused kid - because they are all just an “incident”. Of course, you get no points for taking a small, traumatized Tenko to a shelter, because there is nothing flashy about that.

Shouto’s entire family was destroyed in pursuit of that No. 1. spot, and Endeavor reaching that goal doesn’t make him overall a better hero than let’s say Aizawa, who probably was never even a blip in the ranking board - it just shows that none of it was worth it.

Yes, there are lots of parallels between Hawks and Shouto, for very good reasons, but them being ambitionless or weak or whatever is not one. It’s just Shouto has to find his own ambition that looks different from his father’s ambition for him. Endeavor wanted him to be strong to be No 1 and beat All Might, Shouto wants to be strong so he can stand with his friends and not be the weak link and to be able to bring reassurance to people. The motivation is different, but wanting to be strong to help others is not a lack of ambition.

Same with Hawks, who after being used his whole life by the HPSC, he has to find his own motivation and he wants to be a good person who is willing to put everything on the line for his friends. I think the fact that Hawks didn’t kick Endeavor off the leaderboard after the war is not because he doesn’t want the responsibility or his running away - he’s very clearly calling the shots now. He offered to stand with Endeavor because he cares about him and wants to help him. It’s as simple as that.

As for Shouto’s trauma, no he didn’t get magically cured by Deku. It’s a pretty slow process (much slower than let’s say Deku learning all his extra quirks) actually and his complex PTSD keeps biting Shouto in the ass every step of the way:

losing the final

he pushes through to go try to learn from Endeavor

He tries to push it away, it comes back in the Licensing Exam, when it’s pretty much shown that he can’t become a hero until he overcomes that

He struggles with showing who he is to the kids at the Remedial class in positive terms

He has to watch an reconcile the fact that despite everything he cares if Endeavor lives or dies

But that doesn’t mean he can just forgive

His trauma comes back in flashbacks in the middle of a training fight

And has to swallow that Endeavor was right - he can go higher and stronger so he needs to find the motivation to do exactly what Endeavor wanted him to do...

And just when things feel like they are on track, Touya appears - and crashes down everything again - with point-blank hatred for Shouto

That sends Shouto into a whole new round of self-reflection

To me it’s very clear that Shouto’s motivation and his healing from trauma go hand in hand. The friendships he makes is his motivator and source of strength, together with his love for his family, and not the leaderboard. But I think having that as a push doesn’t make him weaker, but rather stronger.

I don’t see him as a go-with-the-flow character, but much more someone who struggles a lot with identity, with the fact that his path to strength is to become more and more like Endeavor - the same moves, the same equipment, when all he wants to do is not be like him. And that he has to reconcile these things.

#bnha meta #todoroki shouto #hawks #Shouto Hawks parallels #shouto's healing process is pretty gradual

79 notes · View notes

jaskiersvalley · 3 years

Text

Please (Don’t) Leave

Psst @lamberts! You asked for canon angst with Geralt feeling he’s an unlovable monster for your @thewitchersecretsanta. Hopefully this ticks those boxes :D

Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier Summary: There were so many reasons Geralt could reel off for not allowing a bard to travel with him. They're all lies. There is only one true reason and it's one he knows he can't change. Bards shouldn't travel with monsters.

Please (Don’t) Leave

There were very good reasons Geralt didn’t want a bard following him around. He couldn’t afford to feed another mouth, didn’t have the energy to protect another person when, inadvertently they got too close - worrying about Roach was enough of a distraction already. That wasn’t even considering that Geralt wouldn’t be able to protect a bard from the vitriol that followed a Witcher around. Deep down, Geralt knew there was one more reason, the real reason. Because he knew that he could go hungry to feed a bard in leaner times. And a bard could earn his keep so it wasn’t like Geralt was the sole provider for a limpet. Humans were pretty good at self-preservation and, if Geralt told said bard to stay with Roach, they were less likely to get injured. As for the open hatred, that was part of the real reason but not the whole thing. If a bard didn’t like it, they wouldn’t stick around, moving on to better and nicer muses. As if Geralt could actually be a muse - that was a ridiculous thought in itself.

The real problem was much more personal. Blaviken was still a raw nerve, not far enough in the past for Geralt to be able to move on. He couldn’t let himself forget either, because if he did, nobody would remember Renfri and her suffering. Sure, people would remember Geralt and the massacre but they didn’t care beyond the gory parts of the story. A Witcher had gone feral, butchered humans. That made for a good tale, one that scared children and adults alike. Nobody cared about the truth, the reality that was behind what had happened. In a way, it didn’t matter because Geralt had still killed all those people. He didn’t have much choice but he was still a murderer, a monster. To have a bard come along and decide that the Butcher of Blaviken was a worthy companion was beyond the realms of reality. Nobody should want to willingly follow a Witcher around, let alone one with a reputation like Geralt. Yet there was this young fool, smiling and scurrying after him. He hadn’t even introduced himself.

What Geralt couldn’t face was the idea of the naive, well meaning optimism fading into bitter disdain. Without a doubt it would because nobody liked, let alone respected, Witchers. This bard would quickly see the error of his ways. Despite Geralt’s seeming peace with what had happened at Blaviken, the truth wasn’t quite what he projected. He could recall Marilka’s disgust, the villagers and their cruel words, could feel each stone and rotten vegetable that had thudded into his body. Rightly so too. The only thing that set him aside from a hunting dog was the fact that he got paid in coin rather than food and shelter. In fact, a dog was probably more valued than a Witcher because it was easier to keep and definitely more welcome in a home. Geralt couldn’t remember the last time he was invited into a home and allowed to stay. An abandoned hut was no home, there was no secondhand comfort to bask in.

The problem was, Geralt knew all of this yet he still craved the bard’s affection. Not his heart, nobody in their right mind would give a Witcher their heart. But, maybe, the bard’s kindness would soothe some old hurts. Or at least until he realised just what a monster Geralt truly was and ripped it all away. That was what Geralt wasn’t prepared to deal with, to be offered a glimpse into what could have been, a glimmer of normalcy, only to have it snatched away. Especially because Geralt knew himself well enough to know that the slightest hint of someone being nice and he was like a stray dog with scraps. Marilka was one such example, she had shown interest and a lack of fear in Blaviken. Her rejection alone had hurt more than the rest of the village put together.

So now, Geralt was left with a choice, run the bard off or accept that his heart was going to get trampled once again. Mind made up, he punched the bard and tried to leave him in the dirt. It didn’t work. Which one left the other option and Geralt tried everything in his power to hide what he truly was. He didn’t say much for fear of showing off sharper than natural teeth. He didn’t fight as hard for his pay when an alderman or minor nobility only handed over half his promised coin, in case it scared the bard and he ran off. Because, despite himself, Geralt had grown to care about the man. After a few weeks together, he’d even learned his name when he announced himself to a tavern of bawdy drinkers: Jaskier.

There was one constant battle between them though: Geralt wouldn’t let him tag along for contracts. No matter how much Jaskier wheedled and promised he wouldn’t be but a silent backup, Geralt resisted. He couldn’t risk Jaskier seeing him killing creatures, covered in their entrails while his eyes and skin turned ghastly from potions. Everyone had their limits and Jaskier frowned in disgust when Geralt gutted a rabbit for their dinner. There was no way he could deal with Geralt in all his Witcher-y, well, it wasn’t glory that was for sure.

All of Geralt’s careful plans were for naught though. He’d managed to slay a cockatriace and was snarling in rage and victory, breathing hard. The next step was to harvest the bodyparts when there was a crack of a branch behind him. Twirling, sword raised and ready to fight, Geralt froze as his eyes locked with Jaskier’s. They stared at each other, Geralt heaving for breath and knowing he could do nothing to hide his true nature while Jaskier went wide eyed.

“Oh.” With that, Jaskier turned and he was gone.

Just like he’d always known it would happen, Geralt’s world shrank back to the cold grey of loneliness. He knew Jaskier would leave but had hoped to bask in his colourful warmth for a little longer yet. It hurt to have him gone, fleeing at the sight of Geralt’s true form. Sword slowly lowering, Geralt hung his head. The cockatrice could wait, the dead didn’t go anywhere. He was allowed a moment to mourn the loss of his not so silent shadow.

Another snap of branches and the sound of feet rushing closer filled his senses. Geralt was almost tempted to not turn and allow whoever it was to do whatever they wished with a seemingly unawares Witcher.

“Here.”

A familiar voice and slowly Geralt turned. Blackened eyes met brilliant blue ones. His own satchel was being held out towards him in one hand and a rag in another. Not understanding, Geralt stared.

“I figured you might want to clean up a litte. There’s a bit of-” Jaskier gestured with the rag towards Geralt’s cheek. “-oh never mind, here.”

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, Jaskier wiped the cockatrice remains from Geralt’s cheek, fingers lightly tracing the darker veins around his eyes. Once done, Jaskier smiled.

“I’ll get a bath ordered when we’re back at the inn.”

Words weren’t Geralt’s preferred mode of expression. Rage and anger were better conveyed with swords and fists. It left him with the unfortunate issue of not knowing what to say. However, his body knew what to do. Reaching for Jaskier, he pulled him into a tight hug. Hope wasn’t something that really factored into a Witcher’s life but Geralt found he finally and some. And that hope? It went by the name of Jaskier.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #angst #the witcher secret santa

152 notes · View notes

cannibal-witchh · 3 years

Text

Reader(Fem) x Alcina Dimitrescu

(PART 2)

Written by cannibal_witchh

Part 1

:https://cannibal-witchh.tumblr.com/post/641589115086929920/readerfem-x-alcina-dimitrescu-part-1-written

⛓Trigger Warnings⛓

Story contains: Gore, sexual elements, vulgar language, violence, elements of sub/dom behavior, and captivity.

Notes: This is the 2nd part of the story and it will progressively get more sexual, and the elements between the reader and Alcina will become more dom/sub. It is a little bit of a slow burner so bare with me. It will get juicy soon! I want to add, I do not support in any fashion abuse, and or non consensual actions. ⚠️ I have clearly placed trigger warnings to indicate there may be elements that are not for every reader. I heavily gravitate with dominance and submission/gore so thats where the relationship in the story will go ⚠️ Again, limited information so nothing in the story really is canon.

The reader is referred to as:

Y/N- your name

Y/L/N- your last name

She/her- in italics and bold

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

Her blood boiled as she felt the weight of humiliation and rage filter through her. She was in poor shape, bloodied up, bruised, and very little hope could be found within her. She stared at Alcina with a hateful expression, but the vampress had full awareness beneath that thin surface of loathing was absolute fear. "Don't be foolish. I will not say it again.", she continued a smirk as she rested her elbows up on the edge of the bath. Even in absolute indecency she was wicked and intense. Her body at full exposure, water glistening off her porcelain skin, and gentle beads of water trailing down her breasts. The moon was illuminating off her soft tall figure, as she tipped her head back and relaxed it on the edge. "I think I've been more than patient with you."

Y/N, had so many emotions cycling through her, there was disgust, hatred, and anxiety. But she had concluded that there was no point in stalling. Alcina would grow tired and eventually kill her if she wasted anymore time. She began to strip, peeling an article of clothing at a time, trying desperately to cling on to every second. Her hands trembling as she slid her panties down her ankles before the wicked vampire.

She submerged her body in the warm water, blood began to scatter out from her knee, and she watched fragments of the water become crimson. Fuck. "Relax, I'm not a shark. I can smell your wonderful nectar but I have no need to feed at this exact instance just because you're coloring my bath water red.", she teased pulling her head up. Loose black waves stuck to her wet skin, spreading out like a small web on her smooth pale skin. Her intense bright eyes focused on Y/N, her eyes looked so preditorial, and so hungry. Those eyes burned deep in Y/N's soul, it was haunting.

After about forty minutes of soaking and cleansing, Alcina decided to privilege Y/N by showing her the cellar room. She held a lit candlabrum guiding them deep inside. It smelled foul, there were variations of fresh corpses everywhere, limbs lost in other areas of the large hallway, and it was incredibly dark. The walls and floor were built with thick cobblestone, and there were numerous cellars with rusted bars. " Now, I believe I have treated you kindly with allowing you to stay in an actual guest room.", she said as she continued to lead Y/N deeper into the cellars. Abruptly, an incredibly dry groan echoed through the cellar, it sounded as if it was in absolute suffering and pain. Y/N darted her head in the direction she believed it came from but it was too difficult to really distinguish actually where it sounded. " Relax, I won't allow them to touch you.", she assured as she stopped and turned to face her. "Those are family.", she stretched a pearly grin, her fangs teasing under her satin red lips. Alcina instructed with just her hands for Y/N to come closer to her, and she obeyed the demand. "You look much better being cleaned up, pet.", that name alone flooded a pool of humiliation in her, being stabbed, bitten, and beaten countless times to this nonsense- it just delivered a wave of embarassment to her. Alcina let out a soft giggle, and for moments there wasn't words being exchanged.

Thud! With swift impact, there was a heavy hit that landed to Y/N's head, and she flew several feet back away from Alcina. She tried to gather herself but her vision grew blurry, and her knee still in poor condition to make quick movements. Dwindling in and out of clear vision, the sounds of agonizing groaning reverberated through the corridor infront of her. She felt shivers, hair raise, and another dose of adrenaline greet her. What could this be? Within moments, a strong smell of decay flooded through the damp cobblestone hallways, and echos of pain continuing to sound. A group of corpse like creatures swayed in, their bodies detierating, bones exposed, long sharp aged nails, and hollow dark eyes. Her family. Absolute horror welcomed Y/N, Alcina had lied, she wasn't going to protect her. The creatures began to hobble towards her, surrounding her, their stench choking her, and their groans ringing in her ear. She was fucked, no available escape was present for her to attempt. She closed her eyes and she felt the stroke of long thin nails brush against her face and arms. Felt the cold breath of their hissing near her ears, as she tried to control her panic. This was it. "Enough!", Alcina screeched, and immediately the creatures shrieked and fled away in the tunnels. She relaxed her hands on her hips and walked over to Y/N with a pleased expression. " This is what will become of you but worse if you do not submit to me. Do we have ourselves clear?", Alcina watched as Y/N nodded trying to control her panicked breaths, and maintain her shivering. "Good."

Without effort, Alcina had carried Y/N in her arms all the day back to her captive room. When they arrived, she locked the door, and rested Y/N on the sheets. Y/N felt some release of tension the moment she establish this was her room. She spread her arms out, tracing the creases of silk that collected under her. The presence of the fabric brought her slight comfort. "Honestly, you truely are pathetic.", she sighed as she sat the candlabrum on the wooden nightstand beside the bed. Y/N felt beside her sink, Alcina had sat beside her and began to run her fingers through her hair. Despite the cruel treatment, this minor kindness felt relieving to Y/N. She let out a small sound of relief as Alcina continued to lace her fingers through her hair. "I feel despite some tension, you have gathered an understanding of your place as my feeding pet. I appreciate that submission. I have mutually contributed. I awaited feeding until you were cleansed and in the comforts of your room.", a sharp spike danced in Y/N's stomach, she felt acidity well up, and her knee twitch with discomfort. It was time.

This time, Y/N did have opposition towards the situation this time. She fully gave in to the unfortunate circumstances. Her pants were removed, revealing a blackened knee with blood stains feathering out from the site. "I'm quite surprised how quickly you've adapted to your position to me. I have to admit, I am pleased with you.", Alcina leaned to her side, hovering over Y/N's wounded knee, her large breasts nearly spilling out from her nightgown. The closer she leaned towards her knee, the more her alluring breasts pressed gently against Y/N. "Despite my daughters, I have control over my hunger. I will treat you well, and I will know how to savor you slowly.", she looked down at her knee and let out a sound of disappointment. "So much for being patient. Its scabbed. I suppose I will make a new feeding site."

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

"My f-femoral atery?", Y/N muttered as she felt her cheeks grow hot. A major artery, not even her daughters had fed on. The violent feeding they did more than likely would've killed her if they attempted to. " Yes, now please relax. I have fed in this location before and no one has ever died. I have lived a long life and acquired quite the knowledge on self control.", she began to move close to her upper thigh, her nose brushing lightly against her skin, and her mouth leaving light streaks stained from her rouge. The sound of skin break was heard through the cold air, Y/N let out a pained moan and held her breath. The pain was unpleasant, it was like having a canine bite but with small thin teeth. She tried focusing on the candle wicks, watching them sway and dance softly in the distance. The warm occasional crackle it did from time to time. It was the closest thing to resemble peacefulness during this taxing time. Alcina began to feed, siphoning Y/N's blood, she made sounds of utter bliss as the sweet flavor danced along her desperate tongue. Her body stiffening in surprise as pure satisfaction greeted her mouth. Her nipples growing erect through her night gown, brushing against Y/N's leg. Y/N felt light headed, feeling blood leaving her as she grew quickly cold. Strangely, she had no presence of panic, perhaps, the loss of blood delivered her brief emotional insensitivity. Alcina stayed down there for quite sometime, muttering muffled sounds of bliss, occasionally latching off revealing a bloodied chin, teeth, and lips. She met Y/N's eyes and immediately flashed a wide smile, it was almost sickening but in a way bewitching. Maybe the lack of blood was making Y/N confused. " W-why am I so relaxed?", she muttered feeling a heavy weight of tranquility possess her. " Shh...its the lack of blood. Soon I will stop.", Alcina whispered as Y/N felt her tongue lick her inner thigh. Her long tongue tracing and prodding the bite marks. Desperstely trying to drain whatever was left of the site.

" I believe, I am full. Thank you for the meal.", she wiped her crimson stained lips and chin with the back of her hands ,now tarnishing it with red. " I believe, I owe you a thank you, pet. You have been surprisingly obedient the whole time, and quiet too.", Alcina slowly adjusted herself until she was on all fours above Y/N. Her large smooth breasts draping down reaveling down her well tailored gown. She began to crawl slowly towards Y/N's face, her chest lighting brushing against Y/N's body. It was incredibly soft yet cold. " I am going to need you to open your mouth, won't you, pet?", without hesitation, Y/N dropped her mouth open for her. Alcina licked her lips and pressed her right fang into her plump bottom lip. Blood began to trickle out and run down her chin and onto her chest. Her hand traveled slowly up to Y/N's neck, gentle gripping it, and holding it against the mattress. Her opposite hand, explored under her shirt, and rested on her heart. Y/N, felt the a wave of heat flush away the cold that was residing in her. What was she about to do? "Can't let my obedient food die on me, yet.", Alcina leaned herself forward, pressing her lips against Y/N's. Her tongue inviting itself into her mouth, brushing metallic crimson inside. The flavor was terrible but Y/N did not seem to object. Alcina continued to kiss her, muffled sounds escaping between their lips as a warm blanketed feeling continued to lay over Y/N. Blood had managed to escape their lips, trickling down Y/N's chin, it was incredibly cold as it traveled down. Alcina ceased the kissing, her face revealed itself to be flush and pink. Strange for a creature of the undead. She moved her long delicate fingers along Y/N's blood covered lips and chin. Collecting whatever escaped under her finger tips. "Don't waste it.", she whispered softly nudging her fingers against Y/N's lips, as they slipped their way inside her mouth. More of that bitter flavor met Y/N's tongue, and she felt her body grow warmer and warmer. Alcina took her fingers out after a few moments, examining there was no trace of remaining blood present. She made a sound of approval that trailed with a small smile. An overwhelming amount of insatiable hunger found Y/N, she felt her body perk with energy, her senses incredibly alert, and her heart accelerate as if it was injected with caffeine. She brought a hand to Alcina's cheek and drew her to her own. Lips reuniting again, her tongue pressing its way into Alcina's mouth, and Y/N biting her lower plump lip. She was hungry, the introduction to Alcina's blood was intoxicating, addictive, and restoring. It brought her energy and she needed more. A small line of red flowed from Alcina's lower lip, and Y/N quickly licked it from her face. Her tongue returning back to Alcina's mouth the moment she collected all of her crimson. Alcina muffled a small moan, as her hand tightened around Y/N's neck, the opposite hand no long resting on her Y/N's heart but traveling down her stomach. Her incredibly sharp nails dragging into her sternum down to above her navel. She felt blood seep from those insicions, and she let out a pained moan. She buried her lips against Alcina's for a few more passionate moments until she broke it. Her lips pressing against Y/N's neck and her tongue dragging down her neck to the freshly bloodied cuts on her sternum and navel. She kissed and licked the bloodied wounds hungrily. Little delicate moans left her mouth as she glanced up at Y/N with her appreciative smile. Still continuing to clean the newly made cuts with her tongue. "Dont act as if this is an invitation of making love, foolish one. Vampires have restorative blood that gives humans the ability to briefly recover, replenish energy, alertness, and on some occasions enhance their libidio.", she rolled her eyes, " In this case, you acquired all of it. What a headache. I just wanted to make sure you didn't die of blood loss.", She sighed. " I suppose I will find more uses for you, pet. But don't think it will entirely feel good."

To be continued...

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

#resident evil #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re village #re8 #resident evil village #alcina #alcina x female reader #alcina x reader #alcina fanfic #reaident evil village fanfic #resident evil 8 fanfic #resident evil fanfic #fanfic

120 notes · View notes

headboyweasley · 3 years

Text

to my beloved // h.p

pairing : harry potter x reader

summary : when harry learns you’ve gone missing, he hits rock bottom. no one can reach out to him until a peculiar letter ends up in his possession.

warnings : ANGST (happy ending???), swearing, post-war, alcohol/implied alcohol abuse, violence (against inanimate objects), missing person/presumed dead, mentions of food

word count : 1.3k

author’s note : hi!! this is my very first fic posted on tumblr, so i hope you enjoy. i’m actually really proud of this one, as it was inspired by my favorite song “play this when i’m gone” by machine gun kelly. also, thank you for the support on my masterlist! it means the literal world. also my favorite writers followed me and i am freaking out. sorry for the this long note,,, i tend to ramble. enjoy!

( disclaimer : gif is not mine! )

It had been months since the war had ended. While the wizarding world was still healing, the future for it had become hopeful. The threat of war had hung over the heads of the community, so once it had been taken away, everything was reborn. Bustling crowds and children’s laughter had filled Diagon Alley once more; the boarded up shops had now opened up, gleaming with pride. Many felt grateful for this new age.

The last person people expect to be so devastated was Harry Potter. Afterall, he was the one that killed Voldemort. Good things don’t happen to heroes, as someone had once told him. He gave everyone that hope, but he couldn’t find it in himself. Why, you may ask? Well, my friend, he found out you were among the missing people in the aftermath of the war. The love of his life, his sunshine, his darling had been snatched from him.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but sometimes he wishes that he hadn’t gone to the forest to face Voldemort. Sometimes he wishes he had hid away in Shell Cottage with you and grown old together. When he decided that was selfish, he tried to find other ways he could have won that war with you by his side.

He knew he couldn’t. What happened was the only true ending.

A sigh fell from his lips as the bottle was barely held by the tip of his fingers. The bedroom reeked of firewhiskey, which wasn’t a surprise since there was a surplus of them scattered across the floor. He took a final sip before letting this bottle join the rest.

Of course, Ron and Hermione had attempted to help. They had kept it up for a couple months through staying at his home and making meals for him. Hermione tried reading to him, while Ron kept his friend updated with Quidditch and the Weasley family. This had come to an abrupt halt, though, after a particularly angry outburst from Harry. They had given him one last look of sympathy before apparating.

That had been months ago, and since then, Harry had been trapped inside his mind and flat.

“You never do anything fucking right. First, you lose the love of your life. Next, you ruin the relationship between you and your best friends. You’re fucking alone, and you’re going to die that way.” He seethed with anger just looking at himself in the small mirror. He continued to glare at himself for a few more minutes before grabbing the mini dresser and slamming it into the floor.

Glass shattered, while his old Hogwarts uniform and merchandise tumbled out. Violence was an often thing for the items in his home. Usually after a bottle and self-degrading speech, he’d destroy something to let the anger fizzle. The aftermath of this, though, was a bit of a coping mechanism, as he would fix things by hand instead of using magic. It let his mind breathe; focus on anything but his self-hatred.

He crouched down to pick up his Gryffindor scarf, wrapping it around himself and relishing in its warmth with shut eyes. It reminded him of the freezing wind that nipped at his skin whenever he went out to visit Hagrid, or the times his roommates were challenging who could put on the most layers. These memories let him be at ease. They always transported him from the harsh reality to the happier days.

Once he allowed himself to come back, his eyes scanned for something that would ground him to the real world. He expected to find a bottle to do so, but instead laid eyes on an unfamiliar envelope at his feet. It couldn’t have been his Hogwarts letter, as this one did not bear the mark to close it. However, there was a date written at the top in an all too familiar handwriting. Then, it clicked.

Your handwriting.

Harry scrambled to grab the paper. It was sliding all over the hardwood floor when he kept grabbing at it recklessly. After a struggle that felt like forever, he held the envelope in his shaking hands. Yes, that was definitely your handwriting within the date that read “31 July 1997.” He flipped it over to find “To My Beloved” written across the front.

It felt as time had stopped, as he carefully pulled the flap from its seal. To him, it was like he was touching a part of you. Granted it was written over a year ago, but the small spark of hope held onto it anyways. Slowly, he pulled out the folded up paper inside. Deep breaths, he thought. He did quite the opposite, though, as his breath hitched when he read it.

Hi there, Harry. I hope you’re doing well.

If you find this, there’s a good chance something happened to me.

Already, tears pricked his eyes. He continued, despite his semi-blurry vision.

Please don’t fret though. Things happen for a reason, remember? If you hadn’t stayed in the hospital wing after your bone disappeared, you wouldn’t have met me and my major clumsiness. I’d like to think that’s another reason Lockhart’s git self had ended up as teacher; for our chance to meet.

It’s ok to cry, but please don’t think that it’s your fault. I am so in love with you, Harry James Potter. I dedicated my life to you. I promised you I’d follow you until the end, and I followed through.

Since I filled my promise, please promise that you’ll live; that you’ll find that happiness in your life again. You’re the best damn seeker I know, so don’t go telling me that you can’t. I mean, I’m sure you killed Voldemort and brought light into the dark world. You deserve to be in that light. Don’t dwell on the past, my love. Focus on the future. All I want is for you to be happy.

I know we never got married, but I knew you were mine from the beginning. The box with this letter; I thought I’d give it now before it was too late. In marriage, you want the best for your partner. That’s exactly what I want. When you wear this, please remember to do whatever you can to be happy. If not for you, then for me.

I love you, Harry Potter. I am so proud of you.

Yours, Y/N

The letter would be covered in wet spots if his glasses hadn’t taken the fall. He let out a choked sob as he clutched the letter to his chest. His eyes scanned the area for the aforementioned box, and found it between a few bottles. One hand darted out and snatched it up, while the other kept a tight grip on the now wrinkling letter. Slowly, he flicked open the lid with his thumb.

A wedding band glistened against the little light peeking through the blinds. Upon seeing it, he hesitantly let the letter fall onto his lap and went to take the jewelry instead. His hands shook as he grabbed it and slipped it into his finger. A perfect fit, of course.

Maybe, just maybe, the ring was magic. It must be, as there was a strange feeling bubbling in his chest. Happiness? Love? Hope? He sifted through a few emotions before landing on a feeling of content. This letter was the closure he had been subconsciously grasping for. Now that he had it, he felt reconciliation with his mind.

Harry pushed himself up to stand, and with shaky legs, he made his way to his home phone. He made sure one hand held the paper that brought him much peace, while the other dialed the number. It rang a few times before a familiar voice answered. A final deep breath before he responded.

“Hermione? I think.. I think I’m ready to change.”

!taglist! @/empty :(

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfic #fanfic #harry potter fic #fic #hermione granger #ron weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #draco malfoy #neville longbottom #ginny weasley #luna lovegood #pansy parkinson #taylor fics

163 notes · View notes

blackcherrykiss · 3 years

Text

ending scene— p.sh oneshot.

Pairings: Sunghoon x Reader Genre: pure angst Word Count: 1.1k

WARNING(s): No happy ending, breakup, loneliness, self hatred

A/N: I wrote this during a super dark tim , it’s kind of messed up to even publish this. But I remember putting a lot of emotion into this, I wanted to turn some of my pain into literature. This story trust me, it’s full of ugly thoughts. I sincerely hope it doesn’t trigger anyone. I have a couple more angsty oneshots from this time period, won’t upload if this recieves bad feedback. Enjoy.

Inspired by the lyrics of Ending Scene by IU

“Do you even really love me?” Sunghoon’s voice finally broke after fighting back tears for thirty heavy and sufferable minutes. You two had been together through some of the most bliss and ugly moments of your entire lives but this moment was different. This moment was something that would live deeper than any other moment you had with Sunghoon. It was the first time in your lifetime to see Sunghoon cry out of frustration and pain that more importantly you caused.

“I really do Sunghoon...” Your palms dug painfully deep into your thighs while avoiding the eyes of your lover. It was always hard for you when it came down to expressing how much you loved him or really anybody. You loved him but you were the worst at expressing your affection verbally and physically. You only reflected on your actions at that very moment as the hideous thought occured to you that Sunghoon felt unloved being with you. He felt lonely with you and this bitter realization would only eat at you until the day you died.

“I’ve been waiting three years for you, hoping, praying, wishing!- Wishing you’d truly be in love with me.” Sunghoon was yelling and it left you wide eyed as he said everything out of pure agony.

The three years you had been dating were really just three years of you not showing him the love he wanted, needed, deserved.

He just needed the small things from you like a time where you could just admit when you missed him or let alone say the tough words “I love you”. He never questioned your reserved personality and thought it was just a barrier that could eventually be broken, but instead you remained locked up in your tower of ice. It was just the simple things that you never did that made him believe you didn’t love him. He never felt enough for you and you wondered how long he had been carrying such baggage.

Was it really that hard for you to do such small things for him?

“Sunghoon what are you even saying right now?” Your voice was all scratched up from the guilt of how blind you had been all this time. For some reason everything your heart was screaming could not leave your lips. You loved him but why couldn’t you just say it?

“Am I really not enough for you?” His stare was something you had never seen on anyone in your entire lifetime. His eyes reflected so much disappointment yet so much love. Even if he felt his love wasn’t reciprocated he could never hide how fond of you he was.

“Hoon it isn’t that...” It really wasn’t. Sunghoon was everything and more than enough for you. He was practically the only person to give you purpose being the only one to slowly but carefully melt your heart of ice. As cheesy as it sounded you were truly lonely in the world. He was just the first to make you experience feelings that you never thought you could get from others. You never knew what it was like to miss someone, get jealous over someone or find home in someone other than family. You loved him enough to let him in, kiss him and even make plans of growing older with him.

“It isn’t? So then what is it? Because I’m starting to believe you’re tired of me.” His voice was so hostile and so unfamiliar it made you lose your train of thought. The rise of emotion in his voice just created such loud blockage to your thoughts and it was all because you really hurt him over the years without realizing.

“It isn’t that. Can we just continue this tomorrow I can’t think straight.”

He scoffed over his tears, “It’s really over huh? You don’t need to explain tomorrow, I get it.” He sighed and began calming down. Every bit of frustration beginning to leave his body as he said that. He had always waited for you to ask him to stay and let yourself go. He wanted you to cry in his arms for once but he was tired of hoping.

“Sunghoon please...” Is all you could say. You didn’t know how to stop him from leaving. You were so unconfident in your words or anything you really did. As selfish as it sounds, you only wondered when the moment would end. You could never keep relationships with anyone because of your lack of confidence and reassurance but you had genuinely believed something would change in you that would enable you to be with Sunghoon until the very end.

“No, I’m not going to disrespect myself like this. I can’t be with someone who isn’t going to love me in the same way I love them.” He exhaled all of his accumulated frustration toward you, stopping himself from blaming you. However everything he had just said hurt you more than ever. You’ve never hated yourself more in your life and you weren’t sure if you would ever recover from whatever just left his mouth. You didn’t even know how to respond or have the balls to even stop him from leaving. You also believed he deserved better and having him think he was leaving for the greater good of himself was the best way to set him free from you.

The silence you were giving him only made him think that you really had not even an ounce of love for him. You weren’t stopping him and instead using the same robotic face like you always did whenever you’d get into arguments.

“Please find someone who can love you more than you love yourself. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you enough. ” And with that he gave a weak smile that masked his worn out expressions. He was slow to grab the door handle as he turned to look at you with dried tears on his porcelain cheeks, stretching his slender hand to caress the side of your face, allowing you to feel his warmth. It soothed your wintry face.

“You deserve to be happier.” He whispered, the sound of his voice disappearing out through the windows and into the night sky followed by the cold door shutting.

“But how could I ever be happier without you?”

And it was the loss of his presence in your apartment mixed with the thought of him never returning that made the atmosphere much more empty than when he’d go home. The happiness of being with someone, having someone was now over. Now the loneliness you suffered before meeting Sunghoon had now returned to haunt your apartment. You were going to pay the price of making someone emotionally suffer by having this horrible memory be remembered even in your next life.

You finally dropped to your knees by the door in hopes of him knocking. Praying he’d return just seconds later so you could yell at the top of your lungs how much you needed him.

You had never let yourself cry until that very night and many nights to come as he was gone on the prettiest days, hardest weeks, coldest seasons and loneliest years.

#park sunghoon #sunghoon oneshot #enhypen oneshot #enhypen angst #enhypen fic #sunghoon fic #enhypen imagine #sunghoon imagines

44 notes · View notes